Chapter Six
Vodka felt panic-stricken as he and the man he had been fighting tumbled into the water. Immediately he was dragged under, and as their desperate battle continued the further they fell, painful and frightening memories swirled through Vodka's mind. The aqueous depths were closing in, grabbing at him from all angles, and even though he was trying to force himself back to the surface, it was not being allowed. Both his opponent and the very water itself were holding him down, but Vodka kicked out, catching one of the other's wounds. With a growl of pain, he fell back slightly and Vodka was able to get free of his grasp.
Again he clawed for the top. Drowning was the way in which he was most afraid to die. Over and over an incident from his childhood played out in his mind. Because he was a quiet person who did not know how to socialize with others, he had often been tormented by some of the other agents in training. On the occasion in question, Vodka had been seven, and he had not been given a codename yet, so he was still called by his given name Hiroshi. A particular clique of his fellow agents in training had shoved him into a swimming pool at the base's recreational quarter, then had simply laughed when he had flailed about helplessly. He had been panicked, certain that he would die then. They had not been helping him, and there had not been anything for him to grab onto. He remembered going down once, then twice, and when he had struggled to the surface after that, a new, indignant voice had joined the mockers.
"So this is how you guys get your kicks, by throwing people in the water and watching them nearly drown? That's pretty pathetic!"
Hiroshi could only hear the voice faintly, what with his panicked splashing about. But he remembered thinking that it belonged to one of the rambunctious protégés.
Ryou, the ringleader in the attack---and the future Agent Brandy---laughed nervously. "Come on, we were just kidding around, Enok," he stammered. The Enok he spoke to was one of the Black Organization leader's favorite agents in training. He was rowdy, and sometimes got into what he should not, but he was also extremely sharp-witted and clever, and it often seemed as though he was able to see into one's soul. This seemed to be the effect he was having on Ryou now.
"Well, go find something better to do with your time." Enok crossed the room to the pool's edge and threw in a life preserver. "Here," he said to Hiroshi.
Gratefully Hiroshi grabbed onto it and managed to float over to the steps leading out of the water. He climbed them shakily and then fell to his knees on the tiled floor, breathing heavily and shivering. He tried not to think about how frightening it had been, to be pulled under the water repeatedly and to not have any control over it, but the images kept coming to him. And even though he did not think that Ryou and the others would have actually let him drown, he was not anxious to encounter them again any time soon.
Slowly he looked up at the other child, who was simply standing over him expressionlessly. "Th-thank you," he choked out, coughing on a bit of water he had not realized that he had swallowed.
Enok shrugged. "Everybody says I make trouble, but I don't go around doing the kinds of things Ryou and his friends do," he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark blue shorts. "I don't see what's funny about it." He half-turned, his shoulder-length blonde hair whipping around his neck. Enok was a foreigner, one of the many protégés who hailed from elsewhere than Japan, but Hiroshi was not sure at all where he was supposed to be from.
Finally gathering enough strength to speak without gasping, Hiroshi sat up and then got to his feet. Even though he was such a shy person by nature, he felt a certain connection with his rescuer and he found himself wanting to talk to the other. "Why were you over here, anyway?" he asked curiously.
"Just walkin' around," Enok answered, in what Hiroshi thought sounded like a defensive tone.
"I've . . . seen you around the base a lot," Hiroshi ventured now. And it was true that he had, but he had never had the nerve to try to talk to the blonde.
"Yeah? I don't remember seein' you." Enok turned back to face him. "'Course, I'm not good with remembering people or anything like that," he admitted. Hiroshi got the feeling that the other boy was very aloof, which was another reason why he had never tried to speak to him. Hiroshi had decided that it would only be pestering.
"Oh," was all he could think to say now. "I'm Hiroshi," he offered after a moment.
"You oughtta get into some dry clothes, or you might catch a cold, Hiroshi," Enok returned. He looked ready to vanish through a side door, but before he could, a middle-aged man whom Hiroshi knew was one of the Organization's highest-ranked members entered and grabbed Enok's arm.
"So, here you are," he frowned, "getting into more trouble after you already disrupted the lab. What did you do this time?" He took in the scene around him and spotted Hiroshi's drenched form. "Dunking other kids in the pool? You should be ashamed of yourself."
Alarmed, Hiroshi ran over to them, not bothering to think about speaking out of turn. "No!" he exclaimed. "That wasn't it at all! He was trying to help me after Ryou and his gang pushed me into the pool!" He looked up at the man desperately, even as Enok tore free from the tight grip.
The agent frowned. "Ryou, eh?" he mused. "Well, I can believe that." He looked to Enok. "Is that true?"
"Yeah," Enok answered matter-of-factly. He looked more bored than anything else over this encounter. Hiroshi had the feeling that Enok had gone through many such meetings with this agent in the past.
"It's good of you, to look after your fellow agents in training," the man remarked now, his expression still stern. "For all you know, someday Hiroshi might be your partner." He grabbed Enok's arm again. "But that still doesn't excuse the disaster you caused earlier."
"I know," Enok replied.
Hiroshi bit his lip, watching as Enok was dragged off. "You won't get punished too much, will you?" he asked.
"I doubt it," Enok answered, unconcerned.
Hiroshi never saw Enok again after that.
It was strange, the things one would remember while dying. Vodka could see it all in his mind as clearly as if it had happened before the current plunge he had taken. He was still trying to gain the surface, but he had been pulled down so far by the other man, and since he could not swim, he could not find any way to get back up. He sank further, wondering if this would be the end. Gin was probably busy fighting off Ling and whatever gunmen were left. Had he even noticed that Vodka had fallen, or would he care even if he had noticed?
Asphyxiation was setting in now. Vodka gasped for breath in a panic, swallowing water. Darkness clouded his vision and he felt it sweep over him, combining forces with the water. Unable to fight it any longer, Vodka fell back into its embrace. Vaguely he was aware of a hand grabbing onto his wrist, but then he knew no more.
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Gin cursed in his mind as he dove in after Vodka. He could see that Ling's associate had managed to drag Gin's partner quite far down, and he was still repeatedly trying to get hold of Vodka to take him still deeper. It seemed that he did not want to die without an enemy. Gin watched as Vodka struggled against the other, seeming to be lost in another world. Quickly Gin swam down to where they were. Vodka had kicked the bigger man away, and as Gin tried to get over to his comrade, their nemesis suddenly turned his attention to the blonde.
As his ankle was grabbed, Gin lashed out, hitting the other in the face to get free. It worked, but in a moment he was grabbed again, more viciously. Gin was forced to wrestle with him for what seemed an eternity, but which was actually not more than a minute. His opponent, and Vodka, had been down there longer than Gin had, and this man was also suffering from the two bullet wounds that had been inflicted during his fight with Vodka over the gun. He went limp, both from blood loss and lack of oxygen.
Gin pushed him away now. He was dead, but hopefully Vodka had not met the same fate. Swimming to where his comrade was still sinking, Gin grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him up. He could feel that the other was limp, and he mentally cursed again, draping Vodka's uninjured arm over his shoulders and putting his own arm around the other's waist. As swiftly as he could, the blonde rose to the surface, breaking through in time to be pelted with the beginnings of a snowstorm.
He coughed harshly, gasping for air, and noticed that Vodka had not responded. The other was still limp, and Gin growled to himself.
"Gin-sama! Gin-sama!"
He looked up, seeing Ayumi running to the edge of the pier. Alarmed, she knelt down and leaned forward, tears glistening in her blue eyes. "Gin-sama!" she sobbed. "Is Vodka-san dead?" She had been worried for both of them when Gin had jumped overboard, and, gathering his hat and coat, she had hurried down from the roof and over to where she could hopefully see when he would come up for air. She was relieved to see that he was alright, but panic for Vodka's safety swept over her.
Gin coughed again, water dripping from his drenched bangs. He hoisted Vodka's lifeless body onto the pier and then climbed up as well, turning the other onto his back. Vodka was still bleeding from the shoulder wound, but Gin ignored that as he bent down, checking for any sign of life. As far as he could tell, Vodka's breath was stilled, as was his heart. Muttering to himself, he began to press on Vodka's chest, both in an attempt to restart his heart and to get him to cough up the water he had swallowed. The other remained unresponsive, and Gin cursed to himself.
Ayumi, meanwhile, was panicking. Gin had not answered her question, and from his actions, she could gather that Vodka did not seem to be alive. As the tears continued to fall, she grabbed at Vodka's large hand with both of her own small ones. "Please wake up, Vodka-san!" she begged desperately. "Please! You have to! You can't go away! I don't want you to, and Gin-sama would be sad!"
Gin stared at her, his eyes widening in shock at her innocent words. She was a child; she did not understand that as an assassin, Gin was trained to not care about anyone. Vodka was his partner, nothing more. Gin helped him because he was loyal to the other agents as long as they were loyal in return. At least, that was what he told himself. He tried again to revive the other, but did not have any success.
He leaned back, exasperated and upset, though the only real indications of that were his eyes, half-hidden by the wet fringe of bangs. "So," he muttered, "you can be taken out this easily? Pathetic. It's a wonder you lasted in the Organization for as long as you did." He was unaware of how tightly he was clenching his fist until he felt a prick of pain. Looking down, he discovered that he had punctured the skin on his palm. He cursed to himself.
He was not certain why, but he felt compelled to try a third time to resuscitate Vodka. Just foolish desperation, he decided, but he bent over the other once more, pressing harshly on Vodka's chest. He did not get a response, as he had assumed he would not, but he felt as if he had received a cold slap to his face. He cursed low, staring at the heavyset man's pale face before pulling back. It was useless.
It was hard to imagine going on without Vodka, Gin realized, even if he just thought of him as a partner. In fact, Gin was not certain if he fully had accepted the idea of the other's death. It was as if he had simply blocked it out. It was before him, and he realized it, but he did not acknowledge it, as if it was something unreal that he was viewing through a sort of filmlike gauze.
Abruptly he was startled back into the present when Vodka started coughing. He watched in astonishment as the other rolled onto his side and then got to his hands and knees, choking on the water until he got all of it out. Then he slumped back on the dock, staring up into the snow-filled sky. He was alive. He could barely believe it. He had been certain that he was going to die. But . . . how was it possible that he had not? He knew that he never could have made it out of the water by himself.
Before he could stop to think about it, he was suddenly embraced by an overjoyed Ayumi. "Vodka-san!" she exclaimed happily, her eyes shining. "You're alright!"
He did not even know how on earth to react. The last thing he expected to be greeted with upon reviving was an enthusiastic child. While he tried to determine what to say, he happened to cast his gaze around until he noticed Gin kneeling on his other side. The blonde was completely drenched, his hair and clothes clinging to his face and body. Vodka stared at him, suddenly realizing why it was that he was still alive.
Gin's expression never changed, but he could tell that Vodka was aware of what had been done for him. He grunted, letting his bangs fall completely over his eyes. "Well," he spoke finally, "I underestimated you."
Vodka blinked at him in confusion while at the same time absently putting an arm around Ayumi. Honestly, that child had a way of worming into people's hearts, including those who believed that they did not possess any such thing. "What do you mean, bro?" he asked, finally finding his voice.
"I thought you were dead," Gin answered simply.
"Oh," Vodka said then, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. He wanted to thank the other for saving his life, but he knew that Gin was not expecting that and that he would probably feel uncomfortable himself if Vodka brought it up. Vodka could easily imagine Gin turning away and muttering something about having done it because he was loyal to the other operatives, if they were loyal to him. And Vodka knew that was true. But as Gin turned his attention to the steadily falling snow, the other was almost certain that he had caught a trace of a smile---or perhaps a smirk---on the blonde's features. And Vodka wondered if, instead of merely feeling it a duty, Gin had saved him simply because he had wanted to.
Abruptly a bullet tore past Gin again, this time narrowly missing him. Angrily he whirled around, looking for the source. It seemed to have come from the direction of the warehouse, but when he looked, no one was there. Someone was hiding and sniping at them.
Vodka looked over at the other, having heard the bullet sail by. "Bro?" he said nervously. He went to reach for his gun, but then remembered that he did not have it.
"I thought everyone was either dead or too badly injured to move," Gin growled. Noticing his hat and coat having been laid on a nearby crate---placed there by Ayumi---he searched through the black cloth until he found his gun. Another bullet zipped through the air, this one hitting its mark and catching him in the side. He hissed in pain, clapping a hand over the wound.
Vodka sat up now, alarmed. He looked from Gin to the warehouse, and thought he caught sight of a sniper gun disappearing through one of the second floor windows, the second to the corner. "Up there!" he called, pointing and wishing that he had his own gun. He felt so helpless. Gin had rescued him, but Vodka did not know how to help him in return. Depending on whose gun had been lost during his battle, the weapon was either at the bottom of the ocean or somewhere on the roof.
Ayumi screamed as Gin doubled over, gripping at the wound. She started to get up, wanting to run to him, but he reached out and shoved her to the floor of the dock with his free hand, seeing what she did not. Vodka could only shield her in shock as a steady rain of bullets came from the window before Gin could get out of the way.
Most of them missed, harmlessly sailing around the blonde and drumming into nearby crates or plunging into the water. But the remaining rounds drilled into Gin's body and he froze, his eyes wide in shock and agony, though he did not cry out or even hiss in pain. They had hit with enough force to tear through the bulletproof vest, and it was not merely any sort of ammunition that could do that. As he lost his balance and collapsed to the dock, he cursed in his mind. He had underestimated Ling.
After Gin fell, several more shots were fired before at last there was silence. Vodka did not dare to move for a long moment afterwards, his mind and heart racing. Who was the sniper? Someone Ling had hidden there in case it looked like Gin and Vodka were the victors in the rooftop battle? Whoever it was obviously had access to some very dangerous and deadly weapons. Ling's contacts were top-notch. But . . . had that completely proved to be the other's undoing?
Shakily he looked up, taking in the sight of Gin's battered body several feet away. The other was badly bleeding from the inflicted wounds, and he lay lifelessly on his stomach as the snow fell over him, blood trickling from his mouth. Vodka gasped.
"What is it?" Ayumi cried, trying in panic to rise. "Vodka-san, is Gin-sama hurt?" She had been stunned when Gin had shoved her, but a split second later when she had heard the noise of the bullets, she had understood. And there had been so many. . . . From the way Vodka had noticeably stiffened, Ayumi could sense that something was very wrong. But when she tried to look, Vodka grabbed and restrained her, holding her so that her face was buried in his jacket.
"Don't look," he told her, perhaps more harshly than he intended. The child had found her way into whatever heart he had left, and he could not bear for her to see what had become of Gin. He knew he needed to go over, to see if Gin was possibly still alive, but he felt frozen. He could not make himself move, and he stayed there, holding Ayumi close to him.
The girl struggled, trying to get out of his grasp as her panic only increased tenfold. "What's wrong, Vodka-san?" she screamed, the tears flowing freely down her innocent face. "What's happened to Gin-sama? Is he hurt bad? Is he dead?"
Vodka could not answer her. He stared at Gin's body, aghast, thinking of how he had been rescued by the blonde. And Gin had not wanted Ayumi to be harmed, either. He had worked diligently at getting the antidote for her, and now, at keeping her safe from the bullets, which would have likely killed her in an instant. Gin had expected to be able to get out of the way himself, but he had not succeeded. The blood was pooling under and around him, and Vodka could not believe that he was still alive. Yet . . . he could not bring himself to accept that Gin was dead, either, not when he did not know. And if Gin was possibly alive, he would need immediate medical attention.
The sudden sound of screeching tires brought him to a sharp awareness of their current situation. Were reinforcements coming, or some unsuspecting fool, or someone else entirely? He had not heard sirens, so he did not think that it was the police, but on the other hand he would not know. And he was not willing to take chances.
He released Ayumi, pushing her behind a crate. "Just stay there," he ordered, though he doubted she would. Gin was much better at handling the child than he was. Vodka did not even know what he was going to do now, or what would happen to Ayumi. If it was more of Ling's men, then he could not leave her there. But if it was the police, then it might be better for her to remain. After all, she could not keep staying there with them!
Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he made his way to Gin's body and knelt down, swallowing hard as he surveyed the many wounds and the blood. Slowly he reached out, gingerly brushing Gin's hair aside to check for a pulse. He hated to touch his partner at all, afraid of hurting him worse if he was alive.
"Gin-sama! Gin-sama!"
He was not surprised, but he was frustrated when Ayumi ran past him and knelt down as well, sobbing as she hugged Gin around the neck. There was so much blood! He must be dead. Ayumi could not bear it. Her heart was breaking.
"Hey, stop it!" Vodka cried, not knowing how to handle this. And he could hear voices nearby. Growing panicked himself, he pried Ayumi's arms away from the blonde and then carefully reached for the body, pulling it into his arms. Gin's head fell back lifelessly, his form limp as a ragdoll. It haunted Vodka endlessly, to see him like this, and he did not know if Gin's life could even be saved. But at this point, the green-eyed man was still alive. Right before Ayumi had tearfully embraced him, Vodka had found a weak pulse. And Vodka would do all that he could to make sure that Gin lived. Slowly he straightened up, trying hard to not further jostle Gin, and headed in the direction where the car was parked.
Ayumi stared after him for all of a moment before she got up as well, again gathering Gin's coat and hat, and starting to run after him. "Vodka-san!" she called. She had to go with them. She had to know that Gin would be alright, if he was not already dead. And even if he was . . . she wanted to be there. She wanted to know what would happen to his body.
"Ayumi-chan!"
Abruptly a hand reached out, grabbing her shoulder. She started and yelped, whirling around to face an equally astonished Conan. Vodka had ducked out of sight with Gin's body, heading for the Porsche, but Conan had heard Ayumi calling for him, and now the supposed child stared in disbelief at the coat and hat she was desperately trying to hold. He recognized them all too well.
"Ayumi-chan, what happened?" he demanded. "Where have you been? Everyone's been looking for you!"
She sniffled, her blue eyes filled with anguish. "Hi Sou-san took me to try to make Gin-sama and Vodka-san not like each other!" she replied, clutching the coat tightly as she shook from the cold, but more from her sorrow. "He poisoned me, and Gin-sama tried to find what would help, and he and Vodka-san and Hi Sou-san all started fighting with each other!" The others caught up now, and also gazed at Ayumi in shock as she continued her tear-filled story. Though she often became upset and worried when things looked bleak, right now she was absolutely and completely disheartened and broken. It was heart-wrenching to watch.
"Vodka-san fell in the water, and he couldn't swim, but Gin-sama got him out and he was okay. . . . But then someone started shooting!" She ran the cloth of the coat over her cheek, remembering how safe and warm she had felt when Gin had held her. He would never hold her again. "Gin-sama . . . he tried to find out where the person was, but he was only able to push me down before all these awful bullets came. . . . He's dead! Oh, I'm afraid he's dead!" she wailed.
Ai froze, staring at the little girl who was tightly gripping Gin's coat and hat. Gin was dead? That seemed so impossible. And her feelings on the news were very mixed. The Gin she knew had died years before, or so she had thought. Sometimes she had wondered what would happen when she confronted him again, whenever the cure for the apoptoxin would be found. She had thought that he would probably kill her, or that she would kill him, or both. She had never imagined him dying before that, and never under such circumstances. She was confused, not knowing what to think at all. But her heart went out to Ayumi, who was obviously shattered.
"Gin is dead?" Conan repeated, narrowing his eyes and focusing on that one statement of Ayumi's. The rest of what she had said was so much to digest, and so astonishing, but this was something that he could more easily process---even though he also found it hard to imagine the feared assassin being taken down so suddenly. But it was easier to think about that than about Ayumi being poisoned and Gin trying to help her.
"Yes!" Ayumi sobbed. "At least . . . he was really hurt bad and there was blood everywhere, and Vodka-san didn't want me to look. . . ." Without warning she turned and fled down the docks. "Vodka-san was taking his body away. I have to find them!" she called back as she ran around a corner.
Conan gawked after her, too stunned to do anything at the moment. But then, snapping out of his trance, he ran forward. "Come on!" he yelled. "We have to get to her!" Everyone immediately followed, and as Conan ran, he tried to sort out the bewildered thoughts going through his mind. Was it as Ai had believed, that Gin did not want harm to come to Ayumi, for whatever reason? And was he truly dead?
Before he had time to really process all of his thoughts, he heard a car engine starting. Cursing in his mind, he ran faster, heading in the direction where the sound was loudest. But when he reached the location, nothing was there. Vague tire tracks were in the snow, but they soon disappeared into the slick wetness. Conan also took note of the blood that was all around, coloring the snow red. Definitely someone had been badly injured, but he wondered if Vodka would have gotten away so quickly if he had only had a corpse with him. And where was Ayumi?
Though they looked everywhere for her, she was not to be found. Conan could only conclude that she had somehow gotten into the black Porsche and left with the two assassins, and he tightly clenched his fists. We were so close, he thought to himself, but we still lost her. And what's she gotten into now? He looked around the area, taking in the sight of the dead and injured bodies. And what really did happen here? he wondered then. Was it like Ayumi said? He was determined to find out, and to find the little girl.
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A lone figure watched all of this from the window second to the corner on the warehouse's second floor. Slowly he ducked down, not wanting to be seen, and began dismantling his sniper rifle. Gin was surely dead now. And if he was not, he would not have much hope for survival. One way or another, he would lose this battle and Ushio would be avenged. Then his step-brother would finally be at peace.
After getting the weapon into its case, the figure pushed it across the floor, crawling after it painstakingly. From his badly bandaged legs, two trails of blood dripped onto the rotting wood.
