The Cruel Guard

For the first few minutes, the soft tap of shoes clanking against the cold surface resonated across the room. Then when the guard got bored of this, he decided to converse with the hostages. Swirling around in the tattered, battered swivel chair that Guiness oh-so-kindly provided them with, he reached into the pocket of his pants to get his flashlight. He felt, for a moment, that something was missing there, but then he quickly dismissed it as nothing and proceeded to point the light at the two's general direction.

The girl, he caught sight of first. She froze for a moment when the light hit her face, before shrinking back into the pole. However, there was fresh determination flashing in her eyes, and he didn't like it one bit. He knew about her karate capabilities. Heck, he's the one who needed to cart one of his superiors off to the nearest hospital, where he saw a purplish bruise shaped like a feminine sandal bottom forming painfully on the older guard's masculine chest. He also saw a fellow guard leave the warehouse with a broken nose after apparently trying to molest her.

He didn't want to end up like any of them, but he didn't want to step down, either. He was a captor, and she was a hostage. It was simple math when you came right down to it. So, with renewed confidence, he leaned in, allowing a wicked smile to worm its way into his face.

The girl leaned away, looking more unhappy than terrified. It made him wonder where the crying had gone. The guard that was there before his shift did claim that she was being hysterical when she saw the boy's face, right? The only evidences of that now were the swollen eyes, dry streaks of tears and reddish nose. Beyond that, she seemed fine and rather…murderous. And something else. Something he couldn't exactly place his finger on. What was it?

"Sunday ain't too far off, girlie," he drawled, dismissing the thoughts. "Luckily, you won't be the one they'll kill off by then."

Her eyes darted to the left, and then to the right. She looked tense, but not horrified. That bothered him. After all, he was a captor, and she was a hostage. Just because he wasn't as well-built as the others didn't mean that he was any less intimidating.

I mean, sure, they didn't provide him with the poison and 38 colt revolver, along with the tranquilizer, swiss knives and all other things the other guards could have. He may also not know entirely what was going on, other than the fact that Kaitou Kid was involved, and that he most definitely did not want to duel him. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't be there on the seventh day, where the world-renowned criminal might make his appearance, because that would be a day of absolute chaos.

He also knew that despite his shortcomings, none of it meant that he couldn't shoot a handcuffed hostage with a pistol – a pistol that was currently had snugly fit into his belt. He wouldn't allow her to regain her vigor, or to glance at him without fear.

So, coming closer to her face, he grinned maliciously. She drew back. "Mouri Ran," he murmured, flashing the light straight into her eyes. He saw the slightest hint of a flinch, and he grinned. The name had its effect, but if anything, she looked annoyed. He wondered if she actually knew the gravity of her situation.

And then he realized that no one really told her what everything was about. He doubted that she would live for very long, and he doubted that he was going to be assigned as a hostage's guard again. He supposed telling her what he did know about that specific operation wouldn't hurt, because he didn't know much anyway. Plus, she'll die soon.

"Do you know why you're being kept in here?" he taunted, copying Guiness' tone to capture a cruel demeanor, and he was sure that he was doing it well. The girl was shivering by then – fists clenching for some odd reason – and a wave of pride passed over him, knowing very well that he initiated that fear. He was making her tremble, and he was superior.

He then proceeded to tell her about what he knew. He told her that they were going to keep her alive until the next week, and the only chance of her surviving is if Kaitou Kid was caught and punctually delivered to them. He told her about how her companion didn't stand a chance because his deadline was in two days' time. He wouldn't make it because Kid was slippery, and Kid was very difficult to touch – much more to catch and to trap. The Inspector and her father couldn't possibly get him on time. Their next hope would be during the next heist, possibly next week, if the thief actually sent a notice.

The mention of the Kid seemed to perk her up, so he concluded that she was a fan. He also concluded, by the way that she was suddenly looking at him with renewed interest, that he has finally caught her attention.

He began to rack his mind for more things to talk about. Something scary. Something intimidating. The thought of the syndicate's capabilities did cross his mind, but he wasn't dumb. He wouldn't say it.

Besides, whatever was going on in the higher-ups – it wasn't something that he could comprehend, and he'd like to keep it that way. Those who delved too deep into the roots ended up disappearing, and those who quit ended up dying accidentally. He was miserable about being (forcefully) recruited at first. After all, when he was fresh out of college, he only came there to add something to his resume. He wanted to be a teacher, you see, and he honestly didn't know how he ended up becoming a part of a criminal syndicate, snickering down at soon-to-be-murdered hostages. He supposed that he learned to accept his situation a long time ago when he realized that he had nothing else to live for because his girlfriend dumped him, and his pet dog died. Also, the barrel of the bazooka Guiness had oh-so-casually placed just beside his head a month ago as he was requesting him to stay was pretty big and scary.

He opened his mouth to start the long narrative, when a voice from behind him said, "Now, Mouri-san!"

Suddenly, he felt something hard smash against his face. He fell back, squirmed, grunted, coughed, fell again and reached for his gun. It wasn't in his belt. Holy crap, he briskly thought. No wonder he felt like something was missing earlier.

Then he felt something slam him again – harder and swifter than the previous hit. His mind never managed to recognize the pain, or where it was at, exactly, because he was promptly knocked out.

The first thing that crossed the guard's mind as he woke up was, wow, it's bright. Even with his eyes closed, a bright flash of light still managed to find its way into his vision, rendering sleep impossible. His next thought was: Why are my hands twisted behind me in such an ungodly angle?

Slowly, he opened his eyes. When the initial burst of light was gone, he managed to perceive blue. Blue eyes…framed by a young boy's face. And the young boy was smirking down at him, a pistol…his pistol…held lithely in the hand that wasn't holding his flashlight up to his face.

"Hello, guard-san!" he greeted in a smooth, playful voice. The uneven lighting made it difficult to really see the kid's features, but the shadows suggested a tight up-twist of the lips – a mischievous smirk. Behind him, there was a silhouette. It was the silhouette of a girl. It was Mouri Ran, standing, arms across her chest and freed of the handcuffs. "I'd like you to answer a couple of questions."

It suddenly occurred to him that his flashlight might've hovered over the second hostage's spot while he was scanning for them earlier. It also occurred to him that he didn't see anyone there! He didn't investigate it any further because he assumed that the kid was still knocked out on the ground, and that small tinge of incompetency on his part was a big mistake. The kid crouching in front of him was the second hostage. He needed to unleash what little pride he had left.

Because he was a captor, and he was a hostage.

"Dream on, brat!" he slurred, before cackling. "You ain't gettin' anythin' outta me!"

He could see the boy's lips. The light illuminated it well. However, it had twisted down from the playful smirk into a straight line that couldn't be read. It scared him, all the more so when he felt something cold press against his forehead.

"You could dream in hell, if that's what you'd like," the kid whispered, and he could suddenly feel his panic building up as the pistol's barrel nudged harder against his forehead. It wasn't as painful at that time Guinness was pressing the bazooka against his skin, but still…that small thing could kill him. And did the boy even know that he wasn't supposed to press the trigger to keep him alive? Good Lord, did he even know how to operate a gun? How did he even end up in that situation? He just wanted to become a teacher!

Kaito, meanwhile, could sense the panic, and he was glad. Annoying as the man may be, him of all people knew the staggering price of lives. Holding the gun up to people's foreheads wasn't exactly something he enjoyed. He knew that the man giving in equated to letting go of the weapon a whole lot quicker.

"M-my colleagues will come here any time!"

"No, they won't," the guard heard him say. "You're shift's not over 'til ten. It's eight-twenty."

Holy shit. He was going to die. The boy was going to kill him, because he didn't know so much about what was happening either and hewasgoingtodie!

"You called the Superintendent Guinness."

"Yes," he answered, automatically. And before he could stop himself, he added, "Some people here have codenames."

"That are based on liquor?"

"That are based on liquor."

"Like Sherry and Bourbon?"

"Like Sherry and Bourbon."

The flashlight wavered slightly, but the lips were still tight in a straight line. However, he did catch a glimpse of the kid's jaw tightening – just for a second – before a brief pause followed. He wondered if what he told him was useful, and if it was, he was very scared for his life. The higher-ups would kill him. However, how could codenames being based off liquors be of any importance? Was it even important? Syndicates had that all the time, right? Not just liquor – sometimes even in animals. Like Snake and Spider and –

"What's yours?" came the voice, cutting off his trail of thoughts.

"I don't have any," he replied, spluttering. "I'm just…I'm just a rookie!"

And another pause followed. He was suddenly very scared again, because he knew that in the next few seconds, he could be dead.

"Okay," the boy eventually said, and he felt the barrel leaving his skin. He barely had the chance to internally celebrate, when he heard the rustle of clothes as the kid reached into his pocket. Then, he brought out some spray. The nozzle was pointed at him. At him. There were very few centimeters between his face and the thing, and what was in it? Poison? Was he going to kill him? Was he going to die? Oh –

Oh no. The boy was smirking again, like some kind of sadistic creep, as he held a hand up to cover his own nose. "Good night!" he sang.

A hiss of smoke overtook his vision, and for some odd reason, he was feeling very, very sleepy. He fell forward a few seconds later, and dreamt about him ex-girlfriend.

Author's Note:

Okay, hi everyone! Wow, this story is catching up to my drafts. Bad news for updates. I have the plot up to the ending already weaved around my mind, though, so I won't abandon this. However…uh…you know how difficult it is to focus on two stories, right? Well, our finals is this: make a story concept, and write a script about it. 'Kidnapped' is constantly on my mind, but to keep this story concept for school from becoming about white-clad international thieves and detectives (and turning into some plagiarized work), I need to put a thick line between that and 'Kidnapped.'

Huhuuuu, this is so hard.

Anyway, that means that my updates will be a little less frequent. Honestly, it's been pretty infrequent now, huh. I'll do my best to update on time!

Oh, and, how was the strange shift of POVs? My original thought for this chapter was in Kaito's POV, actually. I don't know why I typed it in the guard's POV.