"Absolutely not!" Haibara screeched over the radio. "Permission denied! Use a different plan!"
"Overruled!" Conan shot back. "Moving forward with Plan H!"
"No! You idiot, moron, imbecile, NO!"
"Too late! I'm already through Phase Three and I still need fifteen more minutes!"
"Whatever it is can't possibly be worth it, Plan H is not—"
"There's no choice! Bourbon needs to escape and Gin is on his way here," Conan hissed.
She had no retort to that. After a few heartbeats of tense silence, Yuusaku's steady voice came over the radio, "Understood. Proceed with Plan H."
Conan finished restraining the unconscious men, then stood to examine the room. Getting back to the ceiling in this pathetically small body was going to be an annoying amount of work. He would have to push the folding table over, then stack a chair on top of it…
But first, he went to Kuroba's side. If any of the thief's ribs were fractured, it wouldn't be safe to leave him propped up and bent over like that. But of course, Conan couldn't just pick him up.
Fortunately, Shark was still directly behind the chair, and he deserved some payback anyway. So Conan slowly tilted Kuroba's chair backwards until it became too heavy and slipped out of his grasp, at which point the sleeping body provided sufficient cushioning to break the fall nicely. Excellent.
He cut through the duct tape binding him, then dragged Kuroba off the chair, being intensely careful not to jostle him. He quickly examined the gunshot wounds to ensure that the bleeding had indeed stopped. Next, he picked up each of Kuroba's hands in his own, one at a time, and carefully checked each finger to make absolutely sure that he'd stopped the thugs in time. Thankfully, it seemed Shark hadn't been overeager with the shears, as there were no cuts on any of his fingers, so Conan placed Kuroba's hands down softly and sighed in relief.
He gently rolled Kuroba onto his side to ensure he wouldn't choke while he was passed out. Conan placed a hand in his friend's hair, wishing he could do more but knowing that the only thing to do now was prevent the organization from finding him until the reinforcements arrived. That was the purpose of Plan H, their last resort. To be used only in the emergency case of stalling for time without Kuroba's help. First and foremost, Conan had to divert attention away from Kuroba. Naturally, he intended to do this by directing that attention to himself.
The real trick of Plan H was to cause chaos, acting like a cornered animal, powerless and desperate, to keep the organization busy but still believing they were in control. If they even started to suspect that it was a trap, it would all be in vain. So he had to remain just out of reach for as long as possible, without using any of his real tricks until there was no other choice.
Easier said than done. There was a reason that Haibara hated this plan. Everyone did. Well, almost everyone. Conan, the mastermind behind the plan, thought that it was a fine idea and that everyone else was being unfairly harsh.
Conan was reasonably sure they wouldn't just open fire on him. The mansion was close enough to other buildings that gunshots, even silenced ones, would be heard and thus risked alerting the police. There was also the useful fact that even murderous thugs preferred to avoid shooting up their own home. As a bonus, they seemed intent on taking KID alive. So, as long as he kept moving, Conan had relatively good odds of survival. Well, at least when compared to some of the other plans he'd come up with anyway.
Risky or not, it was necessary. It was only a matter of time now until someone came by this room and found the locked door. So, as much as he wanted to stay by Kuroba's side, Conan reluctantly pulled himself away and focused on the task at hand.
It took a few minutes to drag the table over, stack the chair on top of it, then clamber back into the ceiling. He began the uncomfortable trip back to the storage room where he'd left his backpack, when he heard footsteps below him. He froze to listen but couldn't make out the words, only that the person knocked on the door to the room he'd just left, called out something to Snake about their boss, then tried the handle.
Conan swore under his breath and crawled as quickly as he could through the ceiling space, bruising his arms and legs on the metal frames and scraping himself against the wooden joists in his haste. Once over the storage room, he pushed through a ceiling tile that broke under his grasp, and he struggled to both hold the pieces to prevent them from falling and also lower himself onto the nearest shelving unit.
He then locked himself into the room, retrieved his backpack, and grabbed the blue and white pill from its case, swallowing it without a second thought. A distant shout echoed down the hallway. Conan's heart spasmed with the first throes of the transformation, and he remembered at the last moment to strip off his clothes and bite down on his shirt to stifle his screams.
It took a mighty act of will to avoid thrashing around while the antidote transformed him, then he lay on the cold ground for a moment, trying to regain his breath and wait for the world to stop spinning. At the growing noise of shouting and hammering on a door, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up and dress.
The KID suit was a lot more intricate than it looked, and was further complicated by all the extra gear that he rammed into the many (many) pockets, with hands still shaking from the adrenaline and breath still ragged from the pain. The monocle popped off and threatened to roll behind a cabinet, and he dove after it with a curse, then fought to fit it into place again.
Footsteps – someone was running down the hall toward the stairs. Shinichi gave up on the jacket buttons, threw on the hat, decided to forego the cape, and burst into the hallway.
A black-clad guard stopped short at the base of the stairs to gawk at him, then pointed at him while shouting to the others, "Here! He's over here!"
Shinichi glanced down the hall to see two other men standing outside the (thankfully) still locked door. All three started running toward him, so Shinichi spun around and dashed the opposite direction, away from the stairs and interrogation room.
He ducked into the first room on the right, jumped up to cling to the ceiling railings above the door, then lifted his body out of sight just before the three ran into the room after him. They spread out to search the large, dark, dusty room, but Shinichi dropped from the ceiling, flashed them a cocky smile, and slammed the door. He grabbed his suspenders from one of the pockets and secured the doorknob to the other inward-opening door across the hall.
The screaming and beating on the door was so loud that he almost missed the telltale buzzing of a walkie-talkie as one of the trapped men radioed for backup. Not good. How many of the guards in the rest of the building would be redirected to the supposedly 'impenetrable' basement now? Shinichi sprinted back toward the stairs, but skidded to a halt when he found his escape blocked by a small crowd of men in black pouring into the basement.
Past the stairs was a large space filled with rows upon rows of boxes and shelves, which Shinichi raced toward, hoping to get lost in the shadows and buy some time there. He drew the card gun and fired haphazardly at any lights he passed. He swung his other arm out to grab smaller boxes that he threw down into the path behind him to trip his pursuers, occasionally toppling entire shelves. In the back of his mind, he just really hoped that the organization wasn't smuggling any exotic animals in those boxes.
At some point an alarm activated. Whether it was deliberate, accidental, or some sort of interference from outside, Shinichi had no way of knowing. But the blaring alarm, flickering and damaged lights, and furious screaming echoing throughout the basement, all served to add to the chaos. It was such an assault on the senses that it was impossible to know anything beyond the current action, and Shinichi had no concept of how much time had passed.
His pursuers had apparently decided to split up in an attempt to corner him; instead of a large group behind him, he kept finding one or two at a time as he bolted through the shelves. He managed to take out a few by kicking small objects at them, but there were definitely a lot more of them than he had anticipated. He rounded another corner and stumbled, nearly losing his balance to evade someone with a taser. Time to get some distance.
In his panic, he barely checked his aim before firing the grappling hook in the general direction of the stairs, but luckily it found a perch and yanked him out of danger just in time. He inadvertently knocked over several more boxes as he zipped away, then he abruptly slammed into the wall with a huge resounding thump, like an oversized bird smacking into a window.
Shinichi crumpled into an undignified heap on the ground. The grappling hook / card gun combo dangling from the ceiling then came loose and bashed his head hard enough to leave a mark. Damn, that hurt! How was one supposed to stop anyway? KID always made it look so easy!
The sound of running jerked him free of his stupor. He threw down a smoke bomb, snatched up his now slightly misshapen hat, and ran into the nearest room, which appeared to be an office of sorts. He briefly considered trying to hide in one of the cabinets, but he had grossly overestimated his lead on his pursuers, who burst through the door after him. Shinichi sprinted across the room to the only other door, which he locked behind him, then pulled down a nearby bookcase as a partial barricade.
The door shook in its frame as they attempted to kick it down, so Shinichi hurried to the other exit of this room, which should take him back to the hallway, only to find the door completely immobile. He tugged uselessly on the handle, brought up his mental map of the basement, then jolted when he realized he was across the hallway from the room where he'd trapped the first three thugs. Meaning that this was the other door tied shut by his suspenders.
He took a step back, looked around, saw no escape, and turned to see the first door literally splintering before his eyes. He glanced at his watch — damn! He technically still needed about three more minutes, assuming Bourbon's earlier 'fifteen minutes' estimate had been accurate. They were forcing him to show his hand sooner than he wanted, but he was out of options.
He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, willing himself to wait until the last possible minute. The thugs were partially through, glaring at him and screaming, and he was cornered, and he knew it, but they weren't through yet. Another moment and someone kicked the bookcase far enough that the door finally flew open.
Shinichi held a hand over his earpiece to direct the sound of his urgent whisper, "Lights!" Two seconds later, the power cut out again, plunging them into sudden disconcerting silence as the alarms finally died as well.
Furious cursing and cries of "Hold your positions!" echoed around the basement. Before anyone had a chance to find a flashlight, Shinichi held his breath, activated a sleeping gas bomb, and threw it into their midst. As they began to fall unconscious, he hurriedly placed his gas mask over his nose and mouth, then twisted the dial on the side of the monocle to activate the recently installed night vision mode, courtesy of Professor Agasa.
He first noticed that several men had gotten alarmingly close to him, but, to his relief, all of them were now too busy falling asleep to point any weapons at him. Shinichi sighed, relieved and grateful. He'd been counting on KID's uniquely powerful sleeping gas formula, combined with the poor ventilation and blackout conditions in the basement, as the final ace up his sleeve. He was just glad it had worked as intended. Hopefully it wasn't too much and wouldn't scare Gin away.
"Stay ten paces back for two minutes to let the gas dissipate, then close in." The voice, cold and calculating, came from the other side of the locked door and was followed by the loud snapping sound of the suspenders being cut.
Shinichi skittered backward toward the wall in the middle of the room and watched in horror as the door swung open and a figure with long hair flowing down past his waist entered the room. At the same time, another figure, stocky and built like a tank, entered through the other door, carefully stepping over the prone bodies in the way.
Even with the limited details provided by the night vision lens, he could clearly see that both Gin and Vodka wore gas masks, had night vision goggles, and carried guns.
As they raised their weapons, Shinichi squeezed his eyes shut and slammed a button in yet another pocket of the jacket to launch a flash bomb.
All three of them instantly buckled over in pain. Flash bombs blinded people under normal circumstances, but the effect was so magnified in the dark through night vision goggles that even through closed eyes it could sometimes cause serious damage to one's optical nerves.
But Shinichi only had half a night vision goggle. He forced himself to move through the pain and switched the monocle to his left eye. The other two were still bent over, covering their eyes, but they wouldn't be stunned much longer – he had to be quick.
He looked around desperately, but no escapes or hiding places had magically appeared in the room since the last time he checked. The final phase of Plan H would have been to barricade himself somewhere to prevent himself from being used as a hostage, and let the police deal with the armed criminals. Instead, he was cornered in a room by Vodka and Gin, with other members of the organization waiting outside just beyond the range of the sleeping gas.
Shinichi swallowed hard. He couldn't even report this to his team without making a noise that would give away his position. For the moment, he was on his own. Ok. He could do this. Just don't become a hostage, he told himself. He pulled out his most powerful weapon, the tranquilizer watch, and silently crept toward Gin, who stood eerily still even as Shinichi watched him intently for any signs of movement.
When he was about a meter away, Shinichi pressed the button to open the watch and was immediately met with a powerful punch to his gut, Gin apparently having been listening for just such a clue. He stumbled backward, hitting a wall where there shouldn't have been a wall, and felt Vodka's heavy arm immediately wrap around his throat. Without thinking, he fired his watch at the arm, and the man's grip slackened as he fell unconscious.
Gin landed another solid hit on Shinichi's ribs, causing both him and Vodka to topple over backwards. Shinichi immediately rolled over, dodging another hit just in time. He sprung to his feet, breathing heavily, and reached for his soccer belt at the same time as Gin drew something out of his own pocket.
A painfully intense light suddenly filled his vision, not aimed directly at him but close enough to burn his already injured eyes. He winced, ripped off the monocle, and exclaimed "Lights!"
The power flickered on to reveal Gin holding a flashlight and glaring at him through reddened and watering eyes that were nonetheless still menacing. At least he was too far away to land another hit immediately.
Shinichi remained poised for action, hoping that his trembling hands and the sweat beading down his forehead weren't too obvious.
Even though the gas mask blocked the lower half of Gin's face, Shinichi felt his blood suddenly run cold and was sure the man was smiling one of his terrifyingly cold smiles. Shinichi suddenly realized that his top hat had tumbled to the ground when he fell, and without the monocle or the cover of darkness, his full face (minus the gas mask) was now visible to Gin. Worse, because of the time constraints of this plan, he hadn't been able to complete the disguise with the contacts or hair gel that he'd used the first time. So there he was, staring down Gin, with Shinichi's face in KID's outfit.
His mind raced through his remaining assets, cataloging his options. The dart was gone. Another blackout would leave him helpless, which was far too risky. More sleeping gas wouldn't help as long as Gin still had a gas mask. He'd failed to recover the card gun after its grappling hook attachment had betrayed him. The soccer ball might be an option if he could activate it fast enough.
The bigger problem was what weapons his enemies might have. He still hoped they wouldn't shoot to kill, but he couldn't allow them to take him hostage, and he also really really really wanted to keep his kneecaps.
"That was some trick, boy," Gin drawled in his deep cruel voice, interrupting Shinichi's spiraling thoughts, as if to purposely distract him. "You seem to be full of tricks. The one I'm most curious about, however, is how you survived that poison."
"A magician never reveals his tricks, Gin," Shinichi replied as calmly as he could, trying to ignore the force with which his heart hammered in his chest. This was good! There was no response over his earpiece, likely because they didn't want to risk distracting him, but they must've heard him talking to Gin and would surely start moving in now. He just had to hold out another minute or two.
"Of course they do, when tortured enough," Gin replied with inhuman delight. "I'm quite looking forward to it."
"I hope you're not looking forward to it too much — I do hate disappointing my audience."
Gin chuckled, a deeply unnerving sound that caused a shiver to run down Shinichi's spine. Then they froze, sizing each other up, each waiting for the other to make the first move. For the first time, Shinichi found himself seriously doubting the sanity of Plan H.
The sleeping gas had nearly dissipated by now, and sounds of movement beyond the doors indicated that the rest of the gang was closing in.
Both of them moved at once. Shinichi, desperate to not be shot, threw a smoke bomb, hoping Gin wouldn't risk a blind shot. He also preemptively leapt to the side, but was not fast enough to dodge a small switchblade that Gin had thrown at him. The knife buried itself in his left shoulder and his resulting cry of pain gave away his location to Gin, who rammed his shoulder into Shinichi's chest, slamming him to the ground.
Shinichi's breath was knocked out of him, and the impact of his head hitting the concrete floor left him disoriented. Then the cold-blooded killer was on top of him, strangling him with an iron grip.
The lack of oxygen triggered the overpowering human instinct for survival. He found himself clawing uselessly at the hands around his neck, accidentally dislodging his own gas mask in the process.
"Don't worry, boy," Gin growled, "I'm just going to knock you out for now. You still have some questions to answer before I rip your guts out and use them to strangle you for real!"
The threats fell on deaf ears, as did the thundering footsteps, shouting, and gunshots from above them – Shinichi couldn't think anymore.
Shinichi was barely aware of his actions at this point, as his right hand closed around the knife still stuck in his left shoulder and ripped it out to slash upward in a blind, desperate attack.
Gin fell back, releasing his grip, apparently bleeding, clutching at his jaw – the gas mask had been cut off. Shinichi shoved unfeeling hands into his pockets and activated all his remaining tricks, his world immediately enveloped by thick smoke, some of it hopefully sleeping gas. He didn't hear what Gin's reaction to the smoke could've been, but then again, he couldn't seem to hear much of anything anymore. Huh. Maybe he was dying.
With his last conscious thought, he wondered idly what life-hating, low-IQ, tempter-of-fate, absolute psychopath had come up with such an idiotic and downright suicidal idea as Plan H, and why none of his so-called 'friends' had thought to stop him from trying to execute it. Did the universe just hate him maybe?
But at least Kaito was safe. Yes, Kaito was safe, and the police were here now, so Kaito would definitely be ok. Perhaps Plan H wasn't that bad after all.
Then he passed out.
Author's Notes:
Next Up: Shinichi survives! Then Kaito wakes up the hospital with someone keeping watch over him. Emotions ensue.