Shiniki: This has been troublesome, and I haven't been on fanfiction much but this new chapter (Chapter six to be exact!) is being written by a much older and wiser me. You can expect a slightly different style of writing in addition to less grammatical errors.

Such as - Lets eat Grandma! - Lets eat, Grandma!
Although, that my dear friends would be cannibalism in the first part, and is frowned upon in most societies.

Without further adue then, enjoy missuire!

Just one of those bad days...

He was just following orders, business was business. What did it really matter to him anyways? He was nothing in the long run, a figure in a limitless legion. Yet something had struck a cord deep down inside Gin, what normally had been an imposing and grim figure now seemed to shrink back in what would be gravely mistaken as abhorrence.

Vodka brushed his shoulder, the stalwart figure of his long time partner too was impacted by the grotesque scene they were witnessing. Though much of his expression was hidden behind his obsidian shades, it was clearly evident that something terrible was happening.

In-front of them was a young teenage girl, sitting innocently on the couch. She had long brown hair that extended towards her lower back, with what appeared to be a horn of some type forming at her hairs' crest. Sitting next to the girl was a child no older than seven, he had a cowlick that seemed all to familiar to Gin with a sapphire suit that formed a tightly compacted collar around his neck. But it was not the two beings in-front of the infamous duo that caused their very frames to quake, but what was happening on the television before them.

"A-a-aniki are you seeing this?" Vodka wheezed.

"It can't-" Gin began, "No, this won't happen. I won't allow it."

Yoko Okino was getting married to a new but popular musical artist Shiniki Okuzawa.

"Nemui no Kogorou can wait, nobody touches my Yoko..." Gin withdrew from the home, no evidence of them ever entering could be seen by the naked eye. As he proceeded down the flight of stairs leading out of the detective agency, a fiery passion burned in his eyes. He was a member of the Black Organization, but nobody, not Vermouth nor That Person would get in the way of him and his favorite celebrity idol.

Gin approached his Porsche, the keen black paint gleamed with a shining luster from what little light dared to touch it. His lithe hand slowly reached into his pocket, still shaking from what he had seen. The hand immediately withdrew and delved into another one of the thousands of compartments hidden within his overcoat. It was missing, the keys to his car had disappeared.

"Aniki don't tell me-" Vodka began.

"Yeah... I lost the keys-" Something had caught Gins eye, dangling from one of the various levers on the side of the steering wheel was a blue lanyard with a long piece of metal glinting from its end. "Inside... the car."

"Well, we could just break the window..." Vodka suggested.

Gin slowly turned towards his partner, his gun was already drawn and the specialized cocking grip was pulled back all the way. It was a hair trigger, the single most slightest flex of his finger and the recipient of his wrath would be erased permanently. "Don't, you, dare touch my car."

Gin broke to his knees and cursed the heavens, his bloodcurdling cry of despair engulfed the air. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Autograph!

"Is it alright?" He had asked.

"Its fine! Shinichi-neechan said you could!" The adorable innocence of the childs face chirped back.

The thought burned in the back of Bourbon's, no, Okiya Subaru's mind, when he had first arrived in Tokyo from a requested transfer his apartment caught fire. It seemed like the random number generator in the sky had just picked his name for the catastrophe of the day. What was worse, he lost a truly priceless bottle of... well technically himself in the blazing inferno. He had never quite recovered from that. But such flashbacks were a digression, he was on a mission, he had an objective to complete and he was nearer to it than ever.

He stared out from one of the manors innumerable windows down at the oblivious child. She had slightly auburn hair that parted down the sides in a vague resemblance to a bob-cut, yet despite the hideous monstrosity of a hair style he was reminded of, she looked nice. He had watched her day in and day out, she would leave from the back porch of Agasa's small home and tend to a variety of plants she was growing. It was nearly mechanical to him, she would leave the house at exactly 0500 and never spent more than fifteen minutes tending to her plants. At 0700 she left for school and returned promptly at 1400 on the hour, day by day. The remainder of the day she was shut inside the house and rarely ever left, when she did, she was accompanied by the adorable chibi-tantei Conan Edogawa or the owner of the house himself, Hiroshi Agasa.

Yet monitoring the old friends of Kudou Shinichi had gotten nowhere. From what he could tell, the only way they were in contact was by phone. It gnawed at his soul, haunted his dreams and sent shivers down his spine. He had been looking forward to his transfer, a chance to see the giant metropolis of Tokyo instead of being shut in a warehouse somewhere in Tottori. But most of all, he had a fascination, a burning desire...

He wanted the autograph of Kudou Shinichi, his long time exalted idol. The entire trip had been a drag to him, years of studying and constructing somewhat creepy stalker chambers filled to the brim with newspaper clippings and photographs was going to waste. Sure, he was supposed to find this Shiho Miyano, a turncoat to the organization and kept always dropping by the rumor that he was closer than ever to wiping that smear off the face of the earth, but this was important! His inner fangirl had taken over all of his senses, he found himself squealing and giggling madly when he had first entered the house. Shredding through Kudou-sama's attire and delving himself into everything he ever saw.

Conan Edogawa stood outside his own house, he chuckled. He had successfully evaded another fan and used their own addiction to trap them inside. This was getting too easy...

Humor, for once!

Wataru Takagi was scared.

He didn't know what was happening or how it happened, he had been bound, gagged, lightly beaten, then tossed into a cramped and dark trunk-space in a vehicle that appeared to go airborne at every bump in the road it sailed over.

He had a bad taste in his mouth, he had tasted it before, but where? Was it at perhaps some type of food or was it something entirely different? But wait, he had got it! Chloroform, the taste was bitter but seemed to be... lemon flavored? "Oi... Oi," Takagi thought, "What kind of criminal flavor coats their knock-out agents?"

Takagi's train of thought was broken when the car he was in came to an abrupt halt, he cursed loudly as he hit his head on what appeared to be a large metallic box also stuck in the trunk compartment. He could barely turn over to glance at it but he made out what appeared to be a large sakura flower on its side.

The trunk opened, a bag was forced over his head and he was pushed towards his knee's.

"Wataru Takagi." A voice began, "You've gotten too close with Miwako-chan.."

The penny dropped, all the mysteries in the world seemed to have been solved. The flavored agent was likely to lessen the experience, the sakura flower was the insignia of the metropolitan police department. He chuckled "Shiratori-keibu... Is that you?"

AN: Yes I know Shiratori-keibu actually liked Kobayashi-sensei and mistook Satou for that, however I find its still fun to bring back an old recurring gag.

What ever happened to the Geneva convention?

The mop.

It was the weapon of sadists worldwide. Such destructive power concealed within a compact frame, capable of inflicting fatal blows at a dizzying speed. Its dual purpose allowed it to be easily concealed as a simple tool and transported into any public facility.

But Kaito was smarter than others, he knew of its dastardly secret. How many careless and foolish individuals have fallen victim to that... that thing. He hung precariously balanced on one of the large cafeteria lamps that hung several dozen feet from the ground whilst the wet tendrils of the cleaning utensil periodically made glancing blows towards his position. He hopped to another lamp in an effort to escape, "Nee Aoko-chan!" He called, "This is a bit too much isn't it?"

His voice carried across the air like silk, its lush deepness filling the air and piercing through all sound present at the large afternoon commotion... But it hit a crucible of steel, also known as; Aoko Nakamori.

Her wrath was evident, steam seemed to shoot from her ears whilst a murderous and bloodthirsty glare hung both in her eyes and sinisterly twisted smile. She heard the words clear as day, but somehow she had forgotten how to comprehend the spoken word. Her vision had became blurred and was filled with a the figure of a lean teenage boy in the jet blue school uniforms of her high school. He had gangly and untidy brown hair that something in the back of her mind had always made her think that the hair would eat combs if they ever came near it. The boy seemed familiar but a peculiar sensation was shooting through her right now. The voice in the back of her mind was now yelling in full force, there was no Aoko Nakamori, there was only the hunter and the prey... He had flipped her skirt for the last time, she was going to wipe the floor with him, literally.

AN: Apparently somebody thought it was funny to mess with my spell-check program... Re-uploading after PROOFREADING it... I blame plot bunnies.