Once upon a time, Gin had a name. A real name, the kind your parents gave you and your friends called you, not a codename to hide your identity. Now his codename was his name. Gin was his one and only self. There was no person behind the mask, no man who would come home to a wife and kids and have a whole other life outside work. A long time ago, Gin had a name. But he had forgotten it, and so Gin was just Gin.

He never was good with names.

"Hey, Aniki!" Gin turned as another boy, his younger brother, approached. Green eyes shone brightly on a smiling face. Silver hair like his own was cropped short on the twelve-year-old's neck. That was where the differences ended. Seventeen-year-old Gin and his younger brother could be twins if not for the age gap. "You're off on a mission?"

Gin nodded solemnly. He'd be inducted into the Syndicate's ranks soon, he had to act the part. "Just an assassination job. Some idiot politician's trying to sell us out." He arranged his face into a convincing sneer. His brother winced. Where Gin was stern and ruthless, his little brother was kind and compassionate. The boy could barely keep his hands steady when a gun was in their grip. He was, however, a young genius. It was likely that he'd be placed in a lab, working as a scientist rather than an assassin. Truth be told, Gin was relieved. He didn't want his brother exposed to the horror of death. Every time he pulled the trigger, it was like another part of his soul died.

"Um… Good luck?" The boy shifted awkwardly. They didn't see much of each other these days. Gin was rapidly becoming a legend among the Organization. He was destined for great things. In the battle field, his aim was true and his heart was cold. He never missed, and he never showed mercy.

This, however, was not the battle field. Gin relaxed a bit and ruffled the boy's hair. "Yeah. Thanks, Konyo." He turned and left, on his way to end another life.

"Hey, Aniki." Gin blinked, startled out of his thoughts. His breath caught. No way, it wasn't… It couldn't be…

Vodka. The large man was standing a bit hesitantly beside him. Gin scowled, pleased to see a flash of apprehension on his partner's face. "What is it?"

"We have new order. Another assassination, some politician trying to break a deal with us."

Something within Gin's mind stirred. He quickly silenced it, pushing the thought to the back if his head where it would never be heard from again. "Right." He grabbed his gun and a silencer. "Let's go." He couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking about before.

"Your test is tonight." Konyo sounded displeased at the news he gave. Gin only nodded; he already knew. One trial. Just one test he had to pass and he'd be in. He'd be one of the higher ranking members, one with power, one with authority. If he made it, things would finally start looking up. Heck, Konyo might be moved to the chemistry division instead of experiments.

"So, what do you think it'll be?"

Gin shrugged. "Probably another murder. Take out a famous idol or maybe one of the FBI. It'll be easy." He hoped. He had never actually gone up against someone trained with a gun. Sure, a few people had taken shots at him, but that was entirely different from a government agent.

He'd make it, though. He had to.

He glanced up, glowering at whoever dared to interrupt him. That, of course, was Vermouth. The damn bitch. "What do you need?" he ground out. Hopefully it would just be an order from the higher ups and he could be on his way.

"Have you heard of Shinichi Kudo?" Vermouth smiled, and he knew that she knew she was irritating him. He glanced down at the gun in his hands and wondered if Anokata would accept 'a misfire' as an excuse… No, probably not.

"Who?"

"That little detective from Tokyo. I heard he's dead." Now she gave him a look. A memory woke up in his mind, blurred and colorless but there nonetheless. He must have killed this Kinichi Fudo person, or whatever his name was. Just another body to add to the list.

"And this matters how?" He really wanted to get back to polishing his gun. Then he could take it and send a bullet through her brain.

The woman gave a simpering smile. "Oh, it doesn't." Her eyes gleamed. "Just curious."

She was smart-Vermouth made herself scarce the moment he loaded his gun again.

Perhaps, in another universe, he would have screamed. Not in this one, though. Gin never screamed. He was, however, considering the pros and cons of throwing up right then and there. Instead he leveled his gaze and gun on the prisoner and said, "You're going to die now."

Konyo smiled at him, though Gin could see the stark terror behind it. He was tied to a chair, one bolted to the ground, hands tightly bound behind it. There was no blindfold or gag. "I know," the boy murmured. His voice quavered. "And I understand. Don't you see, Aniki? It's the ultimate test. You can kill agents and idols and people on the streets with ease. You don't know them. They don't matter. But family? You're little brother? Can you do that?"

"I can and I will." His hands were shaking. They hadn't done that since he first killed. "You're going to die now." Everything, everything up till now had been for his little brother. Now he was about to win it all… but loose the one he had fought for.

Konyo's eyes glistened. Was he crying? Dammit. "I know. And I understand. Say, Aniki? You know, I love-"

The gun went off before he could finish. Blood flowed down the boy's forehead, the words unsaid painted on his lips. Gin lowered his gun and turned to walk back. He was greeted with cheers and congratulations, claps on the back, people saying over and over, "I knew you could do it." He went through the initiation, heard his new name distantly announced and more cheers rise up from a faraway place.

Something inside his mind snapped.

He never remembered names… Faces, too. He thought, once upon a time, he'd had a brother. He could not remember the face or the name or even how old he was. Still, Gin knew.

But time began to pass, and memories began to fade. More people died. More names were forgotten. More faces blurred into a sea of countless others. Life went on and on and endlessly on (until he took his gun and shot them dead, that is. Life ended after that).

Brother? What brother? He had never had any siblings…

Cerulean eyes glared at him, filled with hatred of the likes he had never seen before. Somehow, somewhere, he remembered those eyes. But back then they had been full of pride and youthful arrogance, nothing like the piercing gaze before him. "Who are you?" Gin barked. It didn't matter. He'd forget the name later, anyway, right after he added it to the list.

A smile curved up on the intruder's face. "Oh?" He said softly. "You don't remember me. Well it has been a while, Gin. Three years, actually. It's no surprise you don't remember me." The smile grew, until teeth were shown and bared in a twisted grin. "No one does, not anymore. But I'll make you remember."

Gin fingered the trigger on his gun, only to freeze as the man pulled out one of his own and aimed it right at his head. "Think back, Gin. Think really hard, to a day in Tropical Land. I solved a murder there. It was a pretty clever one, though the framing was clumsy. A knife in someone's bag? How obvious can you get?" He began to laugh, quietly but almost hysterically. Gin began to wonder if he was insane.

The laughs came to an abrupt halt. The smile was gone, replaced by a look of unmasked malice. The look of someone who had killed. Or was willing to. "That day," the intruder continued casually, but the undercurrent if darkness was definite, "I saw your partner making an illegal transaction. While I was distracted by that, you snuck up behind me and struck me over the head. Your partner wanted to shoot me. What was his name… Vodka?" The man grinned again. Vodka had been killed two months ago. "You, on the other hand, fed me a poison. That was your huge mistake. I didn't die, I just suffered from some nasty side effects. After that, I hid. I teamed up with the FBI and CIA, trying to take you down. But I failed.

"And now everyone is dead!" This man was definitely insane. Unhindered rage radiated from his body. Heartbreak, too, and loneliness. "You-you and your damn Syndicate killed them all! So now you're going to die. My soul might be dragged down to Hell, but theirs' will get a bit lighter with ever death. So, Gin? Do you remember me now?"

His mind was stirring. A face, one that had been hidden for three years, began to clear. The blur vanished, the features became more defined. A name danced on his tongue. For the first time in years, he felt afraid.

And everything came rushing back.

"You're-!"

Before he could finish, the gun went off.

…Well. A not-so-happy ending for DC. As Patrick once said: "And in the end, everyone dies. That just about sums it up.