A/N: Okay, folks, finally the 8th chapter is up and running! This was actually inspired by one of my reviewers, who requested a bit in Kogoro's point of view^^ And though I have to say that it was somewhat difficult to get into his mindset, I am relatively pleased with the result^^ It's also not so much a filler (as I'm sure some of you will think), but it was simply to explain what was happening to all the other people in Conan's vicinity^^ Kogoro just volunteered to be the scapegoat *gg* Thanks go as usual to my amazing beta, without whom I would not be able to write any of this anymore... She's now done with her finals and we pieced this together in an amazing three days (we actually counted!)...

We still have the "Send-Conan-To-Therapy" Fund open, and though I'd like to give you all a heads-up on how many cookies we managed to collect, I have to say, no one actually sent cyber-cookies^^ Right now, we feed him on our own supply... Always remember: Cookies make everything better! So be a nice person and send your donation of cyber-cookies now! We're slowly running out of supplies here^^

And lastly, the most important thing:

Due to the shocking incident in Connecticut, my beta TWILIGHTreader1 and I would like to express how much that atrocity has saddened us. Someone killing children is unacceptable. When I started this fanfiction, I had no idea that something as terrible as that could ever happen.

That deranged, psychotic maniac should have been punished by something far worse than death at his own hands. And even though this story is about such murders of the worst kind imaginable, we do under no circumstances condone what he did. After seeing the news it struck both me and my beta pretty hard, and it did not help that our story is about killing children as well. What has happened made this all too real and we could not help but feel saddened over it. We still do.

Finally, we sincerely hope that we will not offend anyone by continuing with this story. Rest assured, our murderer will face the full force of the law and he will pay for his crimes. Nothing he has done will be excused in any way.

To the families of those suffering from the losses of their loved ones we offer heart-felt condolences and will pray (each in our own fashion) that the souls of those lost will find eternal rest.

Sincerely yours, Caledonia1986 and TWILIGHTreader1

Chapter 8

Thursday 16th September 2011

Mouri Detective Agency

Early evening

I wonder how long I'll be able to do this…

Sighing, Kogoro took another sip from his half-empty beer can, vainly trying to suppress the feeling of guilt daring to overwhelm him. The sleuth sighed again, raking a weary hand through his greying hair. For a very long while, he just stared at his beer can, as if that little aluminium can held all the answers in the world.

The famous detective had just returned from the station where he had spent hours with Megure-keibu and the other officers, theorizing. They had exhausted most of the morning poring over data, and the great sleuth was now officially bordering on 30 hours without sleep. At this point, the man's eyes were bloodshot and his skin pale. Slowly but surely, this horrific killing spree had caught up to him; he was physically and emotionally drained. It wasn't only the fact that children were being murdered that set him on edge, but also that an entire city, including its police force, looked to him to put an end to this horror.

What made this so much different than all the other cases in his career was that he was no longer certain he would be able to solve it. There was so much riding on his shoulders that the weight seemed almost suffocating. He constantly thought about the case, and in the few minutes he was actually able to turn his mind to other matters, the images came back with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer on a watermelon. And those images were what ultimately got to him. There were so little clues, even with the police looking into every corner, that their chances of success were disappearing a little more each day.

Sitting in his desk chair, Kogoro refused to move even a muscle. He was just so damn tired and so worn out that even if he wanted to move, he sincerely doubted his body would obey him. Still staring at his beer can, the famous detective continued to think over the events of the past day, hoping for some kind of miracle. This killing spree and the culprit behind them were just too much for his mind to process. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to harm an innocent, sweet, little child. Children were defenceless; it was an adult's responsibility to look after them. From all the victims, children were always hardest to deal with. He felt like such actions crossed an invisible line of morals that should never be tampered with. He was old-fashioned that way: murders happened between adults, while children were kept away from such violence. That was at least what he told himself, or else he would never sleep again.

With every day that passed, guilt drove itself deeper into his core. Guilt over children he had not been able to save, faces and names of formerly cheerful kids, their lives lost at the hands of that cruel beast terrorizing the city. He managed to look confident enough for the benefit of the people around him, but when he was alone, he felt only guilt over his inability to catch that monster. Such a responsibility was weighing heavily on him, and with each child lost, another mark on his conscience appeared.

He'd poured over the crime scene photos and the reports countless times, and even now, he had a stack of documents in front of him. Though the sleuth felt that he was on the verge of collapsing from fatigue, Kogoro refused to permit himself the rest. Even if this resulted in him passing out over his work once again, he couldn't take a break. He had to find the terrible person behind all this before more children fell into that deranged maniac's clutches.

He had to stop him before a certain child found his way into the middle of disaster, as was so often the case. The older sleuth tried to keep the kid away from the case, but that idiot freeloader would find a way to root through his files, just like he had done the other day.

Every time Kogoro closed his eyes, pictures of the lifeless bodies of those children would show up, immortalized by crime scene photography. It haunted him, day and night. The pictures of these dead children provided a constant reminder of his failures. Every day, he would try and redeem himself, but it was no use in the end. The images remained, stirring a feeling of vague terror and burning guilt in his heart. He would never admit it, but his family was the most important thing in his life, and it hurt him to no end that there were ten families that would never be whole again.

Even now, every time he thought of the case, his stomach turned, and if he dared to think of the pain these children had doubtlessly endured, bile would rise until it burned in his throat. That was among the main reasons he drank himself stupid each and every evening. It allowed his brain to shut down long enough to let him get some sleep. There were nights though, that not even alcohol could numb the pain and anger he felt. Those were the nights he suffered the most, both as a father and as a former law enforcement officer sworn to uphold the law and protect the people. In the end, his only shot at peace was to find the killer and bring him to justice.

He'd spent hours with the rest of the police force talking about possible angles they could take, things they could still investigate, but the hard truth was that there was no place left to go. Even the black sand which had seemed so promising in the beginning was turning out to be a dead end. Not to mention that the duty of guarding the children was proving to be even less achievable. They couldn't possibly keep all the children within Tokyo off the streets, even though that was proposed by several officers. Truthfully, it was a tempting suggestion; one Kogoro was more than ready to agree to, which of course had absolutely nothing to do with a certain seven year-old in his care.

Kogoro remained where he was, slowly spinning the beer can on the table-top, with his weary and burning eyes staring straight ahead. His mind kept going over details, evidence, witness reports, anything that might help catch this killer. The police and the independent sleuth had their hands tied in several places, which only served to fuel the anger. The great detective wanted to act, even if it meant rounding up the army and search through every house in Tokyo and its general vicinity to find this guy. He was willing to break the law in order to catch the monster preying on these innocent children. Then, everyone would be safe; no more children would die. At least, that's how he justified such barbaric extremes.

The cops had initially thought to stake out every school in the general area of Tokyo, but they simply lacked the manpower to do so. Yet another reminder of how limited their resources truly were.

One of the biggest dilemmas they faced was that they didn't know just how the killer picked his victims, and so had no idea which kids to single out. It was like getting lost in a foreign city and trying to find your way home blindfolded; in other words: a useless effort. Closing the schools would result in panic. Not to mention that lots of kids would be unsupervised, if their parents would not be able to stay at home and look after them. Unsupervised children often caused more trouble.

"Unsupervised children, hm?" Kogoro chuckled without a hint of humour, before sighing again.

Oh, what trouble they cause…

The look on his face was that of a man reminiscing. At first, it looked almost nostalgic, before his face twisted into a grimace of pain that barely concealed worry. Forcing himself to stop thinking of that particular child, Kogoro returned his mind back to the present.

Wordlessly, the detective reached for a pile of folders, looking through them again, even though he'd most likely memorized their contents already. He just needed something to busy his mind, before the worry would grow large enough to prevent further thought. He revisited statements of witnesses, crime scene accounts, and victims' personal histories. He took another swing of his beer before moving on to the crime scene photos. Some things he just couldn't bear to see on a sober mind any more.

Absently, he picked a photo, and for a brief moment, a mere fraction of a second, he saw a different child's face. A face with dark hair and huge glasses; the normally insatiably curious gaze dulled in death's dread embrace. He almost dropped his beer in shock. The sleuth managed to shove the can to the nearest open surface on his desk, before risking another look at the picture. He needed reassurance that his eyes were merely playing tricks with his mind; that his overwrought brain had simply thought that dreadful scene up. Considering the death grip he clasped the picture with, it was a miracle that the paper did not rip. And of course, the moment his eyes scanned the dead boy's face, the illusion disappeared and that certain child's face vanished. Conan's face vanished. Once again, it was Enode Katsuro that was shown in the picture.

"Kuso!" Cursing thus, Kogoro shoved the picture aside, dropping his head into his cupped palms while his elbows rested on the desk.

"I hate it when that happens…" he all but growled. He ran both his hands through his hair, before tiredly rubbing his face with one hand while fumbling for a cigarette with the other.

Truth be told, often when he looked at those photographs for too long or thought about the case too intensely, his thoughts would stray to the boy in his care. Kogoro would, apparently, have to give up on thinking all together at this point, since all his thoughts would be centered on one specific little boy. Of course, it had not escaped his notice that Conan was the same age as the murdered kids and could, therefore, be a target, especially considering that the boy had a talent for trouble. It also hadn't escaped him that the boy, besides having danger following him like an errant puppy, was now almost begging to be included into the investigation. Not that Kogoro would permit that, of course.

The sleuth fidgeted with the cigarette in his hand. He was not really smoking it; he simply needed something to busy himself with, in order to let his mind concentrate on something mundane and trivial. It was better than pacing. He often did that nowadays also. It seemed like the more he tried, the lesser Kogoro could succeed in keeping his private life separate from his work, especially considering Conan. The freeloader might not be his kid, but the last thing he ever wanted was to bury the little tyke before his time.

Kogoro didn't know what a kid that age could have possibly done to piss off the gods, but it had to be pretty bad for the Shinigami to follow Conan around so persistently. At the thought of how often that boy ended up in trouble or got hurt because of some case, the sleuth shivered uncomfortably.

Shuddering, Kogoro remembered the call from the hospital so long ago. At first, he had believed it to be some minor injury, but he could have sworn his heart stopped when he heard the boy had been shot. How the hell a 7 year-old managed to end up in such trouble to warrant a bullet was beyond his understanding. When he had heard the doctor calmly explain how badly Conan had been injured, it was enough to haunt him for months to come. Simply thinking back on that day was almost too much for Kogoro. Just remembering the way the kid's almost lifeless body had been wheeled past dug up too many fears he usually preferred to leave buried.

When thinking about the many hospital visits in which Conan had been the patient, the older detective reminded himself once again what a severe lack of self-preservation the kid sported. It didn't exactly help that no matter how hard he tried, or how often he yelled at the kid, Conan would always find a way to sneak into case materials, even after he had been physically removed several times. Just the thought of Conan getting killed by someone was enough to make him feel sick.

The famous detective didn't know what bothered him more: the thought of Conan dying or the fact that he was admitting to himself that he actually cared about that nosy brat. That thought at least managed to draw a half-hearted smirk from Kogoro.

Having a son might be nice…

The tired man turned away from the desk; he couldn't concentrate long enough to be of any use to the investigation, not when the four-eyed kid took up such extensive residence in his mind. And yet, he felt at least comforted with the knowledge that while he couldn't protect all the children in Tokyo, he could at least protect one of them.

It wasn't something he'd ever shared with anybody, but over the months Conan had stayed with him and his daughter, he became fond of the curious boy, so much so that now he almost reckoned him a second child. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, let alone tell the kid. He still had his pride after all.

Kogoro stared at the office door for a while; his heavy eyes gazing more inwards. To any outside observer, it would have looked obvious that the detective was in deep thought. Along the way, the sleuth had ditched his cigarette and reached for his beer again. Taking another sip, he let his thoughts wander.

Over the course of this case, he'd worried that one day Conan would end up on the target list; that the boy would vanish, leaving behind no trace, only to turn up dead a good week later. The old sleuth tensed at that horrific thought, and his hand squeezed the can involuntarily until the rest of its contents were spilled over his desk. Not that there was much left to begin with, but the stain was still sizeable enough. Completely ignoring the mess, Kogoro actually threw the can across the room in a sudden fit of anger. Gritting his teeth, the man cursed once more.

The famous sleeping detective couldn't stand the thought of that little ankle-biter turning up dead. Somehow it seemed wrong on so many levels. He also knew that if that eventuality ever came to pass, Ran would be crushed underneath a mountain of grief, since his daughter had pretty much adopted the kid as her little brother long ago. More than likely, Kogoro would not be far behind his daughter's grief. These what-if situations proved to be too much for his heart already. He didn't dare think too closely on that particular subject.

He tried to keep Conan away from this case, but nonetheless, he recognized it for the fruitless effort it really was. By now, the news was full of reports about the children. Not to mention, he might have known those kids. And if not he, maybe one of his friends had known them. Chances for getting Conan to back off the subject were almost non-existent by now.

Kogoro knew how Conan got during a case; the boy was always too invested, too interested for his own good. And, if he wasn't off trying to catch the bad guy, the child would be shielding someone else from harm.

He always was like that… as if he thinks he needs to protect the world…

The older detective had noticed the weight Conan placed on his own shoulders a long time ago. He always seemed to feel responsible for everything and everyone around him. But just for once, Kogoro wanted to take that weight off and carry it himself. No child that young should be burdened with such responsibilities. But from the look in Conan's eyes, he knew that the boy was used to it and would have it no other way. That reminded Kogoro; he needed to have a long talk with Conan's parents when this whole mess was over. No matter how he looked at it, no child would willingly act that mature. Not even Shinichi had done so at this age. Something must have happened to push such an extreme behaviour onto that child. Not to mention how paranoid and jumpy Conan was at times.

The old man sighed. There were so many things wrong with that kid.

Kogoro managed to quell his anger enough to think rationally, but the only thing that kept going through his mind was that he had to keep that boy safe, even if it was the last thing he did. Not only did this killing spree continue to worry the great detective, he had also seen how it affected Conan.

The kid's already sporadic appetite had all but vanished since the killings began. From what Kogoro observed, the boy didn't stomach much more than what would keep a sparrow alive. Most of the time, he would just pick at his food half-heartedly. It bothered the old man to see the boy so lethargic; it was just not like him. What made it worse was that Conan started to look sick. His skin was much paler, and he seemed thinner by a great deal. He'd hoped that by keeping Conan off the case, he could somehow give the kid permission to be just that: a kid.

"Fat load of good that did…" the old man hissed testily. He was recalling the evening he had all but wanted to clobber the kid for going through his files. Granted, it had been Conan who spotted that sand, but that had only made the older detective angrier. He wanted Conan off the case, period. Therefore finding Conan in the middle of his crime scene photographs only served to fuel the fire, especially since those were images that would have most children screaming in horror and suffering nightmares for the rest of their lives. At this point, the sleuth would have given money to get Conan off the case.

Kogoro had also observed that Conan seemed sort of skittish and irritable, even more so than usual, given the boy's standards. A few days ago, Conan had actually snapped at him. He hadn't been throwing a tantrum; he'd just snapped. It was more akin to something a man would do when under too much pressure. At the moment, he couldn't recall the subject of the brief conversation. He only remembered that the boy had let his frustration out on the older detective. It was a somewhat unsettling thing to witness in the usually so controlled boy. Controlled wasn't even the right word to describe his charge.

The kid had an uncanny ability to compartmentalize, better than any cop Kogoro had ever encountered, but somehow this case seemed to push him over the edge. Not that Kogoro could blame the kid; this case was hard on everyone. There was just something about killing a child that pushed everyone's buttons in every different way.

Of course, Conan had apologized later, but it was still almost heart-wrenching to see that boy so distraught that he could no longer control his emotions. After that little instance, Kogoro had kept an even closer watch over the boy.

What bothered the old man even more was that Conan seemed completely introverted. Not that the kid was known to be outgoing or noisy to begin with, but he had always been inquisitive. Conan always had something to say or a question to ask. As a rule, the boy only spoke when he felt the need to, but lately Conan had been even more withdrawn than usual, especially considering those nightmares Kogoro knew the boy had. Conan shut himself off from everyone, even more than normal. These days, the kid even refused to confide in his surrogate sister. Therefore, Ran was kept in the dark by Conan, just as he was.

Those nightmares were a real cause for legitimate concern. Approximately every night, Conan would wake up drenched in sweat, almost to the point of screaming. It must have taken a great deal of self-control not to do so, especially considering the look of terror on the child's face. Afterwards, the kid would forgo sleep altogether. Some nights, when he came home late, Kogoro would walk in to see a very disturbed child. Conan would be tossing and turning on his futon, quietly mumbling, with the most tortured look on his face. Often, when this had happened, Kogoro had contemplated simply placing a hand on Conan's shoulder. It had helped when Ran had experienced nightmares, but something restrained him from doing so. He knew that Conan was a light sleeper, and only the gods could foresee how the kid would react to someone stooping over him when he woke up from a nightmare. Chances were the results would not be good. Kogoro just hoped he would be able to figure out a way to make the kid talk about all of this, preferably before it was too late.

"Can't be healthy for a kid his age…," Kogoro mumbled quietly, "If only he'd open up to someone…"

Kogoro really wanted to know what was scaring Conan so much that the boy gave up on sleeping. Usually nothing disturbed the boy's sleep. He'd spent nights in the same room with a corpse before, without even batting an eye. Whatever it was that the kid saw in his nightmares, Kogoro had a feeling that everything the older sleuth had experienced would be a piece of cake by comparison.

If he only knew what it was Conan had nightmares about, perhaps then he could figure out a way to help the kid without letting the boy catch on to his intentions. Kogoro could be subtle, but only if the situation deemed such actions appropriate. This was one such instance.

Taking a deep breath, the older sleuth sank lower into his chair to think things through. It was almost painfully obvious that this case somehow affected Conan. It pushed his emotional buttons, so to speak, enough to give him nightmares. It could be that he dreamed he got injured or killed, but Kogoro doubted the boy could be that selfish. It seemed more plausible that it wasn't himself the kid was worrying about, but most likely it had to do with his friends, who also happened to be the same age as the other victims.

Considering his track record, it was far more appropriate to insinuate that the kid had no instincts of self-preservation at all. Conan also didn't seem to understand just how small he was. It was as if the kid could not comprehend the fact that he was almost small enough to walk comfortably underneath a table.

To busy himself with something, Kogoro, shaking his head, heaved himself out of his chair and went into the mini-kitchen in order to get some paper towels to clean the beer stain he'd left earlier. Last thing he needed was for one of the files to reek of beer. After grabbing a roll of paper towels, Kogoro stopped at the fridge, contemplating another beer. He stood there for a good minute, before he convinced himself that something much stronger was in order now. Walking out of the kitchenette, he headed for the liquor cabinet with determination in his steps. If he wanted to get drunk enough to sleep, he needed something a lot stronger than beer.

Grabbing the first bottle that came in sight, he stalked back to his desk again. Ripping some paper towels, he managed to get most of the mess cleaned up relatively fast, before plopping back into his chair. Shoving the folders aside, Kogoro unscrewed the lid and took a big gulp. At least, he had managed to grab hold of the strongest stuff in the house. Given his already inebriated state, he'd be drunk out of his skull in a matter of minutes. Meaning, he wouldn't have to think about this damn case any more for at least a few hours.

The old man took two more big draughts of Brandy before placing the bottle back on his desk. Given how quickly the alcohol reacted with his body, it bordered on miraculous that he managed to screw the lid shut again.

Even though he was trying to drown himself in alcohol in order to avoid thinking about the case or the boy in his care, his mind had different intentions. His plan on getting drunk was apparently not working fast enough.

Friday 17th September 2011

Morning

It was interesting to perceive how little all these people around him actually knew. He could literally walk into a random café in the middle of Tokyo and have a cup of tea with none of them having even an inkling of who he was. They had no idea, and it amused him to no end.

He actually had to restrain himself from laughing outright at such cluelessness. All these people around him: the waiter that had brought his tea, the businesswoman to his right. They all were oblivious to the fact that the "dreaded" serial killer was right among them. All the while, he was calmly drinking Oolong-tea and watched their every move from the corner of his eyes. This had quickly become a game to him. He enjoyed the chase, but the hunt was what ultimately entertained him the most. Taunting the cops was just an added bonus to his already peaking fun.

After taking another sip from his tea, the man smiled deviously.

As I predicted from the start, my brilliance will always outshine their feeble and useless minds…

Now all that was needed was a little acting. He just had to pretend to be one of the citizens of the city, who was also worried about these horrific, terrible atrocities. The man could barely restrain an annoyed eye-roll. He could care less what these idiots thought, but at the moment, he needed to blend in. Everyone was none the wiser about his true intentions, just as he had foreseen.

From all this glorious enjoyment, what satisfied this hungry predator most was how no one could ever forget what he had done to the grand city of Tokyo. Generations after his lifespan, people would still speak of this terror, of the legacy he left behind for the world. They would remember all the fear and terror he had caused; the pain he had inflicted. This satisfied him the most.

Nature had granted him the gift of unobtrusiveness: he had no distinctive features at all. He looked like almost everyone here. To assimilate even more, he had carefully selected his clothing to blend in with the masses around him. It allowed the murderer to hide in plain sight.

For the past few minutes, he had entertained himself with reading newspaper articles about his achievements. He silently gloated over the note of panic he could feel leaking from various reporters, and internally, he laughed at the feeble attempts done by the police to reassure a public that was already teetering on the brink of outright panic. The city was only a slight twitch away from having a curfew issued on all of the children, simply to keep them from his reach. Not that it would benefit them in the slightest. Children, by their very nature, were bound to disobey such an order.

He could already feel himself becoming restless. The desire to hear a child keening in terror once more was driving the sadistic murderer wild with excitement. His body was tingling all over while he thought about his last prey. That one had been exceptionally delightful, especially since he enjoyed the results of some new techniques he had tried.

Another smile twitched on his lips behind the newspaper; he was confident to get an even better result with a new playmate. It thrilled him to see a child squirm and panic at his hands. It had been barely a week since he disposed of that child, but his nerve-endings had already dulled. He missed the rush of excitement, the gratification he received from seeing the light in their eyes flicker and vanish. It was time to find the next one. Not that he really minded the search; it was all part of the game. If he could have it his way, he'd have a child each and every day.

The bell at the café's door dinged a few times as it was being opened. It jolted the killer out of his delusional desires, alerting him to the presence of two newcomers. It took him but one glance to know precisely who they were. The woman was dressed in a blue combination of a skirt and blazer, while the man wore a simple, brown, somewhat cheap suit. The way they threw a quick glance through the room, more out of habit than anything else, told the murderer all he needed to know.

Police…

Confident in his abilities, the sadistic killer did not even bat an eye at the close proximity of law enforcement officers. He actually welcomed the challenge. With a twisted smile plastered across his face, he leaned back to observe as unobtrusively as he knew how.

Well, it seems as if the game just became more interesting…

It was one thing to hide in plain sight from any common man, but police officers were specially trained to spot people like him. The addition of more players on his game board made his current diversion of hide-and-go-seek that much more stimulating. Then again, he didn't expect to actually get caught. He was much too good at hiding himself from their glances.

As the man's gaze returned to the front, the killer observed smugly from behind his newspaper.

They have no idea… Absolute idiots, as I suspected…

The current situation only served to boost his already over-sized ego, because now he could boast that not even trained observers were aware they were in the same room as the "Bogeyman of Tokyo", as the press had so luridly named him.

Suppressing a grin while innocently taking a sip of his tea, the malevolent man cast careful glances their way. The old saying proclaimed that one should 'know thy enemy'. Therefore, that was what he intended to do, not that two police officers really imposed much of a threat to him. It was still better to see than to be seen.

Judging from the not so hidden looks the man threw at the woman, he seemed to have a thing for her. He always seemed to avert his eyes and blush like a complete moron whenever she looked back. The smile on the woman's face, in turn, showed that she seemed to reciprocate the emotion.

Fraternizing cops… How sickening…

Nonetheless, he continued to watch them, taking care not to be too conspicuous about it. The killer was more than confident in his ability to remain unseen, but there was no harm in being careful.

As he looked on, they ordered coffee, apparently glad for the rejuvenating effect of the beverage. More than likely, they had exhausted the night in the pursuit of finding him. This time the murderer had a hard time not chuckling amusedly behind the cover of his newspaper. All they needed was to turn around, and they would be staring into the face of the man holding the city under siege. The man they had so diligently, but unsuccessfully, gone after.

As he expected, they were too stupid, just as the bumbling fools they were, to acknowledge his presence. Seeing that the cops moved towards the door, his eyes followed them as they headed outside. Suddenly, his focus shifted as four children appeared in his field of vision, hastening along the street. The psychotic man was filled with sick joy, since he noticed the children would pass right by the window he was seated at, if they continued in that pace. They would walk right past him, so innocently clueless.

How delightful… These little angels even seem to be the appropriate age…

Faintly, he could hear a weak voice in his head remonstrating him for his desire to take another child into the Dreamland. That voice was soon silenced by his own, stronger voice.

YOU have no say in the matter… I'm in charge now…

At such a sickening thought of not capturing his angel, the man's mouth twisted into a grimace of disapproval. The voice of the weakling that was his former self retreated and grew quiet, allowing him to direct his attention back to the kids.

Apparently, they failed to notice the two adults walking out the door with their coffee in hand, because they nearly bowled them over. The slowest child, a big, burly fellow, managed to stop mere centimetres before running into the woman, but such luck proved to be useless. The killer could plainly see annoyance rising on the brow of the female. She took a breath, but not to calm herself. It was to sternly reprimand the children for their carelessness.

It had not escaped his notice that both officers seemed to be on edge, since such a small NON-incident was able to push her to such extreme measures. Most likely, it was an after-effect of being exposed to his might for a while. This only served to excite the man behind the newspaper, seeing as there could only be one cause for their foul moods this early in the day. His smirk only grew with pride at such a thought.

"Tsubaraya Mitsuhiko! Yoshida Ayumi! Kojima Genta! Edogawa Conan! You need to watch where you are going!" The female was on a full-on rampage by now, "Imagine what would have happened if…" The murderer was quickly bored by her uselessly long tirade and no longer saw the need to pay attention.

All he could process was the fact that fate seemed to be on his side this morning, for there, right in front of him, was his next prey. Correct age, if his instincts served well, and from the looks of it, capable of some good, lovely screaming.

The man watched as the kids bowed to the police officers before scrambling off. Thank the gods for the newspaper in front of him, because he could no longer hide the ecstasy that was rapidly flooding through his body and showing on his face. He no longer bothered to hide it. His mouth twisted in a sick maniacal grin that dared to split his face in two. His lips rose and revealed teeth, making him resemble a hungry beast even more.

Absolutely perfect…

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