Chapter 29
Gamble
The jacket provided was a little too big. Peering into the mirror, Shiho saw her teenage self. Grimacing at the sight, she slammed the locker shut before studying the spare casual clothing Satou-san had lent her. Like always, Satou's sloppy style was not to her liking, but she had to accept the shirt with the "gomera" print in the middle, along with the ragged jeans.
"I can't believe it," the woman whispered. Shiho finds the Inspector standing behind.
How long has she been there?
Shiho, slightly conscious, pulled the sleeves of the blue jacket down her wrist.
"You guys were actually telling the truth."
"You could have waited outside," Shiho placed the medicine box containing the temporary antidote into her jeans pockets. The inspector rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I was skeptical," she offered. A strange silence followed, and Shiho was again hesitant about Shinichi's plan.
It was easy for her to reveal her true self to him, to Ran, and to the professor. She trusted them. With the FBI, it was different; they knew who she was, so it was easier to treat them as business partners. But, when it came to the inspectors, it was frankly terrifying. Because despite what Shinichi had said, she was aware of who she was. The articles written about Satsuki Fujita weren't all that pretty.
"We should get back to the conference room," Shiho pulls the hood over her head. Satou-san hesitated as if she wanted to say something but stopped herself. "The hostages do not have much time." Her tone remained neutral and stern, burying the swirling mess inside.
A disorganized headquarters greeted them as they left the lockers. During the recent developments, telephone calls were coming in as they attempted to defuse the situation. While some of the hostages' family members are doing their best to remain calm, some were unable to do so. They stood outside, begging and screaming for their loved ones to be saved.
The agony on their faces was enough, and Shiho turned away from the chaos. This test Renya was playing at— was not going to end well for either of them.
As she entered the private meeting room, she was greeted with disbelief.
A teenage Shinichi approached, gently squeezing her shoulder. He purposely stood in front, shielding her from the piercing gaze of the Inspectors—who were only beginning to understand what she was.
"I will explain more in detail later, but the short story is, Haibara and I are Kudou Shinichi, and," he paused, looking at Shiho, who nodded. "Miyano Shiho, respectively."
"Keeping this information secret is of the utmost importance," Akai instructed. "If their identities are discovered, it would spell the end of everything. I assume you guys are professional enough to know this."
"Of course," Megure-san replied, slightly offended. First, to find his voice, the middle-aged man glanced at them before folding his arms.
"So, what do you need from u—"
"Is it true?" Shiratori-san interrupted, regarding her with a surly expression. "The articles written? Are you really who they say you were?"
The words were stuck. Shiho did not know how to begin. She understood his unwillingness to assist. Although primarily harmless and debunked—buried within the articles about the mysterious Satsuki Fujita were speculations about her origin.
While the majority were farces, there is one that stands out. The three-page article written by a small media outlet, "Sunshine Productions." The company was contacted by a former colleague who introduced himself as a lab assistant working at a pharmaceutical company that had since been destroyed.
Surviving the fire, which was intended to erase all evidence, the man fled. His days were spent hiding and surviving on scraps. With his resources running out and the organization exposed in the media, he agreed to an interview for a fee. He had believed he was safe. However, after the article's publication, his body was found floating in the Beika River.
The article was detailed, going about a scientist—working for a black organization. Revealing a private pharmaceutical company, since burned down, withholding years of research and experiments on humans. It presented a compelling theory, one that the inspectors couldn't ignore.
"Shiratori-san, those are just speculations," Shinichi tried to help, but she stopped him.
"It is," she answered. "What was written in that article, all of it—was the truth."
Inspector Megure stroked his chin in contemplation. Shiratori glared at her with his hands balled into fists. Takagi's lips parted in shock, and Satou-san was studying her with scrutiny.
"I don't care what you think of me," she pointed at the hostages still on national television. Her pseudo-name was mentioned again. The media backlash that was to occur, she didn't give a damn. "They need to be rescued."
They regarded each other. Inspector Megure finally conceded, looking to Shinichi and Akai for guidance. "What do you propose?"
"But Megure-san, how can you trust her? How can the FBI even cooperate with them?" Shiratori objected.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with him, Inspector Megure," Takagi said apologetically. "Despite the FBI's requests, we are not obliged to follow them and," he glanced nervously at Shiho. "Shiratori-san is right. How can we trust you, Ai-cha—no, Miyano-san?"
"Shiho is no longer with them," Akai explains. "She has left and since then has been a valuable asset to us."
"Yes," Shinichi glares at the two men, "She provided us with the thumb drive. Without it, you wouldn't even have heard of them."
"But—"
"Think about it logically," she cuts them off, knowing no explanation would convince them. "The suspect's demands include me. Whether you like it or not, I will be involved."
There was a pause. The hostage situation is still ongoing. Arguing among themselves was not an option.
"Ok," Satou-san looks at the floorplan Akai had acquired from one of the deputies. The woman came up beside them. "We can talk about this later," the inspector said as the others frowned, "What is the plan, Kudou-kun?"
There was still a numb wrenching tension. The apprehensive pressure is unbearable, but Shinichi holds her. A gentle squeeze from the boy is all it takes, and she relaxes.
"A setup," Shinichi smirked as he pointed to the floorplan of the underground studio. "A needle in a haystack."
Even though Shinichi was glad to be a teenager again, he felt disoriented after returning to his original body. The sideways glances he was receiving from the Inspectors exacerbated his discomfort. Having formulated the plan thirty minutes earlier, he was now wearing a heavy blue helmet with a locked-in visor. A baton hangs from his belt and on his chest—padded armor.
The uniforms worn by Satou-san, Takagi-san, Akai, and Shiho were identical. Dressed in similar riot gear, ten others were also seated in the armored police vehicle. An aspect of Shinichi's hastily discussed plan.
After much discussion, Inspector Megure and Shiratori dispersed orders immediately. And now, they—along with three other armored vans were en route to the scene.
Shinichi glances at the monitors at the front of the vehicle. The bluish tint reflected on Inspector Megure and Shiratori's faces. The setup intended for the two men— the only ones dressed in civilian clothing—to be the base of operations.
"A needle in a haystack?" Satou-san inquired earlier as they gathered around the floor plan. Shinichi pointed towards the entrance. "If our suspicions are correct," he elaborated, "We can only assume that Fumihito Masuyama will be monitored by the black organization. Thus, rushing in would spell certain doom and ruin our own chance of rescuing the hostages."
Yes.
Shinichi couldn't be reckless anymore. The organization was not to be underestimated. For this to succeed, they would need to proceed methodically. Every aspect must be taken into account. Fumihito Masuyama may be acting in this manner due to threats, but he may also be working with them. It was part of a game that he would not participate in.
"The best outcome would be to rescue the hostages," he began, "the worst—"
"They die," Shiho grumbled.
"Yes," Shinichi replied as the inspectors glanced warily at her. Their judgments cast toward Shiho annoyed him slightly, but he couldn't blame them. After all, when they first met, he had felt the same. Inhaling deeply, he returned to the task at hand. "For this reason, we would enter the studio in small groups while wearing similar uniforms. That way, we would be able to hide our identities."
"Just like a needle in a haystack," Akai concluded, suitably impressed.
"It isn't a foolproof plan, though," Shiho asserted, still concerned, "if there is a leak, if their system is hacked, the organization will identify and hunt them down."
"That would not happen," Shinichi faced Megure-san, who tensed, "if all personnel involved in this mission are redacted from the reports."
"Fine, we'll keep this quiet," the middle-aged inspector gives in, "I'm assuming this is only one part of your plan. Now, what about the rest? "
"We'll give the man what he wants," Shinichi raises his hand to show two fingers. "And we'll end this game once and for all."
Now, seated in the van, Shinichi leaned against the metallic walls, following attentively to the conversation between the Inspectors and the police officer on the ground. The static across the police radios was a telling sign of the chaos and panic caused by this incident.
"We are unable to shut down the broadcast," an officer informed Megure-san. "The suspect threatened to kill if we did that."
"That shithead," Satou-san glares at the screens displaying the hostage broadcast. Still brandishing the gun, the culprit was seated next to the reporter. For the past forty minutes, he'd been quite active. Demanding food and water, threatening the police officer negotiating via a landline within the studio. Fumihito was stubborn and ruthless, always waving the gun whenever the police denied his requests. It was a situation on the cusp of disaster.
"The reports are in!" one of the deputies announced over the walkie-talkie, "The traffic incident this morning involving the mad gunman was Fumihito Masuyama."
The revelation cemented the theory that the man was being chased. His deranged behavior is similar to that of a Ki'ichoro Numabuchi, who had stabbed him years before. Until Shiho mentioned it to him, he would never have thought the escaped serial killer was a member of the organization.
"His objective, Shinichi," Shiho listened intently to what was happening.
"Ay," the answer was clear to him. "Probably captured after escaping, the organization is using him," He grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly in his grasp, "as bait or to retrieve the drug itself."
Not the drug. Shinichi is aware of the truth. But Shiho.
It was a deliberate attempt to lure Shiho out of her hiding spot. Fumihito Masuyama's presence at Beika was a sufficient indication of their intention. Prior to his murder, Pisco probably shared the knowledge he obtained with his son. Fumihito probably knows what they were and was likely using the information as leverage to prolong the inevitable.
However, he had made a crucial error. Blinded by terror, he failed to see the outcome of this endeavor.
The organization would not allow him to live. Shinichi was sure of this.
"We're here," Akai said as the bumpy ride ended. Doors flew open, and riot gear-clad police officers streamed out, leaving Akai, Shiho, Shinichi, and the inspectors in the van. Through the monitors, Shinichi could see the three other armored vehicles parking in front of the studio building.
Exiting the vehicles, police officers donning similar riot gear streamed out. They gathered by the entrance. "Precisely thirty, not one less," Satou-san grinned behind her visor. "Is this sufficient?"
"More than enough," Shinichi affirmed. Ultimately, they were decoys, a feint.
Shinichi glances at the riot police, each holding a riot shield and raising a baton. Shinichi was impressed by the inspector's ability to gather equipment and resources in such a short amount of time. Maybe asking them for help wasn't such a bad idea after all.
As predicted, media crews and spectators surrounded the scene. Chaos, noise, and activity—filled the rain-soaked atmosphere. Uniformed officers and traffic police who had arrived before them were trying their best to block raincoat-wearing reporters splashing in the puddles. The task, however, was proving difficult. The incident was still being streamed live on many media outlets. Some news stations even went as far as to bring in helicopters. That was, at present, flying about. Their rotating rotors replaced the roar of heavy rain as they hovered above gray skies.
Drones from the police department joined them. With sky views and live feed coverage, it was no surprise that Fumihoto could monitor real-time events beyond his little sanctuary.
"It doesn't matter what happens," Shinichi told Megure-san and Shiratori. "Do not leave the vehicle. If you have to, wear a mask. You must never show your face."
"What if we did?" Shiratori asked.
"You die," Shiho replied.
A tense silence descended as the shrunken scientist, and the inspector exchanged angry glances.
"We're nearing the hour mark," Shinichi intervened. "Contact him, Shiratori-san."
Megure-san handed the receiver to the inspector, and he dialed the number provided to him an hour earlier by one of the officers. Shinichi observed Fumihito, who stood poised in the studio. The landline that was on the reporting table next to Seiko Arai, who was still unconscious, rang. Watching the live feed on the smartphone he held in his hand, Fumihito hesitated for a moment, wiping his brows with a handkerchief. It appears that the sudden appearance of the riot police was not what he had in mind.
"These aren't part of my demands," Fumihito growled when he picked up the line, "Are my threats not enough?!"
"Reassurance," Shiratori said calmly. He was, however, anything but. The inspector's hands were tightly clasped around the chair Megure sat in.
"The hour approaches," Fumihito warned. "I don't know what you're up to, but I do know it takes more than fifteen minutes to break down a locked door. A gun, though, kills in a matter of seconds."
"Just as we discussed, Shiratori-san," Shinichi whispered, and the inspector complied.
"We will provide you with the drug, Fumihito Masuyama-san," Shiratori purposefully revealed his name.
"What. How—"
"Fumihito-san, we know who you are, what you're running from."
His stunned countenance confirmed their theories.
"My demands remain the same," Fumihito composed himself, black eyes staring into the cameras. "The drug and Satsuki Fujita. If I do not receive them by the next hour—"
"She will meet you," Shiratori-san interjects. "But not alone. Even though we would like to meet your demands, please understand that we to guarantee her safety."
Laughter filled with malice erupted from the man's lips. Fumihito pointed the gun at Seiko Arai's temple with his finger circling the trigger. "The hour is up," he murmured darkly.
"No!" Satou-san slams the table at the defeating sound. Screams erupted from the hostages as they broke into hysterics. Fumihito shoved the famous reporter off the table, and she collapses like a sack. Blood pools across the floor as he smiles. "You have another hour."
Horror erupted over the live execution, and a barrage of accusations flew over as reporters demanded explanations from the police. The broadcast sent shockwaves throughout.
Shiratori-san was lost for words. The man stood gaping like a goldfish, unable to speak. And a heavyweight descends upon them. Seiko Arai's limp body—is etched into their minds.
"Akai-san," Shinichi whispered to the grim-faced agent.
"This won't do," the FBI agent murmured. "He wouldn't budge."
"Let me speak to him," Shinichi reached for the phone, but Shiho stopped him. The hardened look in her eyes caught Shinichi's attention.
"Shiho?"
With unrelenting fury, she snatched the line from Shiratori-san.
"That wasn't very nice of you," she uses the same mocking tone she had used on Shinichi during their first meeting. In the screen, the man froze, his eyes widening in recognition—lips curling into a cruel smirk.
"That's rich coming from you," he responded. "So, where are you right now? Hiding behind the police? Your benefactors? As expected from a traitor, unwilling to do the dirty work herself."
"You're free to speculate, Fumihoto-san," she ignored his taunts. "But whatever the case, I'm here now, aren't I?"
"So?"
"I won't go in alone."
"Again, those aren't my demands. I want you here alone, or they die. Are you incapable of understanding simple instructions? "
At his mention, Shiho snorted.
"Do you think I give a damm?" she scoffed, her tone cold, mechanical—flat.
"Oi, Shiho," Shinichi started, but she stopped him with an icy glare. Blank eyes, withholding nothing, sinister in nature, her demur—chilled him to the core.
"Fumihito-san," she continued, "I don't think you understand the position you are in. With a bomb strapped around your neck, your only leverage is the hostages you are willing to sacrifice. A laughable attempt, really."
"The hostages, Sherry, I am not jok—"
"Do you actually think I would concern myself with random strangers?"
"What!" The inspectors protested, but Shinichi silenced them with Akai's help.
"Give her a minute," the FBI agent pleaded. The inspectors gawked at them in a stunned stupor.
"Sherry?" Fumihito sneered. "Has it slipped your mind? I have information detrimental to your survival. If you persist with this charade, I will leak it to them."
"Go ahead," Shiho mocked, "I dare you."
The man glowered into the cameras. Hesitating.
"What's taking so long," Shiho taunted. "You can't...can't you?"
And the man slammed his gun against the table.
"Do you want to know why, Fumihito-san?"
"Shut up!" he roared, and Shiho chuckled.
"It's because you made a deal. The information you have about me is the only thing keeping you alive. And you're here now because you've failed. They're hunting you, aren't they?"
"What do you want!" the man spat, and Shiho glanced at Shinichi.
"I would give you the drug," she emphasized. "but I will not go in alone."
"Two," Fumihito interrupts, "not the army waiting outside. I'll only allow two. Or," He brandishes the gun again, aiming it at the hostages. "I won't hesitate."
"Five."
"No."
"Five or nothing," Shiho insisted, pushing it as Shinichi held his breath in anticipation. A look of resentment passed through Fumihito's face.
"Fine," he replies, and the line is cut off. Taking a deep breath, Shiho passed the phone back to Shiratori-san. "Let's go," she said.
Though she appeared fine, Shinichi detects it—the slight tremor in her hands. He reaches out, squeezing her shoulder gently, and she gave him a weak smile.
"Were you serious about that?" Inspector Takagi whispered. The inspectors were looking at Shiho with a mixture of anger and disgust. She had been willing to sacrifice lives. Her speech was cold and impassioned. It didn't paint her in the best light.
Her weak smile was replaced by a sardonic smirk. "Maybe," she pulls down her visor and exits into the chaos outside. Shaking his head, Akai followed suit. Leaving the stunned inspectors gawking at her statement.
"Kudou-kun," Megure-san started, "This…"
"Better not be a mistake," Shiratori-san warned. And Shinichi had enough. He had told himself to give the inspectors some time to adjust. That they needed to come to terms with her origins. But—
"She left them by her own accord, suffered greatly through that journey, and is still unable to forgive herself," Shinichi stated angrily. "I won't ask you to understand," he asserts, "But give her a chance. She's here, trying to fix something she doesn't have to."
Wearing the helmet, he faced the inspectors, who flinched.
"She's not a mistake," he affirms. "She never was."
"The studio is located in the basement, so we'd have to take the stairs from the reception," Satou-san explained. The inspector continued to instruct the rest of the riot-geared police. Standing firm and resolute outside a small two-story office building, they remained still and silent.
"Do not enter unless absolutely necessary," Takagi directed them. "Remain by the lobby until orders are given."
Shiho tries hard to mute their voices. The uniform she wore suddenly felt heavy, and she gritted her teeth in an attempt to ease her nerves.
"It's further in," Shinichi follows the floor plan. Their footsteps reverberated down the long corridor as they made their way further in. An eerie silence emanated from within the building walls. While shuffling their way, the inspectors and Akai held their guns out, leaning against the walls and checking corners as they passed. Eventually, they reached the aforementioned stairs. An inky blackness greeted them. Like a black hole that engulfs everything in its path.
They descended, glancing at the silvery puddles forming on dark green floors. Eventually, they reached a bullet-ridden door. Shiho swallowed, preparing for the reception that lay ahead.
"Stay behind us," Akai instructs. The FBI agent, along with the inspectors, leaned closer to the door. They moved with practiced ease, Takagi first pushing the door slowly. It creaked open, and Shiho heard the faint leaking of water, which was still gushing steadily from behind the door. Satou-san stood beside the inspector, with her back pinned to the dry walls, taking a cautious peek into the fiendish darkness.
"Clear," she stated, as Akai nodded in agreement.
With heightened senses, Satou-san slid the door open. Takagi and Akai followed suit as they entered the oppressive reception room with drawn guns.
"Same here," Takagi commented.
"That bastard," Satou-san studies the once immaculate reception. It was now riddled with bullet holes. There was damage done to the false white ceiling and peeling dry walls. The debris hung precariously, punctured. It was dark, and the fluorescent lights above were cracked. Wiring exposed. Jagged glass, plastic shards, and cement pieces littered the manicured, marbled floors. Murky brown water was gushing from a broken pipe. Shiho noticed the blood before the inspectors could comment. It was impossible to ignore the metallic odor.
It was like—a basement.
For a moment, Ryuu stood by the side, staring blankly at her with a bent neck. In the deepest corners of her mind, she could hear Gin's laughter echoing. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes tightly and clenches her fist.
Control yourself.
They stopped before an enormous wooden table as they walked into the room. It used to be the receptionist's desk. Here, the damage was more severe. The wooden table was punctured with bullet holes. The chairs were scattered on the ground, with the stuffing flying everywhere. The false ceilings and dry walls were cracked and falling apart in many places. And the sign, bearing the studio's name...was stained scarlet. Shiho recoiled at the sight of blood smeared across, ending with a bloodied handprint by the side.
An older man, probably in his 50s, lay on the ground. Mouth agape, hand holding a pistol. A security guard with an exit wound to his chest and forehead. Inspecting the slumped body, Akai stated, "There is a casualty."
"Shiratori-san," Satou-san whispered, "we need to identify a body."
"On it," Shiratori-san answered solemnly over the intercom. "Get ready," the man continued, "you might not like what you see behind that door."
"Thanks for the heads up," Satou-san muttered darkly.
Shinichi exchanged glances with Shiho as Takagi and Akai looked despondently at the body.
The man was behind the heavy soundproof doors that were blocked and barred. "Stick to your plan," he advised her. "Don't attempt to be a hero."
"Likewise, Shinichi," she concealed her fear behind a mask of irritation.
His expression was hard to read under the visor, but from the way he was standing and his shaky breaths, she could also tell he was scared. Both of them were unprepared for this.
"Think of the hostages," Akai grabs both of them by the shoulders.
"Nothing else matters," he emphasized, and Shiho braced herself. He was right. She couldn't dwell on what ifs or whatnot. She clasped Shinichi's gloved hand as he did the same.
"Shiratori-san," Shinichi spoke into the earpiece provided, "tell him we're here."
It took some time, but Shiho could hear shuffling beyond the door. The makeshift furniture barrier was being shifted. Moans of a table being dragged resounded ominously, then stopped.
"They're opening it," Megure-san whispered. Upon entering the heavy-set door, they were greeted by a female stagehand's skittish, fearful gaze. She couldn't be older than twenty. Whimpering, the brown-haired ponytail woman let them in. There was a violent tremor riding through the woman's body. In an attempt to control herself, the stage hand bit down hard on her lips.
"He is inside," the girl's eyes glued to the door. "His using us as—"
Her words were cut short by a gunshot, and Shiho watched in shock as the pony-tailed woman cried out, crashing against the heavy doors. Slumping to the ground and grasping her shoulder. The Inspectors and Akai aimed their pistols at Fumihito.
"You sick bastard!" Satou-san shouted. Amidst the studio cameras and equipment, Fumihito stood behind the hostages, each facing them. There were eight of them. Serving as a live shield, they surrounded him with hands tied behind their backs. Fumihito smirked. As he raised the pistol, using one of the stagehand's shoulders as an aiming post, he coughed twice, the sinister expression on his face deepening.
"I told you not to speak to them, didn't I, Chie-chan!" He screamed at the girl, now withering on the ground. He circled the trigger with his finger. Shiho reacted immediately, shielding the girl as she removed her visor, revealing her face to Fumihito and the live broadcast.
"Stop this."
"Shiho," Shinichi was festering in his suit. Shiho had done the one thing he explicitly told her not to do. But she could see no other choice—the situation demanded it.
"Release the hostages, and I will give you what you want."
"Release them?" Fumihito laughs dryly, "I thought you didn't care what happened to them?"
"The police do. I made a deal with them, Fumihito. If you don't, I won't be able to stop them."
"No," Fumihito replies, "not right now, not before finishing the objective."
"Whatever your goal with them is, do you believe they will honor your agreement?" Shiho asks, and the man snorts.
Eyes gleaming ominously. "I said no, Sherry," he throws a small pouch at her. Shiho catches it as Shinichi inspects the contents. A syringe and a dissolving agent are pulled out by the detective. It was—a testing kit. Shiho turned to look at Fumihito. His haggard appearance and the blood he coughed up again confirmed her suspicions. He was terminally ill—and this was a live demonstration.
"Imagination Sherry," Renya's last words came back to her, "You'll see."
"Dissolve the drug in the agent and administer it to me," Fumihito glares at her. "What's the hold-up? Hurry up!"
"This wasn't part of the demand," Akai began, pistol still pointed at Fumihito.
"Too bad, things have changed," Fumihito pressed his pistol into the hostage's head. The stagehand, a young man in his thirties, was hysterical.
"If it's a means of survival, then," Fumihito burrows the gun deeper into the temple of the young man. "I will do anything."
"Don't you see," Shiho said harshly. "You're nothing more than a scientific experiment."
Fumihito paused at her words, his black eyes seemingly probing her intentions.
"There is no guarantee that it would cure you. You are being lied to by the organization."
"Standing on the other side must be nice, huh?" Fumihito sneered. As his eyes bore into hers, a crooked bitter smile grew on his lips.
"Unfortunately, not everyone is as lucky or beloved as their prodigal scientist."
Invisible chains circled around her ankles as he taunted her. She wrapped her hands tightly around the bait drug in her hand, defeated. They wanted her to use it. Surfacing from the depths, her sins—
A man grovels on the ground. As he choked, his hands reached for his neck. He gasped, foam spilling from his lips, purple veins protruding from his neck. With a stopwatch in hand, Shiho observed him. The man screamed helplessly in the experimental box as it counted down. Greg Price was his name. The 23-year-old training to become a hitman had abysmal results, and the organization dismissed him. They, though, would never let him go; secrets were to be kept. As disturbing as this was, Shiho could not stop the experiment—as she handed the drug to the despondent man.
Gin watched.
"A prototype?" the silver-haired beast grinned widely at the outcome of their experiments.
"Yes," Shiho erased all emotion from her response. The top ordered the man to be disposed of. Now, dying—the guinea pig collapses, heart rate flatlining. A dreadful shriek accompanied the beeps of the medical device used to monitor his vitals. Taking note of the time, Shiho recorded it. The drug was still incomplete—samples needed to be collected.
Entering the room, she detected a faint odor of smoke. Greg's body emits a subtle heat. This is a new development. As she squats, her eyes widened at the size of his left hand. There was something different about it, almost like—it was smaller than the rest.
"Sherry," Gin demanded, "What's taking you so long?"
Having collected the samples, Shiho wrapped Greg in a blue tarp, concealing the abnormality. She was greeted by two lab assistants as she exited the room. They bowed, avoiding her gaze. "Dispose of this body," Gin ordered them, and they hurried in. Shiho watched the procession as whispers and gossip drifted through the halls.
"Devil's spawn."
"Again? Another one?"
"Just how many does she plan to use?"
"Don't speak. Do you want to be next?"
"Monster."
The recollections compounded, and she flinched, feeling sick. Shutting her eyes tightly, she tried to erase the images of people withering as they screamed in panic in soundproof rooms. Hands reached for her ankles, clawing at her ankles, faces of the dead emerging from within, grasping and scratching. They screamed as they lay dying, poisoned by her hands.
There was no way she could use this again. But—
The hostages would die. These innocent people were caught in a situation they weren't apart from. Blood spilled once again, all because of this unfathomable drug. Holding the pill in her hands, she seethes.
"Idiot," a voice breaks through the fog. "I told you, didn't I," Shinichi's face, hidden behind a visor, was carrying a gentle warmth. The drug was freed from her fingers as he pried them open.
"What—"
"To share your burdens with me," he continued. Dumping the drug in the dissolving agent, the detective then faced Fumihito.
"Stand back! Who are you?! I asked for Sherry to deliver the kit, not you!" Fumihito brandishes the gun as Shiho gave a warning.
What was he doing?!
Akai holds her back. The FBI agent will not let her go despite her violent struggle.
"Who am I?" Shinichi started as he neared the man. "That is for you to find out."
"Is it necessary to conceal your face?" Fumihito sneered, "I fail to see how this would impact anything."
"It does not, Fumihito-san," Shinichi presents the testing kit. "It's hard to approach you with that weapon pointed at me, so could you lower it?" he asked as Fumihito scrutinized him carefully.
"Fine," he growled, "But try anything funny, and they're—"
"Dead, I understand."
Fumito was cunning and did not hesitate to take lives. There was no sense of remorse. His actions demonstrate the selfish, cruel nature of many members of the Black Organization.
Despite the short distance, the walk to Fumihito felt long. Made even more pressing by the gun still poised at the hostage's head. Although he heard Shiho begging him to return, he ignored her cries. Hoping to God Akai will be able to restrain the scientist.
Finished with assisting Chie, who had been shot by Fumihito earlier. Satou-san and Takagi-san seemed ready to strike.
The cameras facing the member of the organization were still rolling, and he knew they were watching the live broadcast. A single wrong move would reveal his identity. It was a precarious situation. Certainly not part of the operation he had crafted before.
"We will rush in," Shinichi told them before the mission began. "Before apprehending the suspect, Akai and I would create a diversion by disabling the cameras while Shiho hands him the drug. Satou-san and Takagi-san will release the hostages at this point."
Initially, that had been the plan. Shinichi, however, had not taken this into consideration. The idea that the organization would send someone out to test the drug, on live television, for that matter, was too absurd to contemplate.
Renya was a crafty man. Without dirtying his hands—he had used innocent lives and Fumihito. Successfully luring Shiho from her hiding place—and in the process—was able to observe her creation's potential in real-time.
"The drug is still in its experimental stage," Shiho explained when he asked about it during its development. "Although it works on rats, I don't know if it will work on humans."
A wry smile breaks across her face as he asks if it is possible.
"That," she answered bitterly, "is something I never want to know, ever again."
The guilt on her face broke his heart, and he knew what had to be done. As he snatched the pill from her, he made his decision.
Nearing the organization member, he glimpsed the teary expressions on the hostages' faces. Held captive at gunpoint, they were in bad shape. If nothing was done, they would be too hysterical to cooperate.
Time was running out. He had to work fast.
Holding up the kit, Fumihito gestured to him to open it. Shinichi did so, revealing an empty syringe, the dissolved drug and liquid agent nestled in the pouch.
"Give it to me," the man demanded, eyeing him like sharks stalking their prey. Rather than succumbing to his demands, Shinichi shook his head. As predicted, Fumihito pointed the gun at the hostage once again.
"How about an exchange," Shinichi pointed at the hostages. "The drug for two hostages."
The man snorted. "No, why would I do that?"
"Fumihito, I'm not asking," Shinichi holds the dissolved agent dangerously above the ground. "This is your only chance."
The man's gaze grew hard as he circled the trigger.
"If you kill any more, you'll be leaving in a body bag," Shinichi motioned at the inspectors and Akai-san. "They are trained specialists who will not hesitate to shoot. Why risk a shootout when I am offering you an easy way out?"
Shinichi spoke coolly, hoping Fumihito wouldn't see through the blatant lie he was telling. After a tense minute, the pressure was almost at its boiling point. Shinichi was about to react when Fumihito lightly pressed down on the trigger—but then he released it. He pushed the hostage he held forward and then another. "Go!" he shouted. For a moment, the hostages stood motionless, stunned by what had happened.
"Go!" Fumihito's voice startled them, and they screamed, stumbling forward, past Shinichi. Satou-san and Takagi-san pushed them to the exit. Shinichi sighs, looking back at Fumihito, gesturing with the gun.
He moved forward, taking note of the bewildered expressions on the remaining hostages. The sight of their two colleagues escaping must be devastating. Shinichi can only hope they will be able to hold out until then.
"What are your plans for it?" Shinichi asked as Fumihito grasped the dissolving agent.
"Isn't it obvious!" the man snarled, evidently straining, and he coughed violently again. Blood spilled from his lips, and he wiped it with his sleeves.
"It might kill you," Shinichi continued, and Fumihito scoffed.
"I do not care. This is the only chance they are willing to give me."
Reaching for his collar, he pulled it down, revealing the bomb. "So, unless you have a better plan, I suggest you start working immediately!"
He was becoming increasingly agitated. On the collared bomb, Shinichi noticed three red dots. Although there was no visible timer, the dots blinking slowly told otherwise. The design seemed quite sophisticated. Shinichi was not confident in his ability to take apart the item. With the organization watching the live broadcast, he wasn't sure if dismantling the bomb would be the right move. After all, they might just detonate it remotely.
"How much time do you have left?" he asked.
Impatiently, Fumihito shoved the barrel into his forehead, glaring at him. "Hurry up!"
Not much time…huh?
Having gone too far, Shinichi raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, but Fumihito-san, what makes you think they will comply with their promises? Regardless if the drug works?"
"That's for me to decide, isn't it?" his expression growing darker. And for the first time, Shinichi sees the fear and panic hidden within his desperate, maniac persona. "Now, do it."
Knowing that further discussion would not yield results, Shinichi proceeded to fill the syringe with the dissolved drug agent. Fumihito quietly observes the procession. The gun remained locked in place. When it was done, Shinichi tapped the syringe a few times.
"Administer it," Fumihito lifts his sleeve. Shinichi winced at the sight. The skin of the man was covered in thousands of needlelike markings.
"Come on, what are you waiting for!" Fumihito pressed the gun deeper into Shinichi's temple. "Do it!"
Shinichi hesitates. There is a possibility that the drug could kill. Was he willing to take the risk? To gamble with this man's life? His gaze shifted to Shiho, struggling under Akai's grip. The girl was pleading with him—not to do it. To refrain from—dirtying his hands.
A smirk appeared on his face.
The dilemma he faced vanished, and his objective was made exceedingly clear. He would not allow her to face this alone. Not anymore.
It was a gamble—he was willing to take.
Injecting the drug solution under Fumihito's skin, he administered it. Watching the liquid enter the bloodstream. There was no turning back now. Shinichi observes the man's reaction. He appeared calm, but his slight tremble and wide-eyed expression indicated he was petrified. "Why are you doing this?" Shinichi asked. "Why follow in your father's footsteps?"
Shinichi still struggles to comprehend the man's extreme actions. The desperation to survive, the act of self-preservation, has already claimed the lives of seven people. "It's senseless," Shinichi declared as Fumihito scowled.
"My father was a fool," he spat, "A fool who doomed his family to a life of servitude."
The man's gaze bored into his own. A pair of eyes filled with mirth and anger. "I managed to escape," he sneered, "I defeated fate. And though I was captured, I managed to negotiate my circumstance. I will survive this disease they infected me with. The members they sent were weak and pathetic. None of them stood a chance. Death did not take me; I was chosen—special."
Shinichi catches a glimpse of the fool hidden beneath his guise.
"The people you killed were innocent, Fumihito-san," Shinichi said quietly. "You are nothing more than a murderer. No better than the monsters that hunt you."
"I don't expect you to understand!" The man pressed harder.
The cold metallic tip left a mark on Shinichi's forehead. It stung slightly, and Shinichi braced himself as the man's finger circled the trigger. "In the end, what matters is the result, my prize."
"Let me guess? A place beside the boss? You're freedom? Money, power, prestige? What you had before your family was eradicated, wiped clean?" Shinichi taunted. "Let me ask you, Fumihito-san, where is your father now?"
Fumihito pulled back the gun's slide, locking it in place with an empty stare. The man bore a deadly glint in his eyes.
"Don't push him," Megure-san advised through the earpiece. Inspecting the situation from the live stream, the inspectors noted the risk he was taking. He felt Satou-san and Takagi-san taking their positions. Guns out once more, Shinichi cursed under his breath.
"I will be chosen," Fumihito whispered, "and I will regain what belongs to me."
There was no use arguing. This man has gone beyond logic.
Shit!
"Boy! Move!" Akai shouted.
Shinichi was about to dodge when he heard a scream. The gun fell from Fumihito's hand as he clawed at his throat.
What?
The drug! It was taking effect. This was their chance. Shinichi ran forward, pinning Fumihito to the ground. The man screamed a second time.
"Run!" Shinichi shouted to the hostages, staring at the scene in horrified confusion. "Get out of here! "
"Now!" Takagi shouted to them. And they were running, the remaining hostages, rushing toward the inspectors, propelling them out of the exit doors. With the last hostage freed, Akai finally released Shiho, and they both ran toward Shinichi. Taking over, Akai restrains Fumihito with an expert hold while Shiho helps Shinichi up. Panting, he tried to recover. Standing before him, Shiho wore an expression etched with regret and reproach. "You shouldn't have," Shiho observed the drug's side effects. "Why did you do that? If he dies. You'll—"
"It was my decision," Shinichi replied. "It is not your fault," he warns. "Shiho, please, you are not alone in this."
"You idiot."
Shinichi reached for her when Fumihito gave one last scream. Startled, they turned to face the man.
The silence was deafening. Once sick, haggard, and coughing up blood, the man now appeared completely healthy. The bags around his eyes, as well as the faint sickly pallor he carried, were gone. Astonished at the miracle, Fumihito shoved Akai away—the FBI agent, distracted by the outcome, fell back. Rising slowly, Fumihito began inspecting his face and body in awe.
"What," Satou-san muttered.
"It works," Shiho dumbfounded by the results.
"A success," the man shouted in glee. The inspectors whipped out the gun to the man.
"You're under arrest!" Satou-san ordered.
"Move!" Akai shouted as Fumihito pulls out another pistol from his back pocket before pointing it at them. A volley of gunfire erupted. Akai shields Shinichi and Shiho with his body, taking hold of them. Bullets whizzed past the inspectors. Satou-san hiding behind a table that was strewn on the ground. Takagi takes cover behind the cameras that are still filming the situation as it unfolds.
"Where is he!" Shinichi shouted.
"Behind the reporter's desk!" Shiratori exclaimed as he watched the live broadcast. "Get down!"
Shinichi cried out a warning as Fumihito-san appeared behind Satou-san, smirking. Gun pointed in her direction, Takagi, not hesitating, fired once. Fumihito dodged, taking cover behind the table once more. Satou-san ran towards Takagi-san for cover as Fumihito fired back from his hiding place.
"Here!" Takagi motions to them. "You're out in the open!"
Shiho helped him up while Akai pushed them behind a bench. Just as another volley of shots erupted. Shinichi collapsed to the ground, covering Shiho with his body as the bullet lodged in the wood. "Fumihito-san!" Takagi shouted, "Enough, cease this!"
"I showed you that, didn't I?" the man was looking towards the cameras now—speaking to no one in particular. A triumphant crooked smile appeared on his lips, "I survived. The drug worked. I have completed the deal!"
"We need to get out of here," Shiho confirmed, "Now!"
They agreed, Shinichi informing the inspectors as Akai aimed the pistol to distract Fumihito. He hardly had time to react, eyes widening, the agent turned back in alarm. Shinichi heard a faint, almost sinister song. It was one he had spent hours trying to decipher on his phone in a tent two years ago. A menacing, haunting melody reverberates through the air. From the neck brace Fumihito wore, the children's folk song "Nanatsu no ko" played in the background.
"No, This…This isn't part of the deal!" Fumihito panicked. The man trying to rip off the collar.
It was fruitless. Akai grasped Shinichi and Shiho as heat raced through them. An explosion sent them crashing into the side of the wall. Fire and debris rained down on them. As the dust rose, Shinichi coughed painfully. He struggled to stand as his vision blurred, his ears buzzed, and his body ached.
"Shiho!" he yelled, the scientist being the first thing on his mind.
His ears were filled with the frantic static-filled cries of Megure-san and Shiratori-san. Shinichi barely understood what was being said despite his best efforts.
"Kudou-kun! Satou-san! Takagi-san…Akai-san?! Is everybody alright? Is anybody there? What happened? We're sending in reinforcements!"
The cameras! The live feed must be down. Shinichi looked to find the equipment destroyed, and within it—his heart stopped, thudding furiously in his chest as blood raced through. No! Pushing the debris aside, he sunk to his knees in disbelief at Akai's barely conscious figure. A false ceiling had collapsed over him, and Shinichi had to pull him out. "Are you ok? Where's Shiho?" he asked. Groaning softly, the man's eyes cracked open. Seating up quickly, Akai assessed the situation. His left temple was bleeding, the result of a jagged cut.
"She was beside me," he whispered. Taking in their surroundings, the two men whirled around.
"Satou-san!" Takagi shouted. Shinichi and Akai find the inspector trapped under the twisted mess of smoking-damaged cameras. Upon freeing the man, Takagi attempted to stand, but the bent shape of his left kneecap indicated that he had broken a bone. There was no chance of him standing any time soon. Akai assisted him through the smoking mess.
"Satou-san?" Takagi asked, and they shook their heads.
"Shiho! Satou-san!" Shinichi tried to contain his panic.
"There!" Akai pointed at a heap of smashed drywall. Shinichi dashed forward as Akai escorted Takagi. There was movement, and Shinichi pried at the burnt, jagged pieces, not paying attention to the sharp edges. As he removed the last bit of debris, he felt his throat tighten. Shiho was lying on top of Satou-san. Several gashes ran down her temple, and blood oozed from a shoulder injury. Below, the inspector groans in pain.
"Shiho!"
She stirred weakly as he grabbed her. Then he shook her, and she moaned.
"Shiho!"
"Shinichi," her voice weak, "if you shake me one more time. I'll make a drug that'll turn you into a chimpanzee."
Though biting, her sardonic reply reassured him, and he embraced her tightly as she winced.
"What the hell happened?" Satou-san murmured through her cracked visor. The woman appeared relatively unaffected and, when she glanced at Shiho's battered appearance—realized what had happened.
"The bomb!" she flinched at the sharpness of her own voice.
Shinichi helps Shiho up, and she leans on him.
"Fumihito-san?"
"Did he get away?" Takagi asked in alarm.
"No," was Akai's reply. Among the chaos, the man motioned to a mangled figure.
Burnt flesh?
Among the crumbling ceiling and dry walls stood a bloody stump, headless. Little fires burned amongst the chaos, and smoke billowed from the area. Shinichi recoiled at the sight as the inspectors gasped in horror.
"Is everything okay down there? The reinforcements are on their way," Megure said again through the earpiece.
"We need to re-group fast," Akai, the first to recover from the shock. "It's not safe here."
He pointed to his cracked visors and helmets. Takagi-san, Satou-san, and Shinichi bear similar appearances. Shiho's visor was gone since she had taken it off.
"I agree," Satou-san murmured, and together, they made their way through the chaos. Shinichi slows down his pace to support Shiho, who was taking agonizing steps.
The doorways of the studio, blocked by debris, were pried open. An array of riot gear-clad police emerged from within, brandishing shields and batons. As they rushed forward, they examined them for wounds, exchanging their broken helmets for additional ones they had in hand. They gave Shiho a new helmet. Shinichi helped her with it, and they were promptly escorted out.
The bright evening sky greeted Shinichi as he emerged into the open. The sight of the sun peeking through dispersing rain clouds had never made him feel so grateful. Shinichi breathes in the fresh air, filled with the comforting scent of after-rain petrichor, stumbling when holding Shiho. Several police officers in riot gear ran out to meet them. Overhead, helicopters whirled. Circling around the studio building that was smoking after the explosion. Firefighters and firetrucks stood with hoses on hand to put out the small fires that were already ebbing away. He paused to look at the studio behind him before moving forward, eyes lingering over the shattered windows.
Barricades held back the news and media crews, who grew frantic after spotting them leave the building. There were shouts coming their way, and Akai rushed them into the crowd of riot geared police. By integrating into the uniformed group, they could blend in. Then they were ushered back into the armored vehicle where Shiratori and Megure-san waited.
"What happened!?" Megure exclaimed again when he saw their battered condition.
"That can wait," Shinichi ordered, "For now, get everybody back to the station!"
The longer they remained at the scene, the more vulnerable they would become, and Shinichi wanted to avoid that at all costs.
Megure hesitates before agreeing. It didn't take long for the thirty or so riot-suited police to be ushered into the other two armored vehicles. Before long, they were driving along the highway toward police headquarters.
"Our medical staff is on standby," Shiratori informed, and Shinichi nodded.
In his arms, he cradled Shiho, wincing from the bumpy ride. Inspectors glanced worriedly at her injuries and bloodied appearance.
"Are you ok, Miyano-san?" Shiratori asked. "We could lay out a stretcher if you like."
"I'm fine," Shiho raised a hand to stop him, "The hostages?"
His gaze softened as he regarded her. "They are fine."
She nodded, closing her eyes as Shinichi shook her in alarm.
"Don't do that," Satou-san stood over the auburn-haired researcher. The girl stirred once, groaning softly as the inspector gently tended to her wounds. "She needs rest," Satou-san replied. "We'll get her the treatment she needs."
Shinichi sighed, resting his hands on her forehead.
"Now," Megure-san's gaze lingered over Shiho before moving on to Shinichi and Akai. "If you could tell me what exactly is going on here, that would be appreciated. "
"I'm fine, Shinichi," Shiho replied as the teenage detective prodded her for the hundredth time. "The doctor said it was only a minor scratch," she repeated. They were now in a private break room, away from the bustle outside.
It had been a strange experience. And it still felt like—a dream. Shinichi had assured her that everything would be fine...but she was skeptical. The organization was not as simple, and something—was brewing. Sighing, Shiho held onto a mug of warm tea as she sank into flimsy plastic chairs. The quiet—gave her a moment to assess the situation that had just occurred.
The current hostage situation had police officers scrambling for ringing phones to answer press releases and public inquiries. After arriving back at HQ, Shiratori, and Megure-san were called into a meeting with their higher-ups. And Akai-san joined them to explain the circumstances. Satou and Takagi-san, on the other hand, were still in the infirmary. According to the doctors, Takagi-san's injuries were severe and needed pressing medical attention. The last she saw them, Satou was fussing over the man.
As for Fumihoto Masuyama's objective—Shiho could only speculate.
The man was probably captured by the black organization. Using the information he'd gotten for Pisco as a bargaining chip. Fumihito told the organization that if they killed him would not get them the information they wanted. It was something he would come to regret.
Renya was relentless and did not take kindly to anyone attempting to undermine his business operations. In a sense, they were lucky. Fumihito was killed without divulging her secret.
The organization, however, had achieved its goals.
Fumihito had, in a way, callously revealed Shiho's general location to them. And as she had so recklessly shown her face, they now know that she was at least engaged in law enforcement activities. Time was running out, and they would find her in due course.
At the moment, the drug was the only leverage they had.
It had worked, surprising her in the process. Fumihito was cured. The chronic illness raging within disappeared. A pronounced improvement in the bait drug's effectiveness.
"Shiho," Shinichi nudges her again, snapping her from her reverie. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I'm fine," Shiho groaned, and the detective flicked her forehead once more.
"You have a sprained shoulder and a mild concussion. I would hardly count that as fine," he nagged, "plus, what were you thinking? Shielding Satou-san from the bla—"
She cuts him off by stuffing a piece of rice crackers provided by one of the officers earlier into his mouth. Gasping, he coughed, choking on the offending piece. Having a comical appearance, she could not help but chuckle. He banged softly on his chest to dislodge the cracker before glaring at her.
"Shiho!"
"The same could be said for you," she argued, "What were you thinking when you rushed towards Fumihito with the drug? As I recall, you said—"
"Not to be the hero?" he snapped back, "I wasn't. I was just improvising a plan you blatantly ignored!"
She pauses.
"Why do you insist on putting yourself at risk?"
"What can I say," she faced him. "I learned from the very best...right? Kudou Shinichi."
Gawking, he parted his lips. Shiho smirked at his reaction. "That and this are two very different things," he grumbled.
"Ara, is that so?"
"Why are you so stubborn?"
"Stop buzzing like a housefly, Shinichi."
"Then don't act like a donkey!" he snapped.
"Better than a six-legged pest," Shiho retorted. The argument descended into the realm of childish improbability. As the detective was about to respond, the doors to their private room flew open. Shinichi, the hypocrite, shields her from the intrusion immediately. Shiho noted that he was still jumpy. The detective's fight-or-flight instinct has not yet worn off.
It was Akai. The agent stands by the doorway with a serious expression. Hands outstretched with a ringing burner phone.
"As expected," Shinichi whispered.
They were calling.
Episdodes used:
Episode 289- Mistuhiko's mystifying forest episode
Episode 394- Black Organization number revelation :D
This...was a hard chapter to write :D Action isn't really my forte, but I hope you've enjoyed it. I will improve in the future. Again, thank you for all your support and reviews :D See you in the next one.