Chapter 37
Red Herring
A dark spot spread from a single point on the wet cement ground. Viscous liquid seeps through the cracks, staining the ground in a crimson hue. Red—melding in with brown shoulder-length hair, marking it as the metallic stench mixed with that of rain. A body merges into the ground, blood snaking around, coiling into chains.
"Shiho-chan," Anne Kinoshita greeted. While pushing the cup of coffee persistently into Shiho's cheeks, she maintained a bright demur. Even though preparations for the operation were going smoothly, they were still proceeding at a snail's pace. The antidote that she wanted to perfect was still not finished, and it was in stages of disarray. Adding to her frustration, Shinichi had also dumped a large pile of paperwork on her. Documents and personal information of all parties involved in the operation were to be carefully reviewed.
"How is my favorite scientist," Anne pushed the mug again.
Shiho took it with a look of disdain. "Why don't you bother somebody else?"
"I would have classified you as a rude menopausal woman if we had not met before," Anne pointed out. Shiho couldn't refute the woman's cheeky retort, and she snorted.
Wincing at the bitter taste of coffee, Shiho involuntarily spat it out. No matter how much she enjoyed her coffee without sugar, this was poison. When Anne witnessed her reaction, she laughed like a hyena, slapping her knees in glee.
"So, did that wake you?"
"Sure, if you wanted to murder someone, this would be fine," Shiho placed the mug back on the table while Anne hovered over her. The woman makes snide remarks on occasion while offering advice on others. Eventually, tired of her antics, Shiho turned her attention to Anne.
"What is your purpose here?"
"Don't be so cold," she sighed. "Besides, since we're going to be working so closely with each other, your boyfriend—in his words, not mine—asked me to check with an unfriendly goblin."
"Boyfriend?"
"He isn't?"
Shiho frowned as a sly smirk flitted to the woman's lips.
"Ah-ha, I get it. It's complicated."
"And none of your business."
Putting a hand over Shiho's hair, Anne ruffled it. The weight of her touch was a startling reminder of a gentle giant from years ago. For a moment, Shiho sees the man in Anne, and she pushes away.
Not reacting to her abrupt action, Anne did not question— instead returned to sipping her horrendous coffee.
"A word of advice, Kiddo," sky-colored eyes regarded her. "Don't make him wait too long."
"Rubbish," Shiho quipped as the conversation dissolved into light dribbles and teasing.
Anne discovered Shiho's locket during the days preceding D-Day. And she reluctantly showed it to the woman who was relentless about it. She had expected the teases, but Anne simply smiled and retrieved one of her own.
It was unexpected.
With the way the woman dressed, it didn't look like she'll hold anything of sentimental value.
Opening it, Anne showed Shiho the images inside. On one of the photos was a snapshot of a small half-Japanese-American girl riding a tricycle—with a man and a woman chasing after her. The Japanese woman smiles broadly as her husband, an American, spoons her from behind. The girl riding had a childlike innocence and was unaware of what was to come. The other image shows a teenage Anne with a younger Llyod Summers. The two were wearing sunglasses and holding peace signs for a polaroid camera.
Shiho was unsure of how to react to these photographs. It seemed intrusive to ask. Words were never her strong suit, and comfort was not something she knew how to offer. "Nice tricycle," she murmured awkwardly, focusing on the image's aesthetics, "Your parents seemed happy."
Anne places a hand over her eyes, appearing to sob. In response, Shiho pursed her lips, eyeing the woman with disdain. "You can cut the act."
The woman paused before chuckling, resting her chin against her open palms and smiling impishly at Shiho. "How did you know?"
"I thought we'd agreed all professional FBI agents don't have emotions," Shiho relayed, and the woman leaned back while folding her arms.
"Even though I complained about my colleagues being robots, that doesn't mean you can lump me with them—wait…" Anne spots Shiho's impish smile. "I am a professional," she declares, and Shiho shrugs before turning back to the images in Anne's locket. Her attention is drawn to the family photograph.
"They were killed," Anne responded before she could ask. "They said it was an accident, but eight-year-old me knew better. Lloyd took me in later. He was the agent handling my parents' case."
"The organization?"
Anne shook her head. "I will never know. Llyod said we were caught in the crossfires, but all I recall is a figure dressed in a black suit. I am unable to remember anything else."
Snapping the locket shut, the woman hung it around her neck.
"So, in that regard," Anne clasped Shiho's shoulder, "Thank you for giving us this opportunity."
"I didn't do much," Shiho murmured. And the woman perched herself in front, face far too close for comfort.
"We will get them, Shiho-chan," she assured, "We'll get them and end this cycle once and for all."
With blue eyes that sparkled with hope, reminiscent of—
Ryuu-san…Akemi…
It was concerning, and Shiho was still skeptical, but—
"I'm counting on you," Anne continued.
"That's quite burdensome," Shiho mused lightly as the woman paused.
"He's right," Anne laughed, "you really are a brat, aren't you."
The crumbling warehouse was engulfed in a blinding flash as a gust of wind whipped through it. Gunfire echoed, the storm raged, and screams were heard through her earpiece. Shiho glanced at the body on the ground, dazed. The woman's ashen blue eyes were morphing into green ones. They emerged from the depths, a crooked neck, a bullet wound through the gut, gentle smiles blending in, disappearing—plunging her into the abysses of an ocean.
She had failed them.
"Naive little girl," Gin reveals a sadistic visage. "Did you really think it would be so easy?"
Shiho heard another round of gunshots through the wretched thundering storm. Each shot hammering a nail into her chest.
This…was what she was afraid of.
"Sherry," he continued, seemingly pleased. "You haven't learned a thing."
He seized her with rough hands, burning like acid, melting through her bones. "We'll get them soon," he chuckled, "but for now..."
Golden eyes pierced through; she was his—experimental rat—entangled in his game. Donning a smirk, he steps over Anne's body.
"It's time to go."
A veiled threat, one that he had used many times. The meaning implied—
"You're mine, Sherry."
And anger exploded, hissing like a spitting kettle—bursting forth like firecrackers, racing through her body, boiling her blood as it ignited in a blaze of fury.
"Over my dead body."
"What did you say?" Renya taunted.
"I. Said," There was no time to grieve. "Over my dead body."
Lightning swept across, and thunder echoed through the devil-like skies with a sonic boom. Heavy rain tumbles down from swollen clouds as howling gusts screeched past like banshees. Shiho seizes the opportunity.
Her arms swung around as she shoved Gin away. Grabbing the NTX120, she slammed the EpiPen device into the man's chest. He recoils, jumping back from the sudden intrusion as Shiho snatches the pistol—a Glock—from her holster and aims it at him. And she pulled the trigger. As it zips past, the bullet cracks like a whip. He bent low, dodging her shot, before rushing towards her.
She rolled out of the way as Gin slammed a knife into the ground where she once stood. In one smooth motion, he pulled out his own handgun—a revolver. Wasting no time, Shiho snaps around to face him. Their barrels, meeting in the middle, trained at each other. Shiho's pointing at his forehead, while Gin's—at her chest.
"Oh...you have been training."
Her breathing was labored. Adrenaline buzzed like an army of hornets, her ears ringing as if a fire alarm had gone off. Shiho could not stop now—not when the operation was still underway, not when they finally had them all in one place. She'll end this, even if—
"You wouldn't do it," Gin's hawk-like eyes bore into the barrel of her Glock. A snake-like grin spread across his lips, "You wouldn't dare."
And hatred surges through—
Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled the trigger. The sound of her Glock reverberated through the warehouse. Stunned, Gin fell back as blood streamed down his left cheek, grazed by the bullet. He had deflected her shot at the last minute, pushing her arm just enough to avoid being hit.
"Don't count on it, Gin," she spat.
Glaring at her, the grin he carried was wiped clean.
"Stop wasting time, Gin," Renya sighed. Rum and Vermouth were standing poised and ready with weapons in hand. "Grab her. Let's get out of here."
"As requested, boss," Gin sneered before racing forward.
There were surrounding her, like a pack of lions. Every fiber of her being told her she was playing with fire.
Was this the end?
Suddenly, something catches her attention. They were stacked in a row along the rusted beams on the ceiling above.
The explosives!
A plan formulates quickly, and she raised her Glock against the circling members.
And fires in quick successions. The members scattered and evaded her bullets.
Taking her chance, she dashed towards the surrounding cargo containers, hiding within the rusted confines—sinking deeper into the maze.
"Shiho, what are you doing? Get out of there!" Shinichi's sharp voice rang through her earpiece.
"Yes, run, little bird. It'll make no difference," Rum hummed over the FBI channels. He was listening to their conversation, taunting them—using Anne's earpiece.
This was not supposed to happen. There should have been more bodyguards assigned to the IO operators. Shiho should have noticed something wasn't right sooner. There should have been an earlier check on Anne. If—
Shiho sweeps the thoughts away. Pain coursing through her chest throbbed like a salted wound. Inhaling sharply, she clenched her fist, focusing on the situation at hand. Erase it. An emotional response would not help in this matter. Questions about what went wrong could arise later—she had a task to complete.
"Shiho!" Noah shouted as another round of bullets rained down. "They're gaining on you. Get out of there!"
"I'm coming!" Shinichi exclaimed.
"Enough!" she pleaded. "Stop," her eyes hardened, "I have to finish this."
"What are you— no!" Shinichi cried out. When she heard Rum's laughter, she pulled out her earpiece and crushed it with her feet.
Using the intercom no longer made sense.
The man will not use her as bait to find Shinichi. Even if she has to crush them alone, she will fight.
Reaching into her pockets, she cursed. She was not in possession of the explosives' trigger. Shiho became increasingly desperate as she weaved through the scattered containers. She had to find the dropped item. It was their only hope. Trying to recall her actions in the following hours, she runs through her memories. Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire, and she hides once more before looking up—catching a glimpse of the control room she was in previously.
Of course! Most likely, she had dropped it there.
The challenge now was to determine a way up there.
It was easier said than done.
Heavy striding footsteps sounded behind her, and she ducked as another volley of gunshots came her way. The impact sparked metal shards as the bullet tore through the rusty containers. While weaving between them, she raced through another narrow alley, trying hard to remain silent.
Despite her advantage, she could not underestimate the three hunters who were after her.
Shinichi—she thought as she made her way through the twisted maze of containers. I might not be able…to keep my promise.
Pressing her back against one of the cargo containers, Shiho stopped, her heart pounding as loudly as the raging storm threatening to rip the warehouse apart. Just opposite, she heard Vermouth's frantic light footsteps, and she stayed still before picking up a stray cement piece and throwing it behind her. It bounced across the puddles, splashing loudly before disappearing into the shadows. Without hesitation, Vermouth fired as Shiho made her way past, leading the woman astray.
Just a little bit more. The stairs up to the control rooms were up ahead.
Taking a step forward, she gasped.
A mistake.
She didn't notice him coming around the corner. The man— a phantom without a name, a deadly one-man force.
With a smirk, Rum raised his hunting rifle.
The rumble of thunder masked the shot captured on screen. The defeating explosion caused Shinichi to remove his earpiece. Rum cocked the rifle again in preparation for another round. Shiho stumbled, grasping onto her bleeding shoulder, and Shinichi watched in horror. As the bullet scraped past her, she took cover behind the cargo containers, fleeing again from that man.
Everything was considered in his plan—it should have been foolproof, but yet—
His eyes were fixed on the chaos unfolding in front of him. Of Alpha and Delta teams scattered and engaged in heavy gunfire. Of Foxtrot snipers, injured or dead, suspended from cranes, dangling like hangman dolls. Of IO operators scrambling to regain some semblance of control. Of Black organization members pouncing in from the shadows, ambushing their teams in a systematic and organized way—as if preempting the FBI's moves.
Shiho was right—Rum's wicked smile mocks him from the screens.
They were dealing with a different kind of monster.
The crack of a gunshot made him flinch—the shot stabbing straight through his heart. As disorder swept through headquarters, he slammed his earpiece on the counter, smashing it into pieces.
What was he doing? He couldn't remain here any longer.
Rum fired twice more, halting all rational thought. Bullets —striking dangerously close to Shiho's hiding place. The smirk on that man's face made his blood boil. Shinichi turned away from the monitors and made his way to the exit. With difficulty, he opened the weighted doors and was greeted by salty winds and tumultuous rain, falling from violent squall-laden skies, striking his skin like lashes of a whip. He was about to move forward when he was grabbed and shoved against the wall.
Akai, Jodie-sensei, and the control agents in the room were glaring at him in disapproval.
"Akai, we need to—"
The man rips apart his own earpiece, throwing it into the far corners of the room. Akai had a firm grip on Shinichi. Olive eyes—warning him.
"We will stick to the plan, Shinichi," Akai whispered harshly. It was the first time the man had used his real name.
"But we didn't account for this!"
"Get a hold of yourself," Akai released Shinichi and motioned to the other agents and Jodie-sensei to carry on. After a brief pause, they continued to issue orders and information—through the FBI channels.
A useless endeavor, Rum was listening in. But—
"She has given us a chance," the FBI agent's eyes hardened as Shinichi bit down on his lips. "Don't waste it."
Akai squeezes Shinichi's shoulder again before looking towards the exit doors—branched lightning plays across cellar-dark skies. A deluge of rain pours from pregnant angry clouds. There was a crash of waves, creating frothy ripples that slammed against the sides of the ship. Again, the room rocked violently, and the floors groaned under the vigorous motion of an undulating ocean.
Taking a sharp breath, Shinichi breathes out while Akai releases him. Collecting himself, he realized his impulsiveness and apologized.
"Okay," Shinichi's grip tightened over the 'B' shaped device in his hand, "let's do this."
The force of the impact tore through the bulletproof kevlar that covered her chest. She was thrown back, hitting the container hard. Her shoulder was grazed by the bullet. Rum—not giving her a chance to recover. She had almost forgotten the sensation of being shot. Memories rush past in a frenetic blur. Pausing, she took deep breaths to gather her wits. The process was difficult, made more so by the searing pain like an invisible dagger that had dug underneath her skin, running through her shoulder, drilling into bones.
Shiho picked herself up again as Rum fired another round. His grin widened, a malicious visage as the pellet struck the container beside her. It surged forth, sending metal shards flying in her direction. Tumbling forward, she crashed and bounced off the wet ground. A burst of laughter emanated from Rum's lips as her head spun—vision blurred, lips quivering as she struggled to breathe.
Falling into the darkest depths, his voice blends with the whispers of a silver-haired monster. From a murder of crows, golden beast-like eyes stare back—as walls of a cage closed in on her.
"Do you think," his voice emerges from a distant past, grabbing her with vice-like strength, lifting her, and pinning her to the rough walls of an incessant basement. "That you're in control."
"Still running?" Rum drawled, heavy boots dragging slowly, methodically across the wet cement. "Sherry?"
A scarlet river gushed from her wounded shoulder—she slumped, her body fell limp as she rested her cheeks on the soaked ground. Numb—cold like the dead, weighed down by a mountain of sins, the festering agony ebbs into a dull throb. What was the point?
As the oppressive ambiance blurs, it transforms into a relentless void.
"Shiho!" his voice broke through her trance, emanating from the secret pocket sewn into her jacket. An almost forgotten hidden "B" shaped device spurred her on. Over her neck, the golden locket became hot, blazing through, igniting simmering embers—she gasped.
What was she doing?!
With renewed strength, she grasped the handle of her Glock.
It was not the time to feel sorry for herself.
Rum cocked the hunting rifle again— she did not hesitate.
Scrambling back to her feet, Shiho readies her pistol. A huge fork of white flash raced through the tenebrous skies, revealing for a moment the crazed crooked smirk of a one-eyed monster. Arms raised, he held the hunting rifle with ease, fingers curling over the trigger. He stood amidst the cascading rain, a manifestation of nightmares. Their eyes met.
"What a shame," he sighed. "I'd never realized that this round of hide-and-seek would be over so soon."
A deep rumble reverberated through the inky darkness, and a sudden blast of wind sent torrential rainwater gushing like a waterfall through the cracked roofs. His attention was briefly diverted by it. And she pressed down.
"I don't think so," Shiho spat back. Her handgun recoils after she fires two rounds.
Shiho took the chance—slinking away from the man who evaded the bullets expertly. He cocks the hunting rifle once more. "Good, very good! Sherry! I have always," he laughs, "Enjoyed the hunt."
Again, the path to the stairs was blocked—she cursed, remaining hidden when she saw Vermouth skirting past. Shiho took another detour through the maze-like layout of the crowded warehouse. It was fortunate that Anne had made her memorize the blueprint and maps a few days earlier.
No.
As she thought about the woman, a fresh ache coursed down her chest—and she falters. Squeezing her eyes shut, she leans against the rusted containers.
I'm sorry.
Shiho knew she had no chance against these apparitions. Not with an injured shoulder that was fuming like a furnace. Tearing the sleeve of Jodie-sensei's jacket, she fashioned a haphazard bandage, wrapping it around the jagged wound, hoping to prevent a trail of blood.
For a moment, she regrets her decision to destroy her earpiece. Although Rum had hacked into their system—it still provided her with vital information about the FBI's activities. However—it was already too late. What was done was done.
Collecting herself, Shiho took another route, carefully pressing herself against the walls of the containers. Her back was scraped by the rough, cold metallic surface. Taking a shuddering breath, water rolled down her wet fringe, dripping persistently on her nose and cheeks, stinging her eyes.
Up ahead, there should be another set of stairs.
There was no sign of them nearby, and Shiho dashed forward, quickly climbing the stairs. Her effort to be quiet is as futile as smooth sandpaper. Every step she took was accompanied by a din that sounded like a thousand earthquakes. Shiho only hoped the storm and roar of occasional gunfire would distract the hunters from her.
Upon entering the control room, she gains temporary respite from the persistent downpour. Shiho leans against the old counters, panting, before staring at the blank, cracked screens and the steel-plated floors. The wound in her shoulder swelled, throbbing like a drill digging into a wall. The infernal darkness, too, did little to aid her search. Crouching low, Shiho wipes away the water from her bangs—squinting as she scans the area with her cracked night vision glasses. A wave of relief washed over her as she reached the site where Gin had ambushed her earlier.
There it was.
The walls shook again as a treacherous gale ravaged the derelict building—and she heard it, the familiar click of a trigger being pulled. She ducked when a shot whizzed dangerously close to her temple. The 9mm bullet nicked her glasses, which shattered into tiny pieces after being flung away. Shiho leaped for cover when the blonde-headed woman emerged.
She would have died if she had moved a second later. Vermouth marched through, footsteps pounding against the ground. Shooting blindly, Shiho raced towards the other exit, flinging the door wide open—crossing her arms over her chest as an oncoming punch sent her crashing on the railings.
And then she was confronted with the underside of an army boot.
It was too sudden, and Shiho wasn't prepared for it. Before she knew it, she was rolling down the stairs. Every solid hit—was like a shockwave. Shiho cries out when she reaches the bottom. In an attempt to stem the pain, she curls in on herself, choking and coughing before spitting blood.
Everything hurt—her chest, arms, shoulder, body, head—get up! Get up, you idiot!
Shiho heard the silver-haired assailant descend the steps, and she forced herself to her feet.
He was too fast, kneeing her in the gut. Something broke, and her chest exploded in agony as if she had been struck by a wrecking ball. She collapsed to the ground as thunder rumbled across the sky, and she withered at the entrance of the rickety warehouse. Gin hits her with another kick as white blitzed through the wretched night, blinding her momentarily. It was followed by another, leaving Shiho with no time to gather herself.
"You're a disappointment," Gin kicks her again. "Just like your sister."
"You have no right," Shiho whispered, lava-hot, the fury gushes through. "Don't speak of her!" She raised the gun, attempting to shoot Gin, when Vermouth rushed forward, grabbing the weapon from her grasp and flinging it away. Without a second thought, the woman jammed a thumb into Shiho's wounded shoulder.
The pain was excruciating, and Shiho screamed—
Renya sighed.
"Put an end to this," he said. "There's no need for physical violence."
Vermouth and Gin released her as Shiho withered on the ground. The man's words— an irony.
"What a gentleman," she spat out.
The blonde-haired woman slapped her, lifted her, and slammed her against the concrete. Dazed, Shiho watched helplessly as Vermouth cocked a Beretta and pointed it at her head.
"Goodbye, Sherry."
"Did I ask you to do that?" Renya's voice echoed throughout the warehouse. "Are you going to disobey orders?" he sneered. The tone of his voice caused Vermouth to freeze in place.
"She's a liability," the woman snapped after a tense silence.
"Vermouth, I haven't forgiven your transgression. You are alive only because of my benevolence." His voice was sharp, dripping daggers. Shiho sensed Vermouth's fear—the woman fixed in place, the man's beady eyes locked on her form. "Do not disappoint me again."
The woman slowly redraws her pistol, tucking it away. "Yes," Vermouth gripes bitterly, "Boss."
He snorts, his attention now trained on Shiho.
"Take her, Gin."
"With pleasure," Gin whistles.
"Let's have some fun later, Sherry," the silver-haired beast's unfathomable smile hides nothing but malevolence behind his dead eyes.
"In your dreams," Shiho murmured.
She raised the trigger. Time seemed to slow. Gin shouts a warning, and Vermouth tumbles back.
As soon as Rum realized the consequences, he dropped the rifle and ran towards the boss—reacting immediately.
Shiho pressed down and raced for the docks, limp-running toward the warehouse's entrance.
"Remember, Shiho, you have exactly 10 seconds. Only use it when you can escape," Noah instructed her.
Shiho gritted her teeth and rushed towards the pier. Using the last of her strength, she leaped forward, colliding with the hard ground as a heat wave brushed over her. Crying out, she bounced a few times, rolled over, before crashing into the pilings near the wharf's edge. Thunder boomed, rattling through her bones, and she spat blood pooling in her mouth.
There was a second blast as an inferno tore through. Unstable and loose beams dislodge and fell, and the rusty defunct roof of the decaying warehouse collapsed. Several containers were thrown out, destroyed, and smashed by the explosion. The debris landed on the wet concrete wharf missing Shiho by a few inches. Fires and smoldering dust clouds flared up from the collapsed warehouse. The violent whipping storm could not quell the intense blaze from the explosion. As the last beams of support collapsed, an ominous moan reverberated across the pier, sounding like an anvil being dragged across an ice sheet. The bombs had razed the dreaded building to the ground.
As she stumbled onto the pier, dumbfounded, she fell to her knees, her clothes heavy like lead, soaked through by the unending storm. The explosion was more powerful than she had anticipated. Her eyes were stinging due to the billowing smoke from the collapsed building. The air was dense and stank of rancid corrosive metal— blurring her vision. Her head spun from the force of impact. Her clothes were singed—licked by the flames.
Was it over? Could she—
She coughed and then recoiled in horror as they emerged from the wreckage. A stream of blood ran down Gin's forehead as a deadly glint gleamed in his eyes. With his hat absent, unkempt long silver hair whipped wildly around him, eyes ablaze with uncontrollable rage. They appeared next, barely holding onto a rasping Renya, his wheelchair abandoned behind them. Rum was wiping away the trail of blood forming from his head, and Vermouth was staring at her with a mixture of awe and fury.
How were they still—
She tried to stand but failed as her knees buckled. Her injuries were more severe than she expected. A torrent of pain ripped through her, and Gin rushed forward. Seizing her by the collar, he lifted her, the ocean crashing down along the dock behind her. Shiho tasted salt as she was struck down once more. The impact instantly sent a dizzying spiral through her body, partially knocking her out.
"Get Korn to get us," Shiho heard Renya's rasp through the agony. While Rum cradled the feeble old man, who appeared to be shivering in the rain, Vermouth executed his orders. Lightning flashed across the skies, clawing through the clouds. And for a moment, as the man regards the boss—the light reflects the glint in Rum's eyes, one that Shiho could not discern. Disgust?
A violent cough ripped through Renya's body before he turned to her with a wicked grin on his lips, "We leave soon—and Gin—we still need her, remember that."
"No worries," Gin's eyes glistened with a fit of consuming anger she had experienced many times before. She cried out as he slammed her to the ground again. Back striking wet concrete. Grinning maniacally, the madness ran deep in his eyes, and the chasm gazed back at her.
"Sherry," he whispered, "just like old times, huh?" He pressed his glove's fingers against the gunshot wound along her shoulder. Pain, white-hot, blinding, puncturing her body like the thorns of a rose bush. It swept through her body, flooding her with agony. But she held back the cries—instead biting down hard on her lips.
Unsatisfied with her response, he released her before driving his foot into her abdomen. She shrank into a ball as he rained relentlessly down on her. The abuse—a reminder. She was a child, trapped in that basement—darkness permeated her senses.
Once again, she was confined in that box. All around, its walls close in. Screams of horror mixed in with the cruel laughter of a silver-haired beast. Golden eyes morphed into those of a serpent as he raised his pistol. The twisted neck of a dying man transforms into a body covered in a white jacket, melting into the rain—blue eyes, mouth agape staring back as a bullet bores through her head. Akemi —Ryuu-san…Anne.
Erase it. Her vision blurred as Gin hammered her against the wet cement ground again. Puddles sprayed and blended with blood.
"Oh, what's this?" Gin straddled her. The sharp joint of his knees pinned her to the ground. Leaning in, he smirked. Reaching for her neck, he callously pulled out a—golden locket. Laughing mockingly at the pictures inside, Gin shoved them in her face.
"Playing house now, Sherry?" he raised a fist and punched her again, his eyes simmering with glee. And he did it again and again. Rain droplets strike her skin like a million needles—as the agony shoots through her body like a bullet. There was no way out of this. This— This was her reality.
So tired—
I just want to—
Lightning branches across stygian skies, bathing them for a second in white-hot light—reflecting against a golden locket. Her gaze focused on the smiling picture of the professor, the children, and—
"Shiho…"
Her sister's voice merges with Ran's. Shinichi emerges from the void. "Please return to me."
Heat surge through her scars, radiating from a single point. With her remaining strength, she stopped the punch from coming down. Refusing to let go, she glares at him.
Amused by her feeble effort, he laughed. Rain rolled down his face, dripping from his chin, his body heavy like an elephant. He pressed down further against her chest.
"When will you ever learn, Sherry?" he seized her by the throat, and he wrapped his fingers around them.
Lifting her, he intended to slam her to the ground again when—
"It's quiet," she whispered. "Isn't it?" Green eyes flirt lazily at his as a slow smirk spreads across her lips.
Noticing it, he paused.
"Rum," Gin spat in alarm.
"Status on Korn, Vermouth?" Rum demanded.
"I'm trying, but they're not answering," Vermouth snapped.
Realization dawned, and they faced Shiho.
"Fools," she muttered.
"Move!" Rum shouted in warning. There was a brief silence before a silver bullet sliced through the raindrops. The crack of the shot was imperceptible under the roar of the storm. Gin fell back from the impact, the bullet grazing his cheeks. Rum crouches behind Renya— using the feeble old man as cover—a sack of meat. Vermouth stares at the horizon in shock toward the open raging ocean. Heavy torrents, crashing waves, and an impenetrable fog made visibility almost impossible.
"No!" Vermouth shouted. When bright white lights flooded the harbor they were on, she flinched. The floodlights penetrated through the relentless rain, blinding them all. Vermouth rushed forward, with arms covering her eyes—grasping onto Shiho, nails digging into her jacket. The woman drags her, intending to use her as a shield.
"Chianti, Korn! The Apache!" Vermouth yelled into her receiver as she removed her earpiece, and Shiho heard Takagi-san's static-filled voice breaking through.
"Erm..." he taps the receiver nervously, "I'm afraid your ride isn't coming."
Vermouth tore open Shiho's vest and jacket in response. Eyes widened at the revelation.
In place of the gunfire and war that had been happening before— all that remained was the howling of the winds and colliding tides crashing against the piers and docks. Vermouth gapes at Shiho with rage. "What did you do!?"
"Let her go," a cackled voice echoed within Shiho's jacket. And the woman cried out as a sniper bullet whizzed past her head, narrowly missing it. She lets Shiho go and falls back towards the Rum and the boss. "What," he struggled to form words. He was helpless without his ventilator or wheelchair. "Is this?"
Before removing the small device from a concealed pocket in Jodie-sensei's jacket, Shiho gave a dry chuckle. Displaying the "B" shaped device, it glistened under the floodlight. A detective boy's badge—the device was transmitting an ongoing event, a secret operation that was taking place behind the scenes, hidden from view.
"We've apprehended the machine gunners," Satou-san's voice came through.
"There are four more to the right," Ran instructed the woman from the professor's mansion, a separate headquarters.
"Five," the professor, an assistant for the hidden operation, corrected over the clamor of bustling activity.
"There are still two stray perps running south, coming towards your team, Satou-san," Eisuke said, the boy joining the mission after Ran's recommendation.
"We will take care of it," the Inspector replied before orders were issued to her covert team.
Reports of captured or fleeing low-level members of the organization continued to be sent back by officers from the PSB and Japanese police forces.
Shiho shapes her hand into a gun and points it at Renya.
"Bang."
"You bitch," Vermouth losing all semblance of control. The floodlights were turned up, and the already blinding lights intensified. Shiho covers her eyes to protect herself from the stinging glare. Renya Karasuma, Rum, Vermouth, and Gin, alarmed close in on each other. And emerging from the harsh glare was the supposedly "dead" FBI members of the Alpha and Delta teams, PSB officers, followed by members of the Japanese Police Force. With guns raised, they surrounded the monsters of the organization with weapons raised. Shiho spotted Inspector Megure and Shiratori in the crowd.
"Get down!" they yelled.
Gin rushed forward in an attempt to grab Shiho, refusing to yield. "Stop!" shouted Rum, appearing to be the only one to grasp the full scope of the situation.
There was another gunshot, faint but unmistakable, and Shiho watched as the silver-haired beast fell, blood erupting from the arm, attempting to grab her. Gin collapsed on the soaked ground. Out in the middle of a raging ocean, a sniper sits on top of a cargo ship—Akai aimed.
"Rum," Renya growled. "You said it was all under control!"
The cool, imperceivable smile that once adorned his face had disappeared.
"You can't blame him," a voice echoed from the docks. He appeared, panting hard from climbing the stairs, before rushing towards her. Shinichi drapes his jacket over her, soaked through by rain and seawater. Standing in front, he shields her, looking at the organization's members with a triumphant smirk. "It was a trap. You said so yourself," Shinichi quipped, "What did you expect?"
"You!" Gin moved like lightning. Shiho barely had time to warn the detective. Shouts echoed from the police surrounding them, and shots were fired, striking Gin squarely in the shoulders and leg. However, the man did not stop, holding up the pistol and aiming it directly at Shinichi's forehead. A surge of terror shot through her, and Shiho struggled to stand—"Shinichi!"
Gasping, the shrunken detective turns towards her—protecting her with his body.
That idiot!
Shiho fought against his grasp and stopped when Gin was upon them. No!
And he pulled the trigger. Time stopped, and Shiho watched, astounded, as a blonde-haired woman jumped in. Vermouth had jumped in at the last minute to save Shinichi.
"Are you scheming with this harlot too!" Gin shouted, "Answer me, Vermouth!"
"A secret," Vermouth sinks to her knees, clutching the pumping wound on her stomach. The blonde-haired member stared at Shinichi with a somber smile. "Makes a woman, woman."
"What?" Shinichi whispered, too shocked to speak. The woman collapses, burying her secrets. As Shiho tried to comprehend her actions, they remained a petulant mystery.
Gin roared, raising his gun again, but a bullet ripped through his raised arm, and he fell. A horn sounded in the distance, the cargo ship closing in—Akai not giving him another chance. Taking the opportunity, Shinichi raised his tranquilizer watch and shoots him. In the blink of an eye, the dart disappears as soon as it makes contact with the skin.
The silver-haired beast bellowed as the cavalry of agents descended upon them. They circled the members of the organization, pinning them to the ground. The injured beast fought against them as he grew weaker by the minute.
"Sherry!"
"No!" Shinichi glared at the man, who fell silent, his golden beast-like eyes closing slowly. The dart finally took effect. "Never again, Gin."
With one final roar, the man was subdued, his bullet wounds gushing crimson and merging with wet puddles. Taking no chances, the agents immediately handcuffed him. The sight of the fallen monster floods Shiho with relief, and she almost collapses as Shinichi catches her.
"Is it over yet?" she asked with bated breath. Everything hurt, and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness.
"Don't speak," he whispered, and when she opened her eyes again, found him squatting beside her with bloodshot eyes like he had been—
"Shinichi," she forced. As his lips quivered, Shiho reached out to cup his cheeks. "You really should take martial arts classes."
"Really," he whispered. "That's the first thing you say to me! Do you know how dangerous that was—"
"Stop," she winced at the ladened skies. "Continue, and I'll jump into the ocean." Shinichi pursed his lips, seemingly about to continue, but stopped himself.
"You can't," he muttered. "Even if you wanted to. Idiot," he continued as Shiho grimaced. The rain continued to fall, and it was cold. The arrest happening behind her, so far away that she can barely hear it.
Her body was lifted up by strong arms. In his teenage form, Shinichi carries her, arms supporting her back and legs. She buried her face in his chest as he embraced her.
A cargo ship docked in front, looming over them. From within, Akai and Jodie-sensei, accompanied by a cavalry of FBI agents, rushed to the scene.
"Hang in there, Shiho. We've got ambulances on their way."
The heat of his body drowned out the pain, and she felt relief—soothed by his presence.
"We've got them," she closed her eyes, feeling the rain kissing her cheeks, trickling down. "Onee-chan."
Phew. I tried XD. I hope it wasn't that confusing. Explanations of what had happened would be explained next chapter, which would be the last of Arc 2 :D After that would be the roller coaster that is Arc 3.
Again, I am thankful for your reviews and feedback. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, have a nice week ahead. :)