Chapter 63
Ad Infernum
17 years ago:
Standing by the windows of her luxurious high-rise apartment, Sharon gazed down at the bustling city, observing the traffic as orange-red lights blended into an evanescent blur. She mulled with a wine glass in hand as trepidation and excitement squirmed in her chest.
An arm wrapped around her midriff, and she hummed pleasantly. Taking in the scent of peppermint aftershave, she snuggled into his embrace.
"What's bothering you, love?" John Vineyard, CEO of Techform, asked. Just 45 years, he owned one of the most influential companies in the world. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck with the tip of his freshly shaved chin. It tickled, and she smiled. Her husband's childishness when they were alone was a stark contrast to his public persona. Other people considered him a cold, ruthless logician, but Sharon only saw a doting husband. Behind his ashen gray eyes was a shimmering warmth that made her feel safe every time. Still gazing out at the mesmerizing cityscape, Sharon pressed against him.
A torrential downpour casts a misty fog over New York City. The glimmers of streetlights, traffic, and high-rise apartments added to the spectacle. Although she had seen this scene numerous times, it still astonished her. However, even the grandiose sight could not quell her uneasiness.
Above a brick fireplace, her gaze lingers over a giant photo portrait. A smiling couple and a 12-year-old child were reflected in the glow of dying embers. The child bears a striking resemblance to Sharon when she was a young girl. Christina, who was affectionately called Chris by her grandfather, was the baby of the family. Her grandfather often visited with gifts, showing uncanny love for the child. Though the church's growing number of members made it harder for him to visit, he still made an effort when possible.
She winced—she couldn't say she had been the same.
"How is Chris?" Sharon asked, and John tightened his grip.
"You know how she is," he assured, "she'll forgive you."
"Nevertheless..." Sharon muttered, feeling guilty for missing her daughter's school performance.
"Look," John strokes her cheeks, "we could make it right with some ice cream...and remember about…"
"Yes," Sharon replied, sighing slightly. "Tomorrow is a special day."
Sharon remembered her father's call about the completed elixir a week earlier. She hadn't seen him this excited in a long time. "Sharon!" he had exclaimed, unable to contain his joy, "We'll be able to meet them again!"
It was a promise he made 35 years ago when he adopted her from that cruel orphanage. Abused, beaten, and left to starve, he had rescued her from that war-torn village. As for the nuns who took her in or the other orphans that lived with her, she did not know what had happened to them.
She only remembered the man's tight grip as he carried her away from a burning building, eventually settling in a nearby forest. Sitting by a campfire, he gently placed her personal items by her feet. A tattered bag contained socks, two shirts, a skirt, and a ceramic urn. The nun claimed that it held the remains of her family, who were killed by rebels. Those fighting for the liberation of a country ruled by a tyrannical dictator. Although Sharon had little memory of the violence that day, she clearly recalled the stench of blood and the horror etched into her mother's face as she fought fiercely to protect her. Her whereabouts were discovered by some soldiers later, and she was taken to an orphanage. He then appeared. The stranger bathed her, clothed her, and bandaged the bruises she sustained from her caregivers.
The first thing she noticed was his sad eyes. In the glow of the roaring campfire, his left eye scar emerged from the shadows. His body reeked of sweat, blood, and ash. She should have been afraid of him, but she relaxed when he held out a dish and smiled. The gesture of kindness broke the ice of her harsh world, and she has followed him ever since.
She had not questioned. Her best interests were always his; he had always been there for her. He was family—and yet…
"Don't worry," John noticed her dilemma. "Your father has never let us down."
Sharon nodded at his statement, recalling her conversation with Elena Miyano earlier this afternoon. She became rather good friends with the scientist employed by her father. Normally calm and collected, the good-natured woman had been quite nervous.
Although Sharon had to attend her daughter's play, the urgent tone of Elena Miyano persuaded her to meet in a cafe.
When they met at their favorite cafe overlooking the river, Elena Miyano was a mess. The scientist had hastily ordered two cups of coffee and was sporting bloodshot eyes, a shriveled lab coat, unkempt blonde hair, and cracked glasses. The woman beckoned her over, and Sharon realized that the drinks were made to go.
Elena's bruised cheek, which she had failed to hide with makeup, was the first thing she noticed.
"How…" Sharon asked tentatively, sitting opposite the scientist, "are you doing, Elena?"
"Sharon," Elena did not mince her words, "Promise me," she was clearly in distress. Elena was alert, eyes darting around.
"Elena?" Sharon whispered, "What's wrong?"
"Sorry, I can't stay for long," the woman continued hurriedly, "but promise me that you will not attend the congregation tomorrow."
"What?" Sharon frowned, perplexed, "Why?"
"Sharon!" the scientist snapped, scaring a few patrons looking at them like nuisances. "I beg you, just trust me for once!"
"Has anything happened?"
Apparently spotting something Sharon hadn't noticed, Elena gasped, standing abruptly. She grabbed her cup quickly. "I'm warning you, Sharon," the woman's tone was ice-cold, so unlike the Elena, who always greeted her warmly. "If you value your life, your family… you'll listen to me."
It was a vague warning; one Sharon couldn't comprehend. Why was Elena Miyano so frantic? Why did she look so scared...and why specifically this congregation? It was going to be something special...yes…but…
As Sharon relayed what the scientist had told her to her husband, he simply shrugged.
"There had been rumored that Elena and Atsushi had been influenced by someone outside," her husband suggests, "but your father...had taken care of that. Elena is possibly dissatisfied with his methods and is just using you."
"Hmm…" Sharon muttered. It wasn't logical. Even far-fetched. Elena had never been petty and was known for her kindness. However…
Sharon could not envision her father ever making the wrong decision or harming her or their members in any way. She smiled while clinging to the locket around her neck. Once again, fond memories of her first meal with her adopted father flooded back to her.
As the contents of a ceramic urn were poured into the pot of beef stew, the faltering hope of an orphaned girl was rekindled. "They will live on within us," her adopted father recited the sermons he would preach to the congregation many years later. The words, like a prayer, bringing hope and salvation to his followers. "And when the time comes…from the ashes, we will rise anew. In new vessels. Mors tua, vita mea."
"Finally," John, a fellow orphan also saved by her father, whispered as Sharon leaned back against him, reassured of what was to come. "We'll meet them again."
"Yes," Sharon said as she stared at the black and white photographs of a family she had lost—a family she held within her. Her resolve deepens. She had put in the hard work. Had prayed. Had waited for 35 years.
It was time.
Present:
There was a whisper in the air, a strong gust, followed by the rustle of yellow-red leaves. As they fell, they swirled in clumps. Shinichi watches as Ran and the professor sweep the leaves into a pile. The old man and girl doing so quietly. They were unusually solemn, and Shinichi detects the heavy tension mounting beneath the surface. He carried his own, the constant buzzing in his chest ringing slightly in his ears. Clutching his phone tightly, Shinichi rested his forehead against the cool windows.
Messages were coming in from Rei Furuya. A convoy of armed officers, including their personal bodyguards, were to accompany the armored van. The transfer of a silver-haired beast would take place today. With the PSB, FBI, and local police working together, it was a covert operation so crucial no one was left to spare. It was the very reason why the professor's mansion was devoid of any personal bodyguards.
Although it was dangerous, Gin's transfer was to go smoothly. Everything needed to be executed perfectly...in sequence. And—
Shinichi glances at the stairwell. There was a bluish light emanating from the basement. His phone buzzes, and he looks at it before slipping the device into his pockets with a wry smirk. It hits a small pill case within. His fingers encircled it for a moment then he wore the backpack he prepared the day before. Shinichi proceeds to descend the stairs.
She was working, unsurprisingly. Shiho poured liquids into bunsen burners, trying to perfect an antidote based on the data she received last week. It served as a distraction. She had been having nightmares.
"Shiho."
Dropping her flask, she turned to him, hands over her chest. Her gaze narrowed when she spotted him, and she pursed her lips. "Why sneak up on me?" she chided, and he chuckled.
"I thought I would give you a taste of your own medicine."
"Really, now, at a time like this?" Her anxiety mellowed into repressed annoyance.
"Hey," he smirks, "It helped, didn't it?"
"You're cleaning that up," she gestures to the spilled liquid on the floor, and he shrugs.
"Fine," Shinichi approaches her, and she sighs as he extends his hand toward her. "But right now, how about some grocery shopping? We're out of eggs."
She paused, studying him carefully, then at the wall clock. Each tick of its minute hand echoes like an anvil hitting the ground.
"Now?" Shiho whispered, and Shinichi nodded.
The silence descends, her body trembling under her lab coat. As her fingers slowly curl around a locket, the bluish glow of the monitors reflects in her eyes, capturing her dilemma. Shinichi waits patiently, then turns to face him with her usual ironic smirk.
"Never thought you would actually want to cook," she mocked.
"How can that be surprising? I made hamburgers a week ago, and what was the saying again?" he snorted. "Believe in yourself, and you're halfway there."
"Roosevelt?"
"The Theodore Roosevelt."
"I suppose," Shiho replies, taking off her coat and reaching for her scarf.
"One day, you'll eat your words. I'll cook the best meal you've ever eaten. You will beg for it."
"In your dreams," Shiho smirks, and he scowls.
"That's it," he grabs her hand, "I'll be your personal chef from now on."
"Shinichi, I hate to break it to you," Shiho teased as they climbed the stairs, walking toward the courtyard. "We have to be alive to end the organization."
"I am not that bad," he huffs.
"You are."
"Why can't you be more encouraging?"
"Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance."
He narrowed his gaze.
"Shakespeare?"
"The William Shakespeare."
Knowing there was no way to beat her, Shinichi marched ahead, pulling her along.
"We're leaving for a bit, Hakase, Ran!" Shinichi called out as they opened the gates. "Stay put, we'll be back soon."
Both the old man and raven-haired beauty tensed at his mention. Like Shiho, they stiffened. The professor glanced at his watch, and Ran hesitated—his childhood friend wanted to approach them, but Shinichi gave her a warning glance. She stops in her tracks; hands curled into fists. For a moment, she shivered, the professor placing a hand on her shoulder.
Giving a shaky sigh, Ran composed herself before facing them with a resigned smile.
"Don't stay out too long," she orders cryptically. Determined azure eyes boring into his own, Shinichi swallowed his apprehension, nodding a promise.
"Ai-kun," the professor waves to them, "Shinichi…Be careful."
"We will," Shinichi answered, and they walked down the sidewalks, making light banter along the way. It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Neither the grocer nor the supermarket, but rather a familiar fork in the road. One path leads to the main streets and the other to certain doom.
The eggs were an excuse. It was late morning, and the streets of Beika were busy. Men in business suits and women walked past them, followed by children and housewives. Next to the electronic shop they usually pass were food delivery workers riding their bikes and static television screens showing the morning news.
Shinichi squinted his eyes as he watched the news, tapping his feet impatiently on the concrete. Watching, counting down.
"Shinichi," Shiho whispered as soon as it reached eleven. Suddenly, a strange calm descended. Time seemed to stand still…then—
Several large booms were heard. It was loud enough to send ripples through the street, stopping all activities. An eerie silence fell, followed by murmurs among the commuters and passers-by. The commotion was accompanied by a barrage of fire engines and ambulances. Followed by a few other police cruises. A chaotic sequence of events unfolded. All forms of activity are halted by official blaring alarms used in National emergencies. As commuters and passers-by turn to the news stations blaring on the public screens, murmurs become panic exclamations. Some turn to their smartphones for information about the developing situation. An uneasiness speckled the air. Shinichi shared a glance with Shiho, who stood motionless.
It has started.
Shinichi pulls Shiho closer as the vibrations grow stronger in his pocket. He took out his phone, and they viewed the messages coming through. Frantic alerts drowned out the hub hub of activity happening around them.
I don't want to leave.
Anxiety courses through his body, and he swallows, tightening his grip on the scientist's hand. For a moment, he considers what could go wrong. He imagines every scenario and sees failure, sees a one-eyed man taking everything away from him. The plans he had seemed to fall short. He wasn't confident. He wasn't sure.
I don't know if I can—
He remembers it well. The heat of Akemi Miyano as she drifts away, sinking to the ground, growing colder as blood pools around her, staining his hands and body red. Ragged breaths become softer as she struggles with her last words. Eyes filled with sorrow—kind and blue. A woman who started everything, who changed the course, who he had failed to save.
He was…
Afraid.
"It was raining on that day," Shiho began. He glances at a reticent shrunken scientist. Holding on firmly to Shinichi's hand, her lips were pale, her rigid stance betraying the calm she portrayed.
"The day I escaped," she murmured, gazing at the streets before them, watching the chaos unfold. "It was cold...dark," Shiho continued, "and I thought it was the end."
"Shiho?"
"But it wasn't," She clutches the locket, "I was always skeptical, always doubted, but you… you've always managed to subvert my expectations. And," she faced him, flicking him softly on the forehead, "You will."
It was perhaps the first time she'd admitted it.
"Shinichi," her voice drowned out the uneasiness in his heart.
"You'll protect me, won't you?"
She was and always has been—a mystery. A girl lost in the rain, without anything to live for. A scientist who caused the very condition he was afflicted with. An entity he had despised but had come to love. He hated her. He fought with her. He came to understand her. A partner, his Watson. She was—
"Was there any question?" Shinichi smirked.
He expected a retort, her usual scathing snort, but instead was met with the glow of a warm smile. The sincerity in her emerald eyes stole his heart. "There wasn't," she declared.
"Be careful, Shinichi," wrapping her arms around him; he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Taking in her scent, Shinichi regains his composure, letting go of his worries and nervousness.
"I'll be back," He grins confidently as he takes out the case containing the prototype antidote. "Kudou Shinichi always comes back."
"I look forward to your burnt eggs," she jests as he chuckles.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips against her forehead.
"You betcha," he promised, "It'll be extra special."
"You mean extra-done?"
"...Oi."
As he settled next to his partner, Jay Harris, a seasoned FBI agent with a reputation for remaining level-headed under pressure, found himself on his most challenging mission yet. Despite months of training, nothing could prepare him for the intimidating presence that loomed behind him.
Marcus Woods, his partner in the particular operation, a seasoned FBI agent himself, was shifting uncomfortably in the armor they wore. The armor in question was caviar vests and hard helmets with bulletproof visors. Akai Shuichi, their chief commander, had them covered from head to toe.
Behind him sat a package. In a straight jacket, caged in a compartment. A silver-haired man with golden eyes resembled more of a beast than a human. A pair of beady eyes were constantly scanning the surroundings, like a snake seeking out any opportunity that might arise. A killer, a perpetrator of many closed high profile cases, the man codename Gin was prolific. Known in many circles and wanted by many countries, he posed a national security risk if he was ever allowed to roam the streets.
The gravity of the mission weighed heavily. Jay knew that Marcus felt it too, but he steeled himself.
"You ready?" Jay asked.
"What can I say," Marcus chirped. The man, as usual, tried to make light of their situation. It was a coping mechanism Marcus carried, which Jay had learned to appreciate over the years. "If we die today, at least we die heroes."
"I'd appreciate if you didn't," Jay scoffed as Marcus laughed, "Your missus back home would kill me."
"I've got life insurance. She'll be fine."
"With your salary? The sum would be minimal."
"Focus," their banter was interrupted. Their channels are flooded with his commanding voice. Akai Shuichi had been listening in, and the agent was undoubtedly averse to light-hearted jesting. Marcus shrugged as Jay sighed.
"No unusual signs, sir," Jay replied as he started the vehicle. A heavily armored van provided by PSB force member Rei Furuya rumbled to life. The distance was 40km, driven through a privately booked road. The journey would take approximately an hour, and a convoy of police officers would trail behind them.
It was overkill, as Marcus had put it. The security provided for one man. But Jay, who had been part of the docks operation months earlier, had experienced firsthand the danger these individuals posed and was grateful for the added protection.
As they reviewed their contingency plans earlier, Akai Shuichi emphasized the importance of remaining vigilant. It was tense as they discussed the intricate details of the operation, and soon the hour arrived. Gin was escorted by armed guards and surrounded by law enforcement personnel. The man led into the waiting armored vehicle.
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Jay turned onto another secluded road. A sense of unease settled as Marcus focused on the surroundings. While holding an Ak rifle, his partner constantly communicated with their commanders. Jay couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched as he scanned the rearview mirror.
"Remember," he recalled the words of a shrunken detective. The bespectacled boy solemnly points to a photograph of a square-faced man wearing sunglasses. "Their thick as thieves, if anything, be on a lookout for—"
"Bus!" a warning rang through their earphones. Jay made a sharp left, barely avoiding a vehicle that had come up from beside them. A series of loud crashes were followed by the sound of exploding engines and crushed metal. The vehicle was plowing through their escorts.
"Look out!"
Jay noticed a school bus armed with armor plates among the cacophony of shouting officers. This vehicle had come from a single street that was supposed to be blocked off, and it was speeding up. Jay narrowly avoided the vehicle as it attempted to smash into them.
"We have a situation here," he reiterated to Akai.
"Steady," Akai delivered commands as Jay maintained control over the armored vehicle. "We have spikes ahead. Slow down when you reach it."
"Affirmative."
"Stay focused, Harris," Jay told himself, ignoring the shots that Marcus was firing at the oncoming bus. "You've done this before. You'll get through this."
It came out of nowhere. An ominous sound of metal crashing against metal. An unexpected, violent impact spun the van out of control. Jay caught a glimpse of a silver-haired beast's crazed look. His eyes were filled with excitement.
"Hold on!" Jay shouted at Marcus, who cursed. The man held on as Jay turned hard on the wheel. The van balancing on its sides, slammed onto the roads once more. Regaining control, Jay stepped on the throttle, speeding up as the reinforced bus approached them again.
"Any time now!" Marcus shouted at Akai.
"Just a few more meters. Maintain course!" Rei Furuya instructed, and Jay avoided another hit from the armored bus. A close call. Any more impacts, and they would be sent tumbling into the forest beside the roads.
Time was of the essence. They needed to disable the armored bus. The spikes set up ahead would do that. Just a few more meters—
Marcus screamed a warning. An abrupt jolt sent the vehicle into a spin. As they tumble, Jay cries out. Rolling down the sides of the road, the van flipped to its sides. It crashed, shattered windows—sent splinters and broken glass their way. Jay hears Marcus scream a warning. Airbags were launched into their faces. A jarring lurch stops the vehicle, and Jay groans. Pain shoots through his neck, through his chest, and down into his legs.
Fuel fumes mixed with the metallic aroma of blood filled his nostrils.
"Marcus!" Jay turned to look at his partner. He sighs in relief. Marcus was conscious and trying to undo his straps. They were upside down, hanging from their seats, and the situation was getting worse. He was about to move when Marcus let out a gasp.
Jay barely managed a warning when—
It began. The dreaded symphony. In the distance, gunshots ricochet. Screams and cries as officers fought to gain control. As Jay looks out of the broken-glass window, he sees a silver-haired man grinning maliciously, free of restraints.
"Gin!" Marcus shouted, "Gin's escaped!"
Bullets whistled past as familiar pops echoed through the air. Members of the organization, likely gathered by Rum, were waging war against the fools who had locked him up for months. He ran through the woods, tasting freedom for the first time in months, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. Laughing as he swiped at the blood running down his forehead from Vodka's less-than-professional hijack, Gin couldn't help but chuckle.
His skin is scratched by twigs, leaves, and sticks as he rushes through the forest. Momentarily panting beside him, Vodka glances at him. "Aniki," the weak man he had called his subordinate, instructed him. "Rum ordered us to escape. We'll regroup later."
Gin smirked. This was a trap, a very cleverly disguised one. Somebody had deliberately leaked information regarding his release date.
This was a test.
That old fart...he knew it too.
"Sherry," he whispered, his eyes glistening in delight. He could almost feel her presence. Strawberry blonde in his grasp, emerald eyes masking a sense of terror as she cowered before him. He craved that drug—her fear.
She was his. He had molded her, had raised her, and yet—
His blood boiled as anger surged through him.
Damn, the consequences.
"Aniki!" Vodka frantic calls rang out as another burst of gunfire erupted. They were surrounded by FBI and PSB agents. Gin smirked as he spotted them beyond the clearing. "Run!"
Run?
"Pathetic," Gin murmured, ignoring the sunglasses-wearing man as he snatched the pistol from him.
There was no need for fools.
"Aniki? What are you doing!"
He had been dreaming about this day. He would not let this opportunity pass him by.
"Stop!" A group of agents rushed out of the bushes surrounding him, and Gin grinned.
"Make me," he whispered menacingly, and Vodka gasped. Pushing his former subordinate forward, Gin fired several shots at Vodka, striking the agents, who fled for cover. Blood sprayed, Vodka crashed to the ground, sunglasses cracked, and horrified brown eyes stared at Gin in disbelief.
"Ani…ki…" the man struggled as blood dribbled down his lips, foaming, "Why?"
Taking advantage of the distraction, Gin began running. Through the thickets of trees, shrubs, and bushes, he dodged bullets whizzing past. With his heart set its sights on his prey, excitement bubbled in his chest and buzzed in his ears.
"You're mine," he snarls, "Sherry."
The bustling city street was pulsating with uncertain energy as emergency and law enforcement vehicles whizzed by, their horns blaring in a symphony of chaos. Amidst the concrete jungle and crowded streets, Shinichi forces his way through the throng of bystanders, their faces awash with confusion. The backpack he carried bounced against his back, a burden he dared not relinquish. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"It's too early," Shinichi seethes as he runs, speaking frantically into the detective badge.
Targeted explosions had occurred. Done in a synchronized fashion. Reverberating throughout the city like an alarm bell. Shinichi need not question the motives. He knew who had orchestrated it, and now it was only a matter of time before they appeared.
Chaos has ensued, and local law enforcement is busy responding to the supposed terrorist attack. Shinichi knew that relying on the various authorities now would be redundant.
"We're pinned down, Kudou-kun," Rei Furuya replied. Shinichi could hear the mayhem behind the PSB agent. There was gunfire, shouting, alarms, and a cacophony of officers scrambling to manage a situation spiraling out of control. "An ambush has taken place. They fired at us. Vodka came in a bus and crashed into the pickup."
"What?"
"There were a few injured. Gin managed to escape the wreckage, we're trying to track him, but the forested reserves are making it hard."
Shinichi clenched his fist. "What about Vodka?"
"Gin shot him," Akai continued, piecing together the incident, describing the chase. "He was severely injured."
"What's his status now?" Shinichi snaps.
"He's in critical condition," Akai confirms darkly, "But in custody."
"This wasn't part of the calculations," Shinichi scurries down the subway, taking a practiced route. When he finds the public washrooms, he slams the cubicle doors. He drops his backpack on the ground and slams a fist against the plastic walls. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he felt the walls close in around him and constrict his already strained lungs. "It is too early. We need reinforcements. This might not work."
His eyes are fixed on the messages coming in. Several came from Akai Shuichi, others from the Inspectors, and one—from an unknown source. Shinichi shivered at the thought of it.
"Are you ready?" an ominous typed message. A one-eyed beast, hacking into the system, an easy feat, "Kudou Shinichi?"
When Shinichi received a picture of a two-story detective agency, he knew where to go.
"Boy," Jodie-sensei interrupts. "Stick to the objective." The woman's stern tone pulled him back, and he took a breath, fingers wrapping around the plastic pillbox Shiho had given him the day before.
"You'll protect me, won't you."
Shinichi recalls her gentle touch, unwavering determination, and trusting gaze. The echoes of her voice reverberate in his ears as they embrace for one last time, urging him forward. Despite the suffocating stress, his veins surged with strength, dispelling the cloud of doubt that had enveloped him. Standing tall, he straightened his posture and steadied his breathing, ready to face the obstacle ahead.
Jodie-sensei was right. He had a plan. He would stick to it. He opened the pill box and stared at the drug in his hand. A familiar red and white pill.
A curse, she had said. Poison. But—
Shinichi smirked.
It was the only thing that had brought them together. It would be the only thing that would save them now.
I'm counting on you, Silver Bullet.
Alert messages were blaring across the public televisions in tall buildings, among electronic shops, convenience, and privately owned bars and shops. Red banners appear on screens of varying sizes. A live broadcast of an emergency alert is being watched by commuters and passersby on their phones.
"Good afternoon, I'm Misato Sara, bringing you the latest updates. We have just been informed that a potential terrorist attack has been committed against the Tokyo Metropolitan Police headquarters. As you can see from these images, the attack caused extensive damage. First responders are working tirelessly to assist those in need. The search for survivors is underway, and medical teams are aiding those injured."
Explosions had occurred, big ones. Downtown, not far from Beika. From a glass building, thick smoke billowed out. Some floors of the Tokyo Metropolitan police station were in disarray as shards of glass and shredded metal spilled out. The debris landed on the ground below. A crowd gathered at the scene, along with media reporters, screaming onlookers, and law enforcement vehicles. Officers crowded around the area, trying to gain control.
"We would like to remind everyone that this is a very dangerous situation, and we urge everyone to avoid any areas that may be targeted. Further instructions will be provided on the Emergency Broadcast websites. We are continuing to monitor the evolving situation and will provide updates as they become available."
Shiho stood still, her feet like lead stuck to the concrete pavement. While watching Shinichi disappear into the crowd, hands reaching into his pockets, she fought the urge to scream. No. Almost every part of her body was telling her to chase after him. She couldn't do this. Immobilized by what lay ahead, she was unable to move.
Her scars tingled with scorching heat. A phantom ache clawed at her psyche relentlessly. She felt dizzy, and her vision blurs. Stumbling for a moment, she is brought back to the present by the weight of a locket hanging from her neck.
Gritting her teeth, she bites down hard on her inner cheeks. The sharp sting made her focus again.
Stick to the plan. Shiho told herself as she turned around. Racing down the streets, taking a shortcut to the professor's house. It was the only way.
The soles of her shoes slapped hard against the concrete sidewalk as she sped through the streets. It was similar to the first time she escaped the organization. Pushing the fragmented flashbacks aside, she grabs the locket to steady herself.
Her pulse raced as she remembered the texts she had seen on Shinichi's phone earlier.
"We've failed."
Rei Furuya's coming messages told Shiho everything she needed to know.
Panting hard, she trips over the pavement, slamming into a wall. Regaining her balance, she continued.
"Rum has launched his attack."
Shiho sprints toward the professor's house. The possibilities of what she would find sent her mind racing. Still panting badly, she pushed aside the gates and raced through the open courtyard toward the main doors. As she burst through the foyer, she almost collapsed with relief at the sight of the professor. He jumped, dropping his phone, startled by her entrance.
"Ai-kun!" he cried, alarmed by her sudden appearance. Rushing toward her, he supported her as she took a deep breath.
"Hakase," Shiho started, trying hard to collect herself. "We don't have time. We need to—"
Her eyes widen as she sees Ran trying to reason with...three children.
"What are you doing here?" she could barely contain herself. This wasn't part of the plan. Shiho marched over, grasping hold of Ayumi, who stiffened at her touch.
"What? Why can't we be here?" Genta demanded as Mitsuhiko eyed her intently.
Shiho glanced at Ran, who was agitated. "I've tried to get them to leave," she exclaimed, "but they're stubborn."
"Get out of here!" Shiho seethes.
"What do you mean, Haibara-san?" Mitsuhiko continued. "Why can't we be here?"
"Yeah, Ai-chan?" Ayumi joined in, looking at her with teary eyes, "Do you not like us anymore? Why are Conan-kun and you hiding from us?"
"We met your relatives, Haibara!" Genta huffs, "They disappeared, they didn't even say goodbye, and then you banned us from the house! I thought we were friends!"
"I have no time for this," Shiho snapped, attempting to push the children away. "Don't come back! Go!"
"Please, Genta-kun, Mitsuhiko-kun, Ayumi-chan, listen to us. This is not safe," Ran urged the children, assisting in pushing them out of the house.
"Hakase!" Ayumi shouted to the professor, who shook his head.
"Why?" Genta stamped his feet as any child would.
"I cannot explain it now," the professor apologized apologetically, "but we can talk later. I promise."
This was getting ridiculous.
"Enough!" It was the freckled boy, the calmest, most logical of the three, that exclaimed. His outburst left Shiho stunned, and he charged toward her, grabbing her wrist.
"What is going on Haibara-san? Don't lie to us. Conan-kun and you might think we're just children, but we aren't stupid!"
"That's not what I—"
The main door creaked with an ominous groan. The hairs on the back of Shiho's neck stood up. The pressure is familiar, almost insidious, and she immediately shoves Mitsuhiko behind her. Both Ran and the professor gasped at the sight. His white teeth gleamed as he grinned widely like a nightmare emerging from the shadows. Silver hair, piercing golden eyes, his presence infecting everything he touched.
Instead of his usual black coat, he wore prison grabs. It looked like he had been in an accident. A scratch ran down the side of his left temple and arm.
Genta and Mitsuhiko backed away in terror as Ayumi screamed. Ran launched herself forward immediately. A wordless cry escaped Shiho's lips as Gin deflected her kick easily. Ran cries out in pain, doubling over, sinking to the floor.
"Ran-kun!"
"Ran-nee-chan!"
Before Shiho knew it, he was on top of her. His hands are wrapped around her neck as he lifts her swiftly. The children, Ran, and the professor screamed as he slammed her against the wall.
"Vodka has been captured."
Raising a gun, he fired once toward the ceiling. Ice shot through her blood as his grin widened, his beast-like eyes, stench, and touch fueling her fear. Involuntarily, she trembled. Rei Furuya's message is coming to full fruition.
"Gin is coming."
"Shiho," he snarls, leaning closer. She could feel his breath against her neck, and she screamed when he bit down.
"NO!" the professor screamed, about to make a move when Gin raised the gun, pointing it toward him.
"Hakase! Don't!" Shiho warned, and Gin laughed.
"Finally," he whispered with a deep timbre that stabbed through her. He positions the weapon, jabbing it into her forehead, "We meet again," he smirked, "Sherry."
As Shinichi adjusted to his adult form, he shifted uncomfortably in his suit. Peering into the dimly lit detective's office, his blouse stuck to his sweat-soaked skin. It was a bastion of shadows. A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air. Within its confines lurked danger at every turn.
Something was very wrong. It was too quiet. Too dark. Withholding none of the warmth Shinichi often associated with the Mouri's. His heart pounded like a war drum against his ribcage as he approached the door.
A familiar scene greeted Shinichi upon opening the creaking door. Photographs of the Ran's family adorned the walls. On Kogoro Mouri's table, magazines and crumpled newspapers were piled high. However, there were signs of battle. Like confetti, papers were scattered across the floor. Bullet holes pierced the dark green sofa, overturned and splintered, and smoke permeated the room.
Shinichi noticed the curtains had been pulled shut, effectively covering the windows, and then, to his horror, found Kogoro Mouri. The mustache man was tied behind the main door to a chair. Because of a metal cabinet leaning oddly against the wall, Shinichi hadn't seen him first. It was also riddled with holes, signs that it was used as a cover. Although the sleeping detective appeared relatively fine, his left eye had a purple bruise. Blood was flowing down his forehead, and his nose was broken.
Spotting Shinichi, his eyes widened in warning, and he made muffled noises. The cloth tied over his mouth, not allowing him to speak.
"Oji-san!" Shinichi exclaimed, only to pause. A click, sharp and cold, it jabbed into the back of his head. Deliberate and calculated, Shinichi knew he had walked right into a trap. Sadistic delight filled his voice as it echoed throughout the room. "So, we meet," his chilling laughter sent shivers down Shinichi's spine. "It seems fate has brought us together…again."
As Shinichi whips around, he faces the one-eyed beast. He readied himself to shoot with the tranquilizer watch on his wrist, but Rum was faster.
The man rams Shinichi into the door, slamming it shut. Shinichi winced as Rum pressed his right arm against his neck, the handle digging into his spine. He leaned in with a malicious grin on his lips.
It was evident that the man was strong. A flapping empty sleeve catches Shinichi's attention. During their last confrontation, FBI officers shot his right arm, leaving Rum without a limb. Despite this, however, the one-eyed beast was still able to overpower both Kogoro and Shinichi.
"Bring out your badge," Rum ordered, pointing the pistol at Mouri Kogoro. "I won't repeat myself."
Shinichi breathes in sharply. It was to be expected. They knew that Rum had hacked into their system and that he had figured out part of their plan. Though they had spoken in code and relayed their operations through cryptic messages— There was still no way to outsmart him definitely.
Taking the badge from him, Rum snatches it away. Smirking deviously, he spoke into it. "Mary-san, I am aware of the M16 agents you have positioned around the area. I suggest you stop. If anything were to happen to me, well…"
Rum gestures to a trigger contraption in his chest pocket. "You can bid farewell to your beloved detective."
A threat had been made. Rum crushes Shinichi's detective badge, stamping it, along with his phone, and takes him hostage. All forms of communication have been effectively cut off.
He had expected Rum to act against the security measures, but he had not anticipated the man's knowledge of the M16 agents. Shinichi instantly realized he was dealing with someone beyond his sphere.
A knife could cut through the tension in the room.
"What brings you here," it seemed like a losing battle, but Shinichi refused to be paralyzed by fear, "Aberu…Nakano."
Rum paused without reacting to his true name. Instead, he released Shinichi. As he fell to the ground, choking, the detective turned to face the man holding the gun to his forehead. He smiled sinisterly, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.
"Very good," he sneered, his voice laced with venom. "You've exceeded all expectations."
"I know what you want," Shinichi continued, staring definitely at the man. "I won't be a pawn in your twisted game!"
"Oh," Rum smiled, amusement evident, "you have quite the spirit, don't you? How refreshing. Pardon me for a second…"
Reaching forward, the man clawed at Shinichi's face. Eliciting a cry, Rum stared at the blood running down his cheeks. Satisfied that it wasn't a disguise, the one-eyed demon leaned closer, motioning to the chairs at Kogoro Mouri's table.
"Sit," the threatening demeanor was exchanged for calculated charm. His lips are twisted in a twisted smile as he locks eyes with Shinichi. It was like looking at a different person. The rough persona from earlier was replaced with a gentleman's calm yet commanding presence.
Madness.
"Sit. I won't repeat myself twice," Rum reiterated when Shinichi didn't move. Slowly, Shinichi did as he was told, watching the one-eyed demon settle opposite him. With the table separating them, the detective faced the formidable adversary, swallowing his trepidation, glaring at him with defiance and unyielding resolve.
"Now," Rum sets the gun lazily on the table, talking casually as if he had all the time in the world. "The drug," he smirked, "Kudou. Shinichi."
Reference used:
"Believe in yourself and you're halfway there" —Theodore Roosevelt
The Winter's Tale —William Shakespeare (1611)
I am back :D. Sorry for the long wait. I admit this has been hard to write as I could not for the life of me figure out how I wanted to write this XD. I figured then that multiple points of view were needed to unravel this mess that I had buried myself in. Though this was fun. Again, I would like to thank the support given and the reviews. It is much appreciated.
As I am in the midst of a busy season (in real life, unfortunately), I will have to slow down the updates of this story. I will be updating once every two weeks every Sunday from now on. I hope this is ok, and I apologize. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that I was coherent (I might not be, and if explanations are needed, I'll gladly explain). Have a great week ahead, and see you in two weeks time :D.