Fandom: Detective Conan
Bad Guy: Gin
Theme: #11—unbearable anguish
Disclaimer: Own Detective Conan, I do not. Own the characters, Gosho Aoyama does. Making money off them, I am not. Borrow and write about them, I merely do. Talk like Yoda, I must.
Summary: It was the first time in his life that he’d tried to save someone.
Gin was not a stranger to death, not by any means.
It was a constant fixture in his life. He was a highly skilled assassin for a crime syndicate who viewed killing as a means to an end, and innocent victims as mere obstacles to that end. A gun, a knife, an explosive…just a few of the tools one could use to overcome those obstacles.
He didn’t even know how many people he had killed in his days with the Organization. Once upon a time, he had kept count. It was a game of sorts, to see how he measured up to those older and more experienced than himself. He would surpass them someday, he vowed. He would become the greatest killer of the organization.
Ambition was a fickle thing in the syndicate, though—something to be wary of. To be ambitious meant that one could move upwards through the ranks, gain a codename (a true symbol of stature), and have standing and influence in the Organization’s dealings. To have too much ambition meant that one was a threat, and threats were always eliminated before they could do any damage.
A few of his former superiors had displayed a bit too much of that ambition. And he had personally dispatched them on the boss’s orders. Then he had taken their place—his was a proper ambition. He wanted to prove himself, and achieve a certain standing. He had no immediate desire to go beyond it.
But this…this was different.
No…no, he needed to stop thinking about it.
So he kept driving on, trying to ignore that strange echoing emptiness somewhere in a part of him that he hadn’t even been aware existed. It was hollow, vacant…and dark. But it was a different darkness from the one he was used to. He was accustomed to the darkness of death…
But he had never had cause to harden himself against the darkness of caring about death.
It really had been a stupid mistake, an error in judgment that had trapped them in a shoot-out with a few police officers who had managed to wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time and catch wind that something was going on. The bullets had flown fast and furious.
Luck (if one believed in such a thing) had been on their side once again. Four well-armed, well-trained Syndicate agents had eliminated the cops…with a casualty of one on their side. One of their own had been shot in the fight.
It was the first time in Gin’s life that he had tried to save someone.
But to no avail. The wound was fatal, and his most trusted associate had lay dead.
The stoplight a block ahead changed to yellow; he slowed to a stop as it turned to red.
Thus stopped, he turned his head to look at the passenger seat beside him.
He turned his gaze forward again to wait for the light to change, trying to put the image of the empty seat from his mind. But it was stuck there, another reminder of what had happened. Just one more thing to make him think of a stocky body sprawled on the cold concrete in an alleyway while blood pooled around his head.
The light changed.
Gin drove forward through the darkness outside the windows of his Porsche, unable to quell the different darkness swelling in a place he hadn’t know he had.
PS. This is for insaneladybug, who requested a drabble from me about a hundred years ago, and has been unbelievably patient with me while waiting for it. I LOVE ON YOU!! Well, after a couple of more cracky fics, we get angst! WHOO! I’m getting really close to finishing up Nights and Hugs (four fics left between the two challenges)—this one remains my “back-burner” challenge because it has no time limit. So I hope you’ll be patient with me and keep checking back for more ficcies.
Thanks for reading, all. Much love!