Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: Conan, Heiji (General series)
Word Count: 452 words
Author's Notes: I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they’d stop complaining.
Summary: Something tells me this guy isn’t a high-ranking Syndicate member.
It was a stroke of pure chance. Conan privately thought that it was the first thing to go right in a long time.
But being in the right place at the right time (with the right wooden pole in Hattori’s hands to act as a makeshift katana) had allowed them an unprecedented opportunity to apprehend a Black Organization operative as he tried to sneak away from the scene of one of his dastardly doings.
The man had obviously thought himself home free, and so was unprepared for a wooden pole swinging at him. Add one of Conan’s magical little sleeping darts, and the operative was soon out cold on the concrete. The police were summoned via a quick call from a cell phone.
Once the suspect was restrained to their satisfaction, the boys began checking for weapons and identification. Anything that could tell them anything about their prisoner before the police arrived. In the unconscious man’s pocket, there was a wallet. Conan snagged it and opened it, hoping for something—anything that could be of use to them and their investigation…
…well, who knew the Syndicate members had ID cards?
But then again that made sense. If the Black Organization was as far-reaching as he had been led to believe, then it stood to reason that one member couldn’t possibly know all the other members on sight. So they had to have some manner of recognizing each other, and a nondescript card seemed a good way to do it.
It made a lot more sense than strolling up to miscellaneous people in black trench coats and asking if they’d killed anyone important lately. That could cause suspicion and raise a few eyebrows.
While Heiji continued to search the man’s pockets, Conan examined the card. It was nothing of great noteworthiness unless you knew what you were looking for. A piece of black plastic, the same size as the average driver’s license, with white writing on it. The word “Syn.” was in one corner (Syndicate, he assumed), and was he figured to be this man’s codename within the Organization.
He read the codename over three times. Nope, it was still the same.
Again, it was one of those things that made sense. The Organization members were frequently given codenames based on various alcoholic beverages, so it stood to reason that this one would pop up. But at the same time it seemed so ridiculous…
“Hattori,” he said slowly, “something tells me this guy doesn’t have too high a rank in the Syndicate.”
The Osakan teen paused in his search. “Why do you say that?”
“If this is to be believed,” Conan held up the ID card and chuckled dryly, “…his codename is Beer.”
PS. This hit while I was sprawled on my bed listening to the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack on my mp3 player. And I just had to write it. Do you think there’s really an operative out there with the codename Beer? I think there should be. And I know that the idea of them carrying cards with their codenames on it is really far-fetched. But I have a Across membership card in my wallet, courtesy of the first Excel Saga DVD. So people do carry strange things in their wallets that most people wouldn’t make anything of unless they knew what it was. My friend ashleymouse packs a pitch-pipe.
Almost to number fifty, whee! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!