Subject: [FFML] Re: [fanfic][Conan/??] Midori no Hikari
From: "Leo Rodriguez Jr." <fusionblaster@yahoo.com>
Date: 7/28/2006, 1:03 PM
To: FFML



As soon as I read what they pulled out of the locker I
couldn't help but geek out.  A very intresting
premise.. .  Of course now you got the fanboy in me 
wanting him to run into the Bat.. but that would be
hard to pull off well. 


--- The Eternal Lost Lurker
<lurkerdrome@sbcglobal.net> wrote:





This is an idea that hit me while I was working on
the third part of
Typhoon, and I just HAD to roll with it. It's a
crossover, and...well...I
hope you enjoy it. ^_^

Disclaimers at the end. C&C is welcome.





The boy, no more than seven or eight years of age by
appearance, skidded
around the corner into the dark, grimy alleyway, his
red sneakers slapping
noisily on the pavement.

There on the ground lay a man, thin-faced, balding,
wearing slacks, a
button-down shirt, and a white labcoat...which was
presently heavily stained
with blood. The boy stumbled to a halt next to the
man, eyes wide as he
surveyed the carnage.

The man's torso had been ripped open, and much of
his small intestine lay in
a grotesque halo around him. Amazingly, he was still
alive, but his shallow,
reedy breathing and the unfocused, ashen look of his
face indicated he would
be dead in a matter of moments.

All things considered, that was perhaps for the
best.

He looked up at the boy and coughed wetly, spewing
blood on the pavement.
"Didn't...get it," he rasped.

"Don't try to talk!" the boy exclaimed. "Just...be
still."

The man shook his head, trying to reach up with a
sticky, gore-soaked hand.
His arm gave a violent twitch and he fell against
his shoulder, lapsing into
a coughing fit which sent more red-black blood
flying. "P..pocket," he
gurgled. "In...cig...pack." He tried to focus his
severely dilated eyes on
the only other figure in the alley. "Im...portant,"
he continued, each
wheezy breath causing a fresh trickle of blood to
ooze from his mouth.
"Don't...let...have..."

The boy, his overlarge glasses flecked with the
blood coughed up by the
dying man, reached over and closed the wide, glazed
eyes. Grim-faced, he
reached into the dead man's coat pocket and removed
a slightly crushed pack
of cigarettes whose top was torn completely open.
Frowning, he peeled back
the foil, seeing only a completely untouched,
unsmoked pack of cigarettes.

And yet...why was it open? Why was it torn all the
way open, for that
matter?

Brow furrowed, the boy removed one of the
cigarettes...and discovered it was
only a butt, the smokeable tobacco cut completely
off. Frown deepening, he
turned the pack upside down and tapped it out into
his palm.

Nineteen more truncated butts toppled out, spilling
onto the ground beside
the gruesome corpse. Behind them, three objects fell
into the boy's palm:

A slip of paper with a number, a coin locker key...

...and an odd-looking ring.

|O|

Edogawa Conan stood at the mouth of the alley,
waiting as the police
arrived. The overweight chief inspector, Megure,
nodded to the boy as he
approached. "You say you found a body in the alley?"
he asked.

Conan nodded. "I heard a noise, so I went to look,
and..." He paused. "I
gotta warn you, Megure-keibu...it's pretty nasty."

Megure frowned at the warning, then peered into the
alley. He paled.
"Gods..."

The coroner's team moved in, and several
exclamations of disgust emerged, as
well as the sounds of no fewer than two stomachs
being purged. The
inspector's face tightened. "What kind of..." He
shook his head, then
focused his gaze on Conan. "Did you...see anything?
Did the victim say--" He
paused. "No, I don't suppose he could have..."

Conan hesitated, then nodded. "He was already dead
when I found him."

Megure sighed. "Alright. I...don't really think we
need to keep you for a
statement. You'd...you'd better go on home. Do you
want someone to drive
you?"

The boy shook his head. "I'll be okay."

Five blocks from the scene, he fished around in his
pocket and removed a
pale blue handkerchief which was stained with flecks
of dark, dried blood.
Frowning at it, he stuffed it back in his pocket,
deciding to burn it when
he reached Agasa-hakase's house.

He wasn't certain why--and it went against every
detective instinct he
had--but he had a feeling it would *not* be wise to
give any sign he'd
spoken to the victim before he died.

|O|

"Ah, Shinichi! I was just thinking about you," Agasa
Hiroshi called jovially
as the small detective walked through his front
door. "I just had an idea
for an inv--"

"It'll have to wait, hakase," Conan replied, and the
tightness in his eyes
told the portly old inventor that the boy was deep
in thought.

"Something happen?" Agasa asked, shifting his bulk
onto a barstool.

Conan nodded, climbing onto one across from him, and
fished a crumpled
cigarette pack out of his pocket. "You never saw
this," he cautioned.

Agasa frowned. "Oi, Shinichi, what--"

The shrunken detective tipped the contents of the
cigarette pack out onto
the bar, and the scientist blinked. Conan had
carefully collected every
single truncated butt that had originally been in
the pack and replaced
them, as well as the key, paper, and ring, before
he'd called the police.
His detective training was screaming at him that he
had violated a crime
scene and removed evidence that should have been
handed to the police,
but...

...an even deeper instinct told him that there was
something *very
important* here, something that he owed the victim
as a dying request.

After all, the man HAD asked him to protect it, in a
sense.

"What in the world is this all about?" Agasa asked,
poking at one of the
butts.

"No fingerprints!" Conan hissed. "It's bad enough I
lifted this from a crime
scene as it is."

The inventor's eyes widened. "From a--SHINICHI! Of
all people to do
something so--"

=== message truncated ===


The gods love heroes.  They also love a good laugh.  Think about
it.  -- Unknown


---

When an evil god laughs, run.  When a good god laughs, run
quickly.  -- Unknown




I fear nothing I've worked in the blue hell.

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