Akumu, Ch. 6-3
Akumu, Ch. 1 through 5
Ch. 6-1
Ch. 6-2
Kid Homage's expression flickers, the tiniest chink in the armor, and Saguru moves. He's still attached by the handcuffs, but that's not much impediment, and he is third dan in judo. Unarmed combat is his forte.
A flurry of motion later, he's got Kid pinned and hissing on the floor, flat on his monocled face, arm twisted up behind his back just at the edge of dislocating joints. Saguru's throat stings, the faintest ticklish trickle of blood over his jugular from a wound that Kid had to have pulled at the last second, it's so shallow and yet lethally-placed.
Kid nearly killed him. On instinct. Without a visible weapon in play. Saguru sucks in air, heart thudding, and tries to shake off the horrified blackening tunnel vision creeping in...
Oh. Oh ruddy fuck. It's not shock at all.
The hissing gas follows him into unconsciousness.
The next Saguru knows, he's waking in the same storage shed, arms twinging and shoulders going numb. He's been cuffed to some pipe or other in the ceiling, and Kid Homage is a warm prop against his back, arms looped around Saguru's chest and carrying most of his weight. His throat and mouth are so dry that when he tries to shout, all that comes out is a pathetic wheeze.
"Naughty, naughty, pretty boy," Kid croons. Something wet -- Kid's tongue, ugh, no -- follows the blood trail up Saguru's neck, and Kid nips lightly at the angle of his jaw. "But it's nice to know you can come up with something to play," he slithers around Saguru's body, hands sliding under Saguru's coat and up his spine, rubbing himself against Saguru's front. His face, in the thin streetlight through the windows, twists into an exaggerated pout. "...When my plans for our amusement don't work out."
Saguru can hear the shouting outside. Why has no one checked this shed yet? How long has he been unconscious? "... If you're attempting to needle me to inquire about these plans..." he rasps, more air than sound. What should he say? He's at a complete loss.
Kid presses one gloved finger to Saguru's lips, which is excuse enough for Saguru to begin trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. "Hush. We wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Though perhaps we won't play it next time." Kid tips his head thoughtfully. "But if I promise not to try it next time, you'll be expecting to be surprised the time after that... unless I decide to break that promise. How long should I wait to spring such games on you, then?" His arms slide up, draping over Saguru's shoulders, and one gray-shod foot lifts like a Disney princess. The move plasters them together from hip to chest, Kid's weight so fully on Saguru that the cuffs bite into Saguru's wrists. "How will I ever find you so sweetly unprepared again?"
Don't bait the psychopath, don't bait the psychopath, don't-- "I don't know," Saguru says, rubbing himself up against where Kid is decidedly not the least bit aroused at all. "I don't seem to be the only unprepared one here, though."
"Suicidal. I like it." Kid nips hard at Saguru's chin, drawing back with traces of blood dark on his mouth. "Or perhaps hoping you'd rouse my macho temper and clues would fall out? Boring."
"Worth a shot." Oh god no wonder Heiji's so deeply under the influence of Stockholm Syndrome. Saguru himself can't resist engaging the man.
Kid chuckles, then tips his head the other way, listening. "Ah, Meitantei. If only my little surprise had worked out." He slides free, tugs Saguru's lapels back into place, and his fingertips only barely catch at the knot of his tie for a (homicidal?) fraction of a second before smoothing the fine silk. "Until our next assignation, I bid you adieu." And he vanishes in a puff of smoke, just as someone begins to batter at the door.
-0-0-0
Meanwhile, Heiji bites the pillow he's clutching, watching the other video feed...
-0-0-0
"Hello, Toichi."
Campari eyes the trenchcoated, badly moustached man holding a gun on him, keeping his twin's bright Kid Homage grin on his face. The duplicate Kid cape flutters merrily at his ankles, just enough that Campari can't be certain he won't get tangled up in it if he bolts.
Stupid, stupid, never! hamper! your! mobility!
"Did you somehow forget?" the man sneers. "I suppose ten years is enough for such things to slip even a mind such as yours."
Lovely. "I believe you've mistaken me for someone else," Campari tells him, with a little effort to match Amari's light-hearted Homage intonations.
"How stupid do you think I am?" the man asks sharply. The gun glints in the moonlight, shaking with tension. How sensitive is the trigger? Campari wonders, an empty calm settling over him as the man continues, "You're a fool, Toichi, playing at being your own successor when all you've done is change your costume's colors! Magician's tricks and nonsense!"
"And yet here you are, having brilliantly seen through it all," Campari says mildly.
"It took a while. Your smokescreen was good at first," the man admits. "New stones. Archeological tablets. Children's games. But now! The Bindi Diamond! And after we warned you so politely, too, Toichi."
"Mm, did you now."
"I wonder. Did it scar, Kaitou Kid?" Something bright and vicious gleams in the man's eyes. "How many years did it take to recover? Are you a patchworked monstrosity under that shadowy monocle? Too terrifying to return to your lovely wife?"
Is the man never going to get around to villain-monologuing useful information? He seems the type, but it's taking forever. "I think we're done here," Campari says.
"Not yet," the man snaps. His free hand lifts, palm empty. "The diamond. Toss it over, and I'll spare your life this time."
"The diamond?" Campari echoes. It figures. Just another petty thief, nothing interesting to him. Besides this delusion about Kid Homage, of course. Campari pulls the stone from his jacket pocket. "This diamond?"
"Yes, yes, let's have it." The man makes a little beckoning flicker of the fingers.
"Huh." Maybe throwing it will distract the man. Why not. Campari tosses it, deliberately just close enough to the man's hand that-- yes, he lunges for it!
One spray of gas later, Campari plops himself down on the man's back (maybe he'll suffocate under Campari's weight, won't that be nice) and rifles through his wallet. Fake ID, yen, bank cards, yawn. The phone only does text and calls, and turns up a contacts list that reads half like a zoo, half like brothel madams, and a few random takeout restaurants for flavor. It's all very dull and not at all like someone who'd be able to track either Campari or Amari to this rooftop.
Not without help.
Hm...
-0-0-0
Heiji's long since been hauled to bed to play teddy bear, by the time the window screen creaks slowly open and Amari presses him into the thin futon.
"It's me," Campari says, and Amari rolls off Heiji and clicks the gun's safety back on. "Sorry I'm late, you would not believe the traffic."
The twins are gray-on-gray shadows as Amari starts helping Campari strip for bed. "You missed out on tag-teaming Meitantei. What was that all about?" Amari asks.
"Eh, some jumped-up flunky ranting about mwa-ha-ha a costume change will not fool him Toichi."
"Wow, crazypants." Heiji nearly chokes biting back his reaction to Amari calling anybody 'crazy'.
"On the bright side, we've got a new gun."
".... Random nutjobs can't get guns in Japan." A pause, while Campari's grin slowly widens, teeth glinting pale in the dim light. "Well. Isn't that interesting. What'd you do with him?"
"Knockout, costume change, a bit of paperwork and a dropoff at the hospital, he looks like he escaped from the violent ward and passed out. We'll see who shows up to bail him out."
Ch. 6-1
Ch. 6-2
Kid Homage's expression flickers, the tiniest chink in the armor, and Saguru moves. He's still attached by the handcuffs, but that's not much impediment, and he is third dan in judo. Unarmed combat is his forte.
A flurry of motion later, he's got Kid pinned and hissing on the floor, flat on his monocled face, arm twisted up behind his back just at the edge of dislocating joints. Saguru's throat stings, the faintest ticklish trickle of blood over his jugular from a wound that Kid had to have pulled at the last second, it's so shallow and yet lethally-placed.
Kid nearly killed him. On instinct. Without a visible weapon in play. Saguru sucks in air, heart thudding, and tries to shake off the horrified blackening tunnel vision creeping in...
Oh. Oh ruddy fuck. It's not shock at all.
The hissing gas follows him into unconsciousness.
The next Saguru knows, he's waking in the same storage shed, arms twinging and shoulders going numb. He's been cuffed to some pipe or other in the ceiling, and Kid Homage is a warm prop against his back, arms looped around Saguru's chest and carrying most of his weight. His throat and mouth are so dry that when he tries to shout, all that comes out is a pathetic wheeze.
"Naughty, naughty, pretty boy," Kid croons. Something wet -- Kid's tongue, ugh, no -- follows the blood trail up Saguru's neck, and Kid nips lightly at the angle of his jaw. "But it's nice to know you can come up with something to play," he slithers around Saguru's body, hands sliding under Saguru's coat and up his spine, rubbing himself against Saguru's front. His face, in the thin streetlight through the windows, twists into an exaggerated pout. "...When my plans for our amusement don't work out."
Saguru can hear the shouting outside. Why has no one checked this shed yet? How long has he been unconscious? "... If you're attempting to needle me to inquire about these plans..." he rasps, more air than sound. What should he say? He's at a complete loss.
Kid presses one gloved finger to Saguru's lips, which is excuse enough for Saguru to begin trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. "Hush. We wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Though perhaps we won't play it next time." Kid tips his head thoughtfully. "But if I promise not to try it next time, you'll be expecting to be surprised the time after that... unless I decide to break that promise. How long should I wait to spring such games on you, then?" His arms slide up, draping over Saguru's shoulders, and one gray-shod foot lifts like a Disney princess. The move plasters them together from hip to chest, Kid's weight so fully on Saguru that the cuffs bite into Saguru's wrists. "How will I ever find you so sweetly unprepared again?"
Don't bait the psychopath, don't bait the psychopath, don't-- "I don't know," Saguru says, rubbing himself up against where Kid is decidedly not the least bit aroused at all. "I don't seem to be the only unprepared one here, though."
"Suicidal. I like it." Kid nips hard at Saguru's chin, drawing back with traces of blood dark on his mouth. "Or perhaps hoping you'd rouse my macho temper and clues would fall out? Boring."
"Worth a shot." Oh god no wonder Heiji's so deeply under the influence of Stockholm Syndrome. Saguru himself can't resist engaging the man.
Kid chuckles, then tips his head the other way, listening. "Ah, Meitantei. If only my little surprise had worked out." He slides free, tugs Saguru's lapels back into place, and his fingertips only barely catch at the knot of his tie for a (homicidal?) fraction of a second before smoothing the fine silk. "Until our next assignation, I bid you adieu." And he vanishes in a puff of smoke, just as someone begins to batter at the door.
-0-0-0
Meanwhile, Heiji bites the pillow he's clutching, watching the other video feed...
-0-0-0
"Hello, Toichi."
Campari eyes the trenchcoated, badly moustached man holding a gun on him, keeping his twin's bright Kid Homage grin on his face. The duplicate Kid cape flutters merrily at his ankles, just enough that Campari can't be certain he won't get tangled up in it if he bolts.
Stupid, stupid, never! hamper! your! mobility!
"Did you somehow forget?" the man sneers. "I suppose ten years is enough for such things to slip even a mind such as yours."
Lovely. "I believe you've mistaken me for someone else," Campari tells him, with a little effort to match Amari's light-hearted Homage intonations.
"How stupid do you think I am?" the man asks sharply. The gun glints in the moonlight, shaking with tension. How sensitive is the trigger? Campari wonders, an empty calm settling over him as the man continues, "You're a fool, Toichi, playing at being your own successor when all you've done is change your costume's colors! Magician's tricks and nonsense!"
"And yet here you are, having brilliantly seen through it all," Campari says mildly.
"It took a while. Your smokescreen was good at first," the man admits. "New stones. Archeological tablets. Children's games. But now! The Bindi Diamond! And after we warned you so politely, too, Toichi."
"Mm, did you now."
"I wonder. Did it scar, Kaitou Kid?" Something bright and vicious gleams in the man's eyes. "How many years did it take to recover? Are you a patchworked monstrosity under that shadowy monocle? Too terrifying to return to your lovely wife?"
Is the man never going to get around to villain-monologuing useful information? He seems the type, but it's taking forever. "I think we're done here," Campari says.
"Not yet," the man snaps. His free hand lifts, palm empty. "The diamond. Toss it over, and I'll spare your life this time."
"The diamond?" Campari echoes. It figures. Just another petty thief, nothing interesting to him. Besides this delusion about Kid Homage, of course. Campari pulls the stone from his jacket pocket. "This diamond?"
"Yes, yes, let's have it." The man makes a little beckoning flicker of the fingers.
"Huh." Maybe throwing it will distract the man. Why not. Campari tosses it, deliberately just close enough to the man's hand that-- yes, he lunges for it!
One spray of gas later, Campari plops himself down on the man's back (maybe he'll suffocate under Campari's weight, won't that be nice) and rifles through his wallet. Fake ID, yen, bank cards, yawn. The phone only does text and calls, and turns up a contacts list that reads half like a zoo, half like brothel madams, and a few random takeout restaurants for flavor. It's all very dull and not at all like someone who'd be able to track either Campari or Amari to this rooftop.
Not without help.
Hm...
-0-0-0
Heiji's long since been hauled to bed to play teddy bear, by the time the window screen creaks slowly open and Amari presses him into the thin futon.
"It's me," Campari says, and Amari rolls off Heiji and clicks the gun's safety back on. "Sorry I'm late, you would not believe the traffic."
The twins are gray-on-gray shadows as Amari starts helping Campari strip for bed. "You missed out on tag-teaming Meitantei. What was that all about?" Amari asks.
"Eh, some jumped-up flunky ranting about mwa-ha-ha a costume change will not fool him Toichi."
"Wow, crazypants." Heiji nearly chokes biting back his reaction to Amari calling anybody 'crazy'.
"On the bright side, we've got a new gun."
".... Random nutjobs can't get guns in Japan." A pause, while Campari's grin slowly widens, teeth glinting pale in the dim light. "Well. Isn't that interesting. What'd you do with him?"
"Knockout, costume change, a bit of paperwork and a dropoff at the hospital, he looks like he escaped from the violent ward and passed out. We'll see who shows up to bail him out."