Fanfiction
Title: Desparado
Fandom: Detective Conan / Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters: Conan Edogawa, various OCs
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
No… Conan could only stare at the sight that greeted them as they reached the dig that morning. Greaves had gone missing earlier the previous afternoon and everyone had assumed he had taken the jeep off into the desert as he was wont to do - nobody had really worried when he had failed to send up a flare, figuring that he would be back the next day - the jeep probably hadn’t broken down this time and besides, he had plenty of food and water, so he would be fine.
…right?
Facedown in the dirt, Greaves lay at the bottom of one of the trenches, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle, obvious enough to anyone that he was dead. Before anyone could stop him, Conan dropped down beside the corpse, feeling for a pulse. As expected, there wasn’t one, but some small spark of hope died in Conan's chest. Conan began scanning the ground in a dispassionate manner, searching for any clues.
There were no footprints in the dust beside his own, but there were scuff marks around the body. That stopped Conan’s thoughts. Greaves had been alive for some minutes after he had been dumped in the trench, and from the pattern of the marks, struggling. There had been the possibility of saving him. Conan clenched his teeth in anger. I swear I’ll catch them. You won’t go unavenged. I promise.
“Conan? Did you find anything?”
Still absorbed in thought blood on his head; quite a lot, probably bled to death and not really watching what he was saying, Conan replied absentmindedly.
“No, not yet. He’s been dead for about five hours, but I’m not really sure… considering this is the desert and I’m not familiar with how rigor mortis is affected here…”
The silence coming from the crowd above him let Conan know he had made a rather large blunder. Dammit. I’ll have to move on after this is solved. Can’t let Them catch wind… Meanwhile, he stood up, brushing dirt from his pants and looking upwards to the people above him.
“Can somebody give me a hand up?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Annie stepped forwards, kneeling at the edge of the trench with tears in her eyes.
“Little boy? Is Simon- is my brother- is he really dead?”
Conan stared back up at her, all traces of his childlike façade gone, blue eyes clear and serious.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Annie let out a wail of pure grief, collapsing onto her arms sobbing. The padre knelt down besides her, placing a comforting arm on her shoulder, which just made her wail harder, unseeing eyes fixed on her brother's body. Conan paused halfway out the trench, his hand in Solomon’s, face hardened and lips thinning to a fine line.
There was blood on the padre’s sleeve.
Fandom: Detective Conan / Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters: Conan Edogawa, various OCs
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
No… Conan could only stare at the sight that greeted them as they reached the dig that morning. Greaves had gone missing earlier the previous afternoon and everyone had assumed he had taken the jeep off into the desert as he was wont to do - nobody had really worried when he had failed to send up a flare, figuring that he would be back the next day - the jeep probably hadn’t broken down this time and besides, he had plenty of food and water, so he would be fine.
…right?
Facedown in the dirt, Greaves lay at the bottom of one of the trenches, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle, obvious enough to anyone that he was dead. Before anyone could stop him, Conan dropped down beside the corpse, feeling for a pulse. As expected, there wasn’t one, but some small spark of hope died in Conan's chest. Conan began scanning the ground in a dispassionate manner, searching for any clues.
There were no footprints in the dust beside his own, but there were scuff marks around the body. That stopped Conan’s thoughts. Greaves had been alive for some minutes after he had been dumped in the trench, and from the pattern of the marks, struggling. There had been the possibility of saving him. Conan clenched his teeth in anger. I swear I’ll catch them. You won’t go unavenged. I promise.
“Conan? Did you find anything?”
Still absorbed in thought blood on his head; quite a lot, probably bled to death and not really watching what he was saying, Conan replied absentmindedly.
“No, not yet. He’s been dead for about five hours, but I’m not really sure… considering this is the desert and I’m not familiar with how rigor mortis is affected here…”
The silence coming from the crowd above him let Conan know he had made a rather large blunder. Dammit. I’ll have to move on after this is solved. Can’t let Them catch wind… Meanwhile, he stood up, brushing dirt from his pants and looking upwards to the people above him.
“Can somebody give me a hand up?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Annie stepped forwards, kneeling at the edge of the trench with tears in her eyes.
“Little boy? Is Simon- is my brother- is he really dead?”
Conan stared back up at her, all traces of his childlike façade gone, blue eyes clear and serious.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Annie let out a wail of pure grief, collapsing onto her arms sobbing. The padre knelt down besides her, placing a comforting arm on her shoulder, which just made her wail harder, unseeing eyes fixed on her brother's body. Conan paused halfway out the trench, his hand in Solomon’s, face hardened and lips thinning to a fine line.
There was blood on the padre’s sleeve.