Case Closed Fan Fiction ❯ Kuroi ❯ Prologue

Kuroi

A Detective Conan Fiction

By Apparition

Prologue

I walk the earth another day

The wicked one that comes this way

Savior to my own, devil to some

Mankind falls, something wicked comes

"The Coming Curse" - Iced Earth

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My name; the real one, I don't know. I don't even recall having one. I wouldn't worry trying to remember it since that won't be important or give our matter a broader dimension. We are what we say we are; assassins and we were created to do just that. We filter the society from the weak, the ignorant… the unthankful. People that can be best described as nothingness. They stood no ground, aren't faithful to their society and do not have the enough guts, or the right wits, to operate in our world successfully. To us, they are like lemons; we squeeze the extraction out of them before throwing them… dead.

How petty are they!? They even lead us to more lemons to pulverize, or an insect to get rid off, thinking that they would gain some quick cash or position from such a rash decision. Or maybe, revenge. I don't really give a damn as long as I can kill more and more.

That is merely one kind of our victims, the most popular one, I may add. Hell, it makes me guffaw, the way our world operates these days. It seems that the feelings of malevolence are far more dramatic than those of goodness. Hate is more spreading than the cordiality they feign for each other. People do kill over some little insipid reasons, claiming to be rightfully given the power of justice - I mean; vengeance.

Well, I kill too, but for no reason at all. I kill because that's how I feel life should go on. You should have guessed it by now, we write our own justice as there is no legitimacy in classifying ways into good and evil. Everybody is out there to serve their own purpose no matter what definition it takes. It is just that the stronger should rule.

The weak are merely the food of those who are stronger.

Besides, many people will only pollute the air, consume the limited resources faster and harm someone, one way or another.

To anyone, killing is either a way of living or a moment of mania, just like that faceless someone who has killed only to know the feeling of the killer. A thing he would never learn this fast. What makes my killing more special is the great sensation of doing it. Oh, how great satisfaction I get from it! It is almost a holy feeling. The Holier-than-thou that would make you and your friends suffer is here. When I lay my eyes on my prey, I feel sorry. I don't feel that for him, though. I feel sorry for the earth for carrying such an ignoble creature. But that's my job! To return these insignificant creatures to where they belong, to the only thing that could ever fill there greedy eyes.. Dust-to-dust, I return them to the soil.

Humans are a pity, no doubt. Some would scream and/or beg for a mercy they won't hear the pronunciation of, but their cries of misery are music to my ears. Other may have more pride; they will fight back, as if they could, or just die silently by the bullet. I kinda like the latter type; at least they are more understanding than the former pigs. They are dogs who knew they could never overcome a rapacious wolf.

Killing them comes at levels. Sometimes when I am not in quite the right mood or I have another business to attend (adding that not all guests of honor deserve the care), in this case it would be a one-shot-dead solution.

The better one is still the one wherein I have my play with the dupe. This one is so fascinating! I can empty my gun through the edges of the subject's body. It really gives me the feeling of being a puppeteer controlling my marionette through strings made of penetrating bullets' smoking tale. I can feel every bullet emptied from the magazine of my trusted gun and through the suppresser to the open air, shuttering the walls of sound in its way. And the last bullet I save specially for the guest. A direct head shot. It is the most spectacular scene, when the bullet goes through the head. The immediate word I use to describe it is 'hanabi.' Yes, it is really magical.. how the blood shatters in every direction. It is almost like blowing fireworks of a human being.

One time, I remember, I've wanted to be more of the traditional type so I didn't use guns, or maybe it was because of that guy. He was one hell of a muscular guy, a man who can beat tens of men with a single punch, or at least that was what he thought. He challenged me into a match of fists to prove who's stronger beyond the influence of guns. I was bored back then, wasn't in much a hurry, and thus I just couldn't refuse such a very generous offer.

He was good, really good, but still not good enough. The best he could ever do was to lacerate my jacket. I made him pay for such an insult, quite highly. Two punches on the chin, one knee in his stomach and another elbow in the chest, was the first strike. I must have smashed his ribs for his pain was great. I kicked him and punched at leisure with no counter attacks or even dodging. When I have had enough, the time has come for a finishing move. I demanded originality, however. The closest thing to me was a set of sunglasses. I gripped him from his neck, almost smashing it, and took the sunglasses and smashed it, no, broke it in half down his pharynx. I was doing all this with my oddly, cryptic smile. And just to make sure that he won't somehow swallow these pieces, I pulled my dagger and smoothly cut a deep line in the lower half of his larynx.

Everybody said that I had overdone it as there was no way anyone could ever swallow that much derbies. Maybe I did but I couldn't work by chances. I could never allow for an outside, more natural, effect such as suffocation to kill my hunting before I wanted to. Besides, in addition to all the vanishing cries, I got a nice view of a fountain of blood thrusting from his neck. Maybe I should have drunk from his blood, but I am not a vampire you know.

That really was a good refresher I miss these days.

Today, like most other day, we have a mission to kill. Someone will meet his creator today. I was assigned to summon the death angel for some stupid fool who wants to sell us some information and still thinks he can get away with it.

I took the car keys and headed outside. It was the beginning of winter and the fluffy white snow was falling lightly. I pushed my way indifferently through the accumulating attire. The moon was full but not as much lighting. She was shyly hiding from time to time behind the discrete current of clouds.

I got in my beloved black Porsche and burned another cigarette. My partner sat beside me, and asked me in clear wickedness "Where to, aniki?"

"Someone is expecting more than he is worth. It is time to put him to an end" and we both grinned as the car proceed on, shoveling the swell of snow away.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Cold...

A white world, it was such a mesmerizing view; the white snow floating outside in the murky, treacherous night. A moment when big mouths get fearfully hushed and greedy eyes grow wider with a plausible denial of the hard truth - an irresolute mind wrestling a wobbly body holding agitatedly to a depreciated case; the last remaining breadline - a dream nearing its snatched end… just for another dream to begin; a troubled soul needing to be set free.

Silently the bullet surpassed any possible beseeching reaction or violent thoughts. It launched in its predefined track heating the rigid tracks of air and engraving the cursed mark of death on the prey's forehead.

"Have a good dream; you will be sleeping here forever. The life dream has ended for you but still, you can continue the other dream... in hell!"

The usual words inherently spoke for the adverb, like a motto for an inevitable killing

I stood in my sumptuousness, returning my tool to its resting place, as my partner bent down to take back what's rightfully ours. It is indeed a breathtaking scene; the white luminous ice and the crimson fury-red do make a good couple, really.

And as ever,

Blood, smoky tails and a soon-to-putrefy body; tonight it was as fast as most of the times, the effective one-shot-dead, but somehow as less indifferently. This man could have had some potential if he wasn't the simpleton type, making big mistakes.

I can't help but think; all these hot-air blowers keep ranting about the one-dimensional selfish dreams, hurting their surrounding people and expect other to stay silent. All these poor excuses should be devour until the unworthy human yelps of dismay and stop breathing.

It wasn't long before my partner finished his job "Okay aniki, we are done with this fellow. Let's go."

I kindle another cigarette, but this one was different from the one before. Poor erudite people of the world, they launch campaigns against smokers but none of them knew how tasteful the cigarette is, especially after enjoying a kill. It is the dessert to the main dish of homicide.

"Adieus little fool..."

I cocked my panama hat forward and threw my goodbyes to the old edifice. I really love saying goodbyes for one, it tells me to go on in this life and not to be saddened or anything.

I drove through the midnight with the background of an exploding place. Another crime, I smiled, another burden removed from the face of this earth. I completed my driving into the utter darkness. Sometimes I have to wonder, which is darker; the pitch-black night or my back cloak… perhaps my beating heart.

If you finally insist, I do have a name, a codename for that matter. Everybody call me Gin and this is my story.

To be continued...