damned_institute | Nightshift 44: Morgue

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Nightshift 44: Morgue

[from here]

Okita broke the door down, kicking it until the hinges gave way and then paused, crouching low as his eyes scanned the darkness. No movement. Nothing but the cold air pouring out into the hall. Goosebumps ran up his arms and he frowned. "Beware of the shadows," he murmured quietly so the others in the hall couldn't hear him. Then, slowly, he moved inside.

He wasn't sure where the bodies would be hiding, likely inside the huge metal drawers, but he didn't exactly like the idea of poking around inside them just yet. Starting at the sides of the room, he began circling the area, checking everything he could to ensure the room was secure. The last time he'd been in here, he'd made the mistake of letting down his guard and that thing had gotten them. He wasn't about to let that happen again.

"Genjyo Sanzo is a blond, approximately 5 foot 10 inches, and he sports a red dot in the middle of his forehead." He paused the doors to the autopsy rooms, testing the handles. They were unlocked, but the handles were icy cold - no one had been through here yet. "He'll be in one of those metal drawers. Secure the area and then we examine the body."

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Shadows? The warning seemed odd for a moment: was Okita expecting something to be hiding in them, perhaps? If he'd been here before, he would know more of the room than she did, but from the way he'd said it, Ayumu didn't think that was quite what he meant.

After half a second, though, she recalled the list of monsters that had been posted on the bulletin previously, and specifically the entry on the one that had the appearance of a moving patch of dense shadow. How exactly she was supposed to differentiate between that kind of shadow and the normal ones, she wasn't certain, but presumably there'd be some kind of warning if she stayed alert. Or so she hoped; the mission had to be taken care of quickly, and if there was to be a fight afterwards they both needed to be in the best of shape for it.

Ayumu watched the door and the hall beyond for a moment as Okita checked the room, waiting to see if those approaching would be heading to the same destination. Fortunately it seemed not, though, and she turned away again, carefully doing her own quick survey of the area as she eased into the room, all pretense of "Sen" gone in the face of potential danger. It was far colder in here than in the hallway, but she merely filed that away for the moment, as she didn't have time to speculate on just how they controlled the temperature within the building like that.

She gave an absent nod in response to Okita and moved warily over toward the metal drawers in question, cautiously testing the handle before pulling it out. Empty. Of course. But there were several others still to be checked, and something about this room made her even warier than the hallway outside. Hopefully they could take care of this quickly.

(From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/726511.html?thread=60145647#t60145647), skipping hallways in the interest of time.)

Heiji had hurried Shinichi along in silence, checking every hallway as they moved. It seemed to be more or less the same sort of thing--patients milling about, not much else thankfully. Considering that Heiji had this feeling that time had somehow gotten away from them, even though they had moved quickly, it was good that he hadn't been delayed by something that had decided to sneak out from behind a corner. Because that would have pissed him off. It would've figured that something would attack them when he had someplace to be, but karma was nice today.

The detective stopped outside the morgue door, frowning a little. It had already been opened? And Okita wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Weird..." Heiji muttered. "It's been opened already." His hand tightened on his katana and he threw a look back at Shinichi that spoke of possible destruction of evidence. He swung the door open in one fluid, quick motion. Bursting in probably wasn't the best idea, so a firm entry and a 'NOT SO FAST, MURDERER!' would probably work just as well.

...except that Okita was in there. With some chick he'd never seen before. Ha ha... good thing he looked before shouting.

"Hey, Okita-han," Heiji waved a little with his off-hand. "Guess y'got here b'fore us. Sorry 'bout that. Kudou took f'rever on the stairs," he said jokingly, pointing at Shinichi's face over his shoulder.

The nights were all the same here, weren't they? At least when the dead weren't feeling ambulatory, anyway. The patients milled around, got attacked, looked for clues. Exactly the same, every single night, and nothing ever changed.

But they had a case. That, at least, was something new and exciting.

When they got to the morgue and realized the door was open, Shinichi tensed. They had advertised pretty well that there was a murder victim in the morgue; if the murder was back, then he could be--

--Okita and some random woman, apparently. The detective relaxed.

"Point that hand at me again, Hattori, and I'll break it," he said cheerfully. "Nice to see you again, Okita-san."

The room was quiet save for the sound of their footsteps and then the sound of Ayumu pulling one of the drawers open. Apparently nothing in there, since she didn't call him over. Okita moved across the room, keeping a close watch on the darker corners of the room. So far, no movement. He began going toward the drawers where Ayumu was when he thought he heard something at the door. A moment later and the thing swung open, causing him to draw his sword and take a few steps forward, raising it to--

"Ah, Heiji-kun! Kudou-kun!" The sword lowered and he waved back, smiling faintly. The names would be confirmation on top of what Ayumu probably already guessed - the puppies had finally arrived. "We were beginning to think the night ate you."

Sliding his sword back through his obi, he turned to the drawers and his companion, motioning to her as he began walking toward Ayumu again. "I brought a friend with me to help a bit. I'm afraid I only know the larger wounds, which may not help you as much." Testing a drawer, he pulled it open just enough to look inside - empty - and then shut it again. "Would either of you happen to know where the body is, perhaps?"

At the sound of movement in the hall Ayumu had immediately released the handle of the next drawer, turning toward the door as her hand moved toward one of the knives she carried. She didn't draw it, though, and was relieved she hadn't when the two young men entered and greeted Okita in a friendly fashion, and were answered in kind. So these must be the "puppies" she'd heard of, then.

With the friendly, innocent facade back in place, Ayumu gave the pair a smile and small bow, noting the lack of introduction on Okita's part. So she was just "a friend" at the moment? Curious to see how much they'd decide to pry into it, she merely murmured a polite "Pleased to meet you" before turning away again. Her attention was ostensibly on the drawers, but still she kept watch both on the newcomers and the shadows around them, mindful of the earlier warning.

"Ha ha, I'd like t'see y'try," Heiji said cheerfully. Damn, maybe Yuffie was right... maybe Heiji ought to lay off the prodding of Shinichi and consequently their bantering while in front of other people. At the very least. Though, he had to admit, it at least gave him some sense of normalcy while investigating a murder with no crime scene.

And see, Okita's reaction was exactly why Heiji hadn't burst in. People were on hair-triggers already, no need to get anybody all excited when it could land him and Shinichi as Detective Kabob. His and Shinichi's bromance was awesome and all, but not to the point where Heiji wanted to die on the same sword Shinichi did.

"Nah, I think time did somethin' wonky, though," Heiji said with a frown. "'Cause we left pretty early, 'n you guys look like y've been here f'r a while. Sorry 'bout that. Body's here, though," Heiji said, leaning over a few drawers away from Okita's female friend and pulling open the door. He held his breath for a moment, then let it out when he confirmed the right body was still there. He never expected Landel to be the type to tidy up obsessively, but one never knew.

"Yeah, it's here," he said again, moving over so Shinichi could help him pull the sliding slab out of the cold locker. He briefly smiled at Okita's friend and winked at her. "Nice t'meet you, too. Hattori Heiji, but y'can call me whatever y'like."

"It's kind of a shame, being the same height as you," Shinichi replied airily out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that Okita and his friend wouldn't understand what he was talking about if they could hear...but Heiji would. It wasn't nearly enough to give away anything about his 'second life' as Edogawa Conan. "Kicking the hell out of your shins just isn't the same." Not that he was complaining. Shinichi was perfectly happy with his current height, thank you very much.

He moved over to the correct drawer to help the other detective pull out the table. Sanzo was even heavier now that he was dead and frozen than he had been alive. "Here he is--Genjyo Sanzo. Just like in the Journey to the West myth. And I'm Kudou, by the way." He grinned at the woman. It was dark, but he could still tell she was pretty hot. "Kudou Shinichi. Nice to meet you."

Now, back to business. Shinichi pulled back the sheet covering Sanzo and pointed to the wound on his stomach, suddenly serious. "As you can see, Okita-san, there are some superficial wounds, but this one was the fatal one. I think the knife might have been twisted, but I'm not sure. Anyway--the end result's the same. Sanzo bled to death. We think he put up one hell of a fight first, though."

It was a bit refreshing to hear such casual banter being flung about. He wasn't entirely certain what it meant, but friends always had a few secrets between them, didn't they? Okita glanced at Ayumu and her lack of an introduction on her part, tilting his head curiously. Not Sen right now, and not Ayumu, another persona then. Or else she was simply being quiet. Whichever it was, it was working - the boys didn't suspect her of a thing. And instead? They were being a bit flirty.

"Time is indeed... 'wonky'?" Okita repeated, testing the word out as he stepped forward. It wasn't one he knew, but he could guess well enough at the meaning.

Circling around, Okita kneeled down and looked to where Shinichi was pointing. It was strange, seeing a body so perfectly preserved, so cold the skin was tinting blue. The future was good at keeping bodies, not that Okita knew why someone would want to. It helped them in this case, but how long did they keep? How long before the bodies were sent to rest. Despite himself, Okita closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer over the deceased before going back to the investigation. "Definitely put up a fight," he murmured to himself, pressing his fingers lightly against the wounds in his wrists. They weren't deep and they weren't cuts - more like... "Fingernails?"

He glanced to Ayumu and indicated the other side. Sanzo had been pinned at some point, someone with enough strength to dig into another person's skin. Someone with enough strength to pin him. Okita remembered the man's skill from the one time they'd met and he wasn't about to believe that Sanzo would let himself get pinned so quickly. That meant one of the wounds had to be first. Shoulder or stomach? He looked to the wound in the stomach and touched it gingerly. "It was twisted." He lightly moved his fingers clockwise around the wound and frowned, looking up at Ayumu. As he thought, he couldn't get a good read off the wound pattern. "It wasn't a sword, definitely something picked up in town, but... What do you think?"

Another reminder of the odd nature of time in this place. It was enough to give Ayumu a headache if she thought about it too much, which meant that she tried not to. She just accepted it as a given and moved on without dwelling on it, only offering the boys a smile each. "Hattori-han, Kudou-han. Let's work well together, mm?" It might have been polite to give her own name at that point, but there was still no request for it, and she didn't particularly want to give one unless they did specifically ask. For the moment she certainly wasn't doing anything that fit with "Sen" and her real name wasn't something she wanted anyone else to know.

There was work to be done, though, and she moved over at Okita's gesture to take her own look at the body that was of such interest to all. The only expression she allowed to show on her face was a slight frown, as inwardly she catalogued every mark she could see. Convenient that the body had been so well-preserved for them to see - were those who died in this place always kept in storage up here for several days, like sides of meat stored in a cold cave?

"No, not a sword," she agreed, leaning forward to examine the shoulder wound. "A wide blade, one sharpened edge. And..." For a moment she paused, then carefully lifted the shoulder a little to look beneath. "Hm. Long enough to pierce completely through." She stepped back again, unconsciously brushing her hands off against her coat. It reminded her somewhat of a wound from a kitchen knife, albeit a very long one. The stomach wound would have been sufficient to kill him, but the rest - someone was playing. Not likely to be a crime of passion, then, but rather cruelty, or a grudge of some kind.

"Kick my shins, and no judge in the world would convict me of child abuse now," Heiji shot back.

He watched Okita and the cutie (and she was from Kansai, he liked her already! Heiji wondered what her name was~) go over the wounds on the body, nodding as they made points.

"Yeah, we figured that this wound was so big because the knife was twisted, but you think he was held down? We noticed bruising on the wrists," Heiji said, looking at where Okita's fingers were indicating the marks. "Dude," he said, whistling as he straightened up. "We're definitely dealing with a pro, if he can hold people as strong as Sanzo down with their bare hands."

He watched the cutie examine Sanzo's wounds, listening to what she said. So she hadn't given her name, and she knew that the blade only had one sharp edge. No doubt she was probably in Okita's line of work, but chose not to discuss it. Well, that was cool by him. Though he figured that calling her 'cutie' might land him with a fat lip, so he wished he knew what to call her instead of 'ma'am' or something equally dumb and impersonal.

Shinichi shrugged, looking unconcerned. "I can always get you booked on assault and battery. Not as long a jail term, of course, but I need you on cases." He gave Heiji a winning smile. "Plus, if I'm feeling particularly charitable, I can just drop the charges."

He grinned and bowed at the hottie, a little disconcerted by her refusal to introduce herself. Still, with the way she held herself, the way she was looking at the wound--she and Okita were very much alike. Possibly from the same place, definitely a pro herself.

Probably not somebody to piss off. Good to know.

"I wish that narrowed it down, but...there seem to be a lot of 'pros,' here. With respect, Okita-san, but the entire History Club are pros. The other clubs as well. We've got no shortage of possible suspects here. The fact that Sanzo-san himself fought back is our only real clue right now. If we're really lucky, there's somebody out there sporting a gunshot wound."

Okita peered a little closer at the stomach and shoulder wounds, absorbed in his work. The blade went right through and the others were right. Sanzo fought back, which meant either his attacker was extremely strong or... "The stomach wound was first. Someone...able to get this close to him." The stab was clean through as well, meaning whoever it was? "Either the person is extremely fast or Sanzo-san trusted him enough to give him the slightest opening. That should help you narrow it down."

Genjyo Sanzo didn't exactly give the impression that he trusted that many people. The blade was long enough to pierce through to the back as Ayumu observed, and Okita tried to remember the sight of his own wound being stabbed there. A long blade produced a clean stab, a smaller one. He placed a finger by the wound, noting the entrance and the exit paths and frowned. No bruising meaning the hilt hadn't hit, if there was a hilt. "Maybe about an inch and a half in height. Thin. Maybe a foot and a half or so in length..." Not like a sword. No. More like a... He raised his eyes to meet Ayumu's and asked, "Like some sort of chopping knife? The entrance wounds are too blunt to be a stabbing object, don't you think?"

He stood and wiped his hands on his hakama, trying to warm his fingers from the icy cold of the dead skin. He gave Ayumu another glance and voiced what they were probably both thinking. Turning his head to the boys, he began his report as he would when delivering one to Hijikata or another superior. It was an odd feeling, considering the ages of the two boys in front of him. "Whoever this is, they are a professional, yes, but one who knows how to disadvantage a larger enemy to level the playing field. He wouldn't have survived the inevitable direct shot if the shoulder wound was first, meaning he went for the stomach. The blood loss would have weakened Sanzo-san enough that it would have been easier to keep him pinned. There's a thin wound on the monk's arm, meaning he blocked a stab - likely driving it into his shoulder. There are drag marks on the shoulder wound--" All too familiar to Okita. "--indicating the blade supported his weight, if momentarily. He was already dying by the time he was stabbed there. The fingernails... He was pinned during the ensuing scuffle - look for someone with gunshot or even knife wounds that match these. The placement of the nails make me think whoever it was? Was trying to get him to drop something. Either the gun or perhaps even the murder weapon itself, if the murderer somehow lost it during the fight."

He paused and then looked down at Sanzo's body again. Laid bare like that... He wondered if he'd be like that someday. Turning his head away, he coughed lightly and continued. "The subsequent wounds were likely the killer playing. Whoever it is wanted to ensure the kill, and likely...enjoyed it to some extent."

The boys' banter was interesting enough, showing just how comfortable the two of them were with each other - likely long-time acquaintances, with possibly some rivalry in there. From the way they were talking (and what she'd heard and read so far) they were accustomed to investigating, though this particular crime wasn't one she'd like to solve. How many people in the building had to be strong enough to deal wounds such as these, and been injured in town the other night? A potential gunshot wound might narrow things down somewhat, but it would be near-impossible to locate without asking to see under everyone's bandages - and there were quite a few bandages around here.

She met Okita's look and nodded slightly in confirmation. Similar to a chopping knife, but it had more of a point than a cleaver. Perhaps something more like an eel knife, only not quite so sharp. "A heavier, utility blade. Longer than something for kitchen work, but similar in design. A field tool, perhaps." There was a store in town that sold tools, hadn't there? It hadn't been part of her tour, unfortuantely, else she might have noticed a blade that would fit what she was seeing here.

As Ayumu listened to the report she nodded from time to time, agreeing with the points he was making, but shifted most of her attention to watching the room around them. No moving shadows, no signs of any living creatures in the area other than the four of them - it was oddly quiet, and that made her uneasy. "Whoever it was wanted to make certain he was dead, and in a very painful way. I'm certain you've thought of it," she added, in a diffident fashion, "but someone likely had a grudge against him and saw an opportunity. And despite...the other events, that night, the killer was not afraid to take his time."

Well, that was a little helpful, at least. A psycho who was somewhat close to Sanzo, and wasn't afraid of flesh-eating zombies breaking in and interrupting his kill. What kind of killer was this?

...sadly, nothing Shinichi and Heiji weren't used to, now that he thought about it. Heiji considered himself lucky when the killer didn't start laughing crazily as he pinned down exactly how he or she had done it.

"Well, that gives us a bit more to work with, psychologically at least," Heiji said, crossing his arms in thought as he considered Okita and Cutie's points. A utility blade, a killer who likes to play with his victims, and someone who could get close to Sanzo (who he either trusted, or was fast--or both). He hated to say it, but the fact that they hadn't talked to Kenren yet was making Sanzo's friend high up on the list. If Kenren had suddenly had some sort of psychological break and had decided to kill Sanzo for whatever reason, it'd be easy enough to get close enough to stab him, wouldn't it? And it wasn't as though every crazed killer walked around twitching and grinning away in that crazy, put-me-in-a-straight-jacket way, Kenren could be hiding it. Grudges ran deep sometimes, even between friends--less so between complete strangers.

"The order of th'stabs is good t'know too," Heiji said, wracking his brain for any other question he should ask while Okita and the body were in the same room. "Do you know of anyone who'd want him dead? I know he was after Homura-han's life, so if someone was keepin' tabs on him they might have spotted an argument, a dispute on th'board... anythin'?" he looked between Okita and Cutie.

[I'm so sorry! For some reason, LJ didn't send me the notification...]

"Yeah, but like I said last night, Hattori, psychos come in all flavors. We could be dealing with a run-of-the-mill 'let's drink the Kool-aid!' crazy, or Hannibal Lecter." Shinichi leaned back against the drawers and sighed. He'd solved murders with no police help before, but he'd never done it with so little to work with and such a long list of potential suspects. One of the first rules of a good mystery novel is that a murder must be committed in a closed society. Landel's was certainly one of those, but an institute with scores of inmates was a far cry from the Agatha Christie-esque murder during a dinner party or in a snowed-out bed and breakfast (The Mousetrap was a really stupid mystery, by the way).

Shinichi stared impassively down at the corpse, searching for more things to ask. They needed all the clues they could get. "Okita-san," he said eventually (because he still didn't have a name for the Shinsengumi officer's hot friend), "do you think any of the secondary injuries could have been inflicted after he was dead? It's obvious that Sanzo-san bled to death from the stomach wound, but that could have taken hours. If any of the wounds could be mutilation after the fact, that'll help narrow down the psychological profile a bit."

"Homura-san does not have allies who would attack Sanzo-san like this. And of his enemies, I'm uncertain." There weren't many in the inner circle of the History Club who would sink so low as to attack Sanzo. Not only was he Kenren's friend, but he was also Homura's marked enemy. Regardless of how Okita felt about him, he wouldn't raise a finger against him unless ordered. And Homura hadn't ordered a thing. "I attempted to keep tabs on him following the dispute we had, but other than knowing he is Homura-san's enemy and hearing Kenren-san's explanation, I'm afraid I don't know much. He kept to himself a great deal, except for the occasional ally or two." Okita paused a moment and then set his jaw firmly. "And it was not Kenren-san. He does not need to feel the pressure of suspicion after losing his friend."

As for Ayumu's assertion about the field knife and the grudge, Okita nodded along to that. But who would have a grudge against him? "I suggest starting with people who knew him - in a familiar fashion. Friends, allies, roommates, the like."

When Shinichi asked about the secondary injuries, Okita leaned down again, once more bowing his head in apology before checking the wounds. The shoulder wound and the fingernails and the slight cut on his arm... "No. It was...combined blood loss, I think. He bled faster when fighting, and he protected himself from another attempt-" He pointed at the man's arm. "- and then he was stabbed in the shoulder. He was able to support his weight for a short time after that, so he had to be alive. Whoever it was? Took the blade with him and left Sanzo-san to die."

But something Ayumu had said bothered him. Under his breath, he murmured, "...despite the other events..." Killers who did so in the heat of the moment wouldn't have taken the time they did to ensure Sanzo died the way he did. They stabbed and ran. It wasn't a calculated kill, or the death blow would have been neater. Anyone who had cared about their own life, wouldn't have destroyed an ally with the undead about, ready to tear into them. "...sudden...unplanned..." Standing again, he turned to look at the others and repeated his thoughts. "Whoever this is? Doesn't care about dying themselves. Male, most definitely, judging by the blows and the strength necessary. They aren't afraid of death because they had to have faced Sanzo-san's gun, but they weren't necessarily planning on killing him. If I were to assassinate a man, I'd wait until his back was turned and stab him in the neck; not challenge him straight on and take my time when something could come at me at any time. I don't believe I need to tell you that this wasn't a killing where any mercy was felt, however. To continue attacking a man when you've already delivered a kill bow is...inhuman."

Okita turned his head suddenly toward the door and narrowed his eyes. He thought he'd heard something outside - or perhaps somewhere else. In the other rooms? Looking to Ayumu, he motioned toward the autopsy room doors. "In there, get what you need from the drawers. People are moving about and you know what that means." Then he turned to the boys again and smiled at them. "And here, I'm afraid, our time is over. My friend and I need to move on to the next mission. If you have any further questions, I'm willing to answer them in the morning." The smile changed a little, losing its friendliness as he continued, "But do not approach her, hm? At least, not during the day. If you need to speak to her, come to me first."

With that, he wiped his hands on his hakama again, pressed his hands together in deference to the body and then closed the drawer. The cold air was bothering him in here. He needed to get out of it as soon as possible. "Now, if you'll excuse us. I'll be waiting in the hall, toward the end. I truly am sorry we don't have more time to talk."

Bowing to the boys, he waved to them cheerfully and slipped out through the door.

[going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/737557.html?thread=60755221#t60755221)]

A killing like this didn't seem to fit with the personalities of those in the History Club with whom Ayumu was familiar; even though she hadn't really spoken to many of the "core" members, she still had seen them, read their interactions on the bulletin, and realized from what she knew of Homura the type of people he would gather around himself. People like Okita himself, for instance. It simply didn't fit.

Not that she would eliminate that completely as a possibility, but it would lead her to seek other suspects before investigating them. If it had been her duty to search out this killer, which it apparently wasn't. That was fine with her; the "puppies" could deal with it, as they seemed practiced. But should she come across some information that might seem of use, she'd have to pass it on to Okita to give to them.

Ayumu said none of what she was thinking, though, merely filing it away mentally as Okita gave his last instructions to the boys. When she was mentioned she gave them a cheerful-seeming smile and small bow, then immediately started to move toward the door indicated. There wasn't any time to waste, and she slipped into the other room (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/747414.html) without another word.

When she emerged again a few minutes later with pillowcase in hand, she was entirely focused on the business at hand. With barely even a glance toward the two boys she moved back out into the hall, following after Okita.

[and back out to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/737557.html?thread=60755221#t60755221)]

Left with everything that Okita had given them, as well as the still, silent body of Genjyou Sanzo, Heiji felt the urge to ruffle his hair in frustration. This was nuts. They had nothing to go on except some sort of 'plausible' profile, and Okita was sniping at his thoughts before he'd even had a chance to voice them.

Relatively speaking, though, Heiji supposed Okita came from a simpler time. There was Choshuu and there was the Shinsengumi. They fought, they killed each other, it was war. Where Shinichi and Heiji were from, friends killed friends--plotted against them; threatened to kill their children and fathers and mothers and then went on with it. Where they were from, the closer you were, the higher the suspicion. There were no sides--there were just emotions run amok. Not that Heiji was ready to accuse Kenren of anything. There was currently no motive besides an intense desire to play with the victim until he died.

"Man..." Heiji grunted as he put Sanzo back in his cold resting place. He shut the door. "Okita's friend is hot. Wonder what her name is."

That was the other thing that was bothering him: the reason why Heiji or Shinichi couldn't talk to Okita's friend without going through him. Oi, that would be awkward. 'Hey Mom, I wanna talk to your hot friend, because she's hot. And from Kansai. Yeah.'

He wouldn't be able to walk straight for months.

Shinichi leaned over to help push the drawer back in before Heiji shut the door. He stared at it almost like he could still see the corpse that they'd just put away. He wished he could give Sanzo--a man he'd never even seen until after his death--a better grave than a cold storage locker in some godforsaken wannabe loony bin, but he guessed that finding his killer would have to be the next best thing.

"Mm?" he said, snapping out of it when Heiji spoke. "Yeah, she is. She's probably in Okita-san's line of work, though, which explains why she didn't want to give us her name." Maybe she was a spy, or something. Or a ninja. God, now he was imagining her in a tight-fitting anime-style ninja outfit, not the loose patient uniform. It was a pretty awesome mental image, and he thought it suited her rather well. "Wonder how old she is. She looked like she was about Okita-san's age or younger, didn't she?"

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/737557.html?thread=60798741#t60798741)]

Indy approached the empty door frame in time to see the drawer and door being shut. So he wasn't the only one looking for a body tonight. As he got closer, he discovered that the would-be identifiers were a couple of kids, apparently talking about a girl. If they'd checked all the drawers already, they might be able to save him some time, but Indy wasn't sure he was ready to trust whatever the Hormone Patrol here had to say. Having expended the entire night on learning Pierson's fate (and, so far, coming up without any answers), he was damn well going to do this search right.

"Big on respect for the dead, I see," he commented in a neutral tone, stepping over the broken door and into the room. "Guess the days of dirges and funeral feasts are behind us. Or didn't you find anyone?"

L inclined his head in concession, then opened his mouth to in some way begin to answer Indy's question.

How much can I tell him? He appears to have no connection whatsoever to the Kira case -- if anything, he would be linked in some way to art and antiquities fraud or theft. Even if that were true, it is unlikely that my name would mean anything to an archaeologist, at least not unless I was also aware of him. Yet he was able to identify 'Ryuuzaki' as a probable alias. He may be bluffing, but it is a well-targeted bluff, and he has noticed that I have offered little personal information.

Telling him everything would be hazardous to a pointless degree... even if I can trust him, it is information that he is unlikely to understand and therefore unlikely to treat with the discretion I require. A refusal to tell him anything will make any kind of collaboration impossible; it is clear that he does not trust me. Therefore, I will have to tell him something...? Yes. But what?

"Yes. It is an alias. The nature of my work makes it necessary to conceal my identity; it is a matter of security. Self-preservation." His stare was calculating, almost resentful, and his voice was barely above a whisper, hard and precise; he did not want to be overheard. "How much can I rely on your discretion, Dr. Jones? Please consider that question." He began to move down the hall again.

As they reached the morgue, it became clear that they weren't going to be alone. He was grateful that nothing suggested that their company would be threatening.

He murmured, "Later," to Indy, before they stepped through the doorway.

Two boys, young men, later teens, around Yagami's age, and Keman's, were already busy in the morgue. He gave them a curt nod of greeting, then stood beside Indy, waiting to hear what they would say, and letting his gaze take in the room itself. He shivered -- not from fear, but because the air was cold, as if they had walked into a refrigerator. He could see his breath.

"Damn, I hope she isn't older than Okita-han," Heiji said with a frown. "I mean, I can dig older women'n stuff, but that'd just be weird. Datin' a girl older than the guy that can hand my ass to me. Messed up, that."

Heiji looked up, somewhat jumpy when he heard someone (or something) stepping over the door. He turned, really hoping that it wasn't the murderer coming to kill the detectives who knew too much. Especially now that Okita and his hot spy friend had vacated the premises.

Fortunately, it wasn't some fire-breathing, clawed monstrosity come to rip his and Shinichi's innards out for shits and giggles. It also wasn't a professional killer intent on torturing him and Shinichi until they bled out and died. It was just some older dude and a creepy-as-hell-looking-- Wait, hadn't Heiji met him before? Yeah, his first day in the library.

"Somethin' like that," Heiji answered the older man with a light laugh. Like hell he'd talk about the case--but how was he supposed to explain his and Shinichi's presence in the morgue? "Friend of a friend," he said, gesturing to the locker Sanzo was tucked in. "Disappeared a few days ago--wanted to confirm if he'd just vanished or died. Too bad it's the latter, hm?" Heiji tried to look appropriately sympathetic. Subject change was necessary.

"Ryuuzaki, right?" Heiji grinned at the other man, raising a hand in a wave. "Been a while since we last saw one another, yeah? Like... two weeks or somethin'. Who's y'r friend?"

Shinichi snorted. "And what makes you think you'd ever get to find out what dating her is like, huh?" He laughed. "You don't even know her name. "She's probably some badass samurai chick--completely ignoring the fact that those didn't exactly exist during the Bakumatsu--anyway. A little out of both our respective leagues." Sadly.

The detective edged closer to his friend as two other people came into the room, instinctively hiding the drawer that held Sanzo with his body. Even if these guys weren't the murderer coming back to destroy evidence, the details of this case had to remain a secret.

"Yeah," he agreed, trying to look sincere. "We didn't want to believe it, but...there he is. Guess not all of us got out of Doyleton okay."

Shinichi raised an eyebrow at Heiji when his friend started talking to one of the guys--the kind of scrawny one with posture that would make a chiropractor cry--like he knew him, but didn't say anything. Heiji had been around a while before Shinichi had gotten there. Made sense he knew people he hadn't told the other detective about.

"Too bad," Indy agreed. There was something edgy about the way they were acting, something he didn't like. Almost as though they had something to hide. He wondered if the staff had left anything on the bodies worth stealing. "A man, late twenties, about six feet tall, by any chance? Dark hair? I'm looking for someone myself."

Interesting that they'd implied the bodies from town ended up here. It begged the question of who'd want to dig through the mass grave that had been Doyleton to bring back those specific corpses, and why. Could be Landel didn't want to leave the patients' remains on the street where they could potentially be identified, or maybe he was accountable to someone for the bodies. Or they were headed for another sick experiment, in which case Indy ought to just set the whole morgue on fire right now. Give him cremation any day over whatever unholy resurrection someone was doing back here.

Interesting, too, that these kids knew that.

Another of the many things Indy found interesting right now was that the one kid claimed to have known Ryuuzaki for at least two weeks. Indy folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at his sidekick for the evening. "Two weeks, huh? Somehow I got the impression that you'd checked in a lot more recently than that," he said pointedly. If that was true, it brought the tally of accurate facts Ryuuzaki had given about himself down to zero.

L had been giving the taller of the two teenagers a deceptively puzzled look, and he turned it to Indy, then back. "Your impression was correct, Dr. Jones. I have been here since yesterday morning. But this -- who are you?" (that, to Heiji) "-- he isn't the first to indicate that he has seen me before."

It was, in itself, suggestive of something, and he was less puzzled than he had been the night before: the difficulty was in reconciling a concept that seemed impossible with his own experience of reality. "Are you certain it was me that you saw, and not someone who might have been trying to look like me?"

The idea that B had been imitating him was irritating, but it seemed far more feasible than the other proposition: I have been here before, yet I have no memory of it?

No. It is not viable. Yet something in the back of his mind rankled: small details, things he had noticed and things he had been told about the Institute's powers and parameters, indicated that it might not be as absurd as he would like to believe.

He gave his head a slight shake, and frowned at Indy: I don't know what he's talking about.

Cooool, a doctor-type! Well, maybe a professor, given the way he looked, but he could be a surgeon or a practicing doctor. Maybe even a psychologist. Ah well, didn't much matter right this second, it looked like they'd be talking for a bit.

"'M Hattori? Hattori Heiji?" the detective offered. It had been a long time ago, but it hadn't been that long. Maybe the guy was just senile or something--he'd seemed pretty smart in the Library, though. "We met in the Library?"

Heiji took a few steps towards Ryuuzaki and squinted at him, tilting his head slightly. Same lifeless stare, bags under the eyes, posture was the same...

"Nah, don't think it was someone tryin' t'look like ya. Th'way y'walk is the same. Y'r posture, that is. And y'r voice, too. Hard things t'impersonate, 'specially t'a stranger that y'won't see f'r another two weeks, yeah?" Heiji added with a laugh.

"Nice t'meet ya, Doctor Jones," Heiji said, turning to the older-looking. "I thought I saw a guy like that when we were lookin' f'r our guy. Did we, Kudou?" he turned back to Shinichi for confirmation. They had opened a lot of drawers, after all.

Shinichi was rather confused, but tried not to let it show. Had they seen a guy matching that description last night? He honestly couldn't remember. Finally, he shrugged. "I think so, maybe. The guy we were here for matches that description in everything except hair color." He didn't say anything else. These guys were probably fishing for information, and he wasn't going to make it any easier on them.

He looked over to Heiji. "Or it could be another freaky double thing, like me and Kuroba," he pointed out, laughing. For the others' benefit, he added, "There's a guy here who could practically be my twin even though I'd never met him before I got here. Maybe it's something like that. Though this guy is pretty forgettable. I'm Kudou, by the way. Kudou Shinichi. Nice to meet you both. If I could intrude, Dr. Jones, could I ask you what you're a doctor of?"

Indy wasn't sure he bought Ryuuzaki's innocent act. Could be another case of careful wording; maybe he'd been here before and been brought back. Nonetheless, "who would want to impersonate you?" added itself to the list of questions the two of them were going to be discussing before Indy gave any talks on his finds. Even if that was just a bluff, Ryuuzaki had jumped to it quickly enough to make it worth asking about.

"Archaeology," he said in response to Kudou's question, grateful that they weren't going to have to waste five minutes on the movie talk. "And I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind." Actually, Indy didn't care whether they minded; he was already moving toward the cabinets. It should only take a couple minutes at most to search them all.

L shook his head again. "Two weeks ago, I was in Japan." That was not so much information that anyone would be able to discern anything from it. There is no logical way that I could have been here without remembering it, but with the addition of the supposed peculiar properties of this place, there may be an illogical way. It is... something to consider? Yes.

As Indy moved to the cabinets, L continued to stare at Kudoh and Hattori. The names, the descriptions... "I'm about 5'8", with dark hair that has a cowlick in the back. My partner is slightly taller, with darker skin and messy hair. We're both seventeen years old." He let out a soft sigh of resignation, and began to speak in his low, calm voice: a torrent of words, articulate and blunt.

"The two of you are not here looking for a friend, per se; you claim to be detectives, and you are probably here looking for a murder victim. You left a notice -- several notices -- on the bulletin board about it, earlier today. In your responses to the notice, you described yourselves in detail and gave your names, but refused to describe the crime itself, although you did say that the manner of death set it apart. Later, you made it clear -- at least to anyone who can read the kanji for Hattori -- that you would be taking a look at the body."

He paused, and looked between the two of them, frowning. "It isn't a very secure way to run an investigation. The two of you are lucky that it was us who found you here, and not the murderer.

"As it is... you have given them all of the information they would need to stop you, while keeping most of the details that might help uncover the killer, and protect you, to yourselves." The urge to nip at his fingertip was overwhelming, but he controlled it; to say that the cleanliness of the Institute at night was suspect would be a vast understatement. "Please be more careful. This is not a game; it is necessary for all of us to value our lives seriously."

[Sorry for the slow, guys! ; ;]

Heiji may have met Ryuuzaki in the library two weeks ago--but if he'd known that he'd be such a dick, he might not have bothered opening his big mouth. Not only had Ryuuzaki just blown their cover to a complete stranger, but he'd also started lecturing him and Shinichi. Completely uncalled for--didn't this guy have any manners?!

"Yeah, I'll take that and chuck it," Heiji said, putting a hand on his hip. "Where d'you get off tellin' us how t'run a 'secure' investigation? If we'd asked y'r opinion, then that'd be cool, but are you socially stupid or somethin'? Givin' advice that we never asked f'r?

"'N even if th'murderer found us here, we're not exactly without protection," Heiji shot back, putting a hand on his katana to emphasize the point. "It'd make our job a lot easier if the murderer came at us, y'know, considerin' this ain't no closed society.

"So thanks f'r the 'advice', but Kudou and I c'n handle this. We're not kids playin' at detective, we know what we're doin', Mr. Detective." Heiji at least resisted the urge to add 'Stick-up-his-Ass' onto that--it was progress for him, considering anyone who questioned his ability (even his father) was met with quick anger.

Shinichi was just as angry as Heiji was. What gave this asshole any right to start telling them how to run an investigation? It was ridiculous. They were two of the best detectives--adult or no--in all of Japan, and probably some of the best in the world.

"So you found us out. Good-for-fucking-you," he spat. "We don't 'claim' to be detectives; we are. Hattori and I both have dozens of successful cases under our belts, all resulting in convictions. We know that this is a piss poor way to conduct an investigation, but we're working with all we have, and that isn't much. So if you have any information for us, let us know. If not, get the fuck out of here and let us do our jobs. We don't need you breathing down our necks and telling us things we already know."

The whole thing had something faintly ridiculous about it, but right now Indy was more interested in taking a look at these cabinets. Ryuuzaki--or whatever the hell his name was--could handle himself.

He zipped his jacket and started checking through, working quickly. The last thing he wanted was to get caught by the end of night now that they'd finally made it up here. As he'd expected, it didn't take long. Most of the cabinets were empty; a few held the bodies of people he didn't know. None of them even came close to resembling Pierson. Indy found himself disappointed--not that he wanted the guy to be dead, but at least a body would've provided some concrete answers. Its absence left only questions: they'd already removed it, they'd never brought it back, Pierson had never been dead to begin with. That was already more possibilities than Indy was happy about, and that was barely scratching the surface.

The last--admittedly small--possibility was that Pierson was in the drawer those two had been closing when they'd walked in. Hoping Ryuuzaki would keep them busy, Indy edged quietly toward it.

It wasn't that L wasn't aware of the most basic rules of courteous behavior in at least a few cultures; it was that, to him, they were usually irrelevant. A choice to refrain from saying something was almost never a choice made to spare someone's feelings, unless he was certain that sparing their feelings would get him closer to what he wanted.

"Dozens of successful cases." They are proud of this, but pride is often useless... even dangerous, in some situations.

Yet he remembered being twelve, sixteen, twenty, and an effective investigator, the best in the world. He forced people to take him seriously; his reputation was protected by the fact that he'd presented himself as words on a screen, or as a scrambled voice on the telephone, rather than a gangling boy with bad posture and a nest of dark hair. He was respected because he won respect with his work, and, after that, behaved as if he assumed that respect was a given.

Then he demolished any other investigator who made a point of standing against him. But those were adults, not teenage boys, and the circumstances couldn't have been more different. Rather than escalating the hostility, he stared at Kudoh and Hattori, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as if to say, Are you quite finished? When that seemed to be the case, he answered them both.

They might have expected heated, defensive words, but his tone was as cool and polite as ever, certainly more than it had been a moment earlier. The two boys' indignant response reminded him of Aizawa's behavior on the night Ukita was killed, so he would explain his position -- an appeal to reason -- in the same way that he had explained it to countless subordinate investigators. The only indication that he was being very patient was the sigh that preceded his words.

"I disagree on several points.

I believe that you may be overconfident in your ability to defend yourselves. That is a reflection on the situation at hand, not on how capable you might ordinarily be. It would not make things easier if the murderer came after you, even in a closed society, if you were both dead as a result of it; it would be better not to have to fight to begin with. While a weapon may or may not be an excellent deterrent, it is also one that can be taken away and used against you.

"You have ruled out -- or chosen to ignore, for whatever reason -- the fact that there may be more experienced investigators here, like that agent from the BKA, or the Frenchman. In consulting them, you would not be obviating your own interest in the case; you would be increasing your chances of success."

What he chose not to say was that, as it stood, it appeared to him as if Hattori and Kudoh were keeping the case to themselves in a self-aggrandizing way, rather than in a way that ensured their own safety and security and a likely chance of success. It does not, however, mean that they will not succeed.

He found that he did not much care whether or not they did, so long as any consequences did not touch him personally. Investigating the Institute itself was much more important, and much more likely to be fruitful in terms of escape. If Hattori and Kudoh could succeed in their goal, they might prove useful in the future, but they would probably have to be employed in a way that made them think that their actions were autonomous.

With a shrug, he began to look around the morgue again. There were several scalpels and pairs of postmortem dissection shears in plain sight. "Excuse me," he said, and slipped one of each into his pillowcase.

Edited 2009-11-08 09:44 (UTC)

Okita would punch him in the head again if he knocked Ryuuzaki's teeth down his throat, right? Right. Probably bad for club relations or whateverthefuck. But that didn't negate the fact that Heiji really wanted to. He'd never wanted to deck someone more, he realized.

"And maybe you've chosen t'ignore the idea that just maybe we've been privately contracted," Heiji shot back. "That we haven' been authorized t'consult anybody outside of th'case. 'N even if we were, this is between the victim, his friend, 'n me and Kudou--it's personal. 'S not anybody elses' place t'deal in.

"'N maybe you like t'solve cases without gettin' y'r hands dirty, but Kudou 'n I have been in the thick of it f'r years now. No point in tryin' t'change that--'specially now. We do the legwork and we occasionally take out th'trash. You jus' disagree b'cause y'r style sounds way diff'rent. Might do y'more good t'jus' keep y'r mouth shut 'bout other peoples' styles 'til y've been there."

Ryuuzaki was really getting Heiji worked up. It sounded like he was the kind of guy who solved cases by letting other people do the dirty work and then fit all the pieces together at the end. Man that pissed him off! Here he and Kudou were, doing what they did as best they could in terrible circumstances, and some other detective was lecturing them about staying alive and consulting other people! Homura would massacre him and Kudou if they started talking to other detectives--plus it would shoot their standing in the club right through the floor if Heiji went to Homura and said they needed another detective's help. No way in hell was Heiji doing that, and he had a feeling Kudou would rather sleep in crushed glass before doing the same, too.

"C'mon Kudou, let's get the hell out of here," Heiji said, giving Ryuuzaki one last glower. "We're done here."

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Nightshift 44: Morgue

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