Night 49: Homeworld - Mouri Detective Agency (Beika District, Tokyo, Japan)

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For whatever reason, this next portal seemed…different, somehow. More disorienting than the last dozen or so. Shinichi took a sharp breath, feeling the ground roll under his feet until he managed to get his balance back again. He felt weaker, somehow, but maybe that was just the residual nausea from the portal –jumping. Whatever was doing it, transporting adult (well, mostly adult) human beings from one place to another, couldn’t have been very healthy for anyone involved.

But even after the first several seconds, after he’d gotten his feet back under him and his eyes had adjusted once again to the dim light, he couldn’t shake a sense of wrongness. Something here wasn’t right, and…well, that would explain it, wouldn’t it? Shinichi gaped around the room they’d found himself in, clearly at a loss for words. He knew this place. It was dark, but there was enough light filtering in from the large windows in the back of the room and the city outside that he could see exactly where he was.

After all, he’d spent the better part of a year living here.

It was the Mouri Detective Agency. That was Kogorou’s desk and chair and the little television he kept on it so that he could better continue his creepy-old-man-with-a-thing-for-a-certain-young-idol thing. There was all the other stuff too, too; the mixture of office and home furniture that made it very clear that the “great detective” saw his clients in his living room instead of a separate office. It even smelled right, all stale cigarette smoke and Ran’s cooking. But how had they gotten back here? Landel couldn’t have let them go this easily…could he?

Shinichi reached up to flick on the lights near the door, not even conscious of the fact that he had to stand up on his tiptoes to do so. It was such a natural action for him that he didn’t stop to question it. With the lights on, his suspicions were confirmed: everything was how it should have been. Somehow, he was back.

The detective turned to Scott, who suddenly seemed…a lot taller than he’d been a minute ago. Shinichi looked at him, then back down at his hands, and then up at Scott again.

“…Dammit.”

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[vstheworld]

Scott blinked in confusion. Hadn't Shinichi just been in front of him? Suddenly, he wasn't there anymore, and they were in the absolute most unfamiliar place yet to boot. Maybe they were back in Doyleton somewhere? Or some really casual staff lounge or living area? But no, wasn't that a city street outside the big windows there? And wasn't the text on the windows all in backwards Japanese? He was pretty sure he hadn't seen any Asian restaurants or offices or anything in Doyleton. This was just bizarre.

"Shin? Man? You there?" He heard some faint scuffling around not far in front of him, low to the ground but hidden in the darkness. Was it rats? Bugs? Ninjas? Scott gulped nervously.

He was about to take another uncertain step forward into the room when the lights suddenly flipped on; with a small "gack!" sound in the back of his throat, he froze on the spot. Who had done that? He looked back and forth rapidly, seeing no one. Then who—

"...Dammit."

Scott's gaze snapped down to the sound of the voice. There was a dark-haired kid in blue pyjamas standing off to his side, probably no more than seven years old. He stayed tense. If there was one thing he knew about running into little kids in survival-horror scenarios, it was that they were almost never a good sign. Sure, the kid didn't look too threatening so far. In fact, he seemed to be more interested in his own hands than Scott. Still, one never knew - the thing could hulk out and go all Alessa Gillespie on him at any moment.

Scott bit down on the inside of his lip, staring down at the boy with a wary, unblinking gaze for several long, silent seconds. Was it just him, or did this kid look kind of... familiar? Now that he thought about it, he was starting to look a little bit like a young Shinichi. It couldn't be him, though, could it? Turning Shinichi into a little boy would just be way too random, even with all the portal stuff. No. This had to be a Landel trick. Landel was trying to baffle him for long enough to let this evil little boy turn him into minced meat.

His mouth dry and shaking with fear and confusion, Scott finally spoke to the strange vision in front of him: "...If it's my organs you want, I promise you, they taste like ass."

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He was still wearing his pajamas. Shinichi—or Conan, as he was now—stared down at his clothes, marveling. He was exactly as he had been two weeks ago, before he’d wound up in Landel’s, probably down to the little boy underwear that Ran insisted on buying for him because they were "cute" and had Kamen Yaiba printed on them. The room looked exactly as it had that night as well. Nothing out of place. Even the kitchen sink was still dripping because Kogorou refused to acknowledge the leak enough to plumber to get it fixed no matter how much Ran got on his case about it. The old man was stubborn like that. It was like time had frozen while he’d been gone and nothing had changed.

The only conspicuously different presence in the room was Scott himself.

Conan looked over at him, completely at a loss for what to do or say. Scott was babbling something about organs that Conan couldn’t even begin to try comprehending, but he didn’t blame the guy. He was an American (or maybe a Canadian; there really wasn’t much of a difference) who had gone from being in an evil mental hospital to an apartment in Tokyo, Japan and whose companion had suddenly aged down by ten years. The (now miniature, damn it all) detective weighed his options. He could play a dumb kid and pretend that Scott and Shinichi had just been separated, but that would’ve been kind of cruel. The guy had helped him out quite a bit tonight. And Conan was pretty sure that Scott didn’t have many friends in Tokyo, and that was assuming they’d actually made it back and this wasn’t just some freaky illusion put together by the Institute.

No, Scott had to be let into the small club of people who knew that Edogawa Conan and Kudou Shinichi were the same person. He would be strongly urged, with threats of physical harm, if it came to that, to keep the secret as soon as they’d gotten past the “what the hell is going on” stage.

“First off,” he said in a voice that was fairly similar to his own…except for the whole ‘hadn’t yet gone through puberty’ thing, “don’t call me ‘Shin.’ My mother’s the only one allowed to do that.” He raised a second finger. “Second. I’m not going to eat your organs, so keep it down, you idiot. This isn’t a big apartment and there are people sleeping.”

Conan grabbed Scott’s hand and pulled him towards the door. He’d half expecting it to turn into another portal and warp them somewhere else, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Instead, they were standing on the landing outside the apartment and he had to hope that the neighbors were really sound sleepers.

“I’ll explain the mechanics of it later, but you’ve got to trust me for right now. My cover when I’m like this is ‘Conan,’ not ‘Shinichi.’ Edogawa Conan. Got it? And don’t tell anyone. Trust me when I say that people who did this to me in the first place are second only to Martin Landel in the psycho creativity department. So for right now, shut up and play along. Think of it as…an escort mission,” he added, couching it in terms that the gamer would understand. “Got it?”

[vstheworld]

Scott made a rather undignified "eep!" when the little boy grabbed him by the hand, half-expecting tentacles to burst out of the boy's arm and grasp at him or something. He was still wary about this maybe being some weird mimic-y thing, like whatever it was that had attacked Keman. However, it was also the fact that he wasn't seeing a straight-up copy of Shinichi right now that made him wonder. Why would he just randomly be shown a miniaturized version of him instead? The more he thought about it, the less the idea made sense. Also, as the boy (Conan? Like the Barbarian?) kept talking, he sounded enough like a real, not-evil Shinichi would, albeit pre-testicles-dropping. This kind of thing was just weird enough to maybe fit into the premise of a crazy anime, so maybe he could go with it? Was it really so much stranger than some of the things he had encountered in his life?

Well, yes. Yes, this did rank preeeeeeetty high up on the Weirdness Scale. Probably right near the top, even. Still. Just crazy enough to be true.

In any case, if the kid was telling the truth, that left Scott with a whole slew of new questions, with one in particular standing out. "Wait, wait, back up a sec. So this is something that happened to you back home, before Landel got to you?" he asked quietly, still looking a little bug-eyed. "Dude. And I thought I had problems." Scott could say what he wanted about having to deal with Ramona's evil exes, but at least he was still in a body big enough to make out with her. Well, without making her seem like the world's biggest pedophile, anyway.

He looked out down the darkened hall of what looked like an apartment building. "So where are we, then? And, uh, where would be the location point we're trying to get to, if this is an escort mission?" he asked. Seemed like Shini— er, Conan already knew his way around, so Scott was betting this was probably either his home or some place he knew well. Why would they suddenly end up here, though? Landel didn't seem like the type to just let people slip out of his grabby little hands so easily. Besides, it was way too quiet in the building for his tastes. Even if everyone was supposed to be asleep or whatever, he felt like he ought to have heard something other than their own footsteps.

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Conan rolled his eyes. It was a little weird, like this, acting like…well, himself, near someone who was practically a complete stranger. Usually he had to be the little kid, say the cutesy things and act like a complete idiot to get people off his back. Being Shinichi in Conan’s body was something he reserved for Dr. Agasa, or Haibara, or Heiji. His parents. The people who actually knew rather than having found out through completely random and utterly bizarre chance. “I told you, I’d give you the long, sad story later. For right now, just follow my lead and I can get you on a plane back to America by the morning.” He looked up at Scott, suddenly serious. “Or you can stay here and help me figure out how to get everyone else back home. My best friend is still there.” He wasn’t going to abandon Heiji, or Kaito, or anyone else at the Institute. He had to get them all back safe. Finding Landel’s, getting everyone out, and bringing Martin Landel to justice would be one hell of a case, but it was an important one. He never thought he’d admit it, but it was even more important than bringing down the Black Organization. Landel had to be stopped, and now that they were finally home he could actually try to do it. The “other times” thing would be a pain in the ass, of course, but they had to have some sort of insane technology in order to do it. Maybe Haibara and Agasa could go through it together and figure out how to work it, or they could force Landel to operate it. Anything.

He took a deep breath, pasted on his best little boy smile, and lead Scott back into the apartment. “Ran nee-chan?” he called. “Uncle?” No answer. Leaving Scott in the living room, he tiptoed into the bedroom he shared with Kogorou. “Uncle?”

The old man’s bed and Conan’s little futon on the floor both looked slept in, but they were empty. There wasn’t any light from the bathroom, so he couldn’t have been in there. Conan’s heart started racing. Maybe Kogorou had gotten called away on a late-night case. Murder didn’t wait until morning; it’d happened before. But usually that meant—

“Ran!” he shouted, dropping the kiddie act. He ran to her room, not even bothering to knock on the door, and it was…the same. Her bed was rumpled, looked slept in, but she never left her room without making it. Even when she accompanied her dad to a murder scene at two am.

“Ran!”

[vstheworld]

Scott's voice caught in his throat before he could give an answer to the choice Conan presented. Of course he wanted to be on a plane back home as soon as possible. If it meant getting back to Rammy and the band and Toronto and his life, evil ex-boyfriends or none, he was ready to sacrifice a lot. He really wasn't sure, however, if "a lot" would be enough to cover the lives of all the people in the Institute. It was really tempting to think, "Oh, they're all just fictional anyway; what does it matter?" That definitely didn't feel right to Scott, though, when he actually tried to put the thought through his head. Not only did that not jive well against the whole "You're fictional too, dumbass" reminded that pinged back to him when he thought that way, but all the people he had come across so far hadn't seemed any less real than any other people he might have met back home. They breathed, they laughed, they got hurt, they lived. He couldn't leave that many living, breathing people alone to suffer, no matter how much he wanted to turn tail and run. Scott could be a dick sometimes, but he wasn't evil.

After the moment of hesitation, Scott swallowed the lump in his throat, a more serious expression taking over. He looked down at his shrunken companion as he lead them back into the apartment living room. He knew what his answer had to be. His mouth opened, ready to speak with conviction on what he knew to be right—

"Ran nee-chan? Uncle?"

"Hrk!"

Scott tensed and stumbled, thrown off by Conan's suddenly calling out. You ruined my dramatic moment, dang it! he thought with a slump of his shoulders and a puppy-like disappointment on his face. The little detective let go of his hand, leaving Scott to ruminate on what could have been. He could have won the Oscar of his own life with whatever might have come out of his mouth then, he was sure of it. Oh well. There's still a couple more volumes to go for that sort of thing… he thought with a sigh.

He stood there, waiting and waiting as Conan searched around. He only started to really worry when the little guy started yelling more frantically. Scott followed the sound of tiny footsteps, leaning a hand against the door frame and peering into the room Conan had gone into. "Ran! Conan's uncle!" he chimed in calling out, hoping he could help in some way. As expected, though, it didn't do much. The place was completely deserted. "I don't think they're here, dude. There anyone else around this area who can help us find them?" Scott suggested.

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Conan shot Scott a look that spoke volumes about just how much he wanted him to get involved in the search for Ran and Kogorou and then walked back into his bedroom and plucked his cell phone out of the charger. The natural first choice was Ran’s phone of course, but then he heard ringing from her bedroom and realized how far that was going to get them. Agasa was the next logical choice, and one of the first people on his speed dial.

After a few minutes he reemerged from the room, looking very spooked. “Listen,” he said to Scott, putting turning on speaker phone. He scrolled down his phonebook to Haibara’s number. It rang and rang, never even going to message. “Haibara.” The detective tried another number and got the same result. “That’s the direct line to Detective Takagi, of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s homicide bureau.” A third number, a long-distance call this time. The dialtone changed as it connected to the international number, but once again all it did was ring. “My parents, in Los Angeles. I’ve even tried 1-1-9. None of them are picking up or even rolling over to answering machine. I’ve tried over a dozen people, and I’ve gotten the same result. Also, I’ve got full bars on my phone but mobile internet and e-mail are both down.”

He looked over to Scott. “If we turn on the TV, I think we’ll just get static. I’m not sure this is real, Scott. I think this might be some sort of construct put on by the Institute. It’s just us right now.”

[vstheworld]

Despite the fact that hearing phrases like "some sort of construct put on by the Institute" out of the mouth of a seven-year-old was seriously messing with him, Scott was inclined to agree. All those numbers not even going to answering machine or even just cutting off, important ones too? That sounded like an alternate reality... thing if he ever heard one. He was tempted to borrow the phone and try Ramona's number just in case, but held back. He already knew what he was going to hear if he tried, even if he didn't want to accept it.  

"How far do you think this goes?" Scott wondered aloud, gazing around the empty apartment and listening to the eerily silent streets below them. "If this is, like, an illusion or a space-time bubble universe or whatever that Landel made, we're probably going to come to the edge of it at some point." He would have compared it to hitting the invisible wall of a level, but even Scott could figure that Conan probably didn't want to hear any game analogies right now. 

Another thought hit him right after the last one. "And I wonder if we can take anything out of here with us if we do warp out again." It was possible. Landel let patients make off with items from around the Institute all the time. Even if it didn't work, it was probably worth trying. 

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“Take something out of here?” Conan mused. That was…actually a really good idea. It was a way to figure out whether or not this place was actually real. For all he knew, Kudou Shinichi, normal-sized and perfectly intact, was lying on the floor somewhere (or, worse yet, strapped to a table) and was just dreaming all of this. Tripping out on some sort of evil psychotropic drug, maybe. Waking up without the item in question could prove whether or not they actually were in the Mouri Detective Agency or if it was all just a dream. An extremely vivid dream.

“Follow me.” Once again, Conan ran to his room and tore through his things, though this time he decided he wouldn’t leave Scott standing in the living room this time. But what to take?

Agasa’s superpowered shoes were ruled out almost immediately. Even though they were kids shoes, they were too bulky to conceal. The bowtie, maybe? And yet, what use did he have for a voice changer? Selfishly, Conan thought that if they did have to go back to the Institute, he wanted something that had a little power as a weapon. The ball belt was a thought, but…he had a real soccer ball now.

So maybe…

Conan picked up the watch and strapped it on almost immediately. It was small, concealable, and the sedative dart packed a powerful punch. If he needed to defend himself, it was as good as anything.

“We’ll try this.”