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Tokyo, a certain hotel.
In Room 114, a shrunken Mary Akai sat on the bed, watching Conan appear at a crime scene on TV. Her thoughts drifted back to the moment Vermouth had forced the pill into her mouth.
Several months earlier, she had gone to Vauxhall Bridge, right in front of SIS headquarters, as agreed, to wait for Akai Tsutomu.
Who could have guessed that the husband she longed for was actually Vermouth in disguise?
Once her identity was exposed, Vermouth fed her an APTX4869 capsule.
As the drug took effect, Mary Akai used the last of her strength to roll off the bridge and plunge into the Thames. The splash drew the attention of passersby.
Fortunately, Vermouth and the other two Organization members feared exposure. Without confirming her death, they hastily left the scene.
Mary Akai had thought she was doomed. Instead, when she woke from unconsciousness, she found herself in the body of a child.
Her life had been spared, but her body could not be restored.
Since the mysterious deaths of Atsushi Miyano and his wife in a lab fire, she had heard of no scientist continuing research related to APTX4869.
Just as despair set in, she happened to see Conan on television. With a single glance, she knew he was the missing Kudo Shinichi.
Ten years earlier, they had met once on a beach in the island nation.
"Any leads yet?"
Mary Akai turned her head to look at Masumi Sera beside her.
Since Shinichi had shrunk, it meant that some mad scientist might still be secretly researching and improving APTX4869.
That was why she had brought her younger daughter to the island nation, hoping to start with Conan and follow the trail to an antidote.
"He's very cautious. It may take some time."
Masumi replied helplessly. Every attempt to probe him had been skillfully deflected. He flatly denied being Kudo Shinichi or having shrunk.
"A sharp-minded little detective, the strategist behind Mouri Kogoro. To pry his mouth open, we'll have to earn his trust. This can't be rushed."
"Oh, right. You've heard about that bomber who's been causing an uproar lately, haven't you?"
Mary Akai rarely showed her face, staying hidden in the hotel and passing time by studying cases in search of clues to an antidote.
The notorious Steven had naturally caught her attention.
As an MI6 agent, Mary Akai had seen plenty of brazen criminals, but someone bold enough to bomb the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department was a first.
"You mean Steven? Is there something wrong with him?"
Masumi asked, puzzled and curious.
Judging from how Steven blew up the Metropolitan Police Department and still managed to slip past both the island nation's police and the U.S. FBI, he was clearly the type of criminal who was both insane and rational at the same time. Someone like that was exactly the kind the Black Organization would want. They were bound to extend an olive branch.
"The woman who forced that poison down my throat, Vermouth, goes by the codename 'Vermouth' inside the Organization. That's why I suspect the shadowy force backing the poison research is none other than the Black Organization itself."
"Recently, Steven has been stirring up trouble all over the island nation. That Okinawa villa massacre was almost certainly his doing. If he's already joined the Black Organization, tracking him might actually become easier."
The Black Organization, known among Conan fans as the Winery, was shrouded in mystery. Its members came and went like ghosts.
Mary Akai had chased every lead on Vermouth and come up empty-handed. In the end, she decided to gamble and shift her focus to Steven.
Paired with Conan's line of investigation, attacking from two angles at once gave them a better chance of finding an antidote.
If the gamble paid off, great. If not, it wouldn't cost them much.
"Leave it to me. I'll make sure that guy has nowhere left to hide!"
Masumi Sera thumped her chest twice, full of swagger and confidence.
When it came to raw deductive ability, she wasn't necessarily inferior to Conan or Heiji Hattori. But with her mind constantly fixated on finding a cure for Mary, most of her brainpower had gone into scheming around Conan instead. That was why her performance in the story sometimes felt a bit underwhelming.
"You have to be careful. Don't force it. Steven is extremely dangerous."
Mary Akai spoke with guilt heavy in her voice as she gave the warning.
If her husband Tsutomu Akai or her eldest son Shuichi were still around, she would never have dragged her youngest daughter into something like this.
Unfortunately, neither of them had left any trace to this day.
…
Somewhere, in a laboratory.
Wearing a white lab coat, Shiho Miyano sat at her desk, eyes fixed on the experimental data displayed on her computer.
Almost everyone who had taken APTX-4869 had been confirmed dead.
Almost everyone.
Next to Kudo Shinichi's name, the status read: Unknown.
After a moment of thought, Shiho tapped on the keyboard and altered the record.
Unknown became Dead.
To confirm whether Kudo Shinichi was truly alive, she had secretly followed Organization intelligence agents twice and snuck into the Kudo residence. By pure chance, she discovered that all of Shinichi's childhood clothes were gone.
That convinced her he hadn't died, but had undergone some unexpected transformation.
A rare test subject who survived was invaluable research material.
To prevent the Organization from silencing him permanently, Shiho decided, after careful consideration, to bury the truth.
Ring ring ring…
Just after she finished editing the data, her phone rang.
"Sis…"
Seeing the name on the screen, Shiho answered the call, a long-missed smile appearing on her lips.
…
Tokyo, outside a bar.
"Alright then, it's a deal."
"Bye. See you tonight."
Vermouth hung up after accepting Yukiko's invitation and walked into the bar alongside Steven.
As one of the Organization's secret safehouses and with it being midday, the place was practically empty and eerily quiet.
Gin and Vodka were already waiting at the counter.
"Erguotou on the rocks, thanks."
Steven sat down next to Gin and casually ordered a drink.
"So, what's the job?"
"…."
Gin turned his head, momentarily at a loss for words.
Given the aura Steven was giving off, anyone who didn't know better might think he was the one assigning the mission.
"Erguotou on the rocks. Enjoy."
The bartender set the glass down in front of Steven.
"Nice kick."
Nothing beat the rich aroma of Chinese liquor.
After one sip, Steven felt refreshed, energized, and ready to get things done.
Click.
Gin lit a cigarette, pulled out a photograph, and slid it across the counter.
"This guy's name is Joseph Obama. He's a—"
"Stop right there. I don't care about the backstory, and I'm not interested in the life story of someone who's already dead."
Steven put his glass down, cutting Gin off.
"Get to the point. How much is the payout for this job?"
Talking money might ruin relationships, but there was no relationship between him and the Organization. Money was the only thing worth discussing.
After all, risking your life wasn't for fun. It was for those few stacks of cash.
Vodka and Vermouth were both visibly shocked. To them, Steven was being absurdly rude.
The Organization had rules.
Every mission was ranked based on the target's danger level, from D at the bottom to S at the top.
The higher the rank, the more operational funds and bonus money you got.
But assigning those ranks was the intelligence department's job. Gin led an action team and usually had no say in it.
Which meant the exact bonus was only revealed after the mission was complete.
"I can't say for now, but it won't be less than two hundred thousand."
Two hundred thousand U.S. dollars was the guaranteed minimum for a D-rank mission. Each rank up added another two hundred thousand.
On top of that, depending on performance, the Organization might award an additional bonus of up to fifty percent of the base payout.
Gin took a drag from his cigarette, studying Steven with interest as a cold smile flickered across his face.
"You sound pretty confident. Think you're guaranteed to pull this off?"
The Organization never lacked money.
How much you earned depended entirely on your ability.
A big bonus meant nothing if you didn't live long enough to spend it.
"Absolutely."
Steven waved for another drink.
"With bombs in hand, the world is mine."
"As long as the Organization pays enough, I'd twist off the Emperor's or Prime Minister's head and use it as a toilet bowl."
That was what confidence backed by capital looked like.
With a god-tier full-revive ability supporting him, there was no reason to hold back.
"Try to rein it in from now on. Avoid using bombs when possible. Causing too much chaos draws police attention, and the boss won't be happy."
Gin's methods were simple and brutal. Anyone who exposed themselves and caught police attention was eliminated.
"I want to stay low-key too, but my strength just won't allow it. If I don't use bombs, it kills half the fun."
"And since I'm bleeding and sweating for the Organization, shouldn't you at least provide some weapons?"
Having bombs but not using them was like sitting on a gold mine and begging for spare change.
Thinking back to the days of being hunted by both the island nation's police and the U.S. FBI, constantly on the run and living in fear, Steven felt nothing but bitterness.
Now that he'd fused with Wolf Brother's card and his strength had skyrocketed, the word 'restraint' no longer existed in his dictionary.
When it was time to go crazy, he went all in.
"Tell Vodka what you need. He'll take care of it."
Gin stubbed out his cigarette and lit another.
Weapon distribution was a trivial matter. No need for him to handle it personally when Vodka was right there.
Steven had a rough idea of just how insane the Organization's arsenal was from the original Conan storyline.
Especially that scene in The Darkest Nightmare where Gin and his crew fired a Gatling gun from a helicopter straight into a Ferris wheel. It was pure insanity.
In his opinion, the Organization was seen as one of the most dangerous terrorist groups in the world. Constantly on the brink of survival, they had every reason to stockpile heavy weaponry.
Probably everything short of a nuclear warhead.
"Vodka, I don't have any special requirements. A rocket launcher or a Gatling gun would do. No planes or tanks though. That'd be a bit too flashy."
Impressive. He actually knew what 'low profile' meant.
Vodka stared at him blankly, seriously wondering if his ears were malfunctioning.
It wasn't that the Organization couldn't provide those weapons. It was that Steven casually asking for rocket launchers and Gatling guns sounded less like an assassination mission and more like he was planning a full-on war with the police.
"That's enough!"
Gin crushed his cigarette, looking like he wanted to rip off his shoe and smack Steven in the face with it.
"If you won't give them, then don't. No need to get so mad."
Steven rolled his eyes. He wasn't actually after the weapons.
With Wolf Brother's card, he could craft any weapon by hand anyway. Rocket launchers and Gatling guns were nothing.
"Since heavy weapons are off the table, how about some poison or anesthetics? Stuff I can carry around for emergencies. That way I won't go too far and force the Organization to clean up my mess."
In truth, since joining the Organization, Steven had been so busy inventing gadgets and 'training' Vermouth that he'd forgotten to ask where the headquarters and branches were.
If he wanted to successfully abduct Shiho Miyano, he first needed to figure out where she was.
He deliberately brought up poison to test Gin's reaction.
"Boss…"
As soon as Steven finished speaking, Vodka looked at Gin.
The Organization's weapons couldn't be used without authorization, especially newly developed drugs.
As the leader of the action team, Gin had some decision-making authority.
"Give it to him."
Gin lit another cigarette and took a hard drag.
With approval given, Vodka pulled out a small box and placed it in front of Steven.
"There's a highly volatile anesthetic inside, along with a poison that kills without leaving a trace. Once ingested, no known method can detect the toxin…"
That line sounded painfully familiar.
As Vodka explained, Steven opened the box.
Inside was a miniature spray bottle and a single red capsule.
APTX-4869.
Steven recognized it instantly. The very drug that turned Kudo Shinichi into Conan.
A casual probe had paid off with an unexpected reward.
"Didn't we agree that once I became an elite member, I'd have clearance to enter headquarters? How about taking me there sometime? Let me broaden my horizons."
Steven put the small box away with satisfaction and said casually, as if it didn't matter much.
Getting his hands on APTX4869 capsules was nice, sure—but his eyes were only on Miyano Shiho.
Finding the Organization's headquarters and abducting her, that was the real priority.
A rare genius scientist like her absolutely had to stay close.
"Your current status is intern. Only after completing a certain number of missions will you be qualified to enter headquarters."
Gin's eyes were icy, his words carrying unmistakable killing intent.
If Steven hadn't blown up the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department building and then promptly executed Carlos without hesitation, Gin would have long suspected him of being an undercover agent sent by some foreign intelligence service.
"I hope you keep your word."
Yeah, right. That was clearly backtracking.
Steven wasn't happy about it, but he had no intention of tearing things open with the Organization just yet.
"Hand it over."
"What?"
Gin stared at Steven's outstretched hand, momentarily stunned.
"Operational funds."
Since he couldn't go to the Organization's base for now, Steven didn't want to waste time.
Finish the mission early, sit back, and wait for the payout. That was the good life.
"The operational budget is one thousand US dollars. Leave your bank account info, Vodka will transfer it shortly. You'll also get a private club membership card."
"The target has received an invitation from that club and will be going there to experience its services within the next couple of days."
As Gin spoke, he placed a membership card in front of Steven.
Koharubiyori Private Club.
Seeing the name on the card, a flicker of surprise flashed through Vermouth's eyes.
"....."