Confrontation (DC)
Apr. 9th, 2007 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
candyficsTitle: Confrontation
Fandom: Detective Conan
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Publish Date: 9/24/2005 through 12/24/2006 (in Short Stack Stories)
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. But I do have homemade hand-puppets for each character...that's normal, right?
Gin stared in shock. He couldn’t believe it.
Several meters away, his handgun clattered to the pavement. It skidded a few more inches, than came to rest. His handgun—his weapon of choice, his constant companion, his partner in his Quest for All Evil—had been knocked from his hand by a single shot from an FBI agent.
Granted, he’d been searching for this particular agent—with intent to kill, of course. But he had definitely not been expecting said agent to be such a crack-shot. And now Gin found himself on the business end of a very steady gun.
“It’s over, you monster,” the agent said, grinning. “You’re done.”
Gin swallowed hard…and smirked. “That’s what you think.”
The FBI agent had no time to react before he was suddenly engulfed in a tight cocoon of something gold; it shot out of nowhere and wrapped around him with unimaginable speed. In seconds, the offending agent had vanished from sight.
Still grinning evilly to himself, Gin waited patiently until his hair finished devouring the hapless man, and retracted back into his head until it was back at its appropriate length. Evil length.
As he turned away from the site of the agent’s death with the intent of picking up his Handgun of Evil, going back to his Evil Car and getting the hell out of there, a tiny belch was heard coming from beneath his black hat.
Of evil.
Fandom: Detective Conan
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor
Publish Date: 9/24/2005 through 12/24/2006 (in Short Stack Stories)
Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan. But I do have homemade hand-puppets for each character...that's normal, right?
Gin stared in shock. He couldn’t believe it.
Several meters away, his handgun clattered to the pavement. It skidded a few more inches, than came to rest. His handgun—his weapon of choice, his constant companion, his partner in his Quest for All Evil—had been knocked from his hand by a single shot from an FBI agent.
Granted, he’d been searching for this particular agent—with intent to kill, of course. But he had definitely not been expecting said agent to be such a crack-shot. And now Gin found himself on the business end of a very steady gun.
“It’s over, you monster,” the agent said, grinning. “You’re done.”
Gin swallowed hard…and smirked. “That’s what you think.”
The FBI agent had no time to react before he was suddenly engulfed in a tight cocoon of something gold; it shot out of nowhere and wrapped around him with unimaginable speed. In seconds, the offending agent had vanished from sight.
Still grinning evilly to himself, Gin waited patiently until his hair finished devouring the hapless man, and retracted back into his head until it was back at its appropriate length. Evil length.
As he turned away from the site of the agent’s death with the intent of picking up his Handgun of Evil, going back to his Evil Car and getting the hell out of there, a tiny belch was heard coming from beneath his black hat.
Of evil.
