Deduced (30 Evil Deeds: Gin)
Jan. 20th, 2008 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Deduced
Author: Candyland
Fandom: Detective Conan
Bad Guy: Gin
Theme: #4—candlestick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Own Detective Conan, I do not. Own the characters, Gosho Aoyama does. Making money off them, I am not. Borrow and write about them, I merely do. Talk like Yoda, I must.
Summary: He figured it out. He had the answer.
Gin moved his yellow game piece across the board. When he reached the desired spot, he looked down and offered his opinion on the matter at hand. His fellow players replied in accordance with the game’s rules, and he made notes before clearing his throat noisily.
Vodka gave him a questioning look. “You got it, Aniki?”
“Yes, I do,” he replied confidently. Kir and Chianti waited expectantly as he intoned, “It was Cognac…in the library…with the candlestick.” A quick check of the cards proved that he was, indeed, correct, and as such had won the game. He usually did, somehow.
The others conceded defeat, and they quickly repacked their one-of-a-kind Black Organization edition of Clue back into its box. Still chatting in a relaxed manner about the outcome of the game, they headed off to the library to check out Cognac’s handiwork.
Sure enough, the body was there; the unfortunate man had been bludgeoned to death by the shiny (if slightly blood-stained) gold candlestick on the floor beside him.
Gin watched as the others moved the body and cleaned up the mess. As the winner, he didn’t have to do any of the clean-up, but he got to light the fire to torch it—the best part of body disposal.
Game Night at the Syndicate was the best.
PS. More crack! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!
Author: Candyland
Fandom: Detective Conan
Bad Guy: Gin
Theme: #4—candlestick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Own Detective Conan, I do not. Own the characters, Gosho Aoyama does. Making money off them, I am not. Borrow and write about them, I merely do. Talk like Yoda, I must.
Summary: He figured it out. He had the answer.
Gin moved his yellow game piece across the board. When he reached the desired spot, he looked down and offered his opinion on the matter at hand. His fellow players replied in accordance with the game’s rules, and he made notes before clearing his throat noisily.
Vodka gave him a questioning look. “You got it, Aniki?”
“Yes, I do,” he replied confidently. Kir and Chianti waited expectantly as he intoned, “It was Cognac…in the library…with the candlestick.” A quick check of the cards proved that he was, indeed, correct, and as such had won the game. He usually did, somehow.
The others conceded defeat, and they quickly repacked their one-of-a-kind Black Organization edition of Clue back into its box. Still chatting in a relaxed manner about the outcome of the game, they headed off to the library to check out Cognac’s handiwork.
Sure enough, the body was there; the unfortunate man had been bludgeoned to death by the shiny (if slightly blood-stained) gold candlestick on the floor beside him.
Gin watched as the others moved the body and cleaned up the mess. As the winner, he didn’t have to do any of the clean-up, but he got to light the fire to torch it—the best part of body disposal.
Game Night at the Syndicate was the best.
PS. More crack! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-27 06:18 am (UTC)I'm dying . . . can't breathe! This was too frickin' hilarious!
Fave line: "As the winner, he didn’t have to do any of the clean-up, but he got to light the fire to torch it—the best part of body disposal."
Now I wonder if any Org members get a special kick out of bomb-triggering or grenade-tossing. (And what would happen if they played Mafia?)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-28 04:33 am (UTC)Oh lord...if they played Mafia, there would be no survivors. Burned body parts everywhere...but you just gave me a crack-fic idea. Instead of paint-ball, they play bullet. Instead of snowball fights, they throw frozen hand-grenades.
...might have to hate you now. Except for the part where I totally don't.