Little Detective

That same night.

*DUDUDUDUDUD!*

"F-Father, was that gunfire?!"

The trio, a father, daughter, and child paused in their steps as loud thudding emanated a few blocks from them. Only seconds ago they were chatting about the case the great detective of the group solved only an hour ago.

In fact, they were just returning home after visiting a nearby city for said case. They had just stopped in Kuoh briefly to transfer train lines.

"R-Ran, stay here! I'm going to go check it out, look for a phone booth and call the police immediately!"

The eldest of the group, a middle-aged man with tanned skin, high cheekbones, and pitch-black hair with an equally black parted mustache sprinted forward while yelling back. His slicked-back hair became partly undone as his black tie swung out of his blue suit.

Unlike the normal civilian he was able to differentiate the difference between some kids playing with fireworks and actual gunfire. All thanks to his several years on the police force.

"Alright! Be safe, dad! Conan and I will— Wait, where did he go?" A young teenage girl with bluish-purple eyes worriedly swept the area. But unfortunately, she wasn't able to locate the young boy she and her father had taken in.

"T-That little devil! When I get my hands on him…!" She strangled the air in rage. Her hip-length dark brown hair shook in anger. She used every fiber of her athletic, martial arts-trained body to convey how upset she was.

Meanwhile, the little devil in question chased after the middle-aged man as fast as his little legs could take him. Though with his body of seemingly seven years old, it was safe to say he wasn't going to catch up anytime soon.

*DUDUDUDUDUD!*

'It's that gunfire again! And it's no normal pistol either!'

This little boy had a secret, a secret only a handful of people in the world knew about.

He clicked the button on the side of his large framed glasses before one of the lenses became a radar-like object. Every once and a while a wave would be sent out from the center and a dot that was slightly greener than the display showed quite a ways from it.

The sweat stemming from his dark brown hair dripped down into his big blue eyes, causing them to flinch as he ran forward with everything he had.

He quickly undid the little red bowtie from his neck to allow more air to flow into his blue suit jacket. His grayish shorts allowed just enough room to run without meeting resistance from his knees.

On each of his red and white shoes were white dials that sat on the side of his shoes that he only ever touched when he needed to kick something especially hard.

This was Conan Edogawa, and only a month ago he was the most promising detective in Japan. At least until he was caught up in an incident that resulted in him having to hide his true identity from everyone he loves.

'That kind of gunfire! Only 'those' people would act so blatantly this late at night!'

Hope burned in his heart, as he guessed the ones responsible for the gunfire were also responsible for his current physical predicament.

This was his chance, his chance to get some answers, return to normal, and confess to the girl he loved.

So with that, he recklessly charged into what potentially was a battlefield.

Except no one was there when he showed up.

"...."

His eyes darted around, basically gleaming as he searched for traces of anything living.

'What were they doing at a park this late…?'

The boy could already envision it, the two men clad in pitch-black suits gunning down a defenseless person with cruel smiles on their faces.

'No, if they were meeting someone here who's to say they weren't just cleaning up loose ends…?'

His eyes traced to the most obvious thing in the park, the water fountain. He got closer, onto his knees as he looked closer to the ground for any traces of the gunfire.

'If it's them, it wouldn't surprise me if they cleaned up their rounds already…'

Even then he continued searching, until—

"T-This…"

A crack in the bricks lining the floor, not just any crack either but basically a gaping hole. At least it was enough for him to fit in if he were laying down.

If it were old, the park manager should have at least ordered someone to quarantine it off before someone tripped and injured themselves.

'Which means this is fresh…'

He didn't have a doubt that the hole and the gunfire were related.

Looking around the place he noticed something gleaming on the floor.

"...."

It was an empty shell, just big enough to overshadow the size of his middle finger.

*SHING*

Then he noticed he stepped on something, then another thing, then another.

Suffice it to say he found at least one hundred empty shells laying on the floor.

"A-A machine gun…?"

That was the only thing he was able to guess that would be able to output that much ammunition in such a short amount of time.

Conan looked both ways for any spectators before picking a couple up and stuffing them into his pockets. If somehow the police were unable to identify the caliber or brand, then he was going to ask his inventor friend to run a diagnostic for him.

He looked in a certain direction before walking forward. The majority of the shells were pointed in the same direction so by that he was guessing whatever it was that got shot was over there as well.

"Blood…"

It wasn't until he walked a few meters that he finally found a conclusion to this case. At least he was certain the victim had been killed.

"Whoever it was lost too much blood. They probably died here or during transport."

He nodded to himself before suddenly stiffening. The green dot on his radar was coming toward him, and fast. Then that meant—

"Oi! Brat! What the hell did I say about disrupting the scene!?"

A fist came hurtling toward his head, and before he could even react it struck him straight in the center.

"Ow!" He yelped in a complaint, his eyes tearing up as he massaged his now fragile scalp.

"U-Uncle Mouri, I was just worried about you so I came to help!" He came up with a lie on the spot, hoping his tears would somehow appease the violent man's anger.

"Tch! Whatever, just move out of here, now." The middle-aged man, Kogoro Mouri, said. His right hand was on his waist as he observed the scene with his left massaging his mustache.

However, seconds later sirens erupted—