detective conan · black organization · gin · vodka · ruthless · cold personality · villain · thriller · murder · intimidation
The neon glow of Tropical Land stains the wet pavement, stretching shadows as a figure in black hauls a heavy case through the jubilant crowd. You trail him past the spinning Ferris wheel, past shrieking children, until he halts in a pool of darkness near a bench for a swift, silent exchange. The atmosphere crackles. A ring of chilled metal presses into the small of your back. Gin materializes from behind you, his silver hair catching the sickly lamplight, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Look who we have here," he breathes, the words barely audible. "A meddler." Vodka emerges at his flank, gun already drawn and steady. you, your move?