Title: The Boss Unmasked
Disclaimer: If I owned Detective Conan, I wouldn't be broke right now and I'd be able to speak Japanese. However, I am, and I can't, so don't look at me! I just borrowed these guys and made them do my evil bidding.
Summary: Finally, after many years, we meet The Boss of the syndicate.
Author's Notes: Writer's Block made me do this… Seriously, I was trying to write something with actual angst in it, but my insecurities over characterization kept getting in the way… so I went to the local gas station and guzzled on a big cup of coffee and… this happened. :P Would it ever happen this way? Highly unlikely. (And if The Boss has ever been revealed, I apologize. I'm not as up to date as I should be on the series, especially concerning the BO XD)
The Boss stretched lazily as the warm rays of sun filtered through the windows and onto her back. There was nothing quite like the heat of the sun, and in her line of work she didn't feel it nearly as often as she would like. Especially not when her minions were so slow in accomplishing the goals of the organization.
Seriously, how hard was it? Recruit minions, conquer the world, and ship all dogs to the moon. (She had hated dogs ever since she was small and watched as her mother had been viciously attacked by one. She had survived, but scars ran deep and the dogs would just have to go.) Unfortunately, the only item on the list they seemed to be able to accomplish was the first. Pretty soon they would have to stop. They were running out of alcohol names pretty quickly, and she would hate to be the guy stuck with the code name 'Rubbing.'
If her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great- (she paused for a second as she thought) great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother could see her now, the Founding Boss of the Organization would roll over in her grave, so to speak. Well, technically, her foremother was not the founder of the original syndicate, merely the founder of the revival. In truth, there had been many organizations such as this one since the rise of man, back when her people first sat alongside the great Pharaohs of Egypt. Through the course of history, her kind had been sitting just outside the spotlight, manipulating leaders and politicians, bending them to their will.
A door opened in the next room, breaking The Boss from her historical musings. Her favorite underling was back, and she had better be there with food.
Sure enough, not five minutes later, Vermouth entered the office carrying a platter of fine cuisine. From the aroma, it was beef. Not her favorite, but she supposed one could not dine on seafood every day.
As The Boss ate, Vermouth gave her report of her latest mission. She listened with vague interest as the continuing tale of Cool Guy and Angel unfold even more. The Boss was fully aware of Vermouth's mild fascination with the girl codenamed Angel, just as she was of Gin's more unsettling obsession for the traitor Sherry. She allowed these to continue, since both continued to get their jobs more or less done.
The Boss believed in a reward system.
And who knew? Maybe when they finally succeeded in their plans, she would present two of her top agents with the girls. If she was feeling generous, that was.
Vermouth finished her report just as the last bite of dinner was eaten. There was a hesitant look in the woman's eyes, and The Boss mentally sighed. That darn Cool Kid – Cobalt, or whatever his real name was – had somehow, in some way, managed to foil yet another well crafted plan. Darn kid. She hated kids. They were so… disruptive. And rough. However, even though she headed one of the most evil syndicates known to man, she ad to acknowledge the brat's formidability as an opponent. And who knew, one day their paths might cross, and she could then see with her own eyes just what it was that made the boy tick. And why he seemed to have a personal vendetta against the organization. Not that he was the only one (pesky FBI agents) but he was perhaps the youngest to try to go against them.
As Vermouth stealthfully cleared her throat, apparently awaiting her punishment, The Boss was once again jolted out of her thoughts. Seeing her underling's discomfort, she decided to put the woman out of her misery and rubbed her full body against the woman's leg. She decided not to fault her favorite minion for being only human.
That, and she did clean out the litter box every day.
…No idea where that came from. Okay, so I do. I blame my own cat, who has this magic ability of making me do almost anything. And I fully believe that, even though she's a complete indoor cat, she's in cahoots with some under ground feline society that is bent on world domination. I think they get memberships at birth, or something.
And why is it I can only manage to write things at local diners or whatnot? :P