Um… what can I say? Not my usual fandom, but I am too engrossed in this topic to just let it go. Yes, this isn't my usual fandom, so any MR fanfiction followers, you should probably click away now.

Disclaimer: I don't own DC. Obviously.

Chapter: Split Ends

3rd Person POV

Vermouth stared intently at her coworker, the unmistakable Gin. She frowned when looking at him, but didn't know why. There was something… different about him. His eyes were surrounded by deep bags and three empty coffee cups were placed on his shiny, black desk.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Vermouth lifted herself out of the comfortable chair she was sitting in and walked over to one of Gin's biggest supporters, Chianti. It was quite clear that Vermouth and Chianti weren't the friendliest pair, so as Chianti laid eyes on the tall, blond woman towering over her, she was surprised.

"Yes?" Chianti asked, wanting Vermouth to leave her alone as quickly as possible.

Vermouth smiled and took her sweet time formulating the words that came out of her mouth, "Well… I was just wondering what was going on with Gin?"

Chianti didn't even spare a glance at Gin when Vermouth spoke. "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what? I'm quite aware of the obvious lack of sleep, if that's what you're referring to."

Chianti rolled her eyes at the foolish assumption that that was what she was talking about. "Tell me, Vermouth, when was the last time you've had a job?"

Vermouth had to think back. "About two weeks… in fact, Gin hasn't assigned anyone a job since a couple weeks back. That's when he started to change…"

Chianti nodded eagerly, reassuring Vermouth that she was on the right track. "And when was the last time he shot someone?"

"An entire month ago…" Vermouth said, her eyes widening in realization that whatever Gin had… it was bad. "But why?"

Chianti looked around for eavesdroppers before turning back to Vermouth. "Split ends." She whispered, and then glanced around frantically to verify that no one had been listening once more.

"Split ends?" Vermouth asked, incredulous.

"Shhhh!" Chianti whisper-hissed. "If Gin knows I told you about it, he'll wring my neck."

"But… split ends? What does that have to do with anything?"

Chianti sighed impatiently. "His hair. It has split ends. They were awful – worst case I've ever seen." She shivered involuntarily. "I told him to just cut the hair, even if it was just a little bit, but he refused."

Vermouth nodded, taking in the information Chianti was offering.

"Oh, that's not even the half of it!" Chianti said eagerly. "He's spent the last couple of weeks searching for a shampoo-conditioner combo that will cure him. He's tried everything, the Internet, his mom's home remedy, stores – I think he bought the entire hair-care aisle at every Walmart in town!"

Though thoroughly engrossed by the tales of Gin that Chianti was telling, Vermouth acted as nonchalant as ever while she thanked Chianti and walked away.

She dropped into her chair, her legs crossed, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

How could she fix his dilemma? Not that it didn't give her extreme pleasure to gaze at a disgruntled Gin every now and then, but this was too much. Without someone handing out jobs, the entire Organization could go down. Now, how could-


Vermouth whipped her head around in fury, searching for the one who had interrupted her working train of thought. Her eyes quickly landed on Gin, snorting and snoring in his sleep. He had passed out on his desk, and if you squinted hard enough, he would look a like a little girl sleeping peacefully.

Vermouth sighed, bored of this little display. As she began to rethink her situation, he eyes landed on the long pair of scissors, sitting neatly on top of her own desk. She eyed them evilly, for she knew a perfect use for them.

Slowly, a grin began to spread across her narrow features. Scissors in hand, she stood up and walked over to her intended target.

Gin blinked his eyes repeatedly, trying to adjust to the bright lights in the Black Organization office.

Why is it so bright, He thought irritably, if this is the Black Organization office?

Heaving a sigh, Gin realized with a jolt that he had in fact fell asleep again on top of his desk. Even the drool stain on his desk seemed to yell at him for falling asleep in the middle of his important task.

Gin stared at the "Get Rid of Split Ends!" manual he had been reading before dozing off. With a fury at himself and his not-so-compliant hair, Gin stood up and chucked the manual at the ground with such force he felt a bit off balance.

Gin steadied himself, but still felt the same feeling of being off balance. The next thing he realized was that he didn't feel the familiar tickle of his hair on his back. With caution, Gin brought his hand up to the top of his hand and began to rake his fingers through his hair in the well-known gesture.

His eyes widened in realization when he felt no hair from his ear down, "It's gone." He whispered to no one really but himself.

Only then did he see the pink writing scrawled across the "Get Rid of Split Ends!" manual. He bent down to pick it up and immediately recognized the writing was in lipstick. Shade 55, Rose Pink to be exact. Not only did he recognize the shade, he knew exactly who used it, too. No, not his mother, she used shade 57.

With my fury, rage, and plain old emotion than anyone had ever heard Gin speak, he roared, "VERMOUTH!"

Giving sharpshooters shivers at the thought of them, giving top-ranking disguise agents ideas to destroy them, and sending a nearly emotionless man into rage. It seems that's what split ends do to people.

Yes! What did everyone (if anyone is actually reading this – which I doubt) think? This story is going to be made up of multiple one-shots involving many different characters. Heiji, Conan, maybe even Kaito Kid? Who knows? I sure don't.