justonetruth | (no subject)

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[There are loud crashing noises coming from one of the rooms, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a few more ominous thumps. It goes silent again for a few moments, before the door is flung open and someone flies out of the room, skidding across the wooden floors of the hallway and colliding painfully with the opposite wall.

It's another Kaito, though clearly not one of the more normal ones. He's dressed in a dull green jumpsuit indicative of prison garb, and a light-gray, metal collar with a bar-code adorning the front is looped around his neck. His appearance isn't helped by the dark red blood stains that spatter his clothing and smear across his cheek. Nor does is it helped by the light trail of blood that now streaks across the floor where he slid, and the droplets that now line the wall where he landed.

He's breathing heavily as he lifts a hand to wipe his mouth, and he freezes mid-motion. His gaze darts frantically around the hallway, and despite his seemingly serious injuries, he's on his feet within seconds, taking a defensive stance and glancing frantically at his surroundings]

The hell--

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[--well that was a surprise. So much of one that Conan, who had innocently been traversing said hall, has already whipped out his gun and pointed it straight at you -- though he relaxes somewhat when he recognizes who the newcomer is.

Somewhat.]

...Kaito-niichan?

[better to default to honorifics; he's found it's easier to differentiate if his Kaito is the only one he refers to as just 'Kaito' here]

[The sound of his name spoken by a completely unfamiliar voice startles Kaito out of his stupor, and he whips around to face the small boy staring at him.

The small boy staring at him with a gun pointed in his direction.

Kaito's gaze narrows, and his expression slips from surprise into a cold, blank determination. He takes a few steps back, mind racing. Who's this kid? Why's he know my name? He doesn't have a uniform-- Undertaker? No... they're gone...

He speaks, voice emotionless yet slightly hoarse from yelling]

Who're you?

[...A Kaito that doesn't know him, then. That's strangely disconcerting, especially when his own Kaito is one of the few who does know him when he doesn't even know himself. Memory loss? Or did this Kaito just never meet him?]

Edogawa Conan.

[He slowly lowers his gun, but doesn't replace the safety just yet]

What happened to you?

[The name is unfamiliar and does nothing to ease Kaito's suspicions.

His hands are curled into tight fists at his side as he stares down this strange boy, and his demeanor is oddly calm for someone who is so disoriented thanks to his sudden environment change.

Conan might notice that he's shaking a bit too, though it's definitely not from anger. His question, on the other hand, goes in one ear and out the other]

What do you want? [It's a valid question in his eyes, particularly if this child is working directly under the director. He's not in prison garb, nor does he have a collar, he's armed and he's unfamiliar. It's the first conclusion Kaito draws]

I want to help.

[His words are even, firm, and honest. It wouldn't be the first time they came across a terrified and wounded stranger -- though most of them didn't make it in the end, and they've seen fewer and fewer lone survivors as the plague wears on.

But before he can help, he needs to get Kaito to calm down and trust him, and to do that he needs to orient him]

You aren't wherever you just were before. You can open the door you just came through and check, if you want. You've been transported.

[I want to help? Kaito's not quite sure what to make of that comment. But before he has the chance to dwell on it, other, more pressing matters come to mind]

I'm not-- [the answer makes little to no sense to Kaito. I've been transported? The hell does that mean? Does that mean I'm not--

Does that mean I'm not at the prison anymore?

This news is most certainly not good news, and he allows his gaze to dart quickly back to the door he had flown through]

Aoko--! [His panic has returned, and he stumbled frantically toward the door and flings it open. The boy is right-- he doesn't see the white-washed corridors of the prison stretched out in front of him. He sees nothing but a lonely, empty bedroom.

His hand tightens around the doorknob]

I have to get back. [his words are stern] I have to get back now.

We can't. [and then quickly, before he can panic more] But time doesn't pass here, or so we've been told. When the Mansion decides to send you back, you'll be right when and where in the place you just left.

[He says it with careful neutrality; neither he or anyone else from his world particularly wants to go back, regardless of time or place, but that's only because almost all of them are here. The frantic worry for Aoko is something he's very familiar with, in any case, and Conan solemnly throws on his safety and holsters his gun, venturing a bit closer]

Come on, Kaito-niichan. You need some bandages.

[Kaito doesn't hear much beyond 'we can't as he slams the door violently and whirls around to face the boy again. He's lost far too much blood, is far too angry, is far too dizzy to absorb what he's being told]

What do you mean we can't?! Aoko's been taken by that royal rat bastard and his stupid-- [he cuts himself off as he stumbles, losing his balance and catching it again on the far wall]

Damn it... [he can't believe he was so careless for fighting until he was in this condition.]

Kuroba!

[He doesn't know why it's Kaito's last name that he uses to get his attention, doesn't know why it causes a sharp stabbing pain to shoot through his head, but he shakes it off and hurries closer to try and support the much taller boy. He needs to get Kaito to an infirmary; he can't treat him here]

I promise, Aoko-neechan will be okay for a little while longer. And if you pass out, you won't be able to help her!

[Not that Kaito's really been prone to listening to common sense before, but hopefully the threat of total inability to act will get him to stop fixating on his partial inability to act]

[Conan is a stranger, so when he rushes forward, Kaito stumbles back, unwilling to let the boy near him, even to help.

His lack of balance, his dizziness, and his light headedness finally catch up to him as he trips over his feet and into the wall, slumping to the ground painfully. The gash in his side stings and he curses in pain, reaching out to cover it.]

I'm fine, I won't pass out, I've been worse. [he speaks through gritted teeth] Aoko needs help.

Except now you can't even walk.

[Oh, forget this. Medical treatment takes priority. Conan's expression hardens, and he runs over to the next door and thinks of an infirmary as hard as he can for several seconds before throwing the door open.

The Mansion appears to be having mercy on him, because there is one, looking exactly like the one on the first floor. It might even be the one on the first floor, but Conan doesn't have time to contemplate the physics of it.

Rather than trying to move Kaito, the boy disappears and quickly reappears again with the necessary first aid supplies]

Where are you hurt?

I'm fine. [there's a sharp, angry and perhaps slightly threatening bite to his words, and he struggles to push himself up again]

[Conan just waits for him to inevitably fall down again, not saying anything]

[Which he does, a few seconds later]

Damn it--!

Kaito-niichan, listen. Time doesn't work here. When you go home everything will be the same and you can still save Aoko-neechan.

[Tries to move closer with the bandages again]

[He doesn't have the energy to scoot away this time, as his vision is so blurred he can't even think straight]

Time... doesn't... [he heaves in a deep breath as he struggles for consciousness] Doesn't make any sense--!

This whole place doesn't make sense, but it's true. We're between dimensions.

[Can't is just as good as doesn't, and Conan starts tugging on his jumpsuit, trying to spot where the worst wounds are. But the thick fabric keeps getting in the way, and he finally produces a small but sturdy knife to cut it with]

[The production of the knife gets Kaito to tense again, his voice a low growl]

Don't.

[It only he was so tired and anemic, he'd produce some weapons of his own to scare this kid off]

I'm not going to hurt you.

[As soon as he's got some tears, Conan drops the knife and uses his hands to rip the jumpsuit the rest of the way. But Kaito has clothes on underneath, and he's still too hampered.

He presses some gauze against the most badly bleeding of the wounds and looks up at the older boy]

Kaito-niichan, you need to take this off.

[Kaito gives Conan a warning look, but doesn't move away as the boy works (mostly because he's too tired, too worn out to even try). He leans his head back against the wall and curses, his mind already working out ways to get back to the prison so he can help Aoko...

Conan addressing him manages to pull him back to reality]

I-- huh?

[Awkwardly, Conan reaches up to tug on the fastens of the jumpsuit. He's too small to shed Kaito's clothes on his own, however efficient he might be]

I can't bandage you while you're wearing this.

[He's worried now, really worried, but trying not to let it show. He's never seen his friend -- variation or otherwise -- quite so injured before. And there's other things to worry about]

...What's that collar?

[Kaito gives Conan a suspicious look, before he decides through the haze of his blood loss that he might as well avoid looking a gift horse in the mouth. Shakily, he reaches up to undo the clasps and zipper of the jump suit, wincing as the movement irritates his wounds.

He shoots the small boy another glance when he asks about the collar. Everyone in DW knows what they are...

No, he's supposedly not in DW anymore, is he? The boy had said something about... dimensions]

'S stupid. [Kaito doesn't have the strength to answer anymore in-depth than that at the moment]

[Conan helps where he can, doing his best to avoid aggravating wounds while still hanging on to the gauze he already has in place. Once the jumpsuit is out of the way, it's a simple matter to just shred the light t-shirt, and Conan sets about doing that and cleaning wounds with a brisk matter-of-fact manner that says he's done this many times before]

And the jumpsuit?

[Keep him talking, keep him conscious]

[Conan might have a hard time doing that, as he's quickly fading, even with the sting of the boy's ministrations. He doesn't even have the mind to think about why someone so young would know such complex first aid]

Prison... [tiredly] How do you not know?

We aren't from the same place. [eyes a particularly large wound, debating whether it needs stitches. There are other, older scars around it, and he isn't sure he's skilled enough to stitch scar tissue without it tearing] A prison did this to you?