This...was not good. If Danny was totally honest, he was just about ready to throw in the towel. Panic rose and fell inside of him like a tide at any thought of Conan Edogawa. He'd recognized him instantly, oh my God—and he was involved somehow in the murders of a ton of people in the nineties. Danny hated to think what someone like that might be doing in Amity Park, barking up his particular tree.

"You ready?" Sam asked, breaking Danny's train of thought.

They stood outside Conan's apartment door, ready to eavesdrop and see if they could learn anything at all about what was going down with him. With the sheer observational skills that Conan possessed, Danny was more than a little nervous about waltzing right in, even if he and Sam were going to be invisible. But they had to find out what Conan was up to if they ever had any chance of stopping him, so he took a deep breath and shoved it all aside.

Danny grabbed Sam's arm and turned them both invisible and intangible, stepping into the apartment. He didn't know what he expected, but it looked so...normal. A couch and reclining chair sat innocently by a coffee table that in this case, was aptly named judging by the dozens of empty coffee cups scattered on top of it. Honestly, the entire room looked a little unkempt now that he really looked. The wastebasket overflowed with discarded papers and newspapers were stacked by the door in a disorderly pile. Rumpled blankets were draped over the furniture.

Sam began to lead him towards the wadded up paper, but paused as a Conan's voice reached their ears from another room.

"...意図的に僕は彼女のことを知っていると思います...僕のアイデンティティについては特に知りませんが、それについてうそをついています。"

Of course he just had to be speaking in Japanese. Danny inwardly cursed their luck, though even without understanding what was being said, he could tell that Conan sounded worried. About what, he couldn't say, but he did catch the English word "identity" said amidst the Japanese-native words. Oh good. He was spilling the big Danny Phantom secret to whoever he was talking to.

A feminine voice on the phone replied, but it was too quiet for Danny to try to catch anything being said. He leaned closer to the cracked door, but didn't have a chance to listen more closely before she finished and Conan replied. He crept closer to peer into the room.

"僕が試してみます。また話そう。そのリードについていくつかの研究をしています。"

Conan sat in a comfy-looking office chair in front of a computer scrolling through search results obviously having to do with Amity ghost sightings as he hung up the phone and turned his focus back onto the screen. A well-used corkboard sat on the wall, covered in photos of people and places he didn't recognize. Danny's tightened his jaw as Conan came across Mikey's Myspace page that kept up with ghost fights around town. So Conan was investigating ghosts, and so more than likely Danny. For who? On his own? And most importantly, why? Danny very much doubted that Conan's coming here was a coincidence; no, he'd come with a purpose.

Danny took another step forward and cringed as the ball of his foot connected with a creaky floorboard. He felt Sam tense up beside him. Conan froze instantly, bringing the apartment under complete silence. They turned towards the exit, and Sam tugged his arm in that direction. This time, Sam's boot caused another creak to sound through the air. They both held their breath, rooted to the spot.

Behind them, Conan flung the door open and sped into the room, waving around an actual, honest, no joke gun around with his finger hovering shakily over the trigger. "Who's there? Show yourself?" he barked, eyes narrowed.

Maybe breaking into his apartment hadn't been a spectacular idea.

Now Danny was certainly not new to having guns pointed his way, but those were ecto-guns. There was something wholly different about the threat of steel bullets than ectoplasmic energy. Ghost weapons could be lethal, sure, but he had yet to encounter one that actually was. They were more intended for weakening the ghost for capture, really. But this...

Sam slammed a hand over Danny's mouth as a yelp escaped his lips. The business end of the gun was pointed in their direction, and Conan shouted another threat. Before (an admittedly stunned) Danny could act, Sam reached over and ripped open the door, dragging Danny along with her and down the street, Danny's muscles taking over and matching the pounding rhythm of their feet as they took off. It was only after they were leaning on the side of an old brick building in an alley catching their breath and Danny dared drop the invisibility. He allowed the rings to wash over his body and bring him back to Fenton.

"I...should have..." he huffed, "flown us intangible through the wall..."

Sam brushed off her skirt, shaking out her arms. "Survival instincts suck. But more to the point, this is, like, really bad."

"Where did he get a freaking gun?" Danny threw his hands up in the air.

Sam sighed. "If you ask me, we should be worrying about why he didn't have an ecto-weapon. If he's not hunting ghosts, then what's he doing here? Who exactly is that gun meant for? I don't want to jump to conclusions, but what about all those murders too?"

His stomach dropped like a stone at the implication. But it just didn't make any sense! Everything that happened in Amity Park was always about ghost evil plot this, ghost attack that, but this was just...different!

"Danny? You okay?" Sam asked, brows furrowing in concern.

"Uh, yeah. I'm good. Just a little shaken up is all."

Sam didn't look convinced but didn't press the issue. "Should we call the police or...?"

Danny shook his head. "They'd never listen to a couple of freshmen. Besides, we don't have all the facts. I think we should just keep a closer eye on him until we figure out what to do." He ran a hand through his disheveled bangs, cracking a nervous smile. "This sort of thing isn't really our department, but somebody's still gotta protect Amity Park."

A small smile of her own appearing, Sam slung an arm around Danny's shoulders. "You really are Amity's own hero, huh?"

"I'm doing my best," Danny chuckled. "But I could never have gotten this far without you and Tucker, you know."

Sam lightly punched his arm. "Of course you couldn't, you doofus. We've always got you no matter what. We'll figure out this whole Edogawa thing together. Though, we should probably check in with Tucker. I bet he's pacing a hole in his floor right now."

Danny taped his Fenton phones. "Tuck? You there?"

"Oh good! How'd the stakeout go? I was starting to worry about you two," came Tucker's voice from the other end. "I wish I'd been there, but I did get some useful info on those murders in the meantime."

"You are our resident genius," said Danny. "So, honestly the stakeout was pretty bad. Turns out that Conan is investigating Amity ghosts—we saw him on his computer looking at search results and Mikey's Myspace—but he, uh...we accidentally made some noise and he came after us with a gun."

A pause. "He what?"

Danny cleared his throat. "So Sam and I were thinking that we should probably keep a closer eye on him so we can figure him out and put a stop to whatever he's doing if need be. Knowing our luck, probably. But, uh, what'd you find out, Tuck?"

"Miss Wada sent some more translated scans, and the connection between these murders is that they were all solved by Kogoro Mouri, a Japanese detective who suddenly rose to fame in '96 and then just as suddenly left the spotlight in '99. So, the same timeframe that Conan was in the articles. I thought it was weird, so I did some research on this Mouri character, and found something I think you'll find interesting. Most of the articles mention a 'trance' that Mouri went into whenever he solved a crime. That got him the nickname 'Sleeping Kogoro' with the police force. That sounds pretty suspicious, no?

"But get this: there are a couple of outliers. A couple of these articles are about Kaitou Kid heists. Apparently when he used to stick to Japan during the 90s, Conan became known as the 'Kid Killer' because he always foiled the thief."

Danny's nose crinkled in confusion. "Are you saying that this Kogoro Mouri was overshadowed to solve murders? And what does Kaitou Kid have to do with this?"

Tucker sighed on the other end. "It sure sounds like overshadowing to me, but Conan didn't set off your ghost sense so I guess we can rule that out. Get this, though—I think there may be a ghost involved after all. In one of the Kaitou Kid articles, they asked him how he managed to stop the most infamous jewel thief in the world. Little Conan apparently said he was Shinichi Kudo's cousin."

Straightening a little, Danny and Sam glanced at each other. "Like, the Shinichi Kudo? The guy who died organizing that huge international crime bust a few years ago?"

"That's the one. Maybe because of Kudo, something happened to his cousin? I don't know, man. I'm starting to think we're in over our heads on this one," Tucker said.

"We'll still keep an eye on him just in case. It's just...none of this adds up. At all," Sam piped up. "But we can't do anything else till tomorrow, so let's all call it a night. See you at school, Tucker."

Brief goodbyes said, Danny and Sam stepped out of the alleyway. Danny wasn't really quite sure what to think, to be honest. Maybe Tucker was right. As they skirted around Conan's apartment building, Danny's ghost sense went off, but there was no ghost to be found.

The next day, the tables turned (Danny couldn't help but think) as Team Phantom all kept close watch on Conan. He seemed to immediately pick up on this, but kept up the friendly face. It seemed even more forced than usual, though, and not for the first time, Danny wondered just what it was that Conan even wanted from him. Simple curiosity? Doubtful. Especially since he was apparently connected to Shinichi Kudo—though, when he thought about it, Conan looked a lot like him. Granted, he had only been ten the last time he'd seen Kudo's picture, but if the comparison had been brought up before, he's sooner guess brothers than cousins.

Then Danny's ghost sense went off, because of course it did in the middle of badly needed test review. He inwardly groaned as his hand shot up, pausing at the sound of movement behind him at the same time. He turned to see Conan's hand up as well, and they stared at each other for a moment. Had Conan seen his ghost sense? Or was it something else? Conan was usually so composed, but Danny could see that the other boy was radiating fear. He looked tight like a spring, ready to move to action at any second.

Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. "Mr. Fenton, let me guess: you want to go to the bathroom?"

Danny silently nodded.

"Mr. Edogawa, you too?"

Another nod. Sighing, Mr. Lancer waved his hand towards the door. "Fine. Go."

Both Danny and Conan leapt out of their seats, both keeping one eye on the other, as they made a beeline for the exit. In the hallway, Danny watched Conan run in the opposite direction of the bathroom, and he briefly considered following. But, there was a ghost to take care of. Danny headed to the actual bathroom to change into his ghost form undetected, freezing at the sight in front of him. Someone had smashed the mirror and a streak of dried blood stuck to the wall. Danny held his breath and inspected the stalls to see if the ghost was here—probably not with no ghost sense, but Spectra had found a way to hide her ghostliness, right? He figured it was worth checking out.

To avoid making noise, Danny floated just barely off the ground as he tentatively peeked in each open stall. One was covered in black Xs that became increasingly faded as they moved across the stalls. This didn't really look like the work of a ghost; stuff touched by ghosts was usually burnt. But who else would do something like this?

I don't have time to worry about this, Danny thought. If the ghost wasn't going to come to him, he'd just have to find it himself.

Danny switched forms and phased through the ceiling and the other floors of the school to get to the roof. Rising further to get a better view of Amity, it seemed like things were pretty okay? There was no obvious threat, no green or blue figure loudly announcing their intentions to the public, no running or screaming. Amity, for once, was just having a normal day. So why had his ghost sense gone off?

Some movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked down to see Conan stealthily following someone in a black trench coat. He narrowed his eyes and turned invisible, flying down to get a closer look. And—oh. Danny did a double take. The trench coat guy had no face! It was just a white mass with red eyes wearing round glasses. Well, guess he'd found the ghost after all. He watched as the ghost started to morph their face (which, in Danny's humble opinion, was super freaky) into...Shinichi Kudo's...?

The ghost led Conan into an alleyway, and Danny silently prepared an ectoblast in his palm in case they became hostile. The ghost glided to the wall at the back of the alley, turning around sharply to face Conan, trailing behind with one hand under his jacket, presumably where he had hidden his gun (which still had Danny reeling, honestly). Danny saw the veiled fear he'd seen earlier evolve into full on terror. Conan stumbled backwards and fell, tearing his gun out of its hiding place as soon as he hit the ground and pointing it at the trench coat ghost.

"Who are you? Vermouth?" he snarled, steady grip on the handgun. "Why are you disguised as...what do you want?"

The ghost tilted his head. "What? No more response for a blast from the past?"

"I'll ask again," Conan said coldly. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I just want to ask you a question. You're the silver bullet, aren't you?"

Conan's grip on the gun tightened ever so slightly as he shifted his weight. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now leave me alone before I shoot."

"Don't pretend. It's unbecoming. I can read your every move, and you know exactly what I'm talking about." "Kudo's" lips turned up in a cruel smile. "Good to know."

"I'm not—"

"You've already told us everything. I know who you are."

"Us?" Without warning, Conan shifted the gun a little to the left, and his finger pressed down on the trigger. An explosive sound rang out. Danny could hear the sharp inhale when the bullet went straight through the ghost's shoulder and bounced off the bricks, falling to the ground with a soft clink.

Danny, figuring that that was enough, opted to let loose the charged ectoblast straight into "Kudo's" chest. The ghost slammed into the graffitied wall behind it and morphed back into the faceless creature from before. Conan pushed himself off the ground and scuttled backwards, watching with wide eyes the scene that unfolded before him. Danny landed on the ground and lit up his hand with more ectoplasm. While the ghost sat there, stunned from the surprise attack, he marched up to it and socked it in the jaw.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's this all about?" the ghost demanded as he floated upright with his arms crossed.

"That seemed like an awfully tense situation to me," Danny replied, frowning as he accidentally dropped his invisibility. "I couldn't not step in, not when you could have attacked him."

"Who said anything about attacking? What are you, a cop? Besides," he came forward and jabbed a finger into Danny's chest, "I'm not here for fun. I was just doing what she—"

He was cut off from another ectoblast coming from an invisible source, nailing him in the face and making him fall over again. Danny and Conan both slipped into a defensive stance, but nobody came. Whoever it was had gone. Somehow, Danny didn't think that was a good thing. When he turned back around to deal with the trench coat ghost, he too had vanished, leaving Danny and Conan alone in the alley. Awkward silence.

"How?" asked Conan as he eyed Danny's hand from a safe distance. "Who are you really, Danny?"

Danny sighed. Keep calm. He supposed there wasn't really much of a way around this if Conan could really see through him that easily. "I could ask the same of you."

Conan stiffened.

"Look," Danny put a hand on his hip. "That's Danny Phantom to you. You want answers? Fine. But I want answers from you too. We've been looking into your history, and things don't come together like they should. I don't trust you, and I'm sure you don't trust me. But if we're going to do this, you need to promise me that you won't use anything against me."

Conan stared at him calculatedly for a moment. He was breathing hard, like he was trying desperately to keep his composure. "I would never jeopardize your safety. If we agree to a truce, you have to swear you won't use anything against me either. I don't have to answer everything, and if I think it's a trap at any point, I leave, no questions asked. I won't hesitate to use force if you try to stop me from leaving. Deal?"

Danny stuck out a gloved hand. "Deal. Shake on it."

"Fine." Conan cautiously reached out and took it, giving it a firm shake.

Danny turned invisible and flew out of the alley to head back to school. He glanced over his shoulder to see Conan collapsed on his knees, clutching his arms. Danny really, really hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake here.

________________________________________________________________________________

Gin looked around and pulled his hat lower over his eyes as he stepped into the bar. All sorts bustled about, creating a cacophony of talking and laughing and clinking and shouting. The wooden bar looked sticky with spilled alcohol and sweat, sitting beneath the cigarette smoke swirling around the room. The lights overhead were rather dim; all the better to conduct business. Gin pushed past a drunk couple pressed up against the wall and headed over towards the bartender, waiting patiently on the metal stool.

"What can I get you, mate?" the bartender asked, wiping down a glass with practiced swiftness before resting his elbow on the counter in front of Gin.

"Give me a Manhattan," Gin grunted. "I'm here on business."

The bartender smiled slyly. "Oh, I see. Right this way then."

The bartender led Gin to a worn navy blue curtain, which he pushed aside to reveal a two-person booth with ratty leather seats and a spotless table. It was hardly the nicest meeting place in the world, but Gin had done worse. Especially since that Organization information had been leaked. Gin tightened his fist. He still hadn't found out who it was, but he would make them pay dearly someday.

The bartender came back shortly with his Manhattan, and Gin lit a cigarette to pass the time while he waited. His client was late. Gin did not like waiting.

Finally, a woman with red hair in a deep red suit pushed back the curtain and sat down across from Gin. She folded her hands on the table with a cheery smile on her face.

"Well?" Gin asked. "What's the job?"

She laughed. "I suppose it's less of a formal job and more of a proposition. I think you and I can help each other."

Gin eyed her warily as he sat up straighter in his seat. "What makes you say that?"

"I know who you are," the woman sang as she leaned forward. "You're from the Organization. I—"

Gin whipped out his gun and pointed it straight at her head before she could say anything else. "How the hell do you know that?" he growled.

Unfazed, the woman continued. "Now, now, let's not get hasty, dear. Silly thing won't work on me anyways. I used to be a member of the Organization myself back in the 80s, you know. Pandora project. Good times, yeah? Now stop being such a drama queen. Let's put away that gun and listen to me for a minute."

Lowering his gun but keeping a ready grip on it, Gin leaned back again. "Go on."

"Ah, that's what I like to hear! I have information I'm sure you're keen on acquiring. You want to know who managed to dismantle the Organization, don't you?"

All right, now she had Gin's attention. Narrowing his eyes, he took a sip of his Manhattan. "Stop beating around the bush. What do you want?"

The woman's grin spread wider as a shadow fell across her face, a sinister glint in her eye. "If we're going to be partners, let me first introduce myself. My name is Penelope Spectra. Let me explain to you the amazing concept of ghosts."