Enemy Mine

Summary: Stuck in a world half-full of serial killers, Chuuya and Ranpo work together to get out.

Yokohama, Japan

The book sucked them in, pulling at them with long tendrils of yellow and white words. It was an inescapable vortex, an innocent-looking black hole. They succumbed to unconscious.

The book dropped out of Ranpo's hand and hit the ground. It was picked up by a raccoon and carried safely away to its owner.

XXX

City, Poe's book

500 Targets Left

They woke up on a city sidewalk. The street was empty, covered in dust. Buildings clustered together, straining for room.

Ranpo stood up. He brushed the cement dust off his pants and took off his glasses. "Seems rather lonely for a place with a thousand people," he commented. He was slammed against a building.

"You're a real son of a b*tch," Chuuya snarled. He felt lightheaded. His anger turned to embers—there was no real point to fighting in this situation. He let go of Ranpo's collar.

Ranpo ignored his rumpled collar—he never had been someone who cared for fashion. His back hurt from colliding harshly with brick, though. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a grin on his face. "If we don't team up, neither of us will get through this alive," he pointed out.

"Alive?" Chuuya scoffed. One person against five hundred killers wasn't good odds. But honestly, he felt like taking it and avoiding the irritating detective.

Ranpo scrutinized his companion. His eyes were still open, exposing emerald green orbs. "Or faster, if you want to frame it like that."

The wind picked up. It helped to carry the noise of a woman screaming. The sound echoed through the empty corridors of the city.

They both turned towards it on instinct.

Chuuya brushed his red hair out of his face, cursing the wind in his mind. He kept a hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away. He clicked his tongue. "Fine," he testily agreed.

XXX

Street, Poe's book

500 Targets Left

Chuuya had decided to get Ranpo to divulge what he knew about this world. "Could we just wait for them to kill off all the normal characters?" He questioned. If so, it would be easy to find the serial killers. At this point Chuuya knew he wasn't getting out of the book soon. Ranpo had successfully taken both of them out of the game.

"No," Ranpo answered. "That's not how this book was set up."

"How involved in setting this up were you?" Chuuya narrowed his eyes at his companion.

"I gave a specific sets of instructions for how to make it." Ranpo tugged his cap down—it was on sideways—to protect his eyes from the sun.

Chuuya scrutinized the street. He picked up a rough piece of white concrete that had broken off. The rock stood out sharply against his black leather glove. "This is Edgar Allen Poe's ability, right?"

Ranpo glanced at his companion. ". . . Yes," he carefully admitted.

Chuuya hummed, tossing the rock over his shoulder. His blue eyes, shaded by his own hat, sharpened.

They got to the street corner and looked down the street. Resigned to doing what they needed to get out, they walked down the street towards the murder scene.

A woman was sprawled out on the street. Her long hair formed a disingenuous halo around her head. The gunshot wound on her chest was visible, blood coating her torso. The red stood out starkly on her white sweater.