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agoldengalaxy · 4 years ago

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Doing the Right Thing

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After the trial of Jeff Master goes south, Detective Badd doesn’t think it can get any worse. And then it does. The hardened detective finds himself adopting the ten year old son of the only defense attorney who had ever earned his respect.

Badd had seen his fair share of terrible trials, but this? This had to be the absolute worst. If he had hated Von Karma before, he certainly despised him now.

Gregory Edgeworth had been so thorough, so intelligent and unrelenting in defending his client and trying to find the truth. But it hadn’t been enough. Von Karma had been cheating, forging, but all it earned him was a measly penalty. And this meant Jeff Master would be convicted for something that he didn’t do.

But court was adjourned, and there was nothing that could be done about it now. He knew Gregory would never give up, though.

As he was walking out of the courtroom, Badd adjusted his old trench coat, intent on leaving before Von Karma or anyone else could see him. Perhaps he would visit Edgeworth’s office later on to see if there was anything he could do to help.

But before he could leave, a terrible earthquake began shaking the building. People around him began to scream, and the power quickly went out, bathing the courthouse in darkness. Badd straightened up and did his best to keep the people calm, herding them to safety under tables and away from the walls and windows where something might shatter.

“Detective Badd! Look out!” A familiar voice called out to him, and he glanced up, noticing a piece of the ceiling dangling precariously above his head. He quickly dodged out of the way just as it came crashing down in the spot where he had previously been standing, then looked up, seeing Ray Shields standing against the wall. He looked terrified, but relieved to see he was alright.

Badd glanced around at everyone else, making sure they were safe, then made his way over to the boy, placing both hands on his shoulders. “You alright, kid?” he shouted over the rumbling, and Ray nodded. Distantly, Badd wondered why Gregory wasn’t with him, but there were more pressing matters now. He turned, protecting Ray from any more falling debris. It took a long while, but eventually, the trembling came to an end. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked, gaze sweeping around at the cowering people huddled against the wall. He got some ‘no’s, but besides that, they were mostly quiet, so he sighed, heading toward the double doors the best he could in the dark.

Opening them up, light poured into the room, making them all squint, and people slowly filed out onto the streets, shaken but otherwise okay. Soon, it was only him and Ray left. The boy grabbed Badd’s arm, looking even more scared than he had during the earthquake. “Detective, Mr. Edgeworth and his son are in the elevator. They must be stuck!”

“The elevator…” he repeated, feeling his heart sink. The power had gone out, which meant if they hadn’t reached the lobby yet, then Ray was right. They had to be stuck. He sighed, looking down at him. “All right...they’re gonna be fine. Just...take some deep breaths...okay?” Ray fell quiet, nodding, breathing in and out, while Badd took out his phone, calling the fire department.

It took hours upon hours. The fire department was taking care of other things around the city that had lost power, though eventually they made it to the courthouse. Hours passed, and the firemen wouldn’t let Badd come close to the doors as they worked on them. Ray called out to Gregory, but they got no response. They’d been stuck in the elevator for hours, so Badd wouldn’t be surprised if they were unconscious due to lack of air.

And finally, the doors were pried open.

The sight before them was enough to elicit silent shock; silence that only lasted a moment, because Ray ran as fast as he could toward the nearest trash can before he began retching. Badd soon had feeling shoot back into his legs and he pushed the firemen out of the way, stepping into the elevator and kneeling beside the young boy that could only be Gregory’s son, and the other man whom he recognized as a bailiff. “One of you, call the police. Now! Someone else, call an ambulance! These two are still breathing!”

The firemen saluted and ran off. Badd held his breath as he walked over to kneel beside Gregory, looking at the blood that dripped down his lip, his crooked glasses, and the nasty wound in his chest. His hands shook as he reached into his trench coat, pulling out a pair of gloves, and pulled them on. He picked up one of Gregory’s wrists, checking for a pulse, but as he had expected...he was too late.

Badd had seen his fair share of terrible tragedies. He was a hardened detective. But still, he felt anger and grief bubbling up in his chest as he stared at Gregory, the man who had fought for the truth no matter what the cost.

And now he was gone.

The paramedics arrived soon after, and Badd stood up, instructing them to be careful and not touch anything around the elevator except the boy and the bailiff. The little boy looked pained, breath coming fast and short even while unconscious as they lifted him onto the stretcher. Badd stepped out of the elevator, finding Ray had left the trashcan and was now standing by the doors, looking incredibly pale and shaking head to toe.

“Raymond…” he said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “You know the boy...right? You should...go to the hospital with him.” To get the poor kid away from this crime scene, and to make sure that Edgeworth’s son wouldn’t wake up alone.

Ray opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. So he simply closed it and nodded slowly, walking out the door in between the two stretchers. As the paramedics carrying the bailiff walked by, Badd insisted they let Ray go along and that they give him a shock blanket. They were in no place to argue, considering the bad shape the poor boy was in.

While he waited for the police, Badd looked around, wincing as he knelt beside the body again. The man that used to be so warm, polite, and genuine, taken much too soon. He inspected the gun on the floor, finding one round had been shot, and knew that that bullet was still embedded in the wound in Gregory’s chest. It looked pretty clear to him; the bailiff must have shot him, for some reason. But he supposed there were always different possibilities.

When the police and forensics team arrived, Badd stepped out of the elevator, explaining what he knew. Afterward, he glanced toward the doors and noticed there was a small hole in one of them: perhaps a bullet hole. Frowning, he stared at it for a moment and then turned, searching for another bullet somewhere along the floor.

But he found none. He even asked for help, but there was never a second bullet found, and the gun in the elevator had only fired one round. So that hole had to have been made by another gun; perhaps not even during this murder. It made his head spin. But…

He was going to be the lead detective on this case. He owed that much to Gregory.

He stayed at the courthouse for a little while after, and finally stepped out once they had taken the body away to do an autopsy. There wasn’t much investigating to be done; the crime had happened in an elevator, and there wasn’t a second bullet or gun. It had to have been the bailiff, but the Chief was convinced there was a foolproof way to figure out the true culprit. Badd didn’t stick around to hear what it was. He was too drained.

It was already nearing eight-thirty, which meant this terrible afternoon with the trial had turned into a completely terrible day. He adjusted his collar as he stepped into his car, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked just about as exhausted as he felt; more so than he had after any other crime scene he’d ever investigated. There were two poor children on their own, one who lost a father and one who lost a mentor, and the courts had lost one of the best defense attorneys in the country.

How could this have happened?

He drove in silence, barely even paying attention to the road, finally parking outside the hospital. He knew that visiting hours would be over soon, but he intended on visiting with that bailiff...though he figured that could wait for the time being.

Popping a new lollipop in his mouth, he stepped inside the hospital, finding the waiting room relatively empty. He couldn’t remember the boy’s name, so he just asked if there was a room for ‘Edgeworth.’ The nurse directed him down the hall, and he thanked her and walked toward the room. Even a few feet away, he heard screaming, and his heart broke, but he pushed on.

Inside the room, the boy sat on his cot, tears streaming down his face as Ray and another nurse tried to calm him, holding him back from getting up from the bed. Badd had seen a lot of terrible sights in his lifetime, and he had to admit, this seemed to be the absolute worst.

“D-Detective Badd!” Ray exclaimed, seemingly relieved to see him, though his eyes were just as red and puffy as the child’s. The distraction of the detective entering the room seemed to be enough to at least stop Gregory’s son from trying to escape, though he shook violently where he sat.

Badd was never perfect with children, as he often (unintentionally) intimidated them. It wasn’t something he could help; he was a hardened detective, so of course he wouldn’t look very friendly. But this little boy, only about ten years old, even while sobbing, looked so much like Gregory, the man who thought the world of his son. He reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out another lollipop, and offered it to the boy. The nurse tried to explain that outside food was not permitted, but he glared at her long enough that she trailed off and rushed out of the room.

“Hey, kid...My name’s Tyrell Badd...I’m a detective,” he said softly, holding the lollipop out further. The boy stared at it wordlessly for a long time, before weakly reaching out to take it. He unwrapped it slowly, hands shaking.

“Y-Yeah. I saw you testify this morning…” That’s right. Master’s trial seemed so long ago, he’d almost forgotten it was only a few hours ago.

Ray walked over, pulling Badd to the corner and out of earshot of the boy. He was looking a little less pale, but tear tracks were still clearly visible on his cheeks. “Prosecutor Von Karma came by earlier,” he whispered lowly, not letting go of the detective’s arm. Normally, Badd would be annoyed, but he was more shocked than anything else at the moment.

“What?” His blood boiled at the mention of that name. “Why?”

For a moment, Ray looked like he was going to cry again. “...He wants to adopt Miles.”

The words hung in the air for a long time while Badd tried to process them. Von Karma, adopt Gregory’s son? He clenched his jaw, staring down at Ray, who was clearly thinking the same thing. There was no way that could happen. They wouldn’t let it.

“...Does the boy know this yet?”

“Yeah. He agreed to it, but…” Ray trailed off, shaking his head. “I think he was a little afraid of him. Von Karma seemed to be extra angry tonight, probably because of his penalty.” He huffed a sigh. “But I heard he was also taking Mr. Edgeworth’s dea -” his voice broke, “- passing pretty hard. It seemed he hurt his shoulder during the earthquake, so that probably didn’t help.”

Badd didn’t buy it. The prosecutor had something up his sleeve, and he didn’t like it one bit. He glanced toward Miles, who seemed to have tired himself out, because he was just quietly sitting with his head bowed, the lollipop in his mouth.

When he looked back at Ray, he was crying again. “I-I offered to take him in, but I’m only eighteen and I don’t even have my own place…the nurses said no.” He wiped at his cheeks. “Please, D-Detective Badd...you have to do something.”

The detective placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder, hoping to ground him again. “Okay...easy, Raymond. Just breathe. It will be alright.”

He walked over to the cot, slowly sinking down in the seat beside it. To his surprise, the boy spoke up first. “D-D-Did you know my father…?” His voice sounded so broken, and Badd had to swallow hard as he nodded.

“Yes, I did,” he answered quietly. “We worked together...on this past case.” Miles nodded, finally looking at him. He seemed to be analyzing him, perhaps figuring out if he was someone he could trust after such a terrible day. “So you...don’t have any extended family…?”

The boy shook his head, grasping a fistful of sheets in one hand and the lollipop stick in the other. “N-No...my parents were only children and my mother died when I was little. It w-was just me and my father.” His eyes welled up again, and Badd sighed softly.

As unprepared as he was, he didn’t want to let Von Karma, who had lied to get an innocent man convicted, to take this boy under his wing. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out carefully. “Kid...Miles. Do you want to live...with Prosecutor Von Karma?” There was a long pause as Miles looked away, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “It’s okay...tell the truth. I won’t...get mad.” If Miles wanted to, then that was his choice.

“I…” he glanced up at Ray, who was standing quietly off to the side, gripping one of his elbows. “H-He said Father would want me to live with him. He said he would take care of me.”

Badd’s blood boiled again, and he leaned forward a bit in his seat. “But do you...want to live with him? Forget everything else...what do you want…?”

Miles stared at him, wide-eyed, and a few more tears rolled down his cheeks. “W-What choice do I have?” he whispered. “Ray c-can’t take me…”

Shaking his head, the detective reached up, taking out his lollipop for a moment before popping it back in. “No...he can’t. But I can.” They locked eyes, and Miles blinked. Ray gasped. “I don’t want you to...feel like I’m pressuring you, kid,” he insisted, “but I’d be happy to...take you instead. If that’s what you want.”

Miles’ gaze flicked toward the lollipop stick, then to his own, and finally toward Ray, who was still rather shocked. Badd figured he couldn’t blame the kid; he was kind of surprised, himself. He was already graying, certainly aging much faster than he would like to admit, and in no way prepared to take care of a child on his own, but...as a detective, he wanted to help people, and that included this broken little boy. He didn’t want a corrupt man such as Von Karma to taint him, or even worse, hurt him further.

“I…” the boy’s breath hitched and he looked up at Badd again, eyes brimming, and nodded. “I-I’d like to live with you instead, sir. If that’s okay.”

Relief flooded Badd’s chest and he nodded. “Very well...I will speak with the nurses.”

Ray let out a quiet sigh, looking between them. Clearly, he was extremely relieved. “That’s great. Miles, you’re gonna love Detective Badd. I know he’s a little scary, but he’s super nice.” Badd glared at him for a moment, but Ray didn’t seem bothered. “And I’m gonna come visit all the time, okay?”

Miles nodded meekly, biting down on the lollipop and chewing slowly. “Okay,” he muttered. Badd held a hand out, and Miles slowly handed over the stick, which he threw out for him. “H-How long do I have to stay here?”

“Probably just the night,” Badd explained. “You weren’t injured...but they’re going to want to check on you.” He glanced at Ray as he stood up. “Stay here...I’m going to go talk with the nurses.”

Ray saluted, taking the seat the detective had previously occupied, and then Badd walked out to the front desk, explaining the situation. It took awhile to figure out, including many of the nurses grilling Miles and Badd with questions, but eventually, they agreed to let him go home with him the next day.

By the end of it, visiting hours at the hospital were over, and Miles was struggling to stay awake. Badd walked to the side of the cot, feeling just as exhausted, and helped him lay down, pulling the sheets over him. “Get some rest...I’ll be here...when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Thank you…” he whispered, then immediately fell asleep before Badd had even pulled away. He took a step back. He was really going to adopt this kid...He watched for a moment, then glanced over at Ray, who was still sitting beside the bed.

“Come on...I’ll drive you home.” Ray got up slowly, rubbing tired eyes, and thanked him a couple of times as they walked outside of the hospital.

The car ride to Ray’s apartment was completely silent - partly because the boy had begun dozing off, and partly because Badd was too busy thinking. Would Gregory be okay with this decision? Ray certainly seemed to think so, and perhaps he had convinced Miles of this, too. He still had a lot of work to do; he had to ask Miles what he remembered, and the bailiff, too. And the Chief still had that “foolproof way of knowing the truth”, whatever that meant.

The next morning, Badd came to the hospital as soon as it was open and signed Miles out. He took off his coat and draped it over the boy’s shoulders to protect him from the cold and led him to the car. They grabbed some things from the Edgeworth residence; clothes, books (strangely, the kid didn’t have many toys) and got Miles settled into Badd’s extra room. His apartment wasn’t anything special, but it was something.

It was a lot of work, but it soon looked like a child could possibly be living there. “I’ll go...prepare some lunch.” He turned to leave, but felt a small body press itself against his legs. Tiny arms wrapped around them, and Miles cried.

“Th-Thank you, sir…”

Badd hesitated, then reached down, gently ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’re welcome, kid. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

He hoped that promise could be kept. He knew nothing about parenting, but he was going to try his hardest, for Miles’ sake.

#ace attorney #ace attorney investigations #miles edgeworth #detective badd #raymond shields #tyrell badd #gregory edgeworth #dl-6 incident #au #bc what if...no manfred #badd deserves more love #so here we are #agoldengalaxy #my writing #my post

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nijiirorhyme · 4 years ago

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NaruMitsu/WrightWorth Fic: Lights, Camera, Action!

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Ship: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Warnings: None

Tags:Alternate Universe - Actors, Other Additional Tags to be Added, More characters to be added

Description: Rookie actor Phoenix Wright can not believe his luck as he scores his first major acting role in one of the most anticipated movies of the year. But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with famous actor Miles Edgeworth.

A Wrightworth acting au where two dorks (eventually) fall in love!

Chapter 1/?

Alternatively, it can be read here!

Text underneath cut!

Act 1 Scene 1

October 5th, 11:00pm

Phoenix’s Apartment

Phoenix COULD NOT believe his luck. It was as if lady luck herself were watching over him specifically, feeling so sorry for him that she had to throw him a bone. He could not thank her enough. It seemed as if his life were doing a complete turnabout. Up until now and ever since he had graduated from some third rate university’s performing arts program, he never had the pleasure of striking a role anywhere near being a part of the main cast, but this, this was different. Sure, he had made small cameos as extras in movies, but none of those were enough to give him the boost he needed to put his name on the map. This was the real deal. He would have lines to say, scenes to act, parts where he’d be the one in the limelight. He was just offered the biggest acting gig in his entire life.

‘Lady luck, I know I asked you for help last night,’ he thought to himself, ‘but you didn’t have to go this far for me!’

But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with someone who was currently the world's most famous actor. Miles Edgeworth, a man who the world knew nothing about personally, but that his acting was absolutely phenomenal. Everyone— even their mothers and grandmothers— knew of him, but, it wasn’t until Pearls dragged the man to see one of her cheesy, sappy romance movies starring the mysterious man himself that he finally saw what justified the hype around him.

Romance movies weren’t really Phoenix’s thing as he tended to sleep through most of them. What he could recall of the movie, however, was that the plot was pretty standard; the main female protagonist living her life in poverty while her male counterpart was born into a wealthy family. After the two miraculously begin to date, the couple struggles to find acceptance from the man’s family as they already had a fiance picked out for him. This was all quite cliche in Phoenix’s book, but there was one scene in particular that stuck out to him.

Failing to gain acceptance from the man’s family, the man and the woman impulsively run away together during an explosive argument that erupted between the four. Well, more-so drove away, but that was besides the point. The rain pelted down upon their car as they drove down the winding road as fast as they could, but that had been the man’s fatal mistake. As they came upon their final turn, the man lost control of the steering wheel and the speed they had garnered caused the car to topple over several times before it finally came to a stop. Somehow (though Phoenix thought this defied all odds), the man was fortunate enough to only receive injury to his right arm and was able to wiggle himself free from the car, however, his girlfriend was more than misfortunate. The adrenaline pumped through his blood as he ignored his arm’s cry in pain as he tried to wretch her free from the car. His hands were covered in her blood as he laid her on his lap, knowing the inevitable that she would succumb to her injuries before they were even able to call for help.

His eyes looked into hers, a mix of pain and regret swirling around in his dark orbs. He drove too fast, he should have taken his time, he was about to lose the love of his life— Her voice was enough to snap him out of his thoughts, the booming sound of the thunder almost deafening. She gave him her final words, and just like that, the final bit of life evident in her eyes finally fades and her body goes limp in his arms. The man looked up to the overclouded sky, the rain beating upon his face as he gave the heavens one last dramatic scream of her name before the movie faded away into a pitch black.

Throughout the entire scene, all Phoenix could do was stare at the big screen. There was something mesmerizing about the way Miles Edgeworth acted. He analyzed the actor’s every move, even the subtle ones that would be invisible to those who didn’t graduate from a third-rate performance arts program, yet contributed an overarching mood to the entire scene. The way his face contorted and twisted and scrunched up in pain as he was filled with regret from his actions, the way his eyes looked into hers in desperation that this was all just a dream— that he wasn’t just about to lose the one he fought so hard alongside, it left a heavy feeling in Phoenix’s chest that almost burst forth from it in the form of tears. Miles Edgeworth brought life to a character from a movie genre Phoenix hated, and not only made him sympathize with the corny character, but almost made him tear up, which to this day he still could not believe.

Phoenix was never a fan of romance movies, especially the ones that Pearls picked out (though he never voiced his complaints aloud) because he thought he could feel his teeth rotting away in his mouth from the sheer sappiness and disgusting sweetness of them, but this one was the only one he approved of.

… Even though it was at the expense of his own friend’s enjoyment.

Phoenix sighed at the memory of what happened afterwards. Pearl was the type of hardcore romance fan who only gravitated towards romance movies where the couple lived happily ever after at the end. Why she chose this movie was beyond Phoenix. Perhaps she glossed over the summary of the story after selectively reading the part where the female protagonist goes from “rags-to-riches” and thought it was something along the lines of Cinderella, completely missing the “this tragic story of her attempt to go from rags-to-riches”... or something. She was so depressed that even Phoenix offering to watch her favourite lovey-dovey romance movie for the gazillionth time wouldn’t cheer her up.

From that point on, Miles Edgeworth swept up the nation’s awards that year for his acting in that movie, including the “Best Male Lead Actor of the Year” award at the Movie of Movies Grand Prix— and to Phoenix, rightfully so. The man’s performance was amazing, yet he couldn’t help wanting to pick a bone with the panel of judges who thought that it deserved “Best Movie of the Year”. He totally thought that the Steel Samurai movie deserved to win (not like he had a bias or anything because his friend Austin Powers starred in it); just because one actor’s acting was remarkable, did not mean that the rest of the movie lived up to such a word.

This was the man that Phoenix had the pleasure of working with and although a part of him was excited, an immense sense of pressure ruined it. Miles Edgeworth was a man who had years of experience under his belt in comparison to himself. That fact in itself was enough to make the butterflies in his stomach awake from their slumber; he hadn’t felt this nervous in ages.

Phoenix glanced at the thick booklet of papers in his hand titled "No Time for Turnabouts: Script”, its thick blocky text staring back at him. With an unsteady sigh, he flipped it open to the first page. If Phoenix wanted to impress Miles Edgeworth at tomorrow’s pre-production meeting, there was only one thing he could do. If he couldn’t rely on his acting skills to impress him, the least he could do was come prepared to what he was about to walk into.

October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios: Dressing Room

“For the last time, must I act with such an incompetent rookie?” Miles looked at his manager, eyes narrowed fiercely in an attempt to assert his dissatisfaction at the current situation. “He’s not had any starring roles within the span of his career,” is what a quick IMDb search of the other’s peculiar name told the man. “In fact, I’ve never heard of him before.”

The girl sitting adjacent from him brought a dainty teacup to her lips, taking a sip of her tea before placing it back on its saucer with a cold clink, the cunningness of her eyes colliding with his own, “And like I have told you when you foolishly asked several foolish times before this, it is not within my control,” she shrugged, her mouth curling into a shit-eating grin, “You’ll just have to suck it up, little brother.”

Miles scoffed, but she had a point. It wasn’t his manager, Franziska Von Karma, hiring the cast for this movie, it was the director. This director was someone who he had worked with in the past and every single time, Miles had loved every single creative direction he had taken with the movie; as did the audience, each movie of his being met with positive reviews from viewers and film critics alike. Miles did not doubt his abilities and because of his positive reputation within the film industry, if he wanted to hire a rookie whose career only consisted of being an extra for a few scenes in a few big movies, all he could do was put his faith in him. However, just because he put his faith in him did not mean he approved.

He took a sip of his own tea, before he glanced at the expensive watch adorning his wrist. Today was their first proofreading of the script. There, Miles could finally see who this Phoenix Wright man was.

“Come now, you fool, or we’ll be late.” Franziska was already rolling up her whip in a neat circle and heading towards the door.

Miles put his tea cup down on the glass coffee table, moving his hands to fix his jabot as he stood up. Miles Edgeworth was a man with high standards, and whoever this Phoenix Wright was, Miles hoped he could meet his expectations.

October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios

Phoenix’s days couldn’t have been getting any better. The rookie actor was known for never being on time for anything—often receiving a scolding from Maya as a result—but just this once, he had managed to be punctual— if not a little early— for the one thing that mattered the most. He thanked god that he had the foresight to check whether or not he had set his alarm for A.M instead of P.M before he went to bed last night. Phoenix checked himself in the mirror once before he left the house; donning a plain white dress shirt and navy blue slacks. He adjusted the tie around his neck, the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad impression. Giving himself one final hurrah, encouraging himself in the mirror with “you can do this”, and “you got this”, he left his small flat with his head held high.

However, at this point in time, the closer he got to the time of the pre-production meeting, the more nervous he felt. He stood outside the meeting room, checking his wristwatch as he shifted in place from the heels of his feet to the balls of them.

“Nick!” Behind him, a set of hands placed themselves on his shoulder as a familiar energetic voice spooked him out of his nervousness, causing him almost to jump out of his skin. “Are you nervous?”

Phoenix peered over his left shoulder, unsurprised at who it was. It was Maya, who decided to meet him at the studio. If Phoenix had to go in there alone when his agent was perfectly capable of accompanying him, he would curse her to hell and back.

He clutched his chest, heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then, he relaxed and exhaled an exasperated sigh as if this has happened one too many times, “You scared me, Maya!” He exclaimed. “How many times are you going to do this?”

Even if he used the fingers on both of his hands to count all of the times Maya has done this to him before an audition or anytime he was nervous for that matter, he couldn’t. Mainly because for one, he had been to several auditions in the past few years; and two, he didn’t keep track of how many times she did. He stopped counting after the fifth time when he knew it would become a regular occurence.

“Would it be bad if I said never?” Maya giggled.

Phoenix sighed again, “I figured as much…”

“I’m sorry, Nick! It’s just so funny every single time. Remember that time before that one audition when I scared you so bad you spilled your cup of water all over yourself and it looked like you peed your pants-“

Before Maya could say anymore, Phoenix covered her mouth with his hand, wrenching it back in disgust after he felt something wet against his palm. Maya stuck out her tongue and grinned childishly as Phoenix furiously wiped his hand against his pant leg. He exhaled, “If I asked you to let that go, I’d get the same answer as before, wouldn’t I?” At this point, defeat would be the only option to settle for.

She put her hands together like she always did and with a big smile on her face, she nodded, “You know me so well.”

The two of them continued their friendly banter, most of which consisted of bringing up terribly embarrassing events that had happened to them in the past in an attempt to embarrass the other. This calmed Phoenix’s nerves immensely; Maya always knew how to calm him down despite always scaring him half out of his wits.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, shifting the topic of conversation to something more relevant than reminiscing on their past embarrassments.

The question was like a reality slap, reawakening the butterflies he had thought he thoroughly rid himself of. “Of course, this is my first time ever getting something better than being an extra. A lot is riding on this, Maya.”

“It’s okay Nick!” She jabbed him lightly in the shoulder… Whatever her definition of “lightly” was. Phoenix rubbed his shoulder. That was definitely going to bruise over. “Just remember this, this is your big chance! Your break-through! Your primer!”

“I think you mean ‘premiere’...”

“All eyes will be on you! If you do great, then you’ll get more work!” She encouraged him, jumping to stand in front of him. She closed one of her eyes while she formed her fingers into a rectangular shape as if she were filming him. Even though it wasn’t a real camera, he still felt a little embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. While he appreciated the sentiment, he knew where this was going.

“But…” He added on for her.

“But, if you mess up in your usual ‘Phoenix Wright Fashion’, then you can kiss your non-existent acting career goodbye!” She said in a type of pure adolescent innocence, putting her hands on her hips.

Phoenix shoved his face into his palm, “Thanks Maya…”

“Any time.” She beamed at him, genuinely convinced that her words were words of encouragement instead of ones that felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Suddenly, as if something had caught in the corner of her eye, she looked down the hallway. “Psst, Nick!! Nick!!” She ecstatically whispered in a half-whisper-half-regular tone. “Is that Miles Edgeworth?!”

Phoenix followed her line of vision to the figure emerging from one of the many rooms down the hall. He knew that burgundy suit from anywhere, the feature that many people recognized him for. There was no one else in the world who could wear a suit that colour and could successfully pull it off, in Phoenix’s humble opinion.

The tall man stalked down the hallway accompanied by a shorter woman which Phoenix assumed to be his agent, Franziska von Karma. Although they weren’t close yet, he could feel the immense pressure in the air from the dignified aura that the two created. There was something intimidating about their aura, an elitist air that clearly separated the two individuals who were experienced in their field from the two weren’t-- almost as if it screamed ‘don’t talk to us’. Was that how it was around every famous actor?

“T-They’re coming closer to us! What do we do, Nick? Do we introduce ourselves?” Maya panicked, the words flying from her mouth at a mile per minute.

“Well, we are standing in front of the meeting room and from today on, he is our co-worker,” Phoenix whispered back to her, his tone more hushed than hers. “I think… I think we should greet them.” He suggested.

The two nodded as if they had come to an understanding by looking into each other’s eyes. Then, on the mental count of three that perfectly aligned with their arrival, Phoenix stiffly began, “Hi! I see we’ll be working together, Mr. Edgeworth. In that case, i-it’s nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand, hoping the man would outstretch his own to shake it.

The man came to a stop and instead of getting a comforting smile and the handshake he desired, all Phoenix got was a piercing glare full of annoyance. “Mr. Wright,” he scoffed. “I would ask that you keep your interactions with me at a minimum and you do not waste my time by trying to talk to me.” With that, Edgeworth strode past him into the now open meeting room, his agent following behind him, smirking at Phoenix as she entered.

After recovering from the utter shock known as his first impression of the famous actor he had only seen on the big screen thus far, Phoenix turned to Maya, hoping that she would confirm that what just happened was just his mind’s cruel idea of a joke. Unfortunately, Maya nodded at him, confirming that what just happened was in fact not a figment of his imagination. For some reason, the famous Miles Edgeworth disliked the unknown rookie, Phoenix Wright.

‘What…’ Phoenix gulped. ‘What did I do..?!’

#ace attorney #naruhodō ryūichi #mitsurugi reiji #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #wrightworth #narumitsu #i tried

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youngbounty · 4 years ago

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Five Reasons I Won’t Watch the Anime, But Will Watch the Movie

I don't have many good things to say about the Ace Attorney anime and have my reasons for why I refuse to watch it. Admittedly, I have watched a few clips here and there to see how its version of some, if not many, of my favorite scenes from the game compare. As expected, it continually disappoints. Had it been just Manfred Von Karma adopting Miles Edgeworth that I hated from the anime, I would've watched it regardless. Even during the days I was into Yu-Gi-Oh, I was still willing to watch the worst season of that show, Capsule Monsters, because it still felt like Yu-Gi-Oh no matter how poorly done it was. The same can be said for Ace Attorney. If it feels like Ace Attorney, I will watch it regardless.

The Ace Attorney anime did not give me the same type of excitement the game had. Much to my amazement, much of the reasons why I absolutely refuse to watch the anime version of Ace Attorney is the opposite reasons why I am more than excited to watch the live action movie adaptation. Even when watching some of the spoiler clips of the live action movie, including some of the changes made, gives me the joy and excitement I never got when watching the Ace Attorney anime. To understand this, I will give you my list of reasons for why I refuse to watch the Ace Attorney anime and how the live action Ace Attorney movie differs from those reasons.

Changes From the Game

In any medium, changes are necessary in order to fit the medium. The Danganronpa anime, for instance, makes certain necessary changes during the day breaks. Instead of seeing Makoto meeting with each character and being given their underwear, after unlocking five or three friendship events, it mostly cuts to important scenes. Of course, this does mean sacrificing what bond he's made to the other characters, but that sacrifice is necessary in order to keep the story going. Some scenes from the game are cut from the anime for timing purposes. The Ace Attorney anime doesn't do either of those things.

I have complained about the anime's change in having Miles Edgeworth be the adopted son of Manfred Von Karma, but that's just the tip of the ice berg of changes done in the anime. Other changes I've also seen will go from giving Miles a dog named Missile – who was actually Dick Gumshoe's dog in the game, to having Maya gain the bullet from Gregory by stealing it from Von Karma's office – because that is totally not illegal or destroys the sacrifice she made to gain that bullet in the game, to making Celeste Inpax Adrian's older sister – yeah, because that doesn't destroy the symbolism of Miles Edgeworth's suffering, to the biggest disappointment of no psyche-locks, aside from that tease in Farewell my Turnabout that felt like the creator was sticking their tongue at us. There are more stupid changes, besides these, but I'd rather not list them all.

There were changes in the anime that I did like, but they were mostly additions that broadened the story and most of it was from the first season. Come to find out, the first season of the anime was done by a different studio, while the second season changed studios. It's pretty clear that the first season at least was putting love and care into the show, whereas the second season felt more like a lazy cash grab with no real potential. I'm not asking for an anime adaptation of Ace Attorney to be by the books, but I am asking for heart and the anime didn't feel like there was any heart. I felt more love for the show in Yu-Gi-Oh Capsule Monsters and even The Last Airbender live action movie than I did with the Ace Attorney anime. Not to say there wasn't anyone working on the anime that weren't Ace Attorney fans, but the ones that did work their best were not the ones in charge of orchestrating the project. I will say the voice actors and those in charge of the music did put their heart into it.

The live movie adaptation of Phoenix Wright do have changes from the game, but unlike the anime adaptation, these changes do feel like necessary changes in comparison. One of the major changes in the live action movie is the setting of DL-6, which is the Evidence Room and not the elevator. Because the film was low budget, it's understandable why they may've had to change the setting. Also, it would be hard to film in a closed space. While Miles passing out makes little sense in the movie, it also can be left up for interpretation such as maybe the shock of thinking he shot his father by accident. Another change was having Gregory wear his trench coat from Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, which I find to be an excellent Easter egg. Another change was how Phoenix Wright obtained the bullet shot in Gregory Edgeworth, that being from inside The Thinker clock/statue. While it belittled Maya's sacrifice in the anime, in this one, it creates a connection between Maya's and Edgeworth's trial that is necessary for the film adaptation. A film cannot work in the same way as a game, since a movie needs to follow a single plot line. It also doesn't sacrifice Maya's sacrifice, since the tasing scene is still in the film, but at a different location with different circumstances.

Not to say the film won't have any flaws, but it's clear there was more heart put into it based on the changes. It never tries to change the relationships between the characters from the game, make characters do things they normally wouldn't do in the game or give things that originally belonged to another character. The live action movie kept to the game as much as it could. Because of how much heart was put into the live action movie, I had thought it was a fan movie at first. Heck, there are scenes where we see Edgeworth stand from the Defendant's Bench to defend himself. Sure, the anime had that too, but not until the very end. Even then, it wasn't as good as the live action movie, where Edgeworth is heavily involved and not just sitting in his bench twiddling his thumbs, while Phoenix is cross-examining a bird. Not to say the game had Edgeworth do anything until the end, but there weren't enough graphics to see him respond to anything. Anyone that does an anime or movie adaptation is expected to show more than what the game provides. When you compare the responses from the characters in the anime and the movie, it's clear the movie shows much more responses from the defendant and the entire gallery, while the anime does not.

As I said, changes are sometimes necessary when doing adaptations to other mediums and the movie's changes feel much more necessary, while the anime's changes feel aggrivating.

Semi Futuristic, Conducting Trials and Presenting Evidence

The anime adaptation has a very lazy way of showing us that Phoenix Wright takes place in a semi futuristic world with 2000's technology. It does this by... showing us technology we already have in this day and age? Imagine if someone were to make a Back to the Future reboot where Marty McFly goes to 2015 and instead of seeing a Utopian future full of jaw dropping technology and hover boards, we get technology we use today. Sounds kinda boring, doesn't it? Well, that's what the Ace Attorney anime feels like.

There's nothing amazing or uniquely different about the Ace Attorney anime that catches the viewer's eye. What I liked about the game was that it introduced us to certain kinds of tech that were amazing and made us feel we were in another world. We were introduced to new ways of development and magic. Fingerprint analysis could be used by common people, you could analyze pieces of evidence without touching it, you can record data in a court record before the police arrive and, because magic also exists in this world, people treated it as something that commonly happened. In the anime, we get to see screenshots of evidence on TV, have Phoenix handling evidence even though he's not allowed to do that and watching a not Utopian future that feels too much like the real world today. Yay.

The Ace Attorney live action movie not only makes it known that this is a semi futuristic world, but shows it to us. You have evidence in holographic screens the Defense or Prosecution can pull up and push to the person they're showing it to. When the Defense wins, holographic confetti is released toward the gallery, which I find much more satisfying than Gumshoe throwing it. This makes it to where the Defense doesn't have to handle evidence and present it much more efficiently. Because trials are expected to last no more than three days, you really feel the pressure from Phoenix Wright. It feels like something that exists only in this world and not ours.

What the live action movie did was something asked and expected by the fans. They want Ace Attorney to feel like a semi futuristic world. They want the trials to feel pleasant to look at. The anime did do a good job with adding some wind effects to the objections, but that was the only cool thing done. There wasn't anything fresh and new beyond that. Also, no psyche-locks, which I felt was one of the biggest disappointments. It felt like a missed opportunity with what the anime could do with the animation in using the magatama to break the psyche-locks. Well... that and showing Phoenix throwing his phone to Edgeworth in Farewell my Turnabout in animation. Co'mon, am I the only one that wants to see the epic phone throw in animation!?

Pet peeves aside, with what I've seen the live action movie provide with presenting evidence, I am looking forward to seeing what else they bring to the table. Perhaps hinting the magatama?

Easter Eggs

The anime showing Easter eggs or not is irrelevant, because I see non. I asked someone, who had only seen the Ace Attorney anime if Gregory is ever seen with Raymond Shields or have any discussions about IS-7. The answer was no. We get nothing out of IS-7.

The live action movie gives us Gregory with his trench coat he used when investigating IS-7. It gives us Apollo Justice's Objection song that is used at the end of Phoenix's Objection song. The movie ends with Farewell my Turnabout, letting us know it's not expecting a sequel, but tells us that Phoenix Wright does not end with Turnabout Goodbyes either. The live action movie makes it clear there is no sequel, but shows us there is more to look forward to. This is something I never got from the anime.

The anime only tells the story it wants to tell us and no more. Many people ask for an anime adaptation of Apollo Justice, but I don't want there to be one. There was a huge split in the game, so in order to do an anime adaptation, that would mean the creators will have to put love and heart into it. Unfortunately, I never got that from the anime. Not even a hint of what's to come or even the events of Phoenix Wright Dual Destinies or Spirit of Justice.

You want to talk about change, how about instead of Miles Edgeworth being adopted by Manfred Von Karma, he's adopted by Raymond Shields? Then, when Miles gets older, he leaves to work for Manfred Von Karma and we get a heartbreaking scene of Miles saying hurtful words to Raymond Shields. Heck, how about instead of Phoenix giving Miles a dog named Missile, it's named Pess. Not only would it be showing love for the show, but acknowledging the creator's idea for the character. Another change fans would love is Miles Edgeworth eating a swiss roll with Gumshoe and Kay in Turnabout Beginnings. Maybe have Phoenix read a Newspaper about Miles Edgeworth revealing the Yatagaratsu to being Calisto Yew.

Again, going back to Yu-Gi-Oh Capsule Monsters, the idea 4Kids came up with was based on a game introduced in the manga. While the monsters were replaced by Dual Monsters, the game play was still the same. It may've been the worst season, but it at least was aware of what the fans wanted and looked forward to. The same can be said for The Last Airbender live action movie. Granted, it sucked and the characters were blander than a cardboard box, but it at least kept story and characters consistent with little to no changes in the flow of the plot and characters. I never got that from the anime.

I will admit, I liked how the creators did base many of the expressions from the sprites, but it felt like that these additions were from a simple google search. You can find sprites of the characters. You can also search on wiki for the summery of the game play and walk through. Again, the first season did feel like they were trying to follow the plot and characters, while giving the fans what they wanted. Though, afterwards, the animation and everything just stood on a straight line instead of improving.

If I had to choose, I will always be thrilled to watch an adaptation that feels like it was made with love and care by fans and for fans.

Cheap and lazy

The anime is lazy with its animation and what they can do with it. There was a clip of when Godot threw his coffee at Phoenix, then we see it magically disappear in the next scene. There were some people that thought I was nitpicking when I complained about it, but it had nothing to do with realism. It was because it was lazy. I would have preferred Phoenix turning the coffee into a rope and whipping Godot than using cheap tricks like that. That's aside from the fact that the animation feels cheap when compared to the game.

I know that with animated series, it is treated differently than a cartoon movie, because it's continual, but that's not an excuse when you consider what the live action movie did on a low budget. Cheap and lazy is different from low budget film. Despite being on low budget, the live action movie worked their hardest to make the movie as exciting as possible. Sure, there were goofy moments, but they were done for comedic effects to distract us from the dark elements. The characters showed much stronger emotions when compared to the anime adaptation.

Now, Maya's character in the film was one thing that felt like a fail and I would agree with that, but the rest of the characters showed such strong emotions that worked naturally off each other. Just from the trailer alone, I could see that the actress that played Maya tried her hardest to put so much emotion into her character that lost her sister and dealt with the hardships of a spirit medium. Phoenix Wright deals with the pressure of being a Defense Attorney and shows the emotions of losing his mentor, then is about to lose his best friend he worked so hard to become a Defense Attorney to save. You see the intense emotion and pressure with being accused of murder by his own mentor he worshiped like a god. Again, there's a reason why I thought this film was fan made.

The intense emotion shown in the live action movie reminded me of a stage play done at an Anime Con on Farewell my Turnabout where Phoenix is talking with Shelly De Killer. There's a moment he has with Edgeworth where he is in tears, because of Maya's situation, then hearing words of wisdom from his friend to not give up. That tugs my heartstrings and just watching the trailer of the live action movie did the same to me. Seeing Phoenix watching the ghost of his former mentor pulled on my heartstrings compared to the anime's version of it. Also, no I did not watch the live action's scene of Maya's ghost before the anime's; it was the other way around. Seeing Phoenix in the live action version looking like he's about to cry and struggling not to is much more heartbreaking than watching the anime's Phoenix on the ground in the middle of the courtroom doing the same thing and looking like a fool.

When you see a low budget movie touching hearts by doing their very best with what they have, it shows they're not just showing cheap tricks. I feel the anime could've done much more instead of using cheap tricks. Going back to my no psyche-locks complaint, when you have a two second scene of psyche-locks breaking in an imagery that shows more dimension than the game, it feels more like a middle finger than an Easter Egg. I don't want to see cheap parlor tricks, I want to see the best freakin' adaptation to a beloved game the world has ever seen.

Love VS Money

As I have stated, I do believe that the Ace Attorney anime was originally planned by those that genuinely loved the game. Many of the ideas placed into it like the Signal Samurai and giving Edgeworth a dog feels like something brought by a genuine fan. Though, at some point, the anime lost its way and it makes me wish it was like the Danganronpa anime and just stuck to one season. That being said, I don't think it was full of people that didn't care about Ace Attorney. There were certainly fans of the game in the development team, but there were those that I suspect cared more for money than love for the franchise.

The live action movie felt like it was done by fans. Even those that didn't know the game seemed excited about working on this project. I'm not going to say that people that work on a good movie adaptation are going to be full of fans, but it needs to be driven by fans. It's not going to feel genuine otherwise. The Ace Attorney anime didn't feel genuine and perhaps it's because Season 2 was done by a different studio.

Think of it this way, what if there was a trailer of a live action adaptation of Yu-Gi-Oh? Wouldn't you want to see holographic images projecting from a duel disk or watching the characters going inside a holographic box that projects different climates or environments with monsters that look realistic and 3D looking? What if instead of that, you got TV screenshots of the play cards and monsters in 2D pixels fighting and defeating each other as if you were at a Yu-Gi-Oh game Anime Con? Wouldn't that be disappointing?

I think you guys get the idea. In any anime adaptation of a game, I expect it to feel like it came straight out of the game itself. That's what the live adaptation of Ace Attorney feels like. It feels like they took the game out of its cartridge and placed it in the real world. Sure, there are changes, but they don't feel like a disappointment or missed opportunity. The Ace Attorney anime feel like there were too many missed opportunities and changes no one asked for.

In any case, I look forward to watching the live adaptation of Ace Attorney, because it feels genuine, it feels like the kind of movie I looked forward to as a fan. When I finished the trilogy, I remember nagging about how Ace Attorney would be the perfect movie for Hollywood to adapt to live action, because there wouldn't be many scenes to shoot and the only chapter of the game to focus is Turnabout Goodbyes. If they want to go farther, then Turnabout Sisters and Turnabout Goodbyes with the other ones brushed to the side. Apparently, I wasn't the only one asking for this, because the live action movie did exactly that.

If there is any chance to give Ace Attorney another chance for a live action adaptation, I'd like there to be little to no changes and to give something to the fans that they look forward to.

#Ace Attorney #ace attorney anime #Phoenix Wright #adaptation #Ace Attorney movie

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pitviperofdoom · 5 years ago

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AA daemon ficlets are just really comforting and fun to write. So here’s another!

Maya’s POV is really weird to write because she’s a 170-year-old witch so like she’s still Maya but she also says dope shit sometimes.

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The glass between them frustrates her.

It seems to Maya that whenever they talk face to face, there is either glass between them or the threat of glass hanging over their heads. And now she is free but the glass remains, because he has taken her place in that cage.

Because Redd White has put him there.

Aunt Morgan often speaks longingly of the old days, days that Maya is too young to remember well—when a witch could slay a man for an insult and no one batted an eye, much less put her on trial for it. Normally her aunt’s bitter words make her uncomfortable, as they once nettled Mia, but now…

Now part of her wishes she could turn back time two hundred years, just so she could put an arrow in Redd White’s heart herself. For Mother, for Mia, for herself, and now for Phoenix Wright.

He puts on a brave face for her benefit, his smile bright and reassuring even though it has to hurt, with his face bruised and ugly scratches across his nose and one cheek. The smile and the marks are nearly enough to blind her to the darkness beneath his eyes. But even if she couldn’t read his face, his dӕmon is too big to hide.

Mother knew how to read dӕmons, including human ones, because as queen it was a useful skill. She taught Mia before she disappeared. Now she’s gone and Aunt Morgan says humans aren’t worth their time, so it was left to Mia to pass on what she knew to Maya. Dogs are expressive dӕmons, she’s found, and Wright’s Dawn looks like she’s been caged for days, not mere hours. Her head is low, her tail between her legs, and her white fur is ragged and unkempt.

“Please tell me there’s something I can do,” she says. “You need evidence, don’t you? I’m not a lawyer, or a detective, but I am a witch. If there’s somewhere I need to search, or retrieve something, or question people—well, most people don’t say no to witches.”

“No,” he says firmly. “No, don’t do any of that. That’s what got me in here, and it’s what got your sister killed.” Maya swallows her anger and grief at the reminder. “Besides, I know a few things about White that I didn't before, and that’s what tomorrow will be about. He’s going to ‘prove’ me guilty by going up on the witness stand and lying. All I have to do is pick apart his lies until the whole story falls apart. Hopefully, I’ll get him to crack that way.”

Maya nods. She knows about that part of human legal customs, because Mia told her about it. It was one of her sister’s secrets to success. But it doesn’t feel like enough. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“Cheer us on tomorrow, I guess,” Dawn replies.

“I can do that!” she says eagerly, almost too eagerly. Aunt Morgan would be appalled at the display. “I can stand beside you in court, can’t I? Now that I’m not a prisoner anymore?”

He blinks at her, surprised. “W-well, I guess? You could act as my co-counsel, but…”

“I’ll do it,” she says fiercely. “You stood with me when no one else would, and you sacrificed your own freedom to give me mine. This is the least I can do for you, short of killing Redd White with my own hands.”

One of the officers shifts uncomfortably, and Wright splutters. “Okay, definitely don’t do that,” he says. “Because then you actually would be guilty of murder, and there’s not much I could do about that.”

“I won’t,” she says, offering a reassuring smile. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you. Even if I do think it would make things easier…” Wright gives her a pained look. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I’ll stand with you in court tomorrow, and maybe I can find a way to support you properly.”

“It’ll be fine.” Phoenix smiles again, wincing when it bothers his bruises. “Trust me.”

She wants to believe him, she really does. But Dawn’s tail is still between her legs, and the fear shines through in their eyes. There is no promise of victory, only tenuous hope.

Maya returns to her sister’s office that day, because there is little else that she can do but wait. As she approaches the building, she comes across a familiar face leaving it. In an instant she is wary, because the first thing he did upon meeting her was arrest her, and now that she’s free, she isn’t sure where that leaves them.

“Um... hello, Detective,” she says, and he startles like a big, ungainly rabbit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, hello, uh, Miss Witch! Detective Dick Gumshoe, at your service!” He stands rigidly before her, wide-eyed. At his feet, his pit bull dӕmon pants nervously and tries in vain to tuck her stubby tail.

“Can I go in?” she asks. “I won’t disturb anything, if you’re still looking…”

“By all means, Miss Witch! Don’t worry about disturbing anything, we’re finished here and the crime scene’s been cleaned up!” He shuffles out of her way, and she realizes that he’s afraid of her. And why wouldn’t he be? He accused her of her sister’s murder. A little over a century ago, that would have earned him an immediate arrow through the heart.

“It’s Maya,” she says, taking pity on him. “Maya Fey. Thank you.”

“No problem, Miss Fey! Sorry for yesterday, just doing my job, very glad to see you’ve been released! Have a nice day, ma’am! C’mon, Bobbie, let’s go.”

He and his dӕmon make a hasty retreat. Maya watches them go, then walks into her sister’s office. She sits down by the window where Mia’s body lay, and doesn’t move until her legs are stiff and achy, and the sunset casts long shadows throughout the room.

There’s a plant in the corner, still green and healthy, but the soil is dry to the touch. While she waters it, Zech flies to the desk to have a look at the computer. The distance tugs at their bond—another reminder of the ritual they haven’t completed, and that Mia won’t be there when they do.

When she’s satisfied with the plant’s condition, Maya goes to her dӕmon’s side to find the computer on and Zech scrolling through it. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to answer an earlier question,” he tells her. “Since Phoenix already knows about Redd White, and we know that White’s dӕmon is—”

“A water moccasin,” Maya says. “Also known as a cottonmouth. I remember what Mia said.” On the screen, an encyclopedia article on the Felidae family slowly loads.

“I figured that was self-explanatory,” Zech says dryly. “So I thought it might be helpful to glean what we could from Mr. Edgeworth’s dӕmon. Starting with what she is. Maybe it'll give Phoenix an edge.”

“Makes sense.” Maya sits down in her sister’s chair, doing her very best not to think of it that way. “Let’s see what we can find.”

And they do. It doesn’t take them nearly as long as Maya feared, and she shares a triumphant look with Zech before sitting back and turning the machine off.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Zech says, feathers ruffling eagerly. “And rare, isn’t it?”

“Among humans, yes,” Maya replies, tickling his ruff feathers. “Almost unheard of, with witches.”

“Obviously.”

She’s not sure if it will help. But Mia says that court is a battle fought with information, and if Maya cannot fight with Phoenix tomorrow, then the least she can do is arm him.

Phoenix looks worse, somehow. He doesn’t look like he’s slept much, and beneath his battered smile, Maya can see that he’s scared. Dawn hardly looks any better. Her fur is still poorly groomed, her tail droops, and she presses close to her human like she’s afraid they’ll be separated.

“I’m fine,” he assures Maya when she asks. “I mean, if you think about it, however this trial ends up, I did what I said I’d do. Win or lose, you’re still innocent.”

She scowls, even though Aunt Morgan has always told her that it makes her look childish. “That’s not good enough,” she argues. “You’re innocent, too.”

“I know. And you know that, too. That’s what matters right now.”

“When this is over, everyone else will know it,” she reminds him.

She’s not sure how to describe the way his face softens at that. For the first time since yesterday, his dӕmon’s tail gives a tentative wag. “Thank you,” Dawn says softly.

“I’ve hardly done anything,” Maya answers, a little flustered.

“No, really,” Phoenix says. “You… it means a lot that you’re standing with me. With us. It really does. It’s just, we know what it’s like to have everyone against you but one person, and—” He hesitates. “I guess… thanks for being that one person, this time.”

“We haven’t done anything you didn’t do for us,” Maya reminds him.

The moment ends when Dawn goes rigid, and Zech lets out a warning croak, and Maya turns to find Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth approaching them, with his long-legged cat dӕmon stalking at his heels. This time, her hunter eyes pass over Maya and Zech to settle upon Dawn instead. Edgeworth’s eyes are likewise on Phoenix. Maya may as well not even be there.

“Wright,” Edgeworth says coolly.

“Edgeworth.”

Are lawyers always like this? If they were witches, the spells would already be flying. Human justice is a strange thing, if those who uphold it are at war with one another.

“I received a call from the Chief Prosecutor today,” Edgeworth says. He is straight-backed and composed as he speaks, his voice calm and conversational. At his feet, his dӕmon’s tail flicks from side to side, and her claws slide from their sheathes. Steady, serene, and ready to pounce.

“Did you?” Phoenix asks. He’s not quite as good at sounding calm.

“Apparently, anything that the witness says on the stand today is to be taken as the absolute truth,” Edgeworth goes on. “And the judge’s verdict will agree with it.”

“The judge, too?” Dawn yelps, pawing at the ground. Phoenix curls his hand into her bristling fur, either a calming gesture or a warning one.

Edgeworth ignores her. “I’ve been assured that any objection I make will be sustained, and any evidence I present will be accepted without question.”

Dawn starts forward, pulling against her human’s grip. “And you’re just fine with that, are you?” she growls.

“Dawn,” Phoenix warns her, tightening his fingers in her fur.

She pulls herself free to round on him, teeth bared. “Phoenix, the entire court is in White’s pocket and he’s telling us to our faces, I can’t just—”

“Save it for the courtroom,” he tells her shortly. His eyes haven’t left Edgeworth.

The prosecutor finally deigns to look at Dawn, if only for a moment. “I suggest you keep better control of your dӕmon, Wright. For an outburst like that, you’d be held in contempt. Though I suppose that would save everyone else a great deal of time.”

Phoenix shifts, in such a way that it’s almost a flinch. “So you’re saying I’m guilty, then,” he says, his voice tight. “End of story?”

“I’ll do whatever is necessary to obtain a guilty verdict.”

Maya sees red.

“How dare you.” He may be a head and a half taller than she is, but she is almost one hundred and fifty years older, and still young enough for her grief to boil over into fury. “Just yesterday you were convinced that I was guilty! Have you changed your mind so easily?” She feels Zech’s claws dig into her shoulder. “I’ll bet you don’t even have a shred of evidence that Phoenix is guilty! All you did was listen to that man’s lies and decide that your job was done!” Her eyes blaze. “Do you even care about finding my sister’s murderer, or would you rather cage another innocent and tell yourself it’s victory?”

The cat hisses at their feet, and Zech rasps out an answering challenge.

Edgeworth’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t back away. “Innocent? Can you even say for certain that he is? Or that anyone is?” His eyes return to Phoenix. “Criminals lie to escape justice, and they slip through the cracks thanks to cheap tactics like the ones I’ve seen you employ. All I can hope to do is have every defendant declared guilty.”

Phoenix holds his gaze for a moment longer, while Dawn growls and Maya swallows another furious outburst. But when Phoenix speaks, there is no anger, only sadness. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Edgeworth?”

In an instant, Maya’s rage plunges into ice-cold water. She looks to Phoenix in shock, and sees the answer to her question written all over his face.

It’s more than just the animosity between opposite sides of a conflict. There’s history there. As cold and aloof as Edgeworth holds himself, there is something deeply personal in this.

“…Don’t expect any special treatment,” Edgeworth says, and turns to go. His dӕmon glares balefully at them before turning to follow. The time for parley is over, it seems.

Except, it’s not.

Dawn steps forward. Her voice, laced with a growl, echoes in the lobby. “Thea.”

Halfway across the room, the cat dӕmon freezes. Edgeworth pauses as well, turning back to urge his dӕmon onward.

“Dawn,” Phoenix murmurs, but she doesn’t listen to him. She steps forward as far as their bond will allow, standing tall with her tail held high for the first time since Maya saw them in detention yesterday.

“Come on, Thea. This is wrong and you know it.”

“The only thing I know,” the cat replies calmly, “is that you are the defendant, and that makes it our job to find you guilty.”

“You’re being played,” Dawn growls. “I know you’re not in his pocket too, but you have to see that!”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” The cat takes another step toward her human.

“What happened to you and Miles?” Dawn demands. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

Edgeworth's face turns thunderous. The cat’s tall ears turn back, flat against her head, and she whirls around and storms back to face Dawn with a snarl. “What did you expect, Dawn?” she spits. “That we would throw away everything we’ve worked for, for—what?” Her lip curls back scornfully. “Childish sentiment?”

Dawn’s tail drops, and her white coat bristles with fury. When she finally speaks again, her voice is harsh with disappointment. “It’s not about sentiment, Alethea. I just thought you were smarter than this.”

Maya can almost hear the cat dӕmon’s claws scrape against the tile. Without another word, she whips around and stalks after Edgeworth.

Beside her, Phoenix’s hands shake. They don’t still until his dӕmon is within reach again, offering her fluffy coat to curl his fingers into.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t just—I had to say something—”

“I know.” Phoenix straightens up, his face set. “We’d better go in.”

This is their last chance for a private word. Maya catches him by the sleeve before he makes it to the door. “She’s a hybrid.”

He looks at her, confused. “What?”

“There’s a breed of cat called the Savannah,” she explains. “Though, it’s not really a breed in the truest sense. It’s made by crossing a domestic cat with a serval—that’s a wild cat from Africa.”

Her meaning dawns on him, and his eyes widen.

“I’m not sure if it helps,” she says. “Maybe it doesn’t. But hybrid dӕmons are said to indicate some kind of… split. A contradiction or duality in the soul.” She squeezes his arm in what she hopes is a reassuring way. “So, you could be right about him. He’s a hunter either way, but he may be more conflicted with himself than he lets on.”

The hope in his eyes is nearly enough to make her cry.

#ace attorney #aa daemons #tales from the pit

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 28: Themis school festival, redux. Nobody dies but everyone is depressed, up to and including yours truly, the author.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

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“I guess I should’ve learned my lesson the other day about your sense of timing,” Apollo says.

“You could’ve paid for a taxi,” Athena says. “Like you did the other day. You had options! You chose to accept a ride from me!”

“You could’ve learned your lesson from the other day, too, and not been late,” Apollo says.

“Hey, it’s not late unless the trial starts without me, or I get to the office after a client or Mr Wright has shown up.”

“Is that what we’ve expanded the rules to be now?” Apollo asks.

Themis stands quiet and empty, and cold besides. Even the campus itself seems more battered and worn than it was a few days ago; the wind has torn loose or knocked down a number of the posters and signs planted along walkways and on building walls, and no one has bothered to gather any of them. Athena picks up a crumpled, out-of-date advertisement for the mock trial and shoves it in her pocket until they find a garbage can.

“You wanna just wander around?” she asks. “We’ll find everyone after the mock trial and see who won.”

She had been so insistent on wanting to watch the mock trial the other day, but they’ve wrung every last surprise out of Juniper’s script and Apollo, at least, has no particular desire to head into the lecture hall and relieve some of the most stressful bits of their past two days in court. The photograph of Courte posed as the body for the mock trial autopsy report, and days later a victim for real. The arrow stabbed into her side, not merely held there by her own hand. “Sure.”

On the sidewalk out toward the dining hall, some enterprising student with colorful chalk scrawled INVESTIGATE ALL ADMINISTRATION NOW. “I guess Mr Wright was right,” Athena says. “They won’t be able to bury this scandal this time.”

“Gonna be a hell of a school year from here on out,” Apollo says.

“I wonder how Hugh’s doing,” Athena says. “I believe he didn’t know his grades were bought, of course, but I’m not sure all his classmates are going to believe him. And I bet some of them are gonna be pretty angry about it, and take it out on him.”

“Yeah.” Though Hugh’s attitude probably hasn’t made him many friends already, besides Robin and Juniper. He might be used to disdain from his classmates, not that it will make it any easier. High schoolers are cruel. And adults can be just as petty, so there’s not really ever any reprieve. Hopefully he can come back from this; hopefully he tells his parents to go to hell for it, and hopefully Robin and Juniper stick by him.

Chalk writing in another corner of campus reads WHO ELSE IS LYING? “I guess it’s probably equally possible that Means was or wasn’t the only person at the school involved,” Apollo says. “Like Mr Wright said, it depends on how the process of changing grades works.”

“It’s funny,” Athena says. “When he gets talking like that and it’s all - just seems disjointed and irrelevant, but then there’s actually buried in there that’s important.” She goes quiet, watching the trees bend in the wind, and she skips forward and stomps on a leaf blowing across her path. “When I first met Mr Wright I had no idea who he was - like, I knew all about Phoenix Wright, but I had no way of connecting this guy I’d just met who was like, weirdly chill about me being a kid who wanted to investigate crime scenes, to, y’know, the famous Phoenix Wright.” Apollo nods numbly, remembering his first time meeting Phoenix, and all of the twists and turns his opinion of the man took in one day. “He wasn’t what I expected. He’s still not what I expect.”

“He’s got a way of surprising you,” Apollo says. It’s the kindest, most truly honest thing he can say. He likes Phoenix, really, he does - he admires him still, sometimes. He’s also one of the most frustrating people Apollo has ever had the misfortune of knowing.

Athena laughs suddenly. “Man, can you imagine if Hugh wins the mock trial?” she asks. “I would love to be able to sit in on the lecture that Mr Wright is supposed to give. He’ll probably say something bonkers two minutes in and then get stuck having to explain all of his extremely niche life advice.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Hugh says.

The classroom is a small one, on the second floor of the main building; Phoenix had no instructions on where his lecture is to take place, and no one seemed to be around to ask, so with Hugh trailing silently behind him Phoenix poked his head into every other room they passed until he found one with chairs that look comfortable enough.

“The terms are that the winner of the mock trial gets a special lecture.” Phoenix seats himself in a chair and drags another one over to kick his feet up into. Special lectures are probably better if they’re informal. “So unless it was your doppelganger who won the mock trial, here you are, the winner, and here I am, the…”

The teacher. God, why did he ever agree? Why did he ever think he could teach anyone anything?

Hugh flinches. Great start, Phoenix: mock the kid you’re teaching. “That was - that was so stupid of me,” Hugh says, “stupid like me, as stupid as everything else that I—” He puts his head in his hands. One of them is still bandaged heavily. “That I said that the People of the Hills are - creatures, and criminals, and I was just saying things but Juniper is one of them and I - she just has so many reasons to hate me now because of all the stupid things I’ve done!”

“You don’t believe what you said there, about the fae?” Phoenix asks.

Hugh jerks his head up, wild-eyed. “I was just saying things,” Hugh repeats, clutching the side of his neck. “I just wanted to say something that would convince Prosecutor Blackquill, and I figured, if he’s not one of them he’s close to it and he’s a criminal, so - I’m just afraid that Juniper might think that, if I had known this about her - that she’d think if I’d known she wasn’t human then I wouldn’t have wanted to protect her. And that’s not true at all. She’s my friend. She and Robin are both - I mean I’m surprised, sure, but they’re still Juniper and Robin.”

Phoenix nods. “Then you tell them that. You tell Juniper this doesn’t change anything. Tell Robin the same, too, just to make sure she knows. But you’re still wearing your friendship band, and they still are too. You made it through suspicions of murder with that friendship intact - this is just smaller stuff you’ve gotta work out now.”

“Thank you,” Hugh says quietly. His head sinks again. “But I still shouldn’t be here. The mock trial is for the students at the top of the class, and I’m not. It should have been someone else, not me! They should have figured out who and let them participate, not me! And I only won because I watched your two lawyers win and I borrowed all their strategies and theories! I basically cheated! Just like I tried to cheat by looking at the script and—” He waves his bandaged hand before grabbing at his hair with it again. “I shouldn’t ever have been in this mock trial!”

“Perhaps not,” Phoenix says. “Or maybe, if you didn’t think you were good to go, getting unearned hundreds, you could’ve been buckling down and learning and learning how to study better.” Hugh shifts his hands so that he can look at Phoenix, while still hanging his head like a kicked puppy. “If you weren’t coasting through on confidence, and maybe with your determination - because I can see you are determined to become a lawyer, just like a lot of kids I’ve known, don’t try and object to that - maybe you could’ve been best in your class if you knew your failings and knew to work with them and around them. We’ll never know now, but it could have been possible.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Hugh mumbles. “I’m an idiot, and I shouldn’t be here, and you don’t understand that.”

Phoenix laughs. He can’t help it. He doesn’t mean to - this is the side of him that he tries to keep from the public eye now, tries to keep from Athena, wishes he could’ve kept from Apollo - but he laughs anyway. Hugh’s not wrong that he’s a bit of an idiot. He’s just coming to the wrong verdict from that fact. “Hugh, I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself for all the stupid things you’ve said this week, because that is the stupidest thing you ever could’ve said.”

“Huh?” His bitter laugh, and his sudden sharp words, have startled Hugh into sitting bolt upright. “What do you even think you’re talking about?”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, nice to meet you,” Phoenix says, extending his hand, and unsurprisingly, not getting a handshake in return from Hugh, who appears even more confused. His eyes dart toward the door, considering whether to run, whether Phoenix is crazy and even worth talking to. “Tell me what you know about me, Phoenix Wright.”

Hugh shakes his head. “You’re a brilliant lawyer. You’ve had a lot of celebrity clients - Will Powers, Max Galactica, Matt Engarde. You’ve defended famous legal figures - Lana Skye, the Miles Edgeworth. You - you’re a genius, you’re a legend. Professor Means had us study so many of your cases and your strategies, how you pulled off every crazy victory. I can’t even - begin to - to compare, or to—”

“Stop circling around it and tell me what you know about me,” Phoenix says. “The thing everyone knows about me and avoids bringing up around me.”

Hugh blinks. He doesn’t say anything. He scratches his neck. He adjusts the bandage on his hand. Phoenix brings his feet to the floor and leans forward, staring Hugh in the eyes. “I was disbarred for double the years that I’ve been an active lawyer. Half of the legal world of Los Angeles is still convinced that I framed Kristoph Gavin twice. That is the first thing you think of when you think of Phoenix Wright, isn’t it?” Hugh freezes, sitting there like a statue. “Whether or not Means told you that was something to admire about me, using forged evidence, that’s still the first thing you think about me.”

Finally, Hugh nods. “He said it was a lesson about how you have to be careful,” he says. “How dirty prosecutors will use any tricks they can to trap you.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I figured,” Phoenix says. “Wrong lesson, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I did use falsified evidence, but I wasn’t the one that falsified it. Actually, the lesson is still about being careful, honestly.”

“Like when Professor Means gave me the audio tape that he made,” Hugh says glumly.

“Exactly like that,” Phoenix says. Hugh stares at the floor. Phoenix sits back and drops his head against the back of the chair. “In all honesty, Hugh, I can’t tell you if you should or shouldn’t be here. That decision is yours, whether you want to stay or go. It’s not going to be easy - not, I’m not talking about - okay, the Bar isn’t easy. I’ve taken it twice, I know. But everything you do - this bribery scandal, your grades, most people aren’t going to care whether you knew or didn’t know, if it was your parents or you. They really won’t care. This is going to be attached to you for the rest of your life - wherever you go from here, whatever your career becomes, whatever you do. You will always have this blemish on your name. You will never get away from it.”

Phoenix Wright, attorney, asterisk.

Hugh’s shoulders slump even lower.

“It has to be your decision, whether being a lawyer is something you want strongly enough to spend your career fighting past this perception of you. I can’t decide that for you.”

“You decided that for you, then,” Hugh says. “You decided it was more important than everything that people say about you.”

Phoenix hesitates. Did he? Or did Edgeworth decide that for him - or did Phoenix decide that Edgeworth was more important than everything that people say about Phoenix? “What I can tell you is that you’re not the only person struggling with - you’re not the only one who’s got to live with past mistakes defining you, however you’ve grown past that. And I’m not your only company, either.”

Is this a damning indictment of the state of their legal system, or just a statement of the very bad luck of everyone Phoenix and Edgeworth have ever met?

“Like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth - if you know anything about the trials in which I defended him and Prosecutor Skye, you know what his reputation was. I know two brilliant prosecutors forever marred by sharing a name with a father who committed unforgivable crimes.” And Sebastian shares this exact schooling situation with Hugh, too. “And of course, there’s another brilliant prosecutor who’s here at this school today who has to share his name with all the wrongs his brother did.”

And share a face, too. Doppelgangers.

Hugh stares back down at his feet, his hands tightly gripping his neck, his elbows pulled together in front of his chest. “I think,” he says weakly, just barely peering up at Phoenix over his glasses. “I think - I still want to be an attorney. Even if I have to start over. Even if this is the first thing everyone thinks of when they hear my name.” Dropping his arms, he sits up straighter. “Juniper and Robin and I all promised that we were going to help make the legal system better. I still have to help them. And I want to be able to be like Ms Cykes and Mr Justice, winning honestly and finding the truth. I want to be as good as they are.”

A lump rises in Phoenix’s throat. Pride, and shame. They’re damn good kids, and what is he? Setting them loose because if he keeps away he might not repeat that laundry list of mistakes he made with Apollo with Athena. (Might. No guarantees. Will probably screw up in new terrible ways instead.) Keeping secrets from them, carefully skirting around the edges of lies.

“I’m glad,” Phoenix says. “Face it head-on. It won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll find it’s worth it.”

“So Hugh won, then,” Athena says.

When the crowd starts spilling out of the main building, they determine the mock trial has ended and force their way upstream through the students back to the lecture hall, where they find Robin and Myriam have lingered. “He did!” Robin says, without a shred of disappointment. She’s practically bouncing as she said it. “I can tell he learned a lot from you, man! And how much ass you kicked yesterday! And I mean,” she continues, giggling, “I can’t quite pull off Prosecutor Blackquill’s thing. I’ve gotta learn to be scary!”

“I don’t think you need to do that,” Apollo says. “I think you should stick with your strengths.” Whatever those are. Pottery, and loud shouting. Apollo doesn’t know about the former, but the latter is a valid, tried-and-true tactic and a proud tradition.

“Oh! Thena! Hi!” Juniper emerges from the audio booth, her arms full of the blue and white fabrics of her costume. “You made it! I have to run now though. Since he doesn’t have to teach a lecture to Robin, Prosecutor Gavin thought it would be good to use the time for extra practice.” Hefting her costume up further in her arms, her voice lowers and she reluctantly adds, “Which is good because I didn’t practice last night even knowing I’d have to sing today.”

“Understandable,” Apollo says. “I was exhausted last night, and I wasn’t the one on trial.”

“But you and Thena were doing all the work.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Athena says to Juniper. “You’re gonna do great, I know it!”

“Oh, and if Prosecutor Gavin starts to get snippy with you, don’t worry about it being your fault,” Apollo says. “That’s just how he gets when it comes to performances. Turns into a prissy diva, but don’t let it get to you.”

“O-oh, okay.”

Apollo very suddenly gains a certain clarity that tells him that his warning is only going to stress Juniper out more. Well, shit.

“Prosecutor Gavin, really?” Robin asks, watching Juniper scurry off and the last stragglers empty out of the lecture hall. “He seems so calm cool and collected!”

“Yeah, Trucy and I once thought that, too,” Apollo says, mostly to Athena, who was absently nodding along with Robin’s statement. “And then we learned better.”

Myriam pulls one arm back within her box and produces a notepad and pen, which she begins scribbling on. Does she have a storage pouch within there for her journalistic tools? “Are you writing that down?” Apollo asks. “Don’t write that down.”

“You can do so much better than being a trashy tabloid reporter!” Robin says.

Myriam hisses like a disgruntled cat. “But it’sss what I’m good at!”

“So I guess it’s just us for the moment, then?” Athena asks. “Where are we headed next? What’s there to do at a school festival, anyway?”

“You’ve never been to one?” Robin asks. She marches off toward the doors and waves for everyone to follow her. “There’s lots of food, for one, and I am starving, so I think that should be our first priority.”

“I skipped high school,” Athena says. “Or - I guess I sort of speed through it. I didn’t take the time to do much but study law and psychology.”

“Really?” Robin asks. “I figured you went to some other school like ours! Not just went on your own like - wasn’t that lonely? Or boring? Forget what my parents want, if I’d been trying to do this all alone without Juniper and Hugh, I for sure would’ve quit already!”

“Lonely?” Athena repeats, frowning and then twisting her mouth to the side. “No, I guess I never really felt lonely, since I was - I knew this was something that I wanted to do and I needed to do and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. It never really crossed my mind, that I was doing it alone.” She smiles, a little sadly. “And then eventually I met Mr Wright, and Prosecutor Edgeworth, and then I knew I definitely wasn’t alone anymore. I had people I could ask all my important questions of!”

Envy coils tight in Apollo’s chest and he tries to strangle it. Just be glad for Athena, he tells himself. Be glad for her that she’s not had an intimidating boss she was afraid to ask too many questions of, who turned out to be a murderer. Be glad for her that she’s had Apollo also here to help, instead of just relying on a fifteen-year-old with no legal aspirations.

“You’re so lucky,” Robin sighs. “Not a single one of the prosecutor teachers here has any force of personality what-so-ever. That’s why we got sucked into the Courte-slash-Means cults of personality too. What are we gonna do, care at all about our own professors? Puh-lease!”

“Maybe going forward you shouldn’t go making cults of personality around people who might be fallible,” Apollo says.

Myriam hisses. “Ss-seems unlikely. It’s-sss how people are.”

“But being aware, you can definitely change it, right?” Athena asks.

“No,” Myriam says. Athena’s mouth flaps in abject confusion. So much for expecting some wisdom or a moment of self-reflection out of these kids.

Myriam has begun to explain to Robin that she doesn’t actually know who any of the prosecution course’s professors are.

Even now that it is filled with activity, the campus still holds a subdued energy. Athena’s head swivels in every direction, toward every conversing group they pass. The emotions must be overwhelming to hear, and when they stop for a moment here and there, Apollo can properly people-watch, and even only hearing small snippets of the conversation, flickers of red flare up across his vision. A hand clutching a phone tightly while arguing with a classmate, a bouncing knee or a fingernail chewed, Apollo isn’t listening and doesn’t want to listen - he doesn’t want to hear anyone say that Means was framed or Juniper isn’t innocent, doesn’t know if it will happen but wants to take himself as far away from the chances of it as he can - and still. Still he notices. Is he getting better at this? A stronger sight? He doesn’t want to be better at it. He doesn’t want to know if he isn’t watching for it.

He wants to be normal when the case is over, but that doesn’t happen. Not at the Wright Anything Agency.

Hugh carries himself differently now. Even with the mock trial win under his belt, the arrogance he held himself with is gone. The realization that he wasn’t a genius clearly hit hard - a gut-punch of an attitude adjustment - but Apollo hopes he can learn humility from this. Maybe there’s a certain relief in no longer pretending. Everyone knows. Everything about all three of them - Hugh, Robin, Juniper - is out in the open now.

(And then there’s still Myriam, within the box, and Phoenix’s blue eyes piercing through the cardboard shell.)

“Trucy called, said she’ll be coming around soon.” Phoenix leans up against the side of the building, his suit jacket folded over one arm. “I’ll probably catch up with you kids later, but I won’t hang around now and cramp your style, don’t worry.” He reaches out and grasps Hugh’s shoulder. “Hugh, very nice to meet you. Good luck.”

“Yeah,” Hugh says. “Thanks for - er.” He looks at everyone else standing there. “Um. Thanks.”

“Now go have some fun,” Phoenix says, waving them off. “You all deserve it, now shoo. And oh, Apollo, if I don’t get the chance, tell Klavier I say hi, when you see him.”

Apollo waits for him to toss the magatama over, but he doesn’t. Maybe he forgot it, or maybe he figures that since he’s got a performance, a whole crowd to be watching, this is one time that Klavier won’t disappear.

As the late afternoon wears into evening, heavy clouds gather, the bright hues of the sunset reaching out from behind their dark masses paint the exposed sky. The chill in the air drops to cold, and Apollo wonders if he’s the only one who notices, the only one whose teeth are chattering - shit, he’s thinking about Means’ teeth again, and if in the long run this haunts him more than an actual fucking yokai trying to kill him that’s gonna be some sad sort of funny. (Ask Athena about the psychology of that.) No one else says anything about being cold. Too excited to notice, and Apollo, at a frankly normal level of anticipation, is the only one shivering. The only one with an issue for any reason with the decision to camp out a spot not far from the stage, long before the concert starts.

Trucy finds them there, and tells them she would have forced them to stake their claim if they hadn’t - Apollo negotiated their location out from under the scaffold-mounted speakers, and that’s more kindness to his ears than he expected they’d be willing to give. The stage lights rise, the screaming begins, and Apollo braces himself.

The show is shorter, and much less flashy, than at Sunshine Coliseum, and that suits him perfectly. Out in the open air, the sound dispersed easily, and even at its peaks the music is a tolerable volume. Phoenix only shows up during the penultimate song. The friendly hand he has extended to Klavier does not reach his band, or his music. Apollo can’t blame him - he still isn’t a fan. Sure, some of it - a lot of it - is catchy, but that doesn’t make it suddenly to his tastes. Or even good. Gavin is talented at what he does, which is making entertaining songs, though again, fine art they are not.

(Trucy always tells him he protests too much. Apollo tells her she has no idea what she’s talking about, shut up.)

When the rest of the Gavineers disappear offstage, silence hangs suspended over the crowd, the briefest breath of respite, the last echoes of screams and applause bouncing faintly off of the surrounding buildings. Klavier remains alone under the spotlights, radiant in the blinding white lights, and stepping away from the microphone, he waves Juniper up beside him. In her stage gown, she practically glows, the luminescent exterior of her cloak shining as the fabric swirls with her every movement. Trucy gasps and smacks Apollo’s arm. Phoenix glances over at them and his mouth turns up in a wry smile.

Juniper doesn’t sound like Lamiroir, and in Apollo’s not-very-musically-inclined opinion, she doesn’t sound like she’s trying to sound like Lamiroir either. That seems the better choice: no one else can ever sound like Lamiroir, so there’s no reason to invite the comparison more than necessary. Without a piano backing, right from the start the song already has such a different feel that it further dissuades the comparison. One thing for certain: the shy girl they met earlier this week has a hell of a voice, when she gets to using it. And Apollo joins as enthusiastically in the raucous applause as everyone else.

When the last notes fade out into the dusk, Juniper ducks her head for an immediate retreat. Klavier doesn’t let her; he springs up and catches her hand before she goes far, swinging his arm up and raising hers high. He waves to the crowd, motioning upward, and the cacophony swells with him. “Themis!” he shouts, leaning into the microphone, his voice still barely rising over the cheers. “One more time for your very own Juniper Woods!”

Athena and Robin are definitely trying to outdo each other as the loudest, most supportive friend. After a moment, Hugh drops his veneer of sophistication and joins in. Trucy slaps Apollo on the arm again, grinning wickedly, and starts a countdown on her fingers for the two of them to show up their friends. Athena, laughing as she does, claps her hands over her ears and yells something back at them that is drowned out in the rest of the noise. She shoves Trucy, and Trucy hits Apollo in the back, trying to use them as a wedge to shove their way up through the crowd to the stage. This maneuver sees limited success. Instead they are forced, as is everyone else, to wait, slowly shuffling to the stage for autographs or to scream love confessions or whatever fans of bands do, Apollo doesn’t know. The only other concert he’s ever been to had a murder at it.

“Junie!” Athena squishes herself up against the side of the stage, stretching herself up to her friend, who crouches down to take Athena’s hand. “That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Juniper laughs nervously. Her face is pink, and that might be embarrassed anticipation of the compliments that her friends are going to lavish upon her head, and it might also be the exhilaration and the hot stage lights. “Thank you, Thena.”

“Your voice!” Robin gushes. “You have the most wonderful voice, Juniper! I can’t believe it! Except of course I totally can, because it’s you!”

Juniper ducks her head into her knees, her hood falling entirely over her face. She mumbles something, muffled by the fabric and all the other excited clamor. “Ah, look at you, lucky Fräulein, and your little gang of groupies out to support you.” Klavier leans over her shoulder, grinning down at them, his hair tumbling in messy sweaty curls around his face. Apollo hates him just on principle, just for the sake of it. “I see everyone made it.” He sweeps his hand back through his hair, pushing away all of the loose stray hairs stuck to his forehead.

“Groupies?” Juniper echoes in confusion, lifting her head.

“Groupies!” Athena repeats happily. “Junie’s groupies!”

“Ah,” Juniper says, and she tumbles backwards out of her crouch to sit on the stage, looking up at Klavier. “Do - do you need help? Is there anything I can do to get everything put away?”

Klavier shakes his head. “No need, but thank you. We have a system.” He straightens back up, looking over the stage, and his bandmates also assailed by the crowd. “Short a man, now,” he adds darkly, “but easier to do it ourselves than try to bring someone in. And besides, with this crowd, it will be quite a while before we’re even able to break away from the greeting to do anything else. You go spend some time with your friends, Fräulein. Get some rest - it’s been quite the week.”

Juniper inches to the edge of the stage and Athena offers a hand to her to help her down. “It was very nice to get to sing with you, Prosecutor Gavin,” she says. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in better circumstances.”

“One hopes,” Klavier replies. “Until then!” He steps back, with a jaunty wave and a wink. “The rest of my fans await me, ja?”

He bounds back across the stage, leaving Apollo without the chance for a word. “He’s kind of a douchebag, isn’t he?” Hugh says. That’s rich, coming from him.

Juniper shakes her head. “He’s actually kind of sweet,” she says. “Though he is also a bit…” She trails off, glancing to Apollo for help, obviously remembering the warning he gave her earlier.

“Of a diva?” Trucy chimes in. “High-strung? Perfectionist? High-strung perfectionist diva?”

“Er,” Juniper says, eyeing Trucy in puzzlement. “Yes? But um, I’m sorry - who are you?”

Juniper is something of a celebrity among her classmates now, for the good and the bad - the group of them with her in tow can barely make it one step before someone else assails her with a question about what being a defendant was like, or compliments on her singing. Making their way free of the stage area, away to somewhere quieter where they’ll all have room to breath, is a long, laborious process, and all the more difficult when Juniper’s glowing robe lights her up even between the scattered pools of lamplight. Myriam is the first to come up with an idea; she helps Juniper shrug off the cloak and bundles it up into a tight ball and brings it under her box with her, freeing them to escape under cover of darkness.

“So how long do we have to be friends before we get to see your face?” Robin asks Myriam. They’ve commandeered a picnic table on the edge of campus, piled with all the foodstuffs that Athena and Robin and Trucy managed to snatch from wherever they passed. “I bet you’re really pretty!”

The crunching beneath the cardboard box abruptly stops. Myriam had relinquished her hold on Juniper’s cloak, not wanting to get crumbs on it, and Athena currently wears it inside-out to accentuate her usual yellow style with some extra, luminescent, yellow. “No,” Myriam says. “I’m - I’m not. You don’t want to sssssee.”

Does she go to class with a box over her head, too? Or does Robin just not have any classes with her? “Myriam, look,” Juniper says. In the dark, next to Athena, she looks yellow, but she stretches out her hand over the table and asks, “Does someone have a light?”

Apollo is the first to get his phone out; under white light, Juniper’s skin is clearly green, a light, soft green, healthier than the other shades she showed in the detention center. Her fingers don’t have claws but her nails are white, like they were polished, and particularly shiny. In her white ruffled gown, her shoulders bare - she isn’t cold, of course she isn’t, Klavier doesn’t get cold either - and her wavy hair loose, she appears to Apollo how he might imagine a nymph of Greek myth. A tree spirit. (Juniper Woods - what a name.)

“We’re all a bit—” Juniper shrugs and touches the pointed tip of her ear. “It’s okay. Even if you don’t want to, or whenever you do.”

Myriam hisses wordlessly, but nothing about it sounds like a threat or maliciousness. Just an acknowledgement that Juniper is speaking to her. “We’re all a biiiiit weird,” Robin adds cheerily. “Maybe not these lawyers” - she waves a disapproving finger at Apollo and Athena - “but us Themis kids! And that is cool, I will have us know!”

If she had any idea of how fundamentally weird and fae the Wright Anything Agency actually is—

“Ah, um, Juniper,” Hugh says. He has been silent most of the day, alternating between intently watching the conversation go by, and zoning out so far that Robin kept count of how many times she could say his name before he would react. (Record: eight.) “There was something that I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

“Huh?” Juniper must at least suspect what is coming, with that fearful look in her wide red eyes. She’d heard that rumor too, and Myriam starts upright with a soft thwap as her hand hits the inside of her cardboard box.

“Juniper, can - can we still be friends? Best friends, the way we all were?”

“Huh?” Athena asks.

“That’sss not—”

“Hugh?” Juniper asks.

“When I won,” he says, “I was going to tell you that I’m not a genius at all, and that I’m actually sort of twenty-five, but that all came out at the trial, so I just have to ask now if - if we can still be friends, if you still even want to be friends, or if there’s all these stupid things I’ve said, and done, not knowing, and that’s why you never told us this about yourself—”

“Sort of?” Widget echoes and Athena snarls something unintelligible at it and closes a hand around it like she’s going to strangle it. She does, however, when the momentary anger at her interrupting machine passes, still look very confused.

“Hugh,” Juniper says sternly. “And Robin too.” She folds her hands together, fingers intertwined, and clenches them tightly. “I wanted to tell you both, so badly, and I just couldn’t figure out how. I was scared - it wasn’t anything you said or did. I always was just going to be afraid. And I - I understand, completely, the things you’ve said. The Gentry are terrible,” she adds. “And cruel. I know that too. That side of my family was cast out. My parents are dead and my grandmother turned into a tree.”

Athena’s mouth opens with a soft pop and hangs open, her jaw moving back and forth as she searches for words that she ultimately can’t find. Apollo can’t put together a question either, and if he could he wouldn’t ask now. He sees on Juniper’s face that this, however strange, almost laughably strange, it sounds, that this is raw, painful, and she’s opening up her heart for six people to hear. However much detail she wants to give is up to her, and he won’t be the one to press for more.

(But he’s definitely going to ask Athena later, if she ever finds out more from Juniper.)

After several seconds of silence, Hugh says, “I thought I could just - get in and out. Just wander back out. And then when I didn’t I thought it was - a couple years. Two or three maybe.”

“Time passes differently there,” Apollo says. Trucy nods solemnly.

“Time in—” Athena looks from her to Hugh, and then to Apollo. “You mean in - in Faeryland?”

“Yeah,” Apollo says.

Hugh folds his arms. “You were the one that asked that question in court, after the prosecutor mentioned my age,” he says, in a slightly accusatory manner. “Whether I was actually twenty-five or had spent a time - elsewhere.” Apollo has no idea what he’s being accused of, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Hugh,” Juniper says. “Robin’s right. We’re all weird.” Her eyes dart nervously over at Apollo, waiting to see if he takes offense to that. He nods. He’s weird. He knows that. He’s weirder than anyone knows. He’s weirder than he himself knew. “And some of us are going to know weird things. It’s going to happen. It doesn’t mean anything bad.”

What was Hugh’s first impulse - expecting that Apollo is fae? That he’s been involved with spiriting humans away? Can Hugh not tell that Apollo is human - does spending seven years there not grant someone the Sight? There’s nothing about Hugh that Apollo would describe as even vaguely charismatic or glamorous - does stumbling in as a teenager not change a person the way that Klavier was? Apollo should ask Klavier if he knows.

Juniper’s defense doesn’t do much to lessen Hugh’s suspicious glare, and Athena still looks deeply curious, resting her chin on her hand and staring at Apollo. He sighs. “I know someone who was taken and explained that to me,” he says.

Athena nods, satisfied, but now Trucy is the one with the intent, piercing stare. Apollo glances away. She’s not going to let that go easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t properly answer your question,” Juniper says suddenly. “Hugh. Of course we’ll still be friends, but I don’t want it to be like we used to be. How we argued, and all the secrets we had from each other.” Her eyes turn down to her hands, and the friendship bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t want any more secrets. And I want us to work together - Myriam too - so we can make a better legal system, where we’re fighting for the truth and not victory. And we’re not trying to justify our methods by our end results.”

She’s taken particular care to avoid that particular “ends justify the means” phrasing. “Hell yeah, I’m in!” Robin says. She holds out her hand, and Juniper reaches out and takes it. Hugh clasps his over theirs, and after a moment of hesitation, Myriam tentatively places her hand on the pile.

“We’ll make Professor Courte proud,” Juniper says. She doesn’t draw her hand back right away, leaving her open palm facing upward on the table, and then she slowly curls her fingers closed. “Prosecutor Gavin mentioned the memorial for her. I’d like to head over there.”

Themis has begun to empty; they still pass other groups of students, but those tend to be smaller and quieter, more subdued as the night has gone on. The stage is empty when they pass, the crowd long scattered. Trucy grabs Apollo’s elbow and drags him far behind their small procession. “I didn’t know you knew someone like that,” she says in a low voice. “Someone like my mother was.”

Her mother: stolen as a child, her soul stripped from her, and now - what is a soul without a body? Something close to death - something that wishes it could be dead? An unfortunate life that was to lead. “Believe it or not,” Apollo says, “I have a life where things happen to me and I speak with people while you aren’t around.”

Trucy grins. “I don’t believe that, no,” she says, and she lapses into silence, clearly receiving the message that Apollo isn’t going to tell her who. But as they amble on she seems deep in thought, tapping her chin, surely going over the list of everyone she knows Apollo knows - as if he doesn’t know anyone not of her mutual acquaintance - and wondering who could fit. Surely she’ll come up with Klavier as a plausible contender.

If she knows any of the traits that stolen children like him and her mother have - if she even remembers anything of her mother at all.

The memorial for Courte has expanded. Flowers spill out over the walkway, laying in bunches around the framed photograph of the professor that is itself nearly obscured by notes taped to it and stuck on it. Some of those notes are elaborate, tiny writing covering their faces; others are just a few words or a simple drawn heart. Someone moved one of Courte’s abstract sculptures here from the art room to sit behind her photograph. Almost buried in the midst of everything is the same photo of the professor and Juniper in the art room that became contentious evidence on the first day of the trial - hell, judging by the way the top edge of the photo is punctured and crumpled, it might actually be the printout that the prosecution used. He wonders who brought it here, if it was another piece of evidence that Klavier or Vongole repossessed. Or maybe Blackquill had heart enough to send his hawk out on a last errand for this case.

Juniper kneels down and sweeps up a dozen flower stems in her hands - some tulips and carnations, a large sunflower, all begun to wilt and wither at the edges of their petals. Apollo thinks suddenly about the flowers of faery rings, wonders if they ever wilt or if they remain, unnaturally enduring, until someone comes along with a matchbox and a past to lay to rest. Busy thinking, he nearly misses it when Juniper starts humming softly and the flowers cupped in her hands emanate a faint glow, all the colors of their petals, and like time rewinding the shriveling edges pull back together and the wrinkled surfaces smooth. Juniper sways and slumps to the side, dropping the flowers to catch herself with one hand. “I’ve never been very good at that,” she says. “But I wanted to try.”

She picks the flowers back up from her lap and lays them neatly at the base of the picture frame, sweeping aside a few other dead petals and leaves. Something clatters against the pavement and frowning, Juniper reaches out and picks up a simple metal ring. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger and stares through the center for a moment before, seeming to decide something, she sets it back down with the flowers she revived.

“Well, I think that was pretty good,” Athena says, offering Juniper her hand to help her back to her feet. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

Juniper brushes off her skirt. “You probably haven’t seen much magic, have you?” she asks.

“Other than the time a bird-demon yokai tried to kill us - I mean, I didn’t actually see much of that, it was trying more to eat Apollo and Trucy.”

Was that metal ring iron? Is being half human enough to make one immune? She can’t be immune - the detention center affected her, and badly. Maybe she’s just human enough that the effects of iron aren’t so dramatically painful, and scarring. Like it did to—

Apollo wonders who that ring belonged to, anyway. Thinks back to the empty dark stage. Trucy gives Apollo a nudge, jarring him to go back over what was said after everyone decided there was far too much to unpack in Athena’s statement. Robin said that there was an exhibition set up of all of Courte’s latest works that never got the chance to be unveiled, along with some of the Fine Arts Club student members’ art pieces. Hugh suggested that be where they go next. “You all go ahead,” Apollo says, conscious of all of the eyes on him, and in particular the unnatural fae red of Juniper’s, and Myriam’s reflecting any faint bit of light. “I’m gonna - gonna go see if Prosecutor Gavin’s still around somewhere.”

“Sure thing,” Athena says, before anyone else, and Apollo wonders for not the first or last time what she’s heard, from him, from Klavier, if, someone holding the magatama excepted, Athena is the only person Klavier’s glamours can’t truly hide him from. (Her assertion that her ears aren’t magic is one Apollo thinks he could come to believe - if nothing else, for the fact that Blackquill doesn’t seem to be able to disrupt her. Or maybe he thinks the psychological analysis that Athena pairs with it valid enough to let her get away with it.)

“Just lemme know if you’ll need a lift home or not,” she adds.

“Sure thing,” Apollo says, and Trucy sticks her elbow straight into into his side as she passes him by. It’s like primary school. This is the productive way that primary schoolers engage with each other in regards to crushes. Apollo in his personal and professional lives is surrounded by children. This isn’t even a revelation.

And then he’s alone in the dark, and part of him wishes that he’d asked Trucy to come with him instead, because while there’s a lot she doesn’t know, there’s plenty that she does, and she’s better at people. Klavier’s her friend too, and she didn’t even get to say hi earlier. They could’ve just gone to check up on their friend together, and Apollo wouldn’t be second-guessing his every decision now.

He doesn’t even have any guarantee that Klavier didn’t take off and flee as soon as the crowd thinned.

He could just text him. If he knew what to say. Which he doesn’t. And while it’s also painfully awkward to not know what to say in person, he also figures that the principle of the thing is that, at least he’s there.

The stage’s dozens of grand lights have all gone dark by the time Apollo circles back. The outer lights on the main academic building faintly illuminate it, the little that there is to see. The banner overhead on the scaffolding proclaiming this to be Themis’ sixty-seventh school festival has detached at one side and flaps noisily in the breeze, and Apollo remembers several other colorful tapestries hanging off of the side of the building that have already disappeared. The huge speakers and the scaffolding itself wait to be deconstructed another day.

Apollo looks at the stage and finds himself looking everywhere around the stage.

He could laugh, remembering what Phoenix said once: Trucy had tried to distract him with a will o’ the wisp enough times that he knows when a glamour like Klavier’s is trying to fool him. He might still laugh later, because it could in some way be funny, how he’s been caught up enough in this to know.

But right now, staring at the ground to find his way to the stairs to ascend to the stage, it’s not really funny at all. His eyes won’t focus and he feels dizzy, wobbly, and off-balance forcing them in a direction they want to drift away from. If it gets any worse he might vomit, and he’s going for Klavier’s shoes if he does.

A moment after that thought passes through his head, the sensation starts to fade. He blinks a few times and presses a hand to his forehead, trying to shake himself back to normal. His eyes no longer roll, unwillingly, in directions other than where he aims them.

“I should have expected,” Klavier says.

Apollo looks down at Klavier, lying on his side behind the stage’s witness stand, where the microphone stood during the concert, his arm folded beneath his head, his hair loose and splayed about. Apollo remembers the crime scene photos, remembers that Courte’s body was here, behind the witness stand, on her side. Almost the same. But there isn’t any blood, and Klavier’s eyes are open, staring up at him through the dark.

“That he would—” Klavier stops and props himself up on his elbow, squinting at Apollo. “You don’t have it.”

“What?” Apollo asks.

“The magatama,” Klavier says. “He didn’t give it to you?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. “No.” He remembers that Phoenix told him to say hi to Klavier, and decides right now it might be better not to. Second pass in silence; he waits for Klavier to ask him how he found him, then, or why. Klavier’s arm slides out from supporting him, to rest his head on it again, and his eyes fall from Apollo’s face to the surface of the stage, vacant and empty. Maybe picturing Courte’s body there, or the banners soaking up her blood. He looks tired - so terribly, impossibly tired. After a moment, he rolls over onto his back, staring up at the sky.

Apollo sits cross-legged on the stage.

The sky is dark, devoid of light, and Apollo studies the starry backdrop of the stage. Whoever painted it didn’t concern themselves with making any real constellations. He doesn’t remember if Juniper, on her costume, had random patterns or did some research. It’s not like it matters, but it’s something Apollo takes note of anyway - a sign of how long he’s known Clay more than anything else. All the strange and sometimes stupid ways that chance meetings change people.

He looks at Klavier, whose eyes remained fixed on the sky.

Funny that, chance meetings.

Apollo spins his bracelet on his wrist, feeling the familiar grooves carved into the metal. Waiting for when Klavier decides he’ll say something.

The sky actually has the slightest bit of variation to it - the darkness of the sky, and the darkness of the clouds, two different shades, and the clouds shifting and parting with the cold wind. Winter, the fae’s horrible winter, is close on its way. Apollo shivers. Nothing about the prospect makes him happy.

“Means told me something interesting the other day.” Apollo doesn’t like the tone of voice that Klavier uses to say interesting. Not bitter, but promising nothing good, either. Apollo looks at him. He isn’t looking back at Apollo, has his face turned to the sky but doesn’t quite seem to be really looking at anything at all.

He waits, but Klavier doesn’t go on. “The second evening we were investigating?” Apollo prompts.

“So Herr Wright told you, then?”

“N-no, he didn’t - he wouldn’t say anything.” There’s something so dark in Klavier’s voice that makes Apollo nervous, leaves him scrambling to defend Phoenix with an urgency he usually doesn’t feel when it comes to Phoenix and his myriad recorded failings. Phoenix telling Apollo something is not a concern that Klavier needs to have. “Athena and I were at the detention center, talking to Juniper, and Means was there - still thinking maybe he could get the case from us, I guess. But Mr Wright showed up, asked to talk to Means - when Athena and I left, we heard them arguing. Neither of them named any names but Mr Wright was accusing Means of having - threatened someone, or - or trying to discourage them from investigating by - something he said. But when we asked Mr Wright about it, he wouldn’t say who they were talking about, or what was said.”

Klavier finally turns his head, enough to arch a doubtful eyebrow at Apollo. “What, you think Mr Wright ever says anything instead of just being a cryptic bastard about it?” Apollo asks, and that gets a snort from Klavier, blowing some strands of hair up off of his face. But he does look like he believes Apollo now. “But he - Mr Wright - he was furious. At Means, for whatever - whatever it was that he said.”

Klavier stares back at the sky, his lips pressed tightly together, pondering that. “A threat,” he muses. “I didn’t think it - well. I was not imagining Means a murderer either, so I was wrong in my understanding in several ways, I must imagine.”

“What did he say?” Apollo’s voice sticks in his throat, emerging a weakened squeak.

“That it was foolish and selfish of me to have returned here - that it is my fault that Frau Professor is dead - I suppose that must have been what your boss considered an attempt to—” He waves a hand above his head and even in the faint light Apollo notices as he gestures that there isn’t a single ring on any of his long fingers. “Fortunately I am far too stupid to even understand that his message was to make me - give up, or accept that my involvement in this case did more harm than good. I figured it to be some expression of grief, a lashing out, over his coworker’s death - but knowing that he killed her, and now that you mention it—”

Tell Klavier that Courte’s death is on him, and watch him break - the way Klavier broke when Juniper mentioned her after the trial. Crumble his resolve so that he doesn’t keep going and get that audio recording examined; as far as gambits go for the covering up of murder, this one is a stretch, but Means probably still got some satisfaction out of being able to hurt someone who was being an extra thorn in his side, one that never should have been there because he’s a goddamn prosecutor, and not the one prosecuting the case.

But there’s a lot Apollo still doesn’t understand, even as rising dread reaches out to stifle his next question. He almost doesn’t want to ask for clarification. He knows he has to. Closing a hand around his wrist, he digs his nails into his arm. “But - why would he say that? How could it have been your fault?”

“Oh, it’s very funny.” Klavier talks like Apollo isn’t there, like he’s talking to himself, tossing thoughts into the air and seeing what comes of them. “That when we first met that I should have tried so hard to warn you away from your office, that Herr Wright is cursed and should make it so much more likely to damn you to an early death - and that I sitting there telling you that am after all no better, or safer a person to be around. That I can see all around but in a mirror.”

Apollo thinks he knows what he means - he can’t mean anything else. But he isn’t quite saying it, either - would Athena call that a defense mechanism, some last moments of clinging to some sort of denial rather than saying the words directly - and much as Apollo doesn’t want to drag it out of him like this, he also wants to be sure. And whenever Klavier and Phoenix talk around a point, Apollo is never sure that it isn’t really actually some new fae magic thing he hasn’t been introduced to yet.

“You’re cursed?” Apollo asks. Klavier blinks his eyes closed and keeps them closed, and then he nods. Apollo swallows. His nails in his skin hurt. “By - b-but - who?”

A ragged laugh croaks from Klavier’s lips. “You know who,” he rasps. “Who else? Surely not the man who’s done this before!” There’s a near-hysterical edge to his voice that Apollo has never heard before. “He’s cursed people and killed people for their petty slights to his pride, and I am - stupid enough to assume that he could not hate me enough to treat me the same as he has everyone else who has had the misfortune to—”

“You’re not stupid,” Apollo interrupts.

“Blind,” Klavier says, “and naive.”

“That’s not—”

“When he didn’t end lives he ruined them, and I helped him do it!” Klavier pushes himself upright, his hair a mess and a wild glint in his eyes. “I was so proud, truly I was, to have played a hand in exposing the corruption of such a prolific defense attorney! To tell my professor that I was living up to her ideals and teachings - I was wrong!” He curls his head toward his knees, and digs his hands into his hair. Both of them, Apollo sees now, are bare of rings. “How could I come back here and face her when I was so wrong?”

Apollo shifts forward. He wishes he had a single word to say, that he knew would help, or even would just not make it worse. “Why should she forgive me?” Klavier asks. “Why should he—” He lifts his head up, and all the mania has bled from his face, leaving him nothing but distraught. “Why did he forgive me?”

Apollo doesn’t say anything, and even if he had anything to say he’s not sure that he could. All else aside, he thinks, Phoenix means well - he just never channels that into normal human words or actions. Klavier’s hands slowly uncurl from his head. He’s shaking. He laughs, sick and nervous and just as shaky. “Why am I - why didn’t this just kill me, instead?”

The lump in his throat is too big to swallow. Apollo shakes his head. He expects, for a moment, that Klavier will lash back out at him for his silence, for not having an answer to impossible questions. But Klavier doesn’t say anything more, or glance away again, just rests his arms on top of his knees and stares at Apollo over them, looking at him like Apollo’s done anything more than sit here stupidly quiet, growing sicker to his stomach and closer to sympathetic tears with every moment had he lets this digest. A bad question comes to mind, born of false hope that he’s sure Klavier would have already explored, and unable to stop himself from wondering and hoping anyway, Apollo asks softly, “Are - are we sure he wasn’t bluffing? Professor Means, I mean? Making it up to…?”

Means gleefully found Athena’s weak point and repeatedly jabbed her there until even Blackquill, master of the art of cruel underhanded cuts, offered Athena a hand to get her back on her feet rather than let Means win. Apollo wouldn’t put this past him either.

“I did wonder,” Klavier says. “Thought then perhaps it was just a lie he made lashing out in grief, which is why your boss heard of this.” He gives a small, dismissive wave. “I went and asked him. If it was true. If I’m cursed.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Even if he’d said nothing, the look on his face was all the answer I needed, ja?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. He has a little trouble picturing it, honestly - Phoenix, the poker king, ever careful to not let slip any expression he doesn’t want seen. “I - I’m sorry.”

A small sad smile twitches onto Klavier’s face, and Apollo kicks himself for not having been smart enough to say that much sooner. Silently, they watch the wispy clouds drift across the dark sky. “I expected,” Klavier says quietly, “for a moment when I saw you, that he told you what happened, and gave you that magatama for that purpose.”

He’s not quite wrong to suspect that Phoenix would be particularly - what’s the best word here? Nosy? Micromanaging? Or the other way to look at it, concerned? Phoenix has had that habit before. “No,” Apollo says. “But you explained to me how your disappearing act works, and when I noticed something not seeming quite right, I figured it was you.” Klavier snorts. “And we - me and Athena and Trucy and the Themis kids - Juniper wanted to go to the little memorial for Courte. She was kinda arranging the flowers left there and she found a - a ring like—”

“Like this?” Klavier says, lifting one hand and spreading out his bare fingers for Apollo to see. Apollo rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and Klavier chuckles; the grin lingers for a few seconds before it slowly falls, and Klavier’s eyes turn downcast again. “Ja, well, I have little else to offer her memory, and what point lies in it for me when I am already cursed?”

“Stop yourself from being cursed again by someone else?” Apollo suggests. “I mean, I think Mr Wright - he’s been - multiple—” He remembers Phoenix once talking about how different curses land against each other, in the way he talks when he’s pretending not to be referring to himself.

“Ja,” Klavier says. “He told me my brother was not the first to hate him so.”

That’s surprisingly direct of Phoenix. Like Apollo is the only one he doesn’t say things to. “Well, there’s your point,” Apollo says. “For it to not get any worse.” He slides the ring from his finger and offers it back to Klavier, who, staring at his hands, doesn’t see him right away.

“Difficult as it is to imagine this getting any worse,” Klavier says darkly, but when he raises his eyes he notices what Apollo is doing and laughs sharply. “Nein, Herr Forehead, no need for that. I have not had the rest melted down for scrap, just left them at my apartment. You keep that. Keep yourself in one piece for me, ja? You’ve got no need to worry after me.”

Apollo remains unconvinced. He’s still going to worry. He’ll continue to worry, and he’ll press on that later, but a new thought has begun to eat at him, sinking teeth into his stomach and twisting until it hurts, nausea and anxiety and a sick nervous pain. And the anger, this same anger that he’s felt again and again, ever single goddamned time this happens. “Wouldn’t - wouldn’t Mr Wright have known about this? Before you asked? He could’ve Seen - he should’ve Seen—”

“We’ve crossed paths twice since I last saw my brother,” Klavier says. “Yes. He undoubtedly knew before I.”

“He should’ve told you,” Apollo says.

Klavier shrugs. “To what end?” Now he sounds casual, too casual, almost like the lack of care isn’t quite feigned, like all of Apollo’s justified bitterness and anger was leeched away from Klavier and leaving him with nothing at all to just shrug. Phoenix knew because Phoenix knows everything and Klavier knows that he knew and didn’t tell him and Klavier shrugs at it.

“The truth?” Apollo asks. The truth, because that’s what they’ve always been after, together, since they met. Since before they properly knew each other, since before they knew what the other was about, they were still chasing that same goal.

“And what of it? Justice was already served. Kris is already in prison, for the rest of his life, however short the state cuts it, for what he has done. I know that. What difference more does knowing this make?”

Apollo gapes at him. His head spins. He thinks about Klavier taking this stance with any other person, any other crime, and he can’t make this thought work. “This doesn’t sound like you,” he says, lacking anything else to say. This isn’t right, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“And who am I?” Klavier snaps back. “You think you know? You think I am to want to know that my brother hates me, ja? Just because that is the truth? I knew that! I know that!” He stands up, unfolding himself but only to assume a different defensive posture, arms folded and tightly clutching them, drawing himself up in a way that Apollo wonders if it’s a conscious choice or not, to mimic Kristoph. Apollo scrambles to his feet after him, searching his face for Kristoph’s and finding that it’s only pain that twists and contorts his expression. “‘Ignorance is bliss’ is not a mantra for our profession,” Klavier continues, “but I will tell you that it most assuredly is when it comes to them and their curses.”

“Right,” Apollo says irritably. He wants to scream, but not necessarily at Klavier - just scream, at nothing, at the world, at the great cosmic and fae injustices heaped on their shoulders. “Which is of course why you didn’t warn me about anything and let me blindly and ignorantly wander in way over my head.”

Professor Means didn’t accomplish what he meant to - he didn’t stop Klavier from investigating. He didn’t stop Klavier from helping to put him behind bars. But if he also meant to hurt him for daring to stick his nose where he didn’t belong, taunt him the way he taunted Athena, he succeeded. He still broke something in him. Maybe he’d done that as soon as he killed Courte.

Klavier works his jaw, a scowl etched deep into his face and brow. “Or is that somehow different?” Apollo asks. Another of Klavier’s particular and almost superstitious - if usually excusable - hangups about the fae? “Like—”

“Shut up!”

Apollo recoils, hitting his back against the stage witness stand. Even Klavier looks for a moment shocked at his outburst, but if it wasn’t what he meant to say he doesn’t apologize or backtrack. “You aren’t - of course it is different!” he snarls. “You had a chance to get out before worse happened, is why I told you! But this - listen to me, Herr Forehead - in everything I have ever been through, I have not heard even a whisper of a way to break a curse.”

Athena drives him home.

She’s wise enough not to ask specifics, and so for that matter is Trucy. “How’s Prosecutor Gavin?” is all she says when it’s the three of them in her car, Apollo relegated to the backseat because Trucy called shotgun and he has to respect her authority as the most senior member of the Wright Anything Agency.

“Not good,” Apollo says, and Athena frowns into the rearview, and Trucy turns and peers over the back of her seat, and that’s all there is on that topic. Out the window, Apollo watches the lights of the city blur by, rewinds the conversation in his head to play back every question that he shouldn’t have asked that led to what can’t have been the inevitable outcome. This could have gone any way if it weren’t for stupid Apollo, treating everything like a cross-examination to gather as much information as possible, no matter how the witness being questioned feels about those questions.

Surprise of the century, that it isn’t a great way to deal with upset acquaintances.

He stands in the lobby of his apartment building, phone in hand, finger hovering over the name in his contacts list. He already sent a text to Klavier - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed - and he wants to say more but he doesn’t know what and he’s trying not to shove his own foot deeper down his throat. Either he’ll figure it out himself, or he’ll swallow his pride and relay to Clay the gist of what happened to ask for advice.

(Klavier more-or-less stormed off while Apollo was still reeling, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Apollo to think that he should chase him down, not let him go off on his own in this state, but Apollo’s already made everything so much worse. He stood there on the stage alone, waiting while knowing that Klavier wasn’t going to come back, until Vongole loped up out of the dark up to him. She stood there with her shoulders hunched up and her head low, ears pressed back, like someone just kicked her. Her eyes as empty red as they are, she can’t do the puppy-dog eyes look, but Apollo would have sworn that was what she was going for, and he had no idea what she wanted or what he was supposed to do. After a few moments of that, she had seemed to shrink even further before his eyes and she turned, head drooping even lower, and slunk away. If she showed up trying to make Apollo feeling guiltier, than she damn well succeeded.)

And then there’s the other problem of the night.

Heart pounding shallowly in his throat, he presses his thumb to the screen and lifts his phone to his ear.

“Hello? Apollo?” Phoenix sounds - confused. Apollo wonders if Trucy told him the very little that Apollo told her. If maybe he’s guessed why Klavier is not doing well. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Apollo says. His heart is in his mouth now, too big and choking him. “In person, preferably.” So that he won’t try to lie. So that if he does, he can’t get away with it.

“I was planning to head into the office tomorrow morning to put together some stuff. Swing by sometime before noon and we’ll talk, all right?”

He doesn’t ask what it is that Apollo needs to talk about. Does he think he knows? Or, well, he probably does know. Or he doesn’t really care enough to ask in advance.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

His hands are shaking when he hangs up. He isn’t quite sure why - he’s asked questions of Phoenix about the fae before. He’s broached these topics before, confronted Phoenix about information he’s hidden before. This is just that, again. Same old, same old: Apollo drags every new fact about the fae out of Phoenix with more difficulty than he drags confessions out of murderers.

But if anyone knows the fae better than Klavier, if anyone could ever know a way to break a curse - it’s Phoenix.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles #i've left the house twice in eight weeks and am finally being smacked about by The Depression over it #and work from home makes my back hurt bc there are no good chairs for it. i am so tired. i wanna take a nap with my dog.

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bindingties · 5 years ago

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Pawn

(( dunno what to say it’s like midnight & im out here posting fics i made of my own aus bc yes ))

“Prosecutor Gavin?”

Klavier jumped, barely avoiding dropping all of his files with the movement. Still, he managed to turn and flash Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth an easy-going smile. “I didn’t hear you come up. What can I help you with, Herr Chief?”

Edgeworth frowned. “Would you mind coming to my office?” Klavier felt a bead of cold sweat roll down his back, but the smile did not falter as he nodded.

“Of course, just let me set these files down first, ja?”

---

For having the entire back wall be windows, the Chief Prosecutor’s office managed to be incredibly oppressive. The rich, dark wood and subdued magenta tones of the furniture devoured the midday sun. He spotted a chessboard across the room and seeing the way those magenta pieces surrounded the blue one, paired with the pawn statue nearby, made him feel hunted, trapped.

Despite his discomfort, his eyes lingered on that blue piece. It had a spikey quality to it and reminded him of….

“Please take a seat, Prosecutor Gavin.”

Klavier flashed a smile, mentally keeping hold of the spikey pawn for later, and sat down. “How may I help you, Herr Chief?”

Edgeworth sighed and took a seat of his own. The sense of being cornered grew; this felt like the interrogation room and Klavier wasn’t terribly keen about being the one getting interrogated.

“Have you been feeling well?”

A melodious laugh cut through the tense air as Klavier waved the concern off with a gentle flick of his wrist. “Of course!” His brow furrowed with innocent concern despite the knot taking root in his stomach. “Do I not seem alright? Have I made a mistake somewhere?”

Edgeworth shook his head. “No, but I talked with Wright the other day.” As Wright’s name left Edgeworth’s lips, so too did the blood drain from Klavier’s face. He saw Edgeworth take note of the change with a slight, decisive nod. “He mentioned the scene you made in the courthouse and I have noticed that you’ve been stressed and on edge ever since.”

Something in Edgeworth’s eyes grew sharper, not fully accusatory, but probing all the same. “Additionally, you have been accessing many of the files on Wright’s old cases. I am, let’s say, curious about this string of odd behavior.”

Klavier swallowed, mind whirring to think of a suitable lie. “I…” He pointedly cut his gaze away. “Hearing that Herr Wright was moving to get his badge back and seeing him in a new suit just….” His stomach twisted and he had to fight down bile as he remembered that impostor standing beside Herr Forehead like he belonged there.

“It brought back memories of both the Gramarye and Misham trials. I was reminded of how badly I screwed up and… And I guess I wanted to finally learn about the man whose life I ruined. Finally do the due diligence I should have done when Kris had first come to me speaking on Herr Wright’s character, ja?”

He finally looked back toward Edgeworth, halfway bracing to be called out on his lie. Instead, his boss’s face had softened the slightest bit.

“It’s not your fault what happened to Wright. I know it’s easier said than done, but you cannot torture yourself over what you think you should’ve done or agonize over what hindsight shows clearly now.” Klavier couldn’t help but recall his conversation with Lana Skye and found himself wondering if he could make Edgeworth hate him as quickly as he had made her.

No. Edgeworth might already secretly resent him, but there was no reason to give him an excuse to be more blatant or even fire him. He needed the access to official records that this job provided. He needed the way it instantly opened doors, gave him ample reason to be just about anywhere he wanted to be.

So, he sighed, sheepishly smiling. “I just… it’s hard not to fixate on, to worry about, ja? But I’ll keep your advice in mind, of course.”

Edgeworth nodded, the corners of his mouth crooking upwards. But then they fell, and his expression grew somber again. Klavier felt the oppression of the room grow even stronger.

“But there was one thing that is concerning me. I decided to speak with Mr. Justice on the matter as you two are somewhat close and he said that you kept going on about Wright being, well, not actually Wright.” There was no question posed; Klavier got the sneaking suspicion that Edgeworth wasn’t sure what question to ask.

On the other hand, Klavier wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. It wasn’t as if he could deny it, not with Herr Forehead’s words against his own. How was he supposed to rationalize his reaction when there was nothing rational about the situation that they were all in?

They both became shrouded in a damning silence.

Eventually, though, Edgeworth sighed. “This is not an order, Prosecutor Gavin, I want to tell you that first. However, I would recommend seeing a professional. I know you had been put on leave following Vera Misham’s trial, but you immediately went back into the deep end of work once you were cleared to return to the office and haven’t taken a vacation since. Perhaps you ought to take some time off, see if you can find someone to help manage your stress and how you feel about the events surrounding the Misham trial.”

Klavier smiled, though he knew he would not be heeding that advice and the way Edgeworth bit back another sigh suggested that he knew as much too.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Please just keep what I’ve said in mind, alright?”

Klavier nodded and stood, making his way to the door. As he did, he spared one last glance at the chessboard. “That’s an interesting chess set, Herr Chief.”

Edgeworth chuckled, pink dusting his cheeks. “It is a custom set; a bit garish now that I think on it; it’s a bit arrogant to represent yourself in your own chess pieces.”

“Nothing wrong with having items to match your aesthetic, ja?” Klavier assured, lightly flicking his thumb on his chain belt. “But you don’t seem very blue or spikey; do those pieces represent someone else?”

The pink got a little bit deeper. “Ah, just an old friend.”

Klavier paused; it had to be Wright. Who else had hair like that with a blue palette? Better play along with this worldwide lie for now, though, lest he end up with mandatory psychological leave and therapy sessions. “Ach, I was hoping for gossip, but I don’t know any spikey-haired people in blue.”

An odd expression passed over Edgeworth’s face at that, but as soon as it was there, it vanished. He shooed Klavier off with a put-upon sigh. “You’re dismissed, Prosecutor Gavin. Take care of yourself.”

Klavier nodded and walked out, feeling the slightest bit more grounded in his pursuit.

#just a witness | ooc #v { klavier }; breaking point of reason | the stranger

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elderstiefel · 5 years ago

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A Night to Forget - Miles Edgeworth x Phoenix Wright

Read also on AO3! Leave a comment & kudos if you want!

Summary : Closeted gay man Miles Edgeworth decides to step out of his comfort zone for a night out on the town. But it all comes crumbling down when he bumps into a familiar face

The chain of events that led Miles Edgeworth to be standing in the middle of a gay club on a Saturday night was an interesting yet all too familiar one.

It started with the usual stress. Many sleepless nights mulling over cases; falling asleep on the office couch and waking up as the sun peeked through the blinds, ringing in another day of work. Rinse and repeat.

Stress can make you do some interesting things, many of which Miles thought he was immune to. Though he had come close to ripping his hair out from the root or throwing an expensive brandy glass against the wall, he always seemed to manage to calm himself down and be rational.

Managing the usual work-related stress was something that was second nature to him.

The stress of being a 25-year-old closeted gay man in the city with no time to do anything was something he was still trying to figure out.

It didn’t help when his two worlds collided, and he had to spend the day staring the stupidly handsome and annoyingly persistent Phoenix Wright in the face during a court session.

He convinced himself that his crush on Wright was brought about by the two sides of himself battling it out in his mind; his suave professional persona and the scared gay boy in the closet who just wanted to come out and have some fun.

Besides, he couldn’t seriously have feelings for Phoenix Wright. They were natural enemies. Wright was so annoying…brilliant, but annoying.

Going out on the town was one of those things way out of Miles’ comfort zone. He was rightfully accused of “not getting out much” but God, he didn’t think he was that terminal. It took a quick swig of vodka and a 20-minute pep talk to get him out the door.

He felt rather…sexy in his tight-fitting grey sweater and even tighter fitting burgundy pants. Not uncomfortably tight, more like made to fit his body just so. There was something about the way his clothes were tailored that made him irresistible to look at…or so he’d been told. He wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home tonight but he knew he definitely could if the opportunity came about.

This night spending too much money on drinks and pretending to know how to dance to popular songs was supposed to help him blow off steam. Let loose a little bit. God knows he didn’t have any opportunity while living in a Von Karma household, but being a grown man with a more than adequate income and one free night to himself, he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Forget the cases. Forget the court. Forget Manfred Von Karma. Forget that stupid Phoenix Wright. To hell with it. Tonight was his night.

Or so he thought.

He felt a vein pop in his neck when he spotted Phoenix Wright, dressed in a shirt and jeans that were impossibly tight, sitting at the end of the bar. He was wearing that stupid dorky grin on his face, and his stupid giggle as he cracked a joke with the bartender could be heard over the music. And My God, he looks so stupidly gorgeous-

It wasn’t until Phoenix was offering up an awkward wave that Miles realized his cover had been blown. Blown to absolute fucking smithereens.

It wasn’t like Miles could pretend he hadn’t seen Phoenix. He was still staring at him, wide-eyed, his feet glued to the club floor like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck.

He couldn’t run, at least not that far. Sure the club was crowded but the shock of grey hair scrambling away would be easy to track down in the crowd.

The thump thump thump of the music turned into a dull buzz in the back of Edgeworth’s head as he tried to plan his escape. Panic made his vision go blurry, but he was quickly brought back from the void when that familiar voice called out to him.

“Miles? Hey, Miles!”

He was absolutely appalled by the greeting, his hands flying up to cover his mouth as if he was about to be sick.

Don’t scream my name in here you moron, I can’t be spotted in here, don’t act like this is so fucking casual why the fuck are you here-

“Edgeworth, are you alright?”

As soon as he noticed Phoenix had left his chair and oh fuck he’s coming this way, his feet finally let him move to hightail it out the door.

He didn’t create any scene at all, but Miles’ anxiety made it feel like every eye in the room was on him as he crashed out the door.

Everyone knows. Everyone saw me. Miles Edgeworth, the demon prosecutor, also a massive queer.

He held his head in his hands and tried to catch his breath in the alley beside the club. The dull thumping of the music bled through the brick wall he leaned up against.

Strings of words repeated over and over in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe but the words grew louder and louder. That voice…

Von Karma might be on death row but his words would forever live on in Miles’ head.

Failure. Queer. Pansy. Degenerate.

“…Miles?”

He jumped when a warm hand rested on his shoulder. He peeked up through his fingers at Phoenix, who wore an expression that was the perfect mix of awkward and sympathetic.

As much as he hated being seen like this, especially by someone like Wright, he couldn’t find the strength to straighten his posture and make eye contact. His eyes remained pasted on the concrete.

“… Wright. I-”

“Didn’t expect to see me here? I could say the same thing to you.” Phoenix offered a warm smile, one that persisted he was being genuine and not trying to poke fun.

“…please don’t-”

“Miles, trust me…I won’t tell anyone. Not even Maya, when she starts pestering the life outta me, asking where I’ve been. If you don’t want anyone to know…I get it.”

Miles’ eyes darted up to Phoenix for a brief moment, and he felt a jolt in his stomach that sent his eyes flying back to the ground.

Bracing himself on the brick wall, Miles straightened his back and cleared his throat as if nothing was wrong and he didn’t just have a near mental collapse in front of his work rival.

“I just…I found myself free this evening. And this- it’s not something I usually enjoy but-”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, I get it. Work is, uh…it’s a bitch! Let’s be honest.” Phoenix chuckled, reaching to scratch the back of his head.

Miles hated himself for noticing the fabric of Phoenix’s shirt stretch over his chest and how the sleeves strained at the biceps.

Miles crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat once again as if that would help him assert himself in this situation.

“I didn’t know you were gay.” He said bluntly, his eyes darting back and forth between Phoenix and the wall in front of him.

“Yeah, well… being gay is one thing. Being a lawyer is another. I think I do a good job of keeping my personal and professional life separate. But…damn, being a gay lawyer, there isn’t time to do anything!” Phoenix threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation, offering another chuckle that Miles warmly responded to.

“You’ve got that right…” Miles felt just the tiniest bit more comfortable, much to his surprise. Because God, this was awkward. He knew the working relationship he and Phoenix had would be forever changed but for some reason…he didn’t give two shits. Something about Phoenix’s openness made all the shame melt away.

“But when you’ve got time…you might as well use it.” Phoenix slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “And being a lonely gay in the club can be intimidating…”

“What are you implying, Wright?”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

____________________

Miles didn’t know what came over him, but he found himself, sitting next to Phoenix Wright of all people, at a gay bar, sipping on a $14 drink.

And it wasn’t his first $14 drink either. Phoenix started out getting them some cocktails that came with little paper umbrellas and candied fruit.

Experience tells us that these drinks are the most dangerous because they sneak up on you.

Miles twiddled the tiny paper umbrella between his fingers and sighed a bit more wantonly than he would ever care to admit.

“So…I never really came out to Von Karma, God knows I couldn’t. I thought I hid it pretty well but…he found my diary and…”

“Damn…I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how he reacted.” Phoenix rested his cheek in his hand and downed the rest of his drink.

Miles shivered a little bit as the memory flashed through his mind. “It wasn’t my proudest moment. I like to think everything he put me through shaped me into a better man but that was…terrifying. I thought he would send me away or…worse. All for writing about sneaking a kiss with a boy during lunchtime.”

Phoenix moved in a little closer to Miles. He could tell Miles needed a shift from cold memories to more awkward and funny ones. He wanted to see him smile.

“My parents never really suspected, y'know…I went through law school, and I never really had time to experiment or date. I had a few girlfriends in grad school but uh…well.” Phoenix gestured to the club around him. “You can imagine why those didn’t work out.”

Miles smirked and chuckled to himself, thankful for the change of subject. “Ah, the first girlfriends…I remember mine. Lovely girl.”

“Nice tits?”

“Oh, the nicest. And such a… curvy, womanly behind.” Miles tried his best to match Phoenix’s vulgarity.

They both snickered and simultaneously reached for their glasses, only to realize they were both empty.

“Ah, well…I’m outta cash.” Phoenix patted his pockets with a sad sigh.

“I’ll get the next round, pick your poison.” Miles reached for his wallet and pulled out $40 cash. Phoenix gasped and crossed his arms in such a childish way it almost made Miles lose it.

“Damn, Mr. Prosecutor came loaded! Why was I paying this whole time?!”

Miles let out a laugh that would certainly be deemed ungentlemanly and Phoenix melted a little in his seat.

“You offered the first drink. And you got so tipsy you just kept going.”

“What can I say, I can’t help but buy a handsome man a drink. Or two. Or four.”

Both of them felt the same flush in their cheeks, and they didn’t know if it was the alcohol or that they were both becoming aware of how much they shifted closer to each other during their conversation.

“Well…I can return the favor. I too enjoy splurging on handsome men.” Miles fiddled with his paper umbrella again, his eyes darting up to meet Phoenix’s.

The fruity drinks were certainly filling him with confidence, and he reached up and tucked the umbrella behind Phoenix’s ear, letting his fingers brush ever so gently across the skin of his neck on the way back.

The shiver that traveled through Phoenix was ungodlike and it nearly knocked him off his chair.

“I mean…maybe we could just take this back to your place? I know you have that good shit. The expensive stuff, aged for 40 years in an oak barrel and filtered through gold.”

Miles rolled his eyes and stuffed the cash back in his wallet. “It’s such a sophisticated drink, you can’t just down it like these subordinate cocktails.”

It wasn’t until Miles slipped his wallet back into his pocket that the reality of Phoenix’s question hit him like a ton of bricks.

He just asked to come home with me.

The next breath that left Miles’ lips was shaky. He glanced over at Phoenix, who was looking at his shoes and absentmindedly swirling the fruit in the bottom of his empty glass, staining it maraschino cherry red. He could tell he was just as nervous as he was.

“…it’s a bit of a walk.”

“It’s a nice night.”

____________________

Miles awoke the next morning on his living room couch, a painful crick in his neck and a pounding pressure swelling behind his eyes.

The first sight that greeted him, aside from the blinding sunlight that he immediately resented, was two empty glasses sitting on the coffee table. A few puddles of spilled brandy speckled the glass tabletop.

The night before was returning to him in bits and pieces. The club, Phoenix Wright, the paper umbrellas, the walk home…

He glanced down and drew in a quick breath at the sight of Phoenix sprawled on top of him, out like a light with a small string of saliva trailing from his lip onto Miles’ sweater.

Both of the men were fully clothed, minus shoes and socks, and both equally looking like absolute hungover messes.

A wave of relief washed over Miles as he realized they didn’t…do anything last night.

He’d never forgive himself if he and Phoenix Wright shared a night of passion and he couldn’t remember it.

As he lay there with Phoenix snoozing on top of him, a few more pieces of the night before came back to him.

They continued their talk about Miles’ closeted childhood. About how Von Karma drilled it into his mind that it was a phase he’d outgrow, and that if he didn’t, Von Karma would scare it out of him.

They talked about failed girlfriends, failed straight sex, and had a hardy laugh over that.

They talked about their first times with other boys…how liberating it felt. How good it felt to realize they weren’t broken.

After that, the night became a blur.

God, did Phoenix mention if he was a top or bottom? I can’t remember…

The sleeping man stirred on Miles’ chest and let out a rather loud yawn.

“Urgh… God damn it. This is why I don’t do this often.” Phoenix groaned, forgetting where he was and nuzzling into Miles’ chest.

“The aftermath certainly doesn’t seem worth it…” Miles tried to sit up but Phoenix kept him in his reclined position. He didn’t mind.

After sitting in comfortable silence for a bit, the gravity of the situation started to hit both of them. Miles cleared his throat and decided to break the silence first.

“Um… Wright.”

Phoenix scrunched his nose up and shifted to sit up. Leave it to Edgeworth to make things professional again.

“I know you mentioned you keep your personal and professional life separate…I strive to do the same.”

Phoenix rubbed his eyes and sat on the opposite end of the couch, distancing himself from the other man (as much as he didn’t want to, as much as he just wanted to snuggle back up with him and fall asleep).

“Yeah…you don’t have to tell me twice. This was… I had fun last night. But I don’t see how this has to change anything.” Phoenix offered a smile, to which Edgeworth returned.

“Yes, I agree. I had…fun.” Miles ruffled his hair, trying to smooth it out to no avail. “You’re right, this doesn’t have to change anything. I will remain vigilant in court and-”

“And I’ll be there to kick your ass.” Phoenix cut him off, smirking proudly.

Miles rolled his eyes and shot a look at Phoenix. And then another look. And then a sharp feeling rose in his stomach that was much more urgent than the hangover nausea that was cursing him this morning.

“What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”

His eyes were glued to the red and purple splotches left all over Phoenix’s neck and collarbone.

He swallowed hard as his eyes darted to the button of Phoenix’s jeans, his fly wide open just like his own. He shuffled his legs at his sudden realization.

Phoenix’s hair, instead of its usual spiky glory, was tousled like it had been previously ravished by hungry hands.

His heart in his throat, Miles returned his eyes to the messy coffee table in front of him. More memories of last night came seeping back into his mind and he felt his face grow hot.

“Uh… nothing. I had a good time with you last night. Good talk.” Miles’ hand flew to his own neck on instinct, and both him and Phoenix blushed wildly, knowing they were both sporting matching neck accessories.

It’s a good thing the next trial isn’t until Wednesday…

#narumitsu #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright x miles edgeworth #ace attorney #aa #drinking //#alcohol //

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hotel-japanifornia · 5 years ago

Text

The Reversal of Sisters - A 1-2 AU fic

Chapter 5: The Final Act

Summary: There was only one strategy they could think of to defeat him.

(can also be found on ff.net and ao3)

Mia and Phoenix silently walked to the defense’s bench and waited for the trial to begin. Although they were nervous about today’s trial due to the events that transpired the day before, the two hoped that things would turn out for the best. Soon after, the judge walked up to his bench and pounded his gavel. This signaled the beginning of the trial and caused the courtroom fell silent as he spoke.

“The court is now in session for the trial of Ms. April May!” The judge declared.

“The prosecution is ready, Your Honor.” Edgeworth said calmly.

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.” Mia said.

“Mr. Edgeworth, please give us your opening statement.” The judge requested.

“Of course, Your Honor,” The prosecutor bowed courteously before continuing, “Yesterday, we discovered that there is one other possible suspect besides Ms. May. Since then, we have managed to locate the person that was staying with her and wish to call them up to the stand. By hearing their testimony, the prosecution wishes to clear up any doubts that Ms. May is the killer.” Edgeworth declared.

“Very well then, call your witness.” The judge demanded.

“The prosecution wishes to call one Mr. Redd White to the stand.” Edgeworth informed. Soon after Edgeworth made his statement, the double doors were opened by a couple of guards and Redd strode up to the witness stand. Once there, he sneered evilly at Mia who glared in response.

“Witness, please state your full name to the court.” Edgeworth urged.

“You wish to know the full title of my personage?” Redd inquired.

“Er...your name?” Edgeworth asked once more with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yes, that’s what I said! Do my locutions confuse?” Redd inquired.

“Witness...name!” Edgeworth begged, looking exasperated by the witness’ refusal to cooperate

Don’t those two look like quite the pair? Mia thought as she listened to their conversation.

“Fine, my name is Redd White but my friends call me “Blanco Nino”! I am the fabultastic CEO, or in your common terms, President of beautatious Bluecorp!” Redd introduced.

“Witness, did you know the victim?” Edgeworth questioned.

“Nope. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Never seen nor heard of her before.” Redd replied.

“Did you happen to witness the moment of the murder from the Gatewater Hotel?” Edgeworth inquired.

“Oh yes! It was a most ghastlening sight indeed!” Redd reminisced, looking ‘horrified’.

Wait a minute, that doesn’t sound right! Mia thought.

Hold it!

“Your Honor, according to the Bellboy’s testimony, both the witness and the defendant were missing at the time of the murder.” Mia pointed out, slamming her hands on the desk.

“Tsk Tsk. Ms. Fey. At the time that the Bellboy came in, our witness here was in the bathroom.” Edgeworth explained.

“Indeed. Had he stridalked in a few seconds later, he would have seen me!” Redd remarked.

“If there are no further questions we would like to hear your testimony, Mr. White.” The judge requested.

“Oh, but of course!” Redd said.

Witness Testimony ~ Witness Account

“Let’s see, it was about 8:20, I believe.

I was quietly perusifying...er, ‘reading’ some papers by the window.

Then I heard a bedlam from outside.

Surprised, I turned to look at the building across the way and saw a most horrificating sight!

Ms. May was struggling with a small girl with a topknot.

The girl tried to wrestle an object out of Ms. May’s hands, but alas!

Ms. May gained the upper hand and hit her once.

The girl staggered back towards the window before she was hit again and was struck down.”

“Hmm, I see. Ms. Fey, you may commence your cross examination.” The judge allowed.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mia replied. I better be careful with what points I press on this time. Any wrong moves and I could be in trouble. She mused with a disgruntled expression on her face.

Cross Examination ~ Witness Account

“Let’s see, it was about 8:20, I believe.

I was quietly perusifying...er, ‘reading’ some papers by the window.

Then I heard a bedlam from outside.

Surprised, I turned to look at the building across the way and saw a most horrificating sight.

Ms. May was struggling with a small girl with a topknot.

The girl tried to wrestle an object out of Ms. May’s hands, but alas!

Ms. May gained the upper hand, and hit her once

The girl staggered back towards the window before she was hit again and was struck down.”

“The girl staggered back towards the window before she was hit again and was struck down.”

Objection!

“Mr. White, according to the autopsy report, the victim died of a single blow.” Mia reported, holding a copy of the autopsy in her hands, “Yet, according to your testimony, you said she was struck twice!”

Redd’s mouth went agape at this news. He looked at the stand as if he was trying to find the words to respond to Miss Fey’s argument. Before he could reply however, Edgeworth spoke.

“Mr. White.” Edgeworth called. Redd looked up at him and Edgeworth gazed at him as if trying to remind Redd of something. He blinked for a moment before his eyes lit up as if he suddenly remembered something.

“Oh...yes! That’s right, I forgot to mention an importantiful detail about what I saw!” Redd recalled. He gazed at the judge hopefully, “Your Honorableness, may I amend my testification?”

The judge closed his eyes in deliberation for a moment before nodding, “Yes, I don't see why not.” He accepted.

“Thank you very much, Your Honorableness. I am in your deepest gratitudity!” Redd proclaimed, looking at the Judge gratefully

Witness Testimony ~ The Struggle

“Ah, I remember clearly now!

The girl wasn’t struck twice.

She was pushed into something, quite forcefully too, I might add!

After she had been pushed, she staggered back towards the window

It was there that she was struck!”

“Ah, I see. So she was pushed.” The judge remarked.

“It was dark, especially in that office. I couldn’t exactly see what happened with clearitudeness.” Redd explained.

“That does make a degree of sense. Ms. Fey, you may begin your cross-examination.” The judge said.

If it was dark, how would you even know that there was a murder going on? Mia thought with an incredulous look on her face.

Cross Examination ~ The Struggle

“Ah, I remember clearly now!

The girl wasn’t struck twice actually.

She was pushed into something, quite forcefully too, I might add.

After she had been pushed she staggered back towards the window

There, she was struck down.”

“She was pushed into something, quite forcefully too, I might add.”

Hold it!

“What was this ‘something’ that she was pushed into?” Mia questioned.

“It seemed to be a lamp of some sort. I thought I heard the sound of glass breaking during their struggle and immediately afterward, the room went pitch black and it became nearly impracticossible to see anything.” Redd specified.

Didn’t you just say that the office was completely dark before she was pushed? Mia thought.

“Ms. Fey, is what the victim bumped into when she was pushed relevant to the case at hand?” The judge asked.

“Yes, your Honor.” Mia replied.

“Very well then. Witness, please append your testimony.” The judge ordered.

“But of course, Your Honorableness!” Redd complied.

Appended Testimony ~ The Struggle

“Ah, I remember clearly now!

The girl wasn’t struck twice actually.

She was pushed into a glass lamp which caused it to fall over and break.

After she had been pushed she staggered back towards the window

There, she was struck down.”

“She was pushed into a glass lamp, causing it to fall over and break.”

Objection!

“Excuse me, Mr. White. But I would find it hard to believe that you could see this glass ‘lamp’, let alone hear it crash.” Mia remarked.

“Oho, and whatever do you mean, Ms. Fey?” Redd questioned. Mia pulled out the floor plans for the crime scene and presented them.

“Look at this. As you can tell, the glass light stand is out of the range of vision that one would normally see if they were to look into the window.” She indicated the area where the glass light stand had fallen and pulled out the bag of glass shards, “Which brings me to my next point: look at these glass shards!”

“You can’t even tell that they come from the glass light stand!” Edgeworth remarked.

“Right, which begs the question: How would the witness possibly have known that there was a glass ‘lamp’ in the office and that it had fallen down?” Mia inquired. She gazed at Redd with a determined glint in her eyes.

“Witness, answer the question!” The judge demanded. Beads of sweat dripped from Redd’s brow and after a few moments he slammed his head on the stand then he quickly shot up and let out a loud scream.

“Order! Order! What is the meaning of this, witness?” The judge demanded.

“Urrgh...” Redd groaned. Edgeworth smiled cockily and his head turned to look at Redd.

“Witness, don’t you think it’s time to confess to your crime?” He asked. Redd gazed at him in horror.

“W-what do you mean?” Redd asked.

“Why, the crime of wiretapping of course.” Edgeworth revealed.

Objection!

“My client already confessed to the crime of wiretapping during the last trial. That matter has no relevance to the issue at hand!” Mia slammed her hands on the desk as she reminded the court

"Hmph” Edgeworth shrugged and shook his head, “Ms. Fey, need I remind you that your client kept that crime hidden from you, her own defense attorney. Can we really take her word for it?”

Grr. Mia thought. She glowered at Edgeworth who looked unfazed and continued speaking.

“Anyway, Your Honor. I request that we hear the witness’ confession.” Edgeworth demanded.

“As you wish, the witness may give his confession.” The judge allowed.

Witness Testimony ~ The “Wiretapping”

“4 days before the murder, I stepped into the Fey & Co. Law Offices.

I had done it to place the wiretap.

It was there that I saw an absolutely beautacious glass light stand!”

“I see. That makes sense.” The judge closed his eyes in contemplation. Once he opened his eyes, he turned to gaze at Mia with a serious expression on his face, “Ms. Fey, you may question the witness one last time. But be warned, if you do not find any contradictions, the cross examination period will be over and I will readily hand down my verdict. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor. I understand.” Mia acknowledged.

Cross Examination ~ The “Wiretapping”

“4 days before the murder, I stepped into the Fey & Co. Law Offices.

I had done it to place the wiretap.

It was there that I saw an absolutely beautacious glass light stand!”

“It was there that I saw an absolutely beautacious glass light stand!”

Objection!

“Mr. White, it’s not possible for you to have seen the glass light stand 4 days before the murder.” Mia stated clearly.

“Really, Ms. Fey? Do you have evidence to back that up?” The judge inquired. Edgeworth shrugged and shook his head with a cocky smirk on his face.

“Of course she doesn’t.” Edgeworth remarked.

“Actually, I do.” Mia revealed with an equally as cocky smirk on her face.

“What?!” Edgeworth exclaimed. Mia pulled out the bag containing the note and handed it to the judge.

“Your Honor, what does the back of this note say?” Mia probed.

“A glass light stand. Purchased on September...4th.” The judge read aloud. “And for 1,000 dollars too! That must’ve been one fancy glass light stand!” He remarked.

“Whaaaaaaat?!” Edgeworth exclaimed. Redd looked absolutely flabbergasted. Mia walked up to the witness stand and faced him.

“There’s only one way you could have possibly known about the glass light stand.” Mia claimed. Edgeworth slammed his hand on the desk.

“How? How could he have known?” He inquired.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mia challenged. She whipped around to face Redd once more and glared at him, “He was in the office on the night of the murder!”

The gallery fell into a murmur. It was so uproarious that the judge had to bang his gavel to get the crowd to fall silent once more.

“Order! Order! Does the witness have anything to say regarding these accusations?” The judge questioned.

“Gaaaaaaaaaaah!” Redd slammed his head on the desk and screamed once more. The judge banged his gavel and stroked his beard in thought. Edgeworth turned to the Judge desperately.

“Your Honor, the defense is clearly badgering the witness with these baseless accusations!” He remarked.

“Your Honor, the witness has screamed like this twice before and has been unable to provide an answer when asked about the glass light stand! He is clearly demonstrating suspicious behavior!” Mia indicated.

“Hmm, I have to say I agree with Ms. Fey on this one. His behavior regarding the glass light stand is at best, slightly suspicious.” The judge remarked.

“But, Your Honor-” Edgeworth began to say but was cut off by Redd.

“No, stop...I confess. I hit her...with the ‘Thinker’.” Redd confessed.

“Witness, are you telling us the truth?” The judge questioned.

“Yes...the glass light stand was... knocked over during our struggle…” Redd admitted.

“Hmm, very well then. I see no reason to continue this trial” The judge commented. A couple of guards walked into the courtroom and handcuffed Redd White. Once they left, Ms. Fey stood at the defense bench with a calm expression on her face. Meanwhile, Edgeworth looked absolutely flabbergasted.

“Before we end this trial, there is one last thing that must be done. Will someone please lead the defendant to the stand?” The judge demanded. A couple of guards escorted Ms. April May to the stand and left her to hear her verdict. April’s gaze remained fixated on the judge as he spoke.

“Defendant, although you were not the killer as suspected, wiretapping is a serious crime. You will be tried for that at a later point in time. Do I make myself clear?” The judge told her.

“I understand, Your Honor.” April responded calmly.

“Very well then” The judge nodded, “On the charge of murder, I hereby find the defendant….”

Not Guilty

“Court is now adjourned.” The judge declared. The pound of his gavel signaled the end of the trial and everyone exited the courtroom.

After the trial was over, Phoenix and Mia had lunch together to celebrate their victory in the trial. Once they were done eating, Phoenix and Mia went their separate ways and Mia proceeded to ride her motorcycle to the building where the Fey & Co. Law Offices was located. She walked up to the office and unlocked the door.

Mia passed through the reception area into her personal office. Once there, she headed towards her desk and sat down. She opened one of her desk drawers and pulled out a picture. It was of a girl sitting on a beach who was holding a conch shell up to her ear. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling happily. Mia smiled fondly at the picture and warmth shone in her eyes as she gazed at it.

I got him, Maya. The man who murdered you and ruined our mother’s life has been brought to justice. You can rest easy now, my sweet sister. She gazed at the photo for an hour or so more before placing it on her desk in such a way that it was facing her.

A day later, she was asked to identify her sister’s body by the police. After that for the next few days, Mia was swamped with paperwork but she managed to persevere through it. Eventually, the day of her sister’s funeral had come. Although she was still in the middle of completing paperwork, Mia made the effort to be at the funeral. She tried to remain stoic throughout the service but once she began to deliver her eulogy, she couldn’t prevent herself from choking up and started sobbing after she was finished.

As she began to leave the funeral, she felt a warm and playful breeze. She turned around but saw nothing behind her. Despite this, she couldn’t help but smile before turning back to leave once more.

Court Record:

Evidence:

Attorney’s Badge - Proof that I’m an attorney. I always make sure that it stays polished so it shines when I show it off.

Maya’s Autopsy Report - Time of death: 9/5 at 8:20 PM. Cause: blunt force trauma caused by a single blow to the head by the Thinker. Death was instantaneous.

Floor Plans - Floor plans of the crime scene: the Fey & Co. Law Offices.

Glass Shards - The broken remains of an expensive glass light stand that I purchased the day before the murder. Unfortunately, it’s broken beyond recognition.

Strange Note - A strange note with a message written with the victim’s blood. The message reads, “Examplibit A”. On the other side of this note is a receipt for a glass light stand I purchased the day before the murder.

Maya’s Cellphone - My little sister’s cellphone. Has our last conversation recorded. The only other indication that it was hers is that it seemed to have fallen from something. Despite that, the phone seems to be in good condition.

The Thinker - The murder weapon. Looks like a statue but is actually a clock, although I took the clockwork out. This is where I hid the important papers and is what I was going to give to Maya for her to hold on to on that fateful night.

Wiretap - Found in Miss May’s hotel room. Used to tap my phone.

Profile:

Phoenix Wright - My student. Although he is still new to the profession, he has a lot of potential and is determined to find the truth.

Maya Fey - The victim of this case and my little sister. I meant to give her an important piece of evidence for an upcoming trial on the night of the murder. Never could I have imagined that things would turn out like this...

Detective Gumshoe - Homicide detective at the local precinct. In charge of the initial investigation.

Miles Edgeworth - A gifted and ruthless prosecutor who will do anything for a guilty verdict. He looks familiar but I can't put my finger on where I’ve seen him.

April May - The defendant of this case. Stayed at the Gatewater Hotel on the night of the murder and came to my office to retrieve some papers. Tapped my phone on the day of the murder at the request of Redd White.

Bellboy - Bellboy at the Gatewater Hotel. Did not witness the crime firsthand but noticed that April May and Redd White were missing during the night of the murder.

Redd White - CEO of the information gathering company, Bluecorp. In truth, he has built his company through blackmail.

Fin

#ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #mia fey #chihiro ayasato #miles edgeworth #the judge #redd white #april may #bellboy #phoenix wright #detective gumshoe #maya fey #turnabout sisters #the reversal of sisters #alternate universe #my fanfiction

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