#i imagine they're all still good friends even after achille left

[sealrock]

I have to go do a gpose of nel, achille and nilo'ya because of this drabble now

[zoffra]

The Achilles' heel

Kortopi ran almost two kilometers, passing passers-by with ease without even grazing them and jumping against the facades of the building bars.

He arrived at the appointment ten minutes ahead of schedule. He didn't have time to catch his breath when he heard a voice behind him.

'You'll follow me without question. Nod gently if you agree.'

Kortopi slowly moved his head up and down, then froze instantly when he felt the cold barrel of a revolver press against his neck. He swallowed his saliva with difficulty. He was still a child, but in delicate situations, his analytical mind was as good as any of the other members. He was very lucid about the strength and intentions of his opponents.

He's serious, he'll kill me if I try anything

Something disturbed Kortopi's already chaotic thoughts, even more than the threat of being shot in the head.

Wedy wasn't there.

He couldn't make out his face because of his motorcycle helmet, but from his voice, the child deduced that his attacker was a young man under thirty.

They walked for another twenty minutes or so, and then stopped in front of a large motorcycle of a Japanese mark.

.....

The ride had been going on for over an hour by the time they got off the highway. Kortopi was handcuffed like a leg of lamb, but deep down he seemed to enjoy the moment.

The landscape was passing before his eyes like a fast-moving movie and was quite different from the panorama of Meteor city. Fields of wheat, poppies, and blueberries were gradually replacing the concrete towers and skyscrapers of the suburbs. They arrived in the countryside when a gentle autumn rain began to fall, wetting Kortopi's long hair sticking out of his motorcycle helmet.

.....

'Come down.' The young man took off his helmet and his long golden blond hair fell to his shoulders. Korutopi repressed a shiver when he saw his face, marked by a huge burn that extended from his jaw to between his nose and his left eye.

The child hastily looked away when he noticed a silhouette that looked familiar, moving towards them.

'Wedy, next time it's you who's going to do it. I'm not your delivery boy.'

'Lay down, Mello.' She's crouching down in front of Kortopi, taking off her handcuffs, 'Didn't my partner put you through too much misery?'

.....

They took a dirt path lined with pine and cherry blossoms. After walking for several minutes, they came to a small paved courtyard with an extraordinarily carved walnut wood porch.

Kortopi opened his mouth in surprise when they entered the building.

The dilapidated barn as seen from the outside was in fact be converted into a loft in a rustic, uncluttered style. The hall was so large that their footsteps resounded like an echo. The old oak parquet flooring was covered with a brightly colored graphic carpet, and long duck blue velvet curtains draped over the bay windows.

'Matt!' Mello roared from the lobby, and then came down the stairs that seemed to lead to a basement. Within seconds, the man known as Matt came down the central staircase. He was wearing a long-sleeved top with red and black stripes and jeans tucked into his brown boots. The smoky lenses of his glasses were not perceptible to his eyes.

When he reached Kortopi, the young man took off his black gloves and replaced them with surgical gloves, 'Spread your arms and legs.'

A terrible feeling of fear and humiliation overcame Kortopi, sensing the hands of a stranger performing a thorough body search.

'We've to make sure you don't have a wire. Take a deep breath.' Wedy, with his back to him, said this in a strangely compassionate way.

'Nothing to report.'

When the search was over, Wedy led Kortopi to the door Mello had used earlier, 'Time for introductions. Ready to meet the boss?'

.....

Kortopi shivered, his footsteps getting heavier and heavier as he sank into the basement next to Matt and Wedy. They walked down a long corridor, the atmosphere was nothing like the warmth of the ground floor. The neon lights were sizzling, emitting a whitish light reminiscent of hospitals, the walls were rough concrete and a slight smell of dampness pervaded the place.

They reached a large steel armored door that even Phinks would have had a hard time breaking through, and then Wedy knocked.

One knock. Three knocks. One knock.

And the door opened.

Questions raced through Kortopi's foggy mind. He wondered what the leader of these treasure seekers might look like, and felt a sense of excitement in spite of himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mello slumped on a worn-out leather armchair, devouring a bar of chocolate. He wouldn't have seen him if his big eye hadn't been so sharp. The room was plunged into darkness, and the only source of light came from the back of the room, emitted by a gigantic wall of surveillance screens. About fifty monitors were showing scenes of people's daily lives in public places, bars, but also in private homes and apartments.

Kortopi squinted at the light from the screens that hurt him, looking for one that would confirm his theory.

'Ninth column, third row.'

Kortopi turned to the raised voice and noticed a young man from behind with a famished appearance, strangely seated on his chair in a squatting position. The young man turned towards the child, his black half-long hair sweeping across his pale face and his bangs falling over his large black eyes.

When his eyes landed on the viewer, Kortopi's heart missed a beat. And for good reason, two groups of people who were not supposed to meet at all were on the same screen.

Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga had displayed their powerful and threatening aura, facing the magician and the puppeteer.

All this could have been avoided if a certain person had not been clumsy.

A few hours earlier, Machi had planned to order a cake for Nobunaga's birthday. She already knew what she wanted, it had been several weeks since she had imagined the piece, working meticulously on the details. She wanted it to be coated with mascarpone, nougatine pearls with a speculoos pastry, the top covered with a thirteen-legged spider in fleur de sel, then thirty candles would cover the whole thing.

The vibrator of her mobile phone brought her out of her daydream and her sweet smile faded completely when she read the contents.

They're drunk. Your turn. Good luck ^o^'

Machi huffed and puffed, and furiously put away her phone, cursing the manipulator, when she saw Shizuku in the elevator. She hesitated for a short moment, but as time was running out, she reluctantly asked her to order the cake.

.....

The troupe had enjoyed an excellent meal at the hotel restaurant when the waiter finally brought dessert.

Machi almost choked on his drink.

Instead of the cake she had imagined, there was a banana cake with two large, shapeless candles on top, almost burnt.

'This is not what I asked for.' Machi grabbed the waiter with such force that she almost broke his arm.

'Machi! Sorry, I couldn't remember which cake you wanted, so I chose Topi's favorite! I wanted to at least please the little one,' the little black-haired girl replied nonchalantly.

Machi loosened her grip and her icy look slipped towards poor Shizuku.

'Machi.'

Deep down, the ice queen knew that Shizuku wasn't responsible for her memory loss but she couldn't help it, she was angry.

Since Uvoguine's death, Machi felt helpless in the face of Nobunaga's plight, which she saw withering away. His suffering, his loneliness, his pain was bursting in ambiance, and she had the unpleasant feeling that she was the only one who understood the evidence.

She resented the spiders for that too. Against Shizuku, who hadn't managed to memorize a simple cake model. Against Feitan and Phinks, if those morons hadn't swallowed the equivalent of their weight in beer at four o'clock in the afternoon, she would have had time to order it herself. But more than anything else, she was angry with herself.

'Machi.'

When the brigade was still on York-Shin, no one knew that she spent three nights in the Goldo desert looking for Uvoguine's body, tracing tiny spikes of Nen that would have survived.

Eventually, she found him. The smell was nauseating, but it didn't matter. She cleaned his body with a damp glove, repaired his bruised limbs, and closed his eyes. Not wanting his friend to rest where the chain user had decided, she dug another grave. Then she adorned it with three flat stones intertwined with her Nen wire. This is what Nobunaga would have wanted.

'MACHI!'

Nobunaga's loud voice finally got her out of her head.

When she turned her head towards him, she was surprised to see that he was smiling at her. It was a real smile, one that came from the heart and made his dimples appear, right at the corner of her thin lips.

Nobunaga put his big hand on the pink-haired young woman's shoulder and gently pulled her against him, whispering in the crook of her ear, 'You've always been there, haven't you?

..........

As the situation seemed to calm down, no one noticed the little drops of sweat dripping from Illumi's forehead, still dressed in Kortopi. And for good reason, if the assassin was trained in all kinds of torture, poisons, and other joyous things, he had a ridiculous Achilles' heel.

The banana.

Illumi was mortally allergic to it. His parents - caring people - tried to make it ineffective on the puppeteer's body, through all kinds of treatments and force-feeding, but nothing ever worked.

Seeing the disaster coming and the spiders getting drunk as pigs, Illumi thought that he would have no better opportunity to escape than this one.

'Grow up, Topi!' The puppeteer didn't have time to push back the generous spoon served by Feitan that the piece of cake was already in the back of his mouth, knowing that the delicacy of a drunken Feitan is worth twice that of a sober Uvoguine.

And it happened.

Illumi took five steps before he regained his appearance. His head swelled like a watermelon making his large eyes look abnormally small, his usually slender fingers had become all puffy, and his slender silhouette settled as if his whole body was retaining water. He didn't die after all. But Illumi wondered if he might not have preferred it when he heard a hyena laughing from behind a column.

'I thought your transformations could last five hours ♥'

[thecheerfulnecromancer]

I thought it'd be a good idea to make and properly tag a post compiling all my Ace Attorney OCs so far.

Everyone you're about to see belongs in an original five-part fanfiction series of mine known as "Old Sins", following Phoenix, Miles and their allies old and new as they dismantle the aftermath of the Dark Age of The Law- which goes deeper than they ever imagined. The first of the five fics is about two-thirds complete, and sufficient interest might convince me to begin publishing certain chapters in advance [shameless plug.]

TW : Below this point, references to Murder, Suicide, Child Abuse / Childhood Trauma.

Let's get onto the main event- the OCs!

1. Kester Lonorra

Kester is an energetic, peppy young prosecutor. He works for Dane Ostrander, but idealogical differences are beginning to put a strain on the relationship...

His parents are both dead, and he is convinced that there was foul play involved, obsessively researching and re-analysing the crime ever sincr it took place five years ago. He lives with his very elderly grandmother.

2. Marq Rosencrantz

Marq was born to an exceedingly wealthy Japanafornian family with French heritage.

Now, however, due to unfortunate circumstances mostly outside his control, he lives alone in a low-end apartment with his dog, Buffy. He is a law student, as well as juggling a part-time job. He is dating Kester and has been for several years.

In spite of his appearance, Marq is shy, timid, and just wants to be left alone.

3. Ransom Rowley

Ransom is the drummer for an alt-rock band, "The Cult of Jasper". She is spunky, snarky, and doesn't take any shit.

She's the daughter of Rupert Rowley, a famously brilliant defence attorney, and as such is paricipating in law classes, but her heart isn't in it. She's far more interested in music. She is also vaguely friends with her classmate, Marq.

4. Achilles Tackett

The burnt-out, anxiety-ridden latest recruit to the Wright Anything Agency, Achilles' previous employer, Rupert Rowley, fired him after he spectacularly lost three cases in a row. Now he's an insecure mess of a person working on his self-esteem issues.

He lives alone, if you don't count his five cats. (Their names are Thursday, Pip, Duke, Grim and Elizabeth).

5. Jasper Finch

The loud, out-and-proud nonbinary lead singer for their namesake band, "The Cult of Jasper". They're working hard to promote their music and make something of themselves and their dream to be an alt-rockstar.

Their family life is surprisingly good, and they (shockingly) have a good relationship with their father, although they were heartbroken at a young age by the death of their mother by suicide.

6. Celia Rosencrantz nee Kaulen

The CEO of a famous fashion company, Celia is a kindly, jovial woman with a soft spot for her rebellious son-in-law, Marq. She lives with her husband, Anton, and between their two successful businesses they are some of the wealthiest people in the city.

7. Merrit Fey

Merrit presents and identifies as male, although he is intersex, with both XX and XY chromosomes- for this reason, he found he was able to spirit channel. His father, who had some hang-ups about the idea, abandoned him with his estranged mother at the Kurain village as a young child.

Now, he lives with his lesbian aunts*, Maya and Franziska, and is the lead guitarist for "The Cult of Jasper". He's reluctant to develop his spirit channeling techniques as he fears being labelled as a girl, but he does sometimes talk to a nice red-haired girl called Dolly, who he's been able to talk to via mirrors since the age of seven.

*Maya isn't really his aunt, more of a third-cousin-twice-removed, but she's the only relative he'll currently tolerate and calling her 'aunt' saves confusion.

8. Osten Von Karma

Osten Von Karma, the grandson of the legendary (and infamous) Manfred Von Karma, is equally obsessed with perfection, having been coached by his mother from a young age to be a near-copy of his grandfather, who died when he was still quite little.

The stress of trying to be flawless is slowly wearing down his mental health, but outwardly he appears cold, calm, and calculating. He wears almost entirely white clothes.

He has a crush on Achilles, but his internalised homophobia has caused him to refuse to admit this even to himself.

9. Dane Ostrander

A legendary prosecutor with a nearly flawless record, Ostrander is a cold, sombre, utterly unemotional person. They are the current employer of both Kester and Osten. Their ruthless efficiency has seen them convict almost as many people as their former colleague and mentor, Manfred Von Karma.

Ostrander also owns a casino, and as a result is very wealthy indeed.

Oh, and did I mention they're a deranged multi-murderer and have driven several people to suicide over unpaid gambling debts? Because that's true.

10. Eady Wells

My own semi-self-insert, Eady is a cheerful young forensic scientist working for Ema Skye. He's very British, very sarcastic, and very good-natured.

Eady is a pansexual trans man. He has a pet parrot called Watson, who he sometimes carries around on his shoulder, though not during investigations since the risk of contamination doesn't bear thinking about.

It goes without saying that these OCs are my personal intellectual property, yada-yada, don't steal. :)

[zoffra]

Chapter 5 - The Achilles' Heel

Kortopi ran almost two kilometers, passing passers-by with ease without even grazing them and jumping against the facades of the building bars.

He arrived at the appointment ten minutes ahead of schedule.

He didn't have time to catch his breath when he heard a voice behind him, 'You'll follow me without question. Nod gently if you agree.'

Kortopi slowly moved his head up and down, then froze instantly when he felt the cold barrel of a revolver press against his neck.

He swallowed his saliva with difficulty. He was still a child, but in delicate situations, his analytical mind was as good as any of the other members. He was very lucid about the strength and intentions of his opponents.

He's serious, he'll kill me if I try anything

He couldn't make out his face because of his motorcycle helmet, but from his voice, the child deduced that his attacker was a young man under thirty.

Something disturbed Kortopi's already chaotic thoughts, even more than the threat of being shot in the head. Wedy wasn't there.

They walked for another twenty minutes or so, and then stopped in front of a large motorcycle of a Japanese make.

.....

The ride had been going on for over an hour by the time they got off the highway. Kortopi was handcuffed like a leg of lamb, but deep down he seemed to enjoy the moment.

The landscape was passing before his eyes like a fast-moving movie and was quite different from the panorama of Meteor city. Fields of wheat, poppies, and blueberries were gradually replacing the concrete towers and skyscrapers of the suburbs. They arrived in the countryside when a gentle autumn rain began to fall, wetting Kortopi's long hair sticking out of his motorcycle helmet.

.....

'Come down.' The young man took off his helmet and his long golden blond hair fell to his shoulders. Korutopi repressed a shiver when he saw his face, marked by a huge burn that extended from his jaw to between his nose and his left eye.

The child hastily looked away when he noticed a silhouette that looked familiar, moving towards them.

'Wedy, next time it's you who's going to do it. I'm not your delivery boy.'

'Steady, Mello.' She's crouching down in front of Kortopi, taking off her handcuffs, 'Didn't my partner put you through too much misery?'

.....

They took a dirt path lined with pine and cherry blossoms. After walking for several minutes, they came to a small paved courtyard with an extraordinarily carved walnut wood porch.

Kortopi opened his mouth in surprise when they entered the building. The dilapidated barn as seen from the outside was in fact be converted into a loft in a rustic, uncluttered style. The hall was so large that their footsteps resounded like an echo. The old oak parquet flooring was covered with a brightly colored graphic carpet, and long duck blue velvet curtains draped over the bay windows.

'Matt! Take care of the fur ball!' Mello roared from the lobby, and then came down the stairs that seemed to lead to a basement.

Within seconds, the man known as Matt came down the central staircase. He was wearing a long-sleeved top with red and black stripes and jeans tucked into his brown boots. The smoky lenses of his glasses were not perceptible to his eyes.

When he reached Kortopi, the young man took off his black gloves and replaced them with surgical gloves, 'Spread your arms and legs.'

A terrible feeling of fear and humiliation overcame Kortopi, sensing the hands of a stranger performing a thorough body search.

'We have to make sure you don't have a wire. Take a deep breath.' Wedy, with his back to him, said this in a strangely compassionate way.

'Nothing to report.' When the search was over, Wedy led Kortopi to the door Mello had used earlier, 'Time for introductions. Ready to meet the big boss?'

Kortopi shivered, his footsteps getting heavier and heavier as he sank into the basement next to Matt and Wedy.

They walked down a long corridor, the atmosphere was nothing like the warmth of the ground floor. The neon lights were sizzling, emitting a whitish light reminiscent of hospitals, the walls were rough concrete and a slight smell of dampness pervaded the place.

They reached a large steel armored door that even Phinks would have had a hard time breaking through, and then Wedy knocked.

One knock. Three knocks. One knock.

And the door opened.

Questions raced through Kortopi's foggy mind. He wondered what the leader of these treasure seekers might look like, and felt a sense of excitement in spite of himself.

Probably a powerful mafia boss...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mello slumped on a worn-out leather armchair, devouring a bar of chocolate. He wouldn't have seen him if his big eye hadn't been so sharp. The room was plunged into darkness, and the only source of light came from the back of the room, emitted by a gigantic wall of surveillance screens. About fifty monitors were showing scenes of people's daily lives in public places, bars, but also in private homes and apartments.

Kortopi squinted at the light from the screens that hurt him, looking for one that would confirm his theory.

'Ninth column, third row.'

Kortopi turned to the raised voice and noticed a young man from behind with a famished appearance, strangely seated on his chair in a squatting position. The young man turned towards the child, his black half-long hair sweeping across his pale face and his bangs falling over his large black eyes.

When his eyes landed on the viewer, Kortopi's heart missed a beat. And for good reason, two groups of people who were not supposed to meet at all were on the same screen.

Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga had displayed their powerful and threatening aura, facing the magician and the puppeteer.

All this could have been avoided if a certain person had not been clumsy.

A few hours earlier, Machi had planned to order a cake for Nobunaga's birthday. She already knew what she wanted, it had been several weeks since she had imagined the piece, working meticulously on the details.

She wanted it to be coated with mascarpone, nougatine pearls with a speculoos pastry, the top covered with a thirteen-legged spider in fleur de sel, then thirty candles would cover the whole thing.

The vibrator of her mobile phone brought her out of her daydream and her sweet smile faded completely when she read the contents.

They're drunk. Your turn. Good luck ✌️

Machi huffed and puffed, and furiously put away her phone, cursing the manipulator, when she saw Shizuku in the elevator. She hesitated for a short moment, but as time was running out, she reluctantly asked her to order the cake.

.....

The troupe had enjoyed an excellent meal at the hotel restaurant when the waiter finally brought dessert.

Machi almost choked on his drink. Instead of the cake she had imagined, there was a banana cake with two large, shapeless candles on top, almost burnt.

'This is not what I asked for.' Machi grabbed the waiter with such force that she almost broke his arm.

'Machi! Sorry, I couldn't remember which cake you wanted, so I chose Topi's favorite! I wanted to at least please the little one,' the little black-haired girl replied nonchalantly.

Machi loosened her grip and her icy look slipped towards poor Shizuku.

'Machi.'

Deep down, the ice queen knew that Shizuku wasn't responsible for her memory loss but she couldn't help it, she was angry. Since Uvoguine's death, Machi felt helpless in the face of Nobunaga's plight, which she saw withering away. His suffering, his loneliness, his pain was bursting in ambiance, and she had the unpleasant feeling that she was the only one who understood the evidence.

She resented the spiders for that too. Against Shizuku, who hadn't managed to memorize a simple cake model. Against Feitan and Phinks, if those morons hadn't swallowed the equivalent of their weight in beer at four o'clock in the afternoon, she would have had time to order it herself. But more than anything else, she was angry with herself.

'Machi.'

When the brigade was still on York-Shin, no one knew that she spent three nights in the Goldo desert looking for Uvoguine's body, tracing tiny spikes of Nen that would have survived.

Eventually, she found him. The smell was nauseating, but it didn't matter. She cleaned his body with a damp glove, repaired his bruised limbs, and closed his eyes. Not wanting his friend to rest where the chain user had decided, she dug another grave. Then she adorned it with three flat stones intertwined with her Nen wire. This is what Nobunaga would have wanted.

'MACHI!'

Nobunaga's loud voice finally got her out of her head. When she turned her head towards him, she was surprised to see that he was smiling at her. It was a real smile, one that came from the heart and made his dimples appear, right at the corner of her thin lips.

Nobunaga put his big hand on the pink-haired young woman's shoulder and gently pulled her against him, whispering in the crook of her ear, 'You've always been there, haven't you?

..........

As the situation seemed to calm down, no one noticed the little drops of sweat dripping from Illumi's forehead, still dressed in Kortopi. And for good reason, if the assassin was trained in all kinds of torture, poisons, and other joyous things, he had a ridiculous Achilles' heel.

The banana.

Illumi was mortally allergic to it. His parents - caring people - tried to make it ineffective on the puppeteer's body, through all kinds of treatments and force-feeding, but nothing ever worked.

Seeing the disaster coming and the spiders getting drunk as pigs, Illumi thought that he would have no better opportunity to escape than this one.

'Grow up, Topi!'

The puppeteer didn't have time to push back the generous spoon served by Feitan that the piece of cake was already in the back of his mouth, knowing that the delicacy of a drunken Feitan is worth twice that of a sober Uvoguine.

And it happened.

Illumi took five steps before he regained his appearance. His head swelled like a watermelon making his large eyes look abnormally small, his usually slender fingers had become all puffy, and his slender silhouette settled as if his whole body was retaining water.

He didn't die after all. But Illumi wondered if he might not have preferred it when he heard a hyena laughing from behind a column, 'I thought your transformations could last five hours ♥'