#it's the same trick they do with engarde too. trying to set it up with obvious callbacks to a minimal impact case | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renegadewangs · 6 years ago

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Ace Mindhunter - 4th Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

4th Interview Luke Date: June 16th 2028 Time: 3:00 PM Location: Interpol H.Q. - B.A.U. Office. Simon returned to the B.A.U. office after a very long, calm weekend and a morning of indicting a common burglar for tomorrow's trial. He would've counted himself lucky to still be handling any court cases on a part-time basis at all, were it not for the looks he was getting from his colleagues at the Prosecutor's Office. Even worse than that; he was certain Winston Payne was getting more murder trials as a result of his little venture with Interpol, and that notion chilled him to the bone. He walked through the door to find that Athena was already waiting for him, seated by the desk and a cup of coffee in her hand. “Hey! Right on time!” she said. “And you are early for once. Am I merely dreaming, or have you earnestly adopted a sense of punctuality?” “Very funny. I wrapped up my investigation with Mr. Wright early, so he dropped me off here. How was your weekend?” Simon slipped himself into his own desk chair and heard it creak under his weight. He really wished Interpol would invest in furniture that hadn't been around for three decades already. “... It was uneventful. And yours?” “About as eventful as a weekend at the Wright Anything Agency is, really.” Athena paused, took a quick sip of her coffee and proceeded with visible discomfort. “… Listen, I thought we should discuss our interviewing strategy before we take on our next subject.” “Our strategy?” Simon asked, uncertain why such a thing would need discussing. “Let's face it, our interview with Furio Tigre was a mess.” “Was it really? We got answers, did we not?” “We could've gotten a lot more if he hadn't stormed out! I don't think either of us really knew how to approach him, so we were all over the place. It's no wonder he got upset.” Simon sniffed loudly. “It's hardly our fault that he has such large toes to step on.” “He was right, though! If we keep working like that, at some point it will go wrong. Now, I know you feel like you need to play the bad cop, but I just don't think that you should. Don't take this the wrong way, but... You're not the bad cop to them.” Tempting as it was to pinch himself for verification, Simon knew he couldn't possibly be dreaming. This was real. Athena had uttered those ludicrous words to him. Well, perhaps he couldn't fault her for her ignorance. She hadn't witnessed his time in prison. He wouldn't have wished her to, either. Still, he could illuminate the situation a bit. “You must be joking. Simply because of the Tiger's attitude problem, you believe our subjects won't take me seriously? For seven years, I was one of the most notorious names in death row. Even the guards knew better than to cross me. I had inmates currying favor with me, groveling for my approval and my mercy.” “Yes, and that was when they believed you actually killed someone,” Athena said in the bluntest of tones. “But you yourself outright said it to Mr. Tigre; you never stained your hands with blood. They know now that you're bluffing. So... I'm really sorry, Simon, but you can't be the bad cop when the person you're trying to threaten knows that you're, well, a good cop. Or prosecutor, in this case.” “And I suppose you would be more intimidating to them? A colorfully-dressed teenage girl? Yes, I'm certain someone like Engarde will be shaking in his manacles at the mere sight of you,” Simon snapped. He knew he was being immature, but it was better to contradict Athena now than to let her make a fool of herself in front of a more dangerous inmate. She'd already pushed her luck with Tigre. “Nobody said we had to play good cop and bad cop in the first place! Gosh!” she huffed at him. “There's other ways to get a person talking, you know. We just need to gain their trust. And I'm not really talking about speaking their own language, either. Think back to Ms. Vasquez and Mr. Retinz. Remember how we got them to be more open with us?” “... We engaged them on their interests,” was Simon's conclusion. With Athena's questions about the Diva Producer's movies and Simon's urging for magic tricks, that seemed to be the common denominator. “Kind of? I think, to put it in broader terms, we gave them what they wanted. We asked them what they wanted to hear; the sort of thing they would want to respond to. Their emotional states played a big part in that too. Mr. Retinz was angry, so of course he'd want to let off steam about his family and the Gramaryes. So what's most important when we first meet with a subject is that we analyze their emotional state and what interests them.” Simon thought back to the interview with Tigre and how this strategy would've been applied to him. The resulting hypothesis led to a mean grimace and he tapped a finger against his forehead. “Hmm... So, had we complimented the Tiger on his absurdly small dog's fashion sense, he would have opened up to us more?” “Hah! You know what? I honestly think he would've!” Athena replied with a wide gin. “Seriously though, you may not be a convicted killer, but you spent all those years in death row anyway. I think that's the best way to play it. Just let them know that you understand what they're going through, and you'll do whatever you can to make it easier for them. Like when you got coffee for Mr. Retinz. That was a smart move.” “What does that make me? The sympathetic cop?” “I think sweet-talking, manipulative cop has a better ring to it, don't you?” “Hah! Manipulative cop is the sort of title I will settle for.” The door to the office opened and in walked Lang. He was carrying a box under one arm and something told Simon they weren't about to be treated to pastries. Sure enough, when it was set down on the desk, there was a distinct rustle of paperwork. Athena greeted him with a cheerful tone, Simon merely hummed in acknowledgment. “So I've got good news and bad news. Which do you two want to hear first?” Lang asked. “Uhhh... I guess the bad news, so we can recover from that with the good news,” was Athena's reply. “Right. I'm needed overseas. Big assignment, can't say too much about it. The bottom line is that I'll be gone for at least a week.” Simon smirked and leaned back in his chair, once again enduring its creaking. “Why, Agent Lang, I believe she asked for the bad news.” “Hah. Very funny, Blackquill. The good news is that I got a few inmates to meet your criteria. You can find the profiles in here,” Lang said, patting the box. “And you can schedule most of the meetings whenever it suits you. Just call the prison, tell them what it's for and they'll arrange everything for you in my place.” “Really?! Thank you, Shifu!” Athena pumped both her fists into the air, then reached for the box. Lang didn't release it just yet, instead pulling it closer to his end of the desk. “Ah. Just one more thing. The profile on top? You gotta do that one first.” “Hah? Why is that?” “Because the subject specifically asked to be included in the project and after looking over his profile, I don't see why not. If it fits, he sits- before you, that is.” Simon's eyes narrowed. “Someone specifically asked to be included? Who told him about the project? I cannot imagine the Cowardly Tiger was singing our praise.” “He sure wasn't, and I'll let your indiscretion slide because from what I hear, nobody listens to Tigre's ranting either way. No, apparently he heard about your work from Roger Retinz. You came 'highly recommended', even.” “Highly recommended? By Mr. Retinz?” Athena looked as if she'd just stepped through a portal into some sort of alternate dimension. Indeed, Simon felt quite the same way. “Yeah. Sounds like you made a friend in there,” Lang said with a shrug. Athena leaned in closer to Simon to whisper under her breath. “The manipulative cop strikes again.” “Mmh, I will have to wind every single one of those butchers around my little finger,” Simon remarked in turn, smirking. “Anyway, the guy wants to see you as soon as possible, so I booked you in for tonight.” And just like that, their amusement had vanished as if it'd been subjected to one of Mr. Reus's magic tricks. Athena threw both arms forward, onto the desk, and put her head down. As for Simon, he'd started so badly that he was sure some vital part of his chair had broken. Without a doubt, something had made a snapping noise. He was now sitting as still as possible so as not to test the structural integrity of the construction without drawing attention to himself. This chair was free to come apart once he was standing upright again. “Tonight?!” Athena wailed against the inside of her left arm. “But I was going to help Mr. Wright sort through clues from our investigation!” “And I must do battle in court tomorrow morning. My case requires due preparation,” Simon insisted, though it was only an excuse. The trial for such an obvious burglary could've been prepared right there in the prosecutor's lobby and he'd still have time to spare. He simply didn't want to spend his evening at the prison. “Well, then you'd better hope this interview won't take long. You can report to the usual place at 7 PM. Once you've worked your way through the rest of the inmates I compiled for you and you've got some results to show for it, I'll see about getting you playdates with the bigger fish.” “Uuugh... Fine...” Athena grumbled. “Good luck, and I'll see you when I get back.” With that, Lang left the office. Almost a minute had passed before Athena mustered up enough energy to reach for the box and open it. She took out the top folder, flipped it open and skimmed the papers inside. Simon, who was still attempting to assess whether his chair would hold or not, didn't dare lean in for a glance of his own. “... Oh, this looks like fun! I mean... as fun as meeting with a convicted killer can be. But the way he tried to cover up the murder and abuse a loophole in the law was pretty clever. I guess that makes sense, seeing as he was some kind of ace detective.” There was a loud crack and a thud as Simon fell to the floor. ------- Date: June 16th 2028 Time: 7:02 PM Location: Interview Room. When he'd first accepted to take part in the project, Simon had dreaded a lot of scenarios- and still did at this very moment. He dreaded that Athena might be hurt, either physically or emotionally. He dreaded facing someone who would be quick to draw a shank. He dreaded failing to bring results to the table, thereby disgracing Interpol's name and betraying the trust the Chief Prosecutor had bestowed on him. To some degree, he even dreaded facing the Phantom, should that day ever come. What he hadn't considered, up until that afternoon, was that he might face the most irritating inmate of all. Luke Atmey. Roger Retinz was no friend of theirs, he knew that for certain now. That damned Greasy Producer must've run his mouth about the project on purpose. There was no one in death row who could stand Atmey's long-winded boasting. Those who would pass him in the hall would avoid making eyecontact to the best of their ability. Those who were doomed to sit at his table in the cafeteria would instead stand in some faraway corner. Those who were scheduled to share a workroom with him would feign acute illness. When it came to being avoided like the plague, not a single violent psychopath in prison could hold a candle to Atmey. This little interview would cost Simon and Athena their entire evening, and for what? For absurd tales about Atmey's elegance and grace? This would be the first and last time that Lang would schedule their meetings for them. Atmey entered in the most flamboyant manner possible, his enormous nose stuck high up in the air and one hand held up like a limp animal paw. At first glance, he might've seemed the sort of man who hadn't been dented in the least by almost ten years in prison, but a smug grin could only hide so much. The dark lines beneath Atmey's one visible eye told Simon more than enough. He came to a full stop before the table and instead of sitting down, he leaned forward to assess the both of them up close with his magnifying glass monocle. Already, Simon's first instinct was to leave. He fought it. “Zvarri! The elegant truth has been revealed to me!” Atmey proclaimed. “The both of you were sent by Interpol, on behalf of the Behavioral Analysis Unit!” “We were not sent by Interpol such much as we were sent for. By you,” Simon replied dryly. “Naturally! I, Luke Atmey, heard whispers of your professional psychological project and saw its powerful potential. That you had not come to me sooner is beyond my grasp.” Simon had quite a few things to say about including pompous, pretentious pricks in their professional psychological project, but held his tongue. He wasn't supposed to be the bad cop. “Haha... Well, we're still getting started, you know,” Athena explained. “Baby steps.” “Aaah, you wished to save the best for last? Understandable! I, Luke Atmey, am indeed the finest dish on the menu, so to speak. But you needn't be intimidated by my greatness! We are all only human!” Athena shot a most impressive Look Simon's way. Something between incredibility, amusement and secondhand embarrassment. The only response he could think to give was a helpless shrug. He had warned her beforehand. She hesitated, then turned her attention to the recording device, only to find that Atmey had already taken hold of it. He pressed record and placed it on the table in the most meticulous of fashions. “There we are. This is Luke Atmey, reporting to you live from the Los Angeles prison. With me now are Prosecutor Simon Blackquill and...” Atmey trailed off, slid the recording device at an arm’s length and cupped a hand to the side of his mouth to shield it, speaking to Athena in a whisper. “What was your name, Miss?” “Ath-Athena Cykes...” “And Miss Athena Cykes!” Atmey finished. “Now, I'm sure you'll want to hear all about my daring, elegant adventures in the field! An Ace Detective has many superb, scintillating stories to share!” “Actually, I thought we should start with this statement Interpol prepared. You see, we’ll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the-” “Yes, yes, I got the gist of it from Sir Retinz.” “Not the most reliable source of information,” Simon pointed out before he could stop himself. He needed to put their new strategy to the test, he knew that, so he changed his tack. “Perhaps an Ace Detective such as yourself would like to review the statement, so as to be certain there are no loopholes we might employ?” Atmey removed his monocle and began to polish it on the sleeve of his prison garb. “Hmm... Well, I suppose I have ten seconds to spare. Very well.” Athena shot Simon another Look, this time one of excited accomplishment. Following that, she issued the full statement to Atmey, psychological profile, statistical analysis and all. Judging by the furrow of his brow and the way his fingers slowed their movements, the man appeared to be listening intently. “Mmh... What does Interpol's confidentiality clause entail, exactly?” he asked once Athena was done. “Well, ah... The specific answers to our questions will be kept within Interpol and can't be shared with outside sources, I guess?” she looked unsure even as she said it. Had she not read the details at all? “Those outside sources include other types of law-enforcement,” Simon supplied. “It is for that same reason that anything you say here cannot be used against you in your applications for parole. If the LAPD or the Prosecutor's Office were to request so much as a sample of these recordings, their request would be struck down without delay.” “Well, that's a shame, isn't it? This is about posterity! I, Luke Atmey, do hereby give anyone who has a desire for it full permission to review the recordings!” “... Right.” “Now, you'll want to know all about some of the amazing cases I've solved!” Atmey stated, lacing his fingers together and stretching them in a leisurely fashion. “Oh! Yes!” Athena opened her folder and tapped at it with a finger. “In particular, we're interested in your involvement with Mask☆DeMasque and the death of-” “No, no, no no no nooo,” Atmey tutted. “How boring! I've talked about that case so often, it would dry my tongue. No, let's talk about some other cases, shall we? I, Luke Atmey, did not gain the title of Ace Detective for nothing.” “I was under the impression you knighted yourself an Ace Detective,” Simon remarked. Atmey pretended not to have heard him. “Let's start from the beginning! My very first case! It was the year 2011! I was a mere twenty seven years old at the time and I had only just opened my doors to the world as a private detective. A fresh-faced rookie, I was eager to prove my worth. In came a woman wearing a red dress- and I remember this distinctly. I have a very keen eye for details, you see, as any detective ought to have. In she walked, and I could see on her face that she-” Simon refused to listen to any more of this tripe. He drew a few calming breaths and leaned back in his chair. Atmey's voice droned on and on in the background as if it were the chatter of distant birds. He closed his eyes for a moment. ------- Date: June 16th 2028 Time: 7:38 PM Location: Interview Room. Sudden pain exploded near Simon's shin, starting him back into awareness. He was sitting. He'd just been kicked. Athena was glaring at him and... Atmey was still talking. The man must've been oblivious to what'd occurred, as he looked quite carefree. “-And so ended my second case, which I like to refer to as Luke Atmey and the Missing Macademias. It is a reference, you see. Quite clever, if I do say so myself. Wasn't it just the most thrilling thing you've ever heard? Now, for the third case I tackled single-handedly-” Athena nudged his arm with her elbow, her eyes narrowing even further. Evidently, she'd been unable to stop Atmey's rambling and was now looking to him for assistance. Tempting as it was to shout the word “silence” loud enough to shatter windows, this was not at all the strategy to stick to. He had to give Atmey what he wanted, so... what did the man want? A listening ear, obviously, yet it was more than that. Atmey wanted a chance to boast. If that was the case, they simply needed to change the way they formulated their questions. “If I may interject,” he said, moving his chair closer to the table and leaning forward. “These tales are all quite interesting, but I do believe the details of your detective career were already recorded in your autobiography.” “Oh! You've heard of my autobiography?” Atmey looked positively delighted. “... I have heard of it, yes,” Simon said slowly, as there was only one source who'd kept bringing it up these past seven years and that source was sitting right in front of him. “However, as I've been unable to attain a copy for myself-” “-Oh, what a shame!” “Yes. A shame. As I was saying, I have not perused it myself and I find myself wondering... Does this autobiography also describe the illustrious Atmey family? As the apple does not often roll too far from the tree, I expect that they must all be successful go-getters such as yourself.” A cringe flashed across Atmey's face, just for a second. Then he was right back to talking. “Yes, yes of course! I'm afraid they aren't mentioned all too much in my book, as their ventures would be too elaborate to describe. Why, every single one of my siblings would be deserving of their own book, and so... Well, I would hate to bank on their glory.” “How many siblings do you have?” Athena asked him. “Seven,” said Atmey. “SEVEN?!” “I have four brothers and three sisters, yes. I was the youngest of eight.” Atmey removed his monocle as he spoke, once again idly polishing it with his sleeve. The most it accomplished was that a greasy blur spread itself out across the glass. “Just as Sir Prosecutor theorized, the Atmey family is quite known for its success. One of my brothers is working with the GYAXA space project to design rockets, another is a top plastic surgeon in Miami... Two of my sisters are the CEO of their own companies... As I said, each one of them would deserve their own biography.” Athena pumped both her fists, excited. “So... Are you like rivals? Do you all compete to show off your best accomplishments when you get together for Christmas? Ooh, I can see it now!” “No, no... Such a thing would be petty and quite beneath the Atmey family. We each value our own worth. There is nothing to prove.” “Even if there was nothing to prove, you must've tried very hard to live up their standards, right?” “Hum... Success comes naturally to any member of the Atmey family, or so they say.” Simon cast a quick glance towards Athena, wondering whether Atmey's voice might've betrayed some sort of emotion, but she was unreadable, just as the notes were that she was taking. When Atmey placed his monocle back before his eye, it was so smudged that one had to wonder whether he could see anything at all. “The Atmey family sounds a formidable, elegant group indeed,” Simon remarked. “They must have come to visit you in prison, yes?” Once again, Atmey cringed. “Ah. Well... They are quite busy, as anyone in our family tends to be. None of them live in Los Angeles, currently, and so it would be entirely too... Too much of a hassle. I have received letters, of course!” Simon glanced towards his partner and this time, Athena did show dismay. Whether it stemmed from Atmey's words or the feeling behind them was debatable. Regardless, she took a few more notes. “What a shame. Family may be considered one of the most important things in the world,” Simon mused. Then he realized that he was speaking to a convicted felon. “Though... Whenever my darling sister visited, she would rub my situation in my face. Quite a vindictive one, she is. Perhaps limiting communication to courteous letters would be a blessing.” “Perhaps...” said Atmey. Interesting. Taking into account a situation where eight siblings were all too occupied to pay notice to one another, it made sense for the youngest of the lot to be thirsty for attention. Atmey must've scrambled to keep up with their reputations quite a bit, as well. With those conclusions in mind, Simon attempted to divert the topic back to the murder of Kane Bullard. They were about to enter the thick of the jungle. “If I may be so bold... I took the liberty of reading through the transcripts of the Mask☆DeMasque trials. You fought some fierce battles, I must say. Your attempt to target a weak spot in the law's armor by utilizing double jeopardy, in particular, I found to be a stroke of genius.” “Oh... Did you really? Coming from a prosecutor, that is quite the compliment indeed.” Atmey smiled at him, but it was not at all a pompous smirk. It was, if anything, born from gratitude. “Yes, I had hoped... Well, no criminal is meant to get away with their crimes, of course. It just goes to show that I am an Ace Detective, not an Ace Murderer. Don't quit your day job, or so they say. Even so, it's disappointing that one man could see through my ruse.” “Mmh, what's important is that you went down fighting. Isn't that so?” “Yes... Quite right. Atmeys are nothing if not determined and I, Luke Atmey, am perhaps the most determined of the lot.” “Now, there was one thing in particular that caught my eye in the transcripts. I had hoped that you could clarify the matter for me, as I find it quite puzzling.” “Ooh, a puzzle?” Simon had Atmey's full attention, now. The former detective looked beside himself to be presented with a conundrum, his fingers drumming along the table. How unfortunate, then, that Simon was sure this was one mystery Atmey might wish to leave unsolved. The only way to be certain would be to ask. “... You said, and I believe this to be a direct quote: “Take a good look, everyone. Unable to find a rival worthy of my genius, I was forced to create one by myself. Here I am. The tragic clown.” Do you recall these words?” Atmey's complexion had drained quite fast. He withdrew from the table, looking as if he was suffering from pain, or perhaps embarrassment. “Ah. Hum. Yes. That does sound like... something I may have proclaimed in the courtroom, yes.” “Then, my question is as follows. Why did you identify yourself as the tragic clown?” “Elementary! It is a reference to Pagliacci! It's a well-known opera. The tears of a clown! Have you truly never heard of it, Sir Prosecutor?” Simon had expected that answer. Athena, it seemed, was missing the point. “I think I've heard of it...” she mused. “It's that story where a man and his wife are part of an acting troupe, known for a play where a clown finds out his wife is cheating on him. Except then, just before going on, the man playing the clown discovers that his wife is really cheating on him. He murders her on-stage, and the audience believes it's all part of the play.” “Yes, yes! That is Pagliacci! See, your assistant knows of it.” Athena hummed quietly, tilting her head. “... It is strange that you would compare yourself to Pagliacci, I suppose. I don't see what it has to do with blackmailing Mask☆DeMasque into working for you, or with killing the man who was blackmailing you.” “That is not what caught my eye about the proclamation,” Simon said. “What puzzled me is that a brilliant detective would lower himself to the same level as a clown at all.” “I beg your pardon?” Atmey asked, looking rattled. “Oedipus, MacBeth, Death of a Salesman, the Great Gatsby... Ah, yes, Javert from Les Misérables is another good example... My question is, why choose a tragic clown when there are more than enough tragic heroes to choose from?” Atmey was so startled, the monocle sprang away from his eye and hit the ground a few feet from his chair. “I... I... Well, that is to say... I don't know...!” There was a very long silence. Nobody dared to speak. Finally, Athena got up and reached for the monocle. There was a crack running along the glass. She frowned down at it, then handed it back to Atmey. “I see,” Simon concluded. “Well, no matter. Be it as a clown or as a hero, I'm sure you will be remembered as a tragic figure all the same.” “Yes... Ah. Thank you.” Still shaken, Atmey was no longer meeting their eyes. Instead, he peered down at the monocle in his hand, forlorn. They'd gained enough to think about from this interview, and apparently, they'd returned this sentiment the other way around. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Atmey,” Simon said, pushing himself to his feet. “Yes, thank you!” Athena chimed in, more cheerful and less formal than the situation might've called for. “We'll visit again if we have more questions.” “Oh. No, that... I don't believe that to be necessary. You must have other things to do.” It wasn't until about five seconds had passed and Athena was already reaching for the recording device that something inside Simon's head clicked. He froze in his tracks and his hand shot towards the device as well, shielding the 'stop' button from Athena's finger. There was one more question to ask. One thing which Simon had overlooked, because he'd categorized it as 'frustrating' and nothing more. “Why did you insist on scheduling this interview today? Could it be...?” “They didn't inform you?” Atmey paused, then raised his cracked magnifying glass to observe Simon closely. “Aaahhh, zvarri! You've figured it on your own, have you? Marvelous! You would make a wonderful detective.” Simon cringed. A prosecutor had no place deducing these sorts of things, he felt. A prosecutor was meant to deal with the truth after it had already been exposed. Athena, as it turned out, hadn't followed Simon's train of thought. She peered back and forth between the two men, her nose crinkled with concentration. “What? Figured what out?” she asked. “Why, he's realized that soon, the opportunity to schedule an interview would be lost,” Atmey said. Simon had never liked Atmey, yet that didn't stop the cold chill from running down his spine. This turn of events was inevitable, a fact of life and horrible all at the same time. He remembered the screams of those who were about to be subjected to that same fate. He could close his eyes and visualize how they would be dragged down the halls of death row by several guards, their attempts to dig their heels into the ground nothing more than futile scrapes. “How soon?” he asked, unable to keep a strained, anxious tone from his voice. Atmey spread his arms out, almost as if he were welcoming what was about to be said. “My execution is to take place two days from now.” To Be Continued

#my fanfiction #aa #aa spoilers #simon blackquill #athena cykes #AA mindhunter

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brokensmileswritings · 8 years ago

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Chapter 4 Beta read version

It was too much for Apollo to take in. After seeing his boss being hauled away in handcuffs, he wasn’t sure where he stood at this point since his mind was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. Who would take him on now- a defence attorney who incarcerated his own boss?

Yet, at the same time, here he was being offered an opportunity of a lifetime. Phoenix Wright, now cleared of murder for the third time and his idol, was offering him a job.

Apollo watched the man sitting on the other side of the booth from him, sipping his coffee, the magician girl sitting quietly beside him. It turned out that her name was Trucy and she was Mr Wright’s adopted daughter, having adopted her after the last trial he had taken as a defence attorney.

“Penny for your thoughts, Apollo.” The older man’s concern was touching as the younger looked down at his cup of coffee.

“I… have so many questions… like..” Apollo stopped, flushing beet red. “How did this happen to you? You were a respected attorney with a promising career. How could everyone just… lose faith in you?”

Mr. Wright looked serious for a moment, his fingers toying absentmindedly with the handle of his coffee cup. “It’s a long story, Apollo. “

“I have time. It’s not like I will do anything else now I am unemployed,” Apollo muttered tartly. “How can I trust you, especially after what you just told me?”

As he now knew, when Olga had said in her testimony that Mr Wright had *strangled* Shadi Smith, she was out right lying. Mr. Wright hadn’t strangled him; all he had done was take a locket that was around the victim’s neck.

When Mr. Wright paused to take another sip of coffee, Trucy took that moment to excuse herself, slipping out from the booth and walking toward the front counter. Mr. Wright turned to Apollo after she was lost to sight. “Shadi Smith was Trucy’s biological father.” Mr. Wright’s voice was hard and clipped, taking a large swallow of his coffee. “He had no need for the locket anymore since he is dead and I am Trucy’s legal guardian. That was the reason why I took it.”

Apollo nodded, sighing, still uneasy, taking a shaky sip. He was so confused that he didn’t trust himself to speak and sat in silence until Trucy’s return a few moments later. She took one look at the expression on his face and jumped to her father’s defence, instantly divining the reason behind it.

“Polly, Daddy is a good guy!” she scolded, slipping in to sit beside her father once again and patting the back of his hand. “Sure, he is sneaky but he has a good heart!“ She looked at him, that beaming smile returning to her face. "Come and work for us!”

Trucy’s cheerful voice shattered the cloud of doubt in his mind but something about her seemed… familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t understand why.

“Wait… US? Plural?” Apollo blurted out, his face reddening slightly. “What do you mean? You work too? You’re only 15!” Surely Mr. Wright wouldn’t force his daughter to work… would he? Mr. Wright just chuckled. “The only work she does is just her homework. She uses the office to practice tricks and entertain my clients and a little magic really helps relax anyone nervous about meeting me. As I am sure you found out for yourself.”

Apollo had to agree with that one.

“Besides,” he added, a mischievous glimmer in his eye, “how else would she get her allowance?”

Apollo was beginning to understand that the man he was sitting opposite him was crafty, but a good father to his daughter. He was reminded him so much of Dhurke for a moment that Apollo closed his eyes and rubbed his wrist.

“Polly, did you know that when you are nervous, the muscles in your wrist tighten? “ Trucy inquired, her eyes flickering down to his wrist and then back up again.

“Huh??” Apollo stuttered, looking down at his bracelet in shock

Mr. Wright chuckled. “Trucy is the one that taught me how to look for tics and twitches and it looks like she found yours!” He paused for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee.“ I found out about it when I invited an old friend of mine, Larry, around for a game of cards; Truce couldn’t sleep, so she watched me. When I got drinks for everyone, she informed me of Larry’s rather obvious twitch: He sticks his tongue out when he’s thinking. After that, I sort of knew what to look for.”

Apollo nodded again. Why was talking to this man making him so nervous?

“Mr. Wright…” He stuttered, his face reddening as he struggled to make his foolish mouth work.

“Please, call me Phoenix. You can call me Mr. Wright in a professional setting. For now, we are just having a friendly chat.”

“So… how did you just give up defending the innocent? Surely a mere penalty wasn’t enough to force you into a career change? The Phoenix Wright I read about was one to never give up!”

“True” Phoenix agreed with a soft sigh, “but losing my reputation and every client I had thereafter the said penalty of guilty was certainly enough.”

“Oh.” Apollo didn’t know what to say to that so he wisely kept silent. If Mr.-Phoenix-wishes to speak of it, he’ll tell me so himself…

“ Looks like it’s story time Apollo. “

—————————————————————————

“Leave the bottle, Al,” Phoenix Wright muttered to the bar tender as he downed another glass of grape juice.

Phoenix had hit rock bottom and his last trial had been a disaster. How was he supposed to know that the diary page was fake?

“ Finally, You couldn’t resist, could you Herr Wright?”

“ Resist what? Present solid evidence?”

Damn it. Damn it all. He had been set up. Someone had given him forged evidence… Well to be honest, someone had given that little girl a forged diary page who, in turn, had given it to him. He had no one to blame but himself for being too naive, too trusting. They had even got the forger in to confirm that it had been fake.

His Bar association hearing had been a mere three months ago and the Judge’s words were still etched on his mind like that accursed diary page.

“ Mr Phoenix Wright, do you know why you have been called here?”

“Yes, Sir. I presented forged evidence in a court of law.”“

“Up until now, you have been certainly a maverick in the courtroom, but nothing less than an honest lawyer. “ The Judge’s voice was subdued. “Did you have any previous knowledge that the evidence you presented was fake?”

“No, Sir.”

“Do you know who commissioned the forgery?”

“No, Sir.”

“Until we know more about this offence, we need to punish you for your failure to properly and thoroughly validate the aforementioned evidence. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honour.” Phoenix’s voice was soft, the fingers of his left hand curling into a fist at his side the only outward sign of his disquiet.

“Despite this being your first offence, we are afraid that this will incur a penalty on your legal record. You will still remain a licensed attorney for now but you are suspended for a month with immediate effect.” The Judge’s voice was sad but cold and implacable. “If you present forged evidence again in court, your punishment will involve your badge being revoked. Permanently. Case dismissed.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And that was only the beginning.

Despite being a licensed attorney, all potential clients that had come to see him since then were as guilty as sin; he could tell right away thanks to the magatama that each and every one of them were nothing but criminals looking for an acquittal and dismissed them curtly. He didn’t think that the situation could possibly get any worse, that is, until the rumours started.

It seemed like every week there was now a new story circulating about how Phoenix was a has been lawyer with nasty little epithets like Phoenix Wright: the forging attorney and Phoenix Wright had forged the diary page to get his client off scott free. Those were the kinder ones.

No one trusted him and his reputation was in tatters. What good was a lawyer if all your clients were guilty as sin? He couldn’t defend a guilty client in good conscience or even do such a thing since it went against everything his stood for. The Engarde case still haunted his nightmares and, after that fiasco, he swore to never defend a guilty party again.

Phoenix himself was bitterly reminded of the sorts of rumours that had circulated about Edgeworth back when he was the demon prosecutor. And, as he reminded himself, none of those had been true about Edgeworth and these weren’t true of him, either. At least the people that mattered to him - Maya, Edgeworth, Gumshoe, Larry- didn’t believe the nasty scuttlebutt and were sticking by him during his darkest hour; he was truly grateful for their support, especially Edgeworth’s. God, I don’t know what I would do without him… Phoenix shuddered in his arms as Edgeworth held him close, whispering soft words of comfort.

As it stood now, Phoenix was at a loss as to what to do, his heart in turmoil over the circumstances that had led to this happening although he was comforted knowing that Edgeworth was doing all he could to try and find out if the penalty could be revoked.

“It would be possible to revoke the penalty if we prove that you were framed.”

Phoenix had sighed bitterly at that. Why did getting it revoked matter? He wasn’t Manfred Von Karma, for god’s sake! He wasn’t going to kill anyone for a penalty even one that had cost him his reputation. It was his own fault that he trusted the evidence in the first place and this shook his confidence in himself to the core. What if he presented forged evidence again? He would lose his badge and this time permanently.

Phoenix couldn’t risk it and, as much as he hated to do it, his course of action was clear: He would hang up his court suit. For good.

—————————————————————————

After Phoenix had finished his story, Apollo felt sympathy for the former attorney.

“Wow. I never knew.” He was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice thoughtful. “ By the sound of it, it looks like you were set up by someone.”

Phoenix’s expression was serious, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’m glad to hear you say that since I’m sure I was set up, too.” His fingers clenched into a fist before relaxing again. “I would love to clear my name and return to the way things were, but it will take a lot of time and investigation.”

“But… how do you know that people will trust me to defend them?” Apollo inquired doubtfully, looking down at his bracelet once again, his expression conflicted.

Phoenix shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure but people trust me for legal advice these days, so why shouldn’t they trust you with a defence request? Besides, I can help find cases for you that can help give you some experience.” He paused a moment, looking him square in the face. “What do you say, Apollo? Do you want to join the Wright and Co Law Office?”

Apollo looked at the hopeful expressions on both Phoenix and Trucy Wright’s faces and he knew he couldn’t disappoint them. I have no idea if I’m really doing the right thing but…

He hesitated only a moment before replying, “OK… count me in. I accept your job offer.”

“YAY!” Trucy cheered with sheer delight and clapped her hands.

“That’s the spirit, Apollo!” Phoenix Wright smiled brightly, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “You’ll fit right in!”

“Welcome to the family, Polly!” Trucy smiled as she squeezed his arm affectionately before turning once again to look at her father.

“Welcome to the Wright and Justice Law Office, Apollo!” Phoenix beamed as he held out his hand.

Wright and Justice, eh? That has quite a nice ring to it. Apollo grinned as he took it, shaking it vigorously. Maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be…

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brokensmileswritings · 8 years ago

Text

One Small Change

Chapter 4- The fall of the Phoenix.