“The Last Time I Saw Edgeworth”
Disclaimer: All characters from the Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney series are copyright Capcom. Original characters are mine.

December 27, 2016
7:45 PM.

Maya and I were eating dinner at Hamburger Heaven.

“Nick?” Maya asked through a mouthful of burger. “There's something I'm a little curious about.”

“And what would that be?” I asked.

“Why did Mr. Edgeworth transfer out of your school?”

I thought a moment. “I think I know why. His name was Pierre. Pierre Kittiwake. The class bully. Everyone knew him. Everyone feared him.”

“Remember that class trial?”

“Yes,” Maya said. “When everyone was against you.”

“Well, Pierre was leading the charge.”

“Then Mr. Edgeworth saved you!” Maya said. “He told them all off!”

“Yes. Unfortunately, Pierre never forgot that. And so he bugged Edgeworth, Larry, and me.”

Maya looked solemn. “Then DL-6 happened, right?”

“Yes. When school reconvened on the sixth of January 2002, Edgeworth wasn't speaking to us during lunch. Larry and I knew something was wrong, but we didn't want to press it. It never occurred to us that it'd be that serious...”

Pierre was standing by our table with his lunch box. “Mind if I sit by you guys today?” Without waiting for an answer, he took the fourth chair. “Well, Milesy, you're holding up well. All things considered.”

“What are you talking about?” Edgeworth asked. His face paled a few shades and his voice shook.

“You're putting on such a brave face.”

“What are you talking about?” I interrupted.

“Nothing,” Edgeworth said. “Just the ramblings of an idiot.”

“You haven't told them?” Pierre said. His face lit up. “You see, guys, Mr. Edgeworth is dead. What a horrible son, going to school as if nothing happened instead of paying his respects.”

I gasped. “Is that true?”

“Yes...” Edgeworth said. “Pierre...how do you know that?!”

“My dad was there,” Pierre crowed. “At the courthouse. In fact, he was the one who identified your father.”

“Judge Kittiwake...” Edgeworth stiffened. He dropped his sandwich. It landed on the floor, the cucumbers and watercress separating from the bread. “I...”

Pierre smirked. He had gotten a reaction, and now he was going in for the kill. “You know, it should have been you.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Stay out of this...Phoenix Wrong!” Pierre snapped. “Yes, Milesy. It should have been you. It should have been your blood on the floor of the courthouse elevator!”

Tears welled up in Edgeworth' eyes. “Stop it...”

“Pierre,” Larry said. “I'm sorry.”

Pierre looked at him quizzically. “For what?”

Larry slugged him so hard Pierre's head snapped back like a rubber band. “For that.”

Pierre screamed. Blood poured from his nose. “What the hell, Butz?!”

Edgeworth looked at the blood flowing liberally down Pierre's face, dripping on the cafeteria floor. Tears started to stream down his face.

“What happened after that?”

I shrugged. “Edgeworth went home. And I never saw him again. Larry got suspended for hitting Pierre.” My hand involuntarily curled into a fist. “Both Larry and I told them what Pierre said. He didn't get in trouble.”

“What horrible things to say...” Maya said.

“I called Edgeworth's house that night. His mother answered. She told me that Edgeworth shut himself in his room and wasn't speaking to anybody. I think she had withdrawn him from school already. And so we never saw Edgeworth again.”

“And what happened to Pierre?” Maya asked.

“Pierre was expelled three months later.”

“Expelled?” Maya looked at me. “For what?”

“That's a story for another night.” I closed my eyes, letting one last happy memory flood back. Before that fateful turn of events:

“I swear, that Pierre should be eaten by lions,” Larry declared.

“If he were, I'd feel for the lion,” I said.

“Yes,” said Edgeworth. “What a stomachache it would have!”

All three of us laughed.

Tomorrow, Edgeworth. Tomorrow it'll be over.

The End.

Author's Note:
...Yes, Pierre's dad was the judge in the trial on December 28, 2001.
I just wrote this minific to explain why the young Miles Edgeworth transferred to another school, leaving his two best friends behind. Manfred Von Karma didn't take him in until at least June 2002, since he was “on vacation."

Artemis Justice, Ace Girlfriend

Disclaimer: All characters from the Ace Attorney series copyright Capcom. No copyright infringement intended.

Time: During Dual Destinies, after the second case but before the third case. Spoiler-free for Dual Destinies, except for the presence of Athena.

(Thursday Morning)

It was lunch hour at the courthouse. Police officers, lawyers, judges, and other officials sat in the rather hard metal chairs, eating lunch and chatting idly.

Apollo Justice was in a cheerful mood. He balanced a can of cola and a steak on his tray as he looked for an empty seat.

Klavier Gavin was sitting at the coveted corner table, with the remaining three members of the former Gavinners. As usual, he looked like a prince surrounded by courtiers. A modern prince, but a prince all the same.

“Herr Forehead,” Klavier called, waving Apollo over.

“Ugh, my name is Apollo,” Apollo approached the table. “What is it?”

“Settle a bet for me,” Klavier said. “Are those horns of yours natural? Or do you coat them in roofing sealant?” There were snickers.

Apollo flushed. “Make fun of my spikes? Just for that, next trial, I’ll make you…um,” Cry sounds too harsh. “You’ll be so frustrated trying to beat me, you’ll leave a crack in the wall!” It’s probably weak from all the times he’s punched it.

“Oh, really?” Klavier smirked.

“You haven’t beaten me once, have you? You know,” Apollo grinned. “You’d so be my bitch if I was gay.”

Klavier burst into laughter.

“Why is that so funny?” Apollo asked. “You are, to put it gently, a girly man.”

“Girly man?” Klavier repeated. “What…what makes you say that?”

“Your nails. You obviously polish them. Pick that up from your big brother?”

“I do not polish my nails!” Klavier protested. “They’re naturally shiny!” He hid his hands behind his back. “Besides, those are fighting words. Why don’t we settle out of court?”

“What do you mean?” Apollo asked.

“A gentleman’s bet,” Klavier said. “Loser has to do whatever the winner orders. Within reason, of course.”

“What do we bet on?” Apollo asked. “And not singing or how fast girls can flock to you. You would have an unfair advantage.”

Billy Club, the former drummer and a traffic cop, spoke up. “Well, this courtroom has two traditional contests. How fast it takes to chug a can of soda, and how many junior burgers the competitors can eat in one hour.” The junior burger was a popular item in the lunchroom, but the name was something of a misnomer. It was a huge triple-patty burger dripping with cheese, onions, lettuce, and mustard.

“Esophageal fortitude, huh?” Apollo thought. “Gavin might still have an unfair advantage.”

“I don’t know about that, Sir Justice.” Billy said. “I’ve heard you project in court. Your throat muscles are just as strong, if not stronger.”

“All right,” Apollo sat down. “So whoever drinks their soda faster wins?”

“Wait,” Billy said. “We need a stopwatch. I think the Judge has one.” He waved the Judge over.

The Judge took the last seat as Billy explained the situation. “Oh ho. Ah, the joys of youth. Did you know I hold the record for soda chugging? One minute, twenty four seconds. I was also good at the Junior Burger challenge, but I never broke the record. Marvin Grossberg still holds it, with sixty eight.”

“…Sixty eight?!” Apollo looked incredulous. “How did he not throw them up?”

“He’s called the Bottomless Pit,” the Judge said. “And in high school, he was known as the Beanpole Lover by the ladies, and all the guys just called him sir. Ah, such nostalgia.” He dug through his robe and retrieved a worn stopwatch. “So who will go first?”

Klavier opened his can of soda.

“Ready, set, chug!” Klavier’s bandmates and the Judge prompted. Klavier quickly gulped the cola down and set down the empty can.

“One minute, forty six seconds,” the Judge said. “Your turn, Mr. Justice.”

Apollo chugged his own can.

The Judge checked his stopwatch when Apollo was done. “One minute, fifty two seconds. The winner is Mr. Gavin for the prosecution!”

Klavier smirked. “Come to my office tomorrow morning. I’ll tell you what you have to do.”

Apollo groaned. “Just a few lousy seconds.”

“Can you crush your can on that huge forehead of yours, Mr. Justice?” Billy asked. “It’d be really cool if you could.”

Apollo opened his mouth to retort, but burped loudly. Everyone in the lunchroom stared at him. “Excuse me.”

XXX

(Friday Morning)

Apollo knocked on the door to Klavier’s office.

Klavier opened. “Ah, Herr Forehead. I’ve been expecting you.” He looked as confident and smug as he did during the openings of his trials. “You are hereby sentenced to spending tomorrow with me. Including lunch.” He was holding a black bag.

“I have to buy you lunch and we hang out?” Apollo shrugged. “I guess that’s not too bad.”

“Nein, you won’t be paying for lunch,” Klavier said. “There are a few rules. You have to wear the outfit in this garment bag tomorrow. No excuses. And you must not peek before tomorrow morning.” He shoved the black opaque garment bag into Apollo’s arms.

“All right. What will we be doing besides lunch?”

“Don’t you want to be surprised? I will pick you up at ten! Don’t be late, Fraulein Forehead!” The door slammed shut.

Apollo shrugged to himself. Fraulein? He’s already calling me his bitch? Well, I guess I did lose the bet. Oh, well, I can take whatever he can dish out.

Famous last words.

XXX

(Saturday Morning)

Apollo whistled as he walked to his room from his bathroom. He was wearing his favorite red bathrobe along with some slippers. He had bought it shortly after being moving into a room at Wright Anything. As Mr. Wright had pointed out, it was cheaper to live inside their place of business. And face it: the deep pay cuts he had suffered changing bosses from affluent Mr. Gavin to down-on-his-luck Mr. Wright had made his old apartment’s rent just a bit too steep for his salary. Athena also had a room at the office, but it was at the end of the hall.

Apollo was grateful that he was a morning person, and that he usually got up before his housemates. Between four people, hot water was a precious commodity. And Apollo absolutely hated cold showers. He entered his bedroom and locked the door behind him. He removed his robe, revealing the red plaid boxers he had on underneath.

He reached for the garment bag hanging on a hook on the back of the door and unzipped it.

In that instant, his heart sank.

Inside the garment bag was a pink dress, the color of bubble gum. It had long gigot sleeves and a scooped neckline just below where the wearer’s collarbone would be. It had two skirts: the underskirt was made of the same pink material as the rest of the gown, and the overskirt was a rather shiny sheer white material. The bodice was decorated with tiny silvery beads that caught the light and shone. A post-it note was pinned to the left shoulder and it read in Klavier’s rather flowery handwriting: Who’s the bitch now, Herr Forehead?

There was also a package of opaque white and rather glimmery stockings hung on the hanger by a little hole on the top. Where the package would be hung on a rack at a department store display.

All right, don’t panic. Wait. There’s no way this thing fits me. I’ll just tell Gavin it wouldn’t fit! Yes! Apollo gave a sigh of relief. He took the package of tights from the hanger and tossed it onto his unmade bed. Then he took the pinned note off the dress and tore it to shreds.

It took a few minutes of deep breaths, but Apollo managed to slip the dress off the hanger. He turned it over. It fastened with a long zipper from the neck to the waist. The zipper ended just above a large and ornamental pink bow. The perfect finishing touch to the frou-frou gown.

Apollo unzipped the dress and stepped into it, then pulled it up. To his absolute horror, the waist didn’t pinch. The sleeves didn’t either, though they were a bit long. He reached behind him and zipped as far as he could, which was halfway up the zipper. Which wasn’t due to any tightness of the dress, but because it was too hard to reach. How do girls zip themselves up in these things anyway?

Apollo laid back on his bed, still wearing the dress and began to cry. Unfortunately, Apollo Justice wasn’t one to do anything silently. Including crying. A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

“Polly?” Trucy’s voice asked from the other side of the door. “Is something the matter?”

“No!” Apollo lied. He tried to stop sobbing, but failed.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

Apollo was silent.

“Polly!” Trucy banged on Apollo’s bedroom door. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong?!”

“It’s nothing!” Apollo choked back a sob.

“Objection!” Trucy yelled. “I know you’re lying!”

“Nothing is wrong! I’m Apollo Justice, and I am FINE!” Apollo yelled back. His voice cracked. “And you can’t yell objection! You don’t have a law degree, so there!”

“You can’t fool me!” Trucy called. “Athena’s worried about you too!”

Crap, Athena’s up. Well, I’ll just be quiet. She can’t hear panic in my voice if she can’t hear my voice.

“Apollo?” Athena’s voice chimed in from behind the door. “What’s wrong?”

Apollo said nothing.

“You don’t look good in red,” Athena said.

Without thinking, Apollo yelled, “OBJECTION! That testimony is clearly faulty…um…”

“Yep. You’re lying through your pearly whites, Buster,” Athena said. “Open the door!”

“No!” Apollo said. “Never!”

There was a loud bang and the door quivered. Then another, louder one. And another. The door quivered dangerously.

“Are you trying to break the door?!” Apollo cried. “Mr. Wright will be so mad if you do!”

“Then open the door!” Athena replied.

“I will not!” Apollo insisted.

There were a couple more bangs, followed by a crash as the door fell down.

“What the…” Apollo asked.

Trucy held a screwdriver triumphantly. “While Athena banged on the door, I unscrewed the hinges! Timber!”

Athena flashed a smile and a peace sign. “Why work hard when you can work smart?”

Then Athena and Trucy got a good look at Apollo, who was wearing that long pink dress that reached the floor. It was too long, in fact. A few inches of pink silk hem were resting on the floor.

For a solid minute, there was dead silence.

Finally, Trucy and Athena screamed with laughter. It echoed off the walls. Tears streamed down their faces and they clutched their stomachs.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Trucy asked.

“Are you cosplaying?” Athena suggested.

“Pink is totally your color,” Trucy giggled.

“Hardy har har,” Apollo gave a sarcastic chuckle. “I made a bet with Klavier. And lost. The winner could order the loser to do anything within reason. Apparently, Klavier Gavin’s
definition of ‘within reason’ differs from mine…”

“Wait,” Athena said. “Aren’t you forgetting a bra?”

“Huh?!” Apollo cried.

“And Polly needs his…her purse!” Trucy commented with a smirk.

“Huh? Huh?” Apollo asked.

“Good thing we’re here,” Athena said. “Polly must be presentable.”

Apollo backed away from the two girls. “Please tell me you’re joking. Prosecutor Gavin told me to wear the dress and…” He pointed to the package on his bed. “These stockings. He didn’t say anything else. So it really won’t be necessary. I’ll just go fulfill his request so I can take off this thing and forget it ever happened. I mean, I’ll probably need to get really drunk, but I know where Mr. Wright stashes the booze…”

Athena coughed. “Trucy?”

“Right!” Trucy ran off in the direction of her room.

“It’s bad enough you guys have to see me like this,” Apollo said.

“Well, do you know how to unhook a bra?” Athena asked. “If you put on one, you’ll have to take it off. And that will give you practical knowledge for when you do you-know-what with a girl.”

“What?!” Apollo cried.

“I mean, if you can’t get her bra off,” Athena said. “She’ll kick you to the curb.”

“I…I…” Apollo stammered. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying that to me.”

“Well, you can’t be a naïve little virgin boy forever,” Athena gave an angelic smile.

“How do you even know I’m…”

Athena smirked. “You can’t keep secrets from me.”

Apollo’s face was as red as his regular outfit. Is she…flirting with me? Or making fun of me? I can’t tell!

“At least you can wear pink,” Athena sounded rather regretful. She pointed at her hair. “Natural redhead. One point five percent of the population. And my mom had dark hair!”

“Um, what does your hair color have to do with anything?” Apollo asked.

“Redheads can’t wear pink. It clashes terribly,” Athena explained. “Guys have no sense of color coordination. I think it’s coded on the X chromosome or something. But then guys have one X, so what the heck? Maybe you need two.”

“If you apply that logic, wouldn’t Klinefelter’s present with color coordination?” Apollo asked.

“See, this is why we’d suck at genetics,” Athena said.

“Good thing we’re lawyers,” Apollo observed. “Whatever we aren’t sure about, we bluff and sound like we’re sure!”

Athena picked up the stockings and tore open the package. “I think these are made of silk! Where did you get them?!”

“Gavin got them, not me!” Apollo snapped. “And I have no idea. I don’t think I want to know, either.”

“Sit,” Athena ordered.

Apollo groaned, but compiled. Athena carefully rolled up the stockings and slipped them on Apollo’s bare feet.

At this point, Trucy re-entered the room. She carried a pile of assorted accessories. She dumped the small pile on the bed.

Athena picked up a small bra. “Ready to try on your first bra?”

“No!” Apollo snapped. “I’m not wearing a bra. This is where I’m drawing the line.”

“Shame,” Athena replied. “But I hear some guys are into flat girls. But I wouldn’t know, because I’m not flat!” She patted her chest with a sense of pride.

Apollo blushed and looked away.

Trucy slipped behind Apollo. “I guess that means you’re ready to be zipped up.” She pulled the zipper all the way to the top.

“Darn,” Apollo said. “It’s not too tight.”

“It is too long, though,” Athena observed.

“That’s easily solved,” Trucy said. “Here.” She pulled her magic panties out of seemingly nowhere. She waved her hand over them, and produced a pair of silver pumps.

“Those are darling,” Athena said. “Try ‘em on, Apollo!”

“I am not wearing high heels!” Apollo snapped.

“You don’t want your dress hem to drag on the ground, do you?” Athena reasoned. “It’s obviously dry-clean only, and you’ll get stuck with the bill if you get this loan dirty.”

Apollo sighed. “Fine. I’m Cinderella, you’re the prince.”

“Wouldn’t you be more like Dorothy?” Trucy asked.

Athena slipped one of the silver shoes onto Apollo’s foot and tied the ankle strap.

“OWW!” Apollo yelped.

“Too tight?” Athena asked.

“It’s cutting off my circulation! Get it off me! Get it off me!” Apollo kicked frantically.

“Hold still,” Athena said, gripping the shoe and pulling tight. She fell backward and landed on her rear end, still clutching Trucy’s pump.

“I guess my shoes are too small,” Trucy sighed.

“I got it!” Athena cried. “Wait here!” She ran out of the room.

“Do you want to borrow some earrings, Polly?” Trucy asked. “I’ve got plenty of pairs. Oh, but your ears aren’t pierced.”

“Please stop it, Trucy.”

“I’m sure we’ve got a needle and an ice cube…” Trucy continued.

“Stop it!” Apollo moaned.

“How are we going to fix your hair?” Trucy asked. “It’s a bit short. If it were a little longer, I could curl it for you.” She thought a moment. “Oh, I have it.” She reached into the pile on the bed and withdrew a comb and a comically large pink bow.

“I’ll look like a package,” Apollo said.

“If you comb your bangs back, you’ll look cute!” Trucy insisted. “Please?”

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work,” Apollo said.

Trucy sniffled. “I always wanted a big sister, so we could do each other’s hair. But I guess it just didn’t work out that way.”

“All right, fine,” Apollo sighed. “But just this once!”

Trucy’s face brightened. “Yay!”

I’m starting to think Trucy’s the true psychological mastermind here. Apollo thought as Trucy applied styling gel to the comb and started to run it through his hair. His bangs, including his two sharp and long ones, were slicked back, but not completely. They were bent backwards into a gentle curve, giving the illusion of short but curly bangs.

Trucy tied the hair ribbon on top of Apollo’s head. “Doesn’t that look nice?”

Apollo looked at his reflection in his dresser mirror. “Sure, if I were Daisy Duck.”

Athena returned at that moment, carrying a shoe box. “My feet are a little bit bigger than Trucy’s, so maybe these Gerrafamo pumps will fit. I spent a whole month’s salary, so you better not break the heel. You break, you buy!”

Apollo sighed as Athena set the box down.

“Aren’t they fabulous?” Athena said, holding one shoe. They were white closed-toe pumps with three inch clear heels. Pink ribbon rosettes decorated two criss-crossing white leather straps.

“Please don’t use that word,” Apollo said, taking the other. To his chagrin, the shoe fit perfectly. “At least it doesn’t feel like a vise.”

“Not yet,” Trucy said with a snicker.

Athena helped Apollo put on the other shoe and helped him up. “Be careful. Heels take getting used to.”

Apollo attempted to step forward, but stumbled. “Um, how do I walk in these stupid things?”

“Very slowly,” Athena said. “And carefully.”

“Is this why you’re always falling down—ow!” Apollo cried in pain as Athena elbowed him hard. He almost fell backward.

“There’s still something missing here,” Athena observed. “Polly’s neck is rather plain.”

“How about a matching ribbon choker?” Trucy suggested.

“Or go with a classic. Strand of pearls,” Athena replied.

“You two are having too much fun with this,” Apollo observed. “When will you be satisfied? When I’m completely emasculated?”

“Bit late for that,” Trucy said impishly.

Athena reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “Let me snap some photos of you!”

“Oh, no!” Apollo cried. “Neither of you is sharing any of this! No photos. And no blabbing to anyone! I’m going to have enough trouble when I leave the…”

“Come on!” Athena protested. “You look so cute as a girl! I bet…”

“Wait,” Apollo said. “You can take pictures.” A cocksure smile materialized on Apollo’s face. “But would you post them on Friendbook? Because you know what I could do?”

“Um, no?” Athena asked.

“That pie-eating contest in Vitamin Square last week? I snapped plenty of pics with my cell phone’s camera. Of you stuffing your face. And how your shirt looked like a bib.”

“I just got the blueberry stains out of my favorite white shirt,” Athena mumbled. “I mean…” Widget’s face around her neck turned red and displayed an angry emoticon. “You wouldn’t dare put those up!”

“I could,” Apollo said. “And you’ll never guess whom I just added as a friend. So unless you want that person to see you in all your pig-like glory…”

“Ugh!” Athena winced.

“It’s called Mutually Assured Destruction,” Apollo said. “If I go down because of you, you go down because of me. Turnabout is fair play.”

“Ngh…” Athena said. “I’m glad you didn’t choose prosecution.”

“I only wish I had something on Gavin,” Apollo moaned. “I’m going to be publicly humiliated, and there’s no way to get him back.”

“It’s not like anyone will know it’s you,” Athena reasoned. “You’re not wearing red. Your distinctive bangs are pinned down with the hairbow.”

“But people will still recognize me!” Apollo held up his wrist. “This bracelet! I can’t take it off. It’s pretty much molded to my wrist. And I don’t want to break it off.”

“Oh, I know!” Athena looked pleased with herself. “If someone asks, just say you’re Artemis Justice, Apollo’s twin sister.”

“…Artemis Justice,” Apollo repeated. “Twin sister?”

“Yeah,” Trucy agreed. “Anyone who sees the bracelet will just assume it’s one of a matching set.”

Apollo’s hairbow drooped. “I still don’t think people will buy it.”

“It’s gotta work better than the truth,” Athena replied.

“What, that I’m forced to crossdress because I lost a bet with an asshole rock star who won’t stop calling me Herr Forehead in public?”

“In his defense, your forehead is really obvious,” Trucy said.

“Objection!” Apollo snapped. “My forehead is on the large side, nothing exceptional –ow!” Apollo’s bracelet had closed tightly on his wrist. “Ugh, not you too, subconscious!”

Athena sighed in contentment. “This made my day.”

“Day, nothing,” Trucy said. “This made my month.”

“At least someone’s amused.” Apollo walked toward the staircase. He managed to go down two stairs before pitching forward. “Ow.”

“So, Apollo, are you getting in touch with your feminine side?” Phoenix clapped a hand over his mouth to suppress a snicker. He was sitting in an armchair in the main room. Rather than his gray hoodie, flip-flops and beanie or his famous blue suit and pinkish tie, he was clad in blue and white checked gingham pajamas.

“This must be pretty bleeping funny to you if you can’t maintain the world-famous Phoenix Wright poker face,” Apollo mumbled, rising to his feet.

“It’s…” Phoenix smirked. “Just the dress and that hairbow. You should let Athena give you some makeup. Eyeshadow and lipstick and all that other stuff I know nothing about…”

“Mr. Wright!” Apollo wailed. “I’ve had enough emotional trauma for one day! My life is over unless you can figure out a loophole.”

“Loophole?” Phoenix repeated.

“You’re a lawyer!” Apollo snapped. “You must know something. How to nullify a verbal contract.”

“I haven’t gotten my license back yet, and you’re a lawyer,” Phoenix said.

“I’ve racked my brain. I got nothing. I’m willing to let Prosecutor Gavin come here so he can laugh at me, but how do I get out of going out in public like this? Um, maybe I can pretend to be sick? Plague’s contagious, right?”

“He might consider exposure to plague worth it just to see you like that,” Phoenix said. “I know I would, if I were to force a certain prosecutor into a dress simply because I could.”

“If I killed Gavin, would it be ruled justifiable? Because forcing me to wear this thing is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Nah, I checked the statutes on justifiable homicide,” Phoenix said. “It’s only allowed in extreme and unrealistic circumstances.”

“If only I hadn’t trash-talked Gavin,” Apollo sighed. “I never would have provoked him.”

“At least you learned a lesson: don’t count your objections before they’re sustained.” Phoenix smiled serenely. “For what it’s worth, you are a pretty girl.”

Apollo arched an eyebrow. “Uh, is that supposed to be a compliment? Don’t answer that! I’ve got a problem, Mr. Wright.”

“You’ve got plenty, but which one specifically?” Phoenix asked.

“My voice! My Chords of Steel!” Apollo sighed. “How am I going to disguise my voice?! I mean, the paparazzi are going to write tabloids about Klavier being gay, and I’ll be immortalized forever as Apollo Justice, Ace Transvestite.”

Phoenix pointed, making him look almost like he was in court. “Suck on that.”

“Mr. Wright, are you telling me to just suck it up? Because that’s mean.”

“I’m pointing to the balloon behind you, genius!”

Apollo turned around. The skirt of the dress swished. There was a bright red balloon tied to a nearby chair. Apparently another prop for Trucy’s magic tricks. “Oh!” Apollo said. “The helium will make my voice high! I never thought of that.”

“Just a little bit. You don’t want to sound like you got your bits caught in your zipper.”

Apollo untied the balloon and inhaled a small amount. “Thanks, Mr. Wright! Now I just have to wait for my day-long Walk of Shame to end.” There was a knock on the door.

“And speak of the devil,” Phoenix said.

“Well, here comes Artemis Justice,” Apollo sighed. He walked to the door and opened it.
Klavier stood there, in his usual purple suit jacket, black shirt, silver jewelry, and black pants. He smirked. “Why, Fraulein Forehead. You look lovely.”

“So why did you want me to go to lunch with you wearing a dress?” Apollo asked. “Besides the obvious.”

“You will be playing a part. My lovely girlfriend. For my father,” Klavier replied.

“…Your father?” Apollo repeated. “Wait…GIRLFRIEND?!”

“Yes, I have to have lunch with my father. I could not get out of it.” Klavier looked rather annoyed. “It’s my first time visiting him since Kristoph was convicted.”

Apollo felt a pulse on his bracelet at Kristoph. “Is Kristoph your dad’s favorite or something?” It was more of a joke, but the way Klavier’s face darkened confirmed it.

“Ja,” Klavier snarled. “Why else have I been avoiding him?”

Great. Can this get any more potentially awkward? I’m going to lunch with my rival and his father. Who favors the convicted multiple murderer. And I’m the one who exposed him as a killer. “There’s no chance you’ll let me get out of this if I get on my knees and admit I’m your bitch, is there?” Apollo asked. “Because I will.”

“The terms of the bet were that for one day, the loser does whatever the winner asks. No exceptions.” Klavier smirked. “So unless you want to break your word…”

“I hate you, Klavier Gavin,” Apollo said.

“Now, now, dear. Don’t play hard to get. It only makes me want you more, ja?” Klavier replied. “Let me pose a question. What exactly would you have forced me to do?”

“Um, I didn’t really think of it,” Apollo admitted. “Stop calling me Herr Forehead, I suppose. And get me a donut. But not one with a big hole.”

“Small thinking for such a big forehead,” Klavier said.

“Yeah, you’re more creative. And sadistic,” Apollo snapped. “I guess that’s one more thing you picked up from your evil brother.”

Klavier scowled.

“A girly man catfight! And me without my popcorn!” Phoenix chimed in.

“Wait…you’re calling me a girly man too?” Klavier asked. “Uncalled for, Herr Wright.”

I totally forgot Mr. Wright was there, Apollo thought.

“Why don’t you two get a room before I bust out the hose?” Phoenix asked, smirking.

“You’re relishing this, aren’t you?” Apollo accused.

Phoenix laughed. “I’ve had worse days.”

“Do you have any idea how uncomfortable I am?!” Apollo whined.

“Actually, from my fraternity days, I do,” Phoenix said.

“Too much information,” Apollo muttered.

“Totally,” Klavier agreed.

XXX

One harrowing motorcycle later, Klavier pulled up in front of a grand, stately manor.

Not that Apollo noticed. His face was pale and his eyes were glassy.

“Fraulein Forehead?” Klavier asked. Apollo’s nails were still digging into his side. “Herr Forehead!”

Apollo stared blankly for a few seconds. “Thanks a lot, Gavin. You gave me a PTSD flashback!”

“You had a traumatic motorcycle ride?” Klavier asked.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a motorcycle, but it was…” Apollo winced. “The new attorney at our office just got her license here. I’m starting to wonder how she got it. I think sometimes Athena doesn’t see stop signs. Or pedestrians. Or speed limit signs…” Apollo shuddered.

“Shall we, mademoiselle?” Klavier asked.

Apollo got off the motorcycle. “The German’s bad enough. You’ve got to use French words for no particular reason?”

“You’re here!” A masculine voice called. The speaker approached.

“Hello, father,” Klavier said in a neutral voice.

Apollo stuck out his hand. “Artemis Justice.”

“Dieter Gavin,” Klavier’s father said, shaking the proffered hand. “Strong grip. I like to see that in a lady.” Though lithe, Dieter was tall, dwarfing even Kristoph. He had the same distinctive “drill-shaped” ponytail, though Dieter’s was streaked heavily with gray as opposed to the soft gold of his two sons. He wore glasses similar to Kristoph’s, but they hung around his neck on a silver chain. He stood ramrod-straight, resembling more an army officer than a defense attorney. He wore a dove-gray shirt, a navy vest, and a brown suit jacket and pants. A platinum watch chain poked out of his left breast pocket.

Dieter led them into the formal dining room. The table was set for three. There were two silver pots in the middle. Each bone-colored plate had two sandwiches cut into triangles.

Klavier looked at the sandwiches with disdain as he sat down. “Cucumber and watercress? Where’s the beef?”

“I didn’t want to offend your girlfriend if she was a vegetarian, or if she had allergies,” Dieter said plainly. “So how long have you been dating?”

“Um…” Apollo flushed. I really should have thought this through.

“Six weeks,” Klavier lied. “How has life been treating you?”

“There is nothing to report on my front,” Dieter said.

Apollo felt his bracelet react. He’s lying. All right, Klavier just lied to him, but is that fair…? “Mr. Gavin? Could you repeat what you just said?” Apollo concentrated deeply.

“Nothing to report on my front.” The pulse came at the first three words, as Dieter absently touched the chain on his watch.

“There,” Apollo said. “Your finger ran along the watch chain. Something’s making you nervous when you say nothing’s wrong. That makes me think the opposite of what you’re saying.”

Dieter laughed. “Nervous? Why should I be nervous?” He fiddled with the watch chain again.
This time, Apollo didn’t need his perception ability.

“Then you wouldn’t mind me wagering a guess?” Apollo asked.

“Go ahead,” Dieter said. “I have nothing to hide. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me.”

Apollo thought a moment. He ran his finger along his watch chain. The chain is on the left side of his chest, and what else is…? “Do you have a problem with your heart?”

Dieter’s shocked expression was all the confirmation Apollo needed.

“Father, answer the Fraulein’s question,” Klavier said. His expression was cold.

“Lady Artemis,” Dieter said. “You are truly…amazing! I don’t know how you knew, but you’re right. Last week, I had a mild heart attack. On the golf course. My friends managed to get me to the ER fast enough so the damage wasn’t permanent. I was discharged the following day.”

“So you aren’t dying?” Apollo asked. That’s a relief. Prosecutor Gavin has lost his brother. He doesn’t need to lose his dad, even if they aren’t on the best of terms.

“No!” Dieter turned red. “I’m perfectly fine. Inviting Klavier has nothing to do with it…”

“So this was just a social visit?” Apollo asked.

Dieter looked annoyed. “I can’t invite my son over just to talk?”

“When were you going to tell me?” Klavier demanded.

“Never,” Dieter said simply. “It wasn’t life threatening, and there’s no benefit to you knowing.”

“Still, I have a right to know!” Klavier snapped. “I’m your son! We shouldn’t keep secrets from each other!”

“Don’t worry too much about me, Klaves,” Dieter said. “I have to live. I can’t rest until a true heir arises. The heir that held all my hopes and dreams is in prison. Disgraced. And I love Kristoph fully and completely, but his smart mouth is going to get him killed before any time is taken off his seventy-five year sentence. So I have to survive, until you marry and produce a son. A legitimate son, not one of the many bastards you’re hiding from me.” Dieter gave a smirk.

“I’ve sired no bastards,” Klavier muttered. “As I’ve told you!”

“I’m confused,” Apollo said. “I don’t see why you can’t pass your estate to Klavier.”

Dieter’s smile withered completely. “I’d rather see it burn.”

“I don’t want it anyway,” Klavier muttered, biting into his sandwich hard.

“So what do you do for a living, Mr. Gavin?” Apollo asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

“I’m currently enjoying my retirement,” Dieter answered. “I used to be a defense attorney. They called me the Sherlock Holmes of the Defense Bench because I could observe minute details and make conclusions. Though you’ve got me beat. You want me to try? Maybe I can still make a good impression.”

“All right,” Apollo said.

“You’re not used to wearing dresses or high heels,” Dieter said. “The way you walked to the table is rather unnatural. Which leads me to think you wore that outfit only because you were meeting your boyfriend’s father. You’re eager to please. But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble on my account. I don’t mind if Klavier dates a tomboy. Seriously, he has a better chance of getting married than his older brother. Even before the…” Dieter quickly shifted the subject. “Both my sons are total workaholics is what I meant to say. It’s nice to see Klavier taking time for a relationship.”

“Nice save,” mumbled Klavier.

“I was beginning to wonder if Klavier didn’t swing another way entirely,” Dieter said. “Not that I’d mind, if only he were the man.”

Klavier sighed. “That does it. Why do you always have to belittle me in front of people?!” He threw his napkin down on the table and walked out some nearby French doors, slamming one so hard a glass pane popped out.

“Can’t he take a joke?” Dieter sipped some coffee. “He knows humor is my defense mechanism.”

“Is he leaving?” Apollo asked.

“Nah, I don’t hear his motorcycle. He’s gone to his treehouse,” Dieter observed.

“Treehouse?” Apollo asked.

“In the garden. It was his favorite place. Every time we’d argue, he’d go there and sulk. Of course, the last time, he was fourteen and about to go to Europe.”

“Should I go after him?” asked Apollo.

Dieter snorted. “Good luck. Once he pitches a fit like that, he only comes back when he’s good and ready. He wouldn’t speak to me for six weeks the time I missed his guitar recital. So flighty, just like his mother. And if you didn’t already know this, he’s an expert on the silent treatment. Fair warning,” He thought a moment. “But if you can calm him down, I would be eternally grateful.”

“I’ll try,” Apollo said.

“You’re a sweet girl, Artemis. Don’t let anyone else tell you different.”

Apollo left the dining room via the same doors and followed a pebbled walkway into the garden. The sharp edges of the rocks seemed to poke into the soles of his shoes. He finally reached a large treehouse. A wood and rope ladder led up to the structure. Klavier was sitting inside, arms folded.

“Gavin? Gavin!” Apollo folded his arms. “I’m not coming up after you!”

No response. Apollo groaned, faced the ladder, and began to climb. Slowly. As he neared the top, one of his high heels slipped.

Klavier grabbed Apollo’s wrist. “Please don’t break your neck on my father’s property.”

Apollo moved his foot back to the ladder and found purchase. With Klavier’s help, he managed to pull himself up into the treehouse. “You should have just come down.”

"You shouldn’t have tried to climb up,” Klavier said. “Why didn’t you just take off your shoes?”

“Because these rungs could use a sanding, and I hate splinters,” Apollo snapped. And I technically didn’t think to take them off beforehand.

“Why did you come after me?” Klavier asked. “I’m sure my father would have taken you home if you asked. You could have gotten out of this farce of a family lunch.”

“Your father’s worried, so I went to check up on you,” Apollo said simply.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I should apologize? That I should be ashamed to talk to my father that way?” Klavier demanded.

“No, I’m not,” Apollo replied.

“Why not? Not because you agree with me,” Klavier answered.

Apollo shrugged. “Because I can’t criticize you without knowing. I don’t have a real father. I don’t get why you feel so angry at him or why he feels disappointed by you. I don’t understand your home life and I never will. So who am I to judge your actions?”

“Herr Forehead,” Klavier said. “That’s the most mature thing I’ve heard you say.” He sighed. “Does it even make sense? His infinite patience for Kristoph?”

“I think most parents love their kids unconditionally,” Apollo said.

“Then where is the unconditional love for me?! Why does he accuse me of being such a schweinehund?” Klavier argued. “He accused me of having illegitimate children! To my face, in front of my supposed girlfriend!”

“It’s obvious you love him. That’s why you take those words as hard as you do.”

“Of course I do!” Klavier insisted. “I named my band after him!”

“Really?” Apollo asked.

Klavier snorted. “The Dieterers just sounds silly.”

The Gavinners sounds silly too, but that’s not important, Apollo thought. “My adoptive father once said, ‘Any man who claims to have a perfect relationship with his father is lying.’”

“So I take it you don’t like him?” Klavier asked.

“He’s okay. He was really good to me in my childhood, but…” Apollo trailed.

“But?” Klavier prodded.

“I really wanted a real dad, you know. One who looked like me. I know that’s stupid, but I wanted to be someone’s.”

“Sorry to ruin your cherished ideal, but that’s overrated,” Klavier said. “At least, if my father is any indicator.”

“Prosecutor Gavin, why did you force me to come here and pose as your girlfriend? Sooner or later, your dad’s going to figure it out. He’s arrogant, but not stupid.”

“Let’s hope that’s later,” Klavier said. “After we leave, some time I’ll tell him we broke up. He’ll never have to know the truth.”

“But are you okay with lying like this?”

“I’m not, but…” Klavier groaned. “It’s just that I couldn’t face going alone. He’s asked me to come before, but I kept making excuses. And if I made up another, he’d see something was wrong, and then he’d leave mean phone messages about how an awful son I am because I never visit. And I don’t exactly have a girlfriend at the moment. None of my coworkers would have come with me, and between you and me, I’m glad of that. The Prosecutor’s Office is one motley crew. Surely you noticed.”

“Yes,” Apollo said. “You’re not the one who has to fight them in court.”

Klavier laughed. “As long as I’m baring my soul, I might as well confess this.” He held out one hand. “I lied to you, too. Do you want to know why my nails are so shiny?”

“You polished them?”

“No. Fraulein Skye was testing a concoction she invented. A scientifically formulated liquid that hardens to strength nails. But none of the female police officers would volunteer to put it on their nails.”

“And why did you?”

“Fraulein Skye is stronger than she looks. Can we leave it at that?”

“She pinned you down, didn’t she?”

“Close. She sat on me. Stop laughing. She was the champion of her high school wrestling team!”

“Wrestling?! I didn’t think that was her first choice of extracurricular activity…”

“Yes, yes, she was quite disappointed to learn the Forensics Society was the debate team, not a forensic science club.”

“Can we get down from here?” Apollo asked. “I don’t like heights, and I don’t think this treehouse was meant to sustain two adults.”

“Fair enough,” Klavier said. “Want me to go first? So I can catch you if you fall?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Apollo snapped. “Just because I’m dressed like a helpless princess…”

“As I said, don’t break your neck!”

Apollo snorted and started down.

“I’m curious. Are you wearing girl’s underwear under there?”

Apollo’s face reddened. “Gavin, you perv!” He reached the ground and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I wasn’t going to look up if I went first,” Klavier replied. “I know you’re not wearing women’s unmentionables. I doubt you even know what they look like.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Apollo mumbled.

Klavier climbed down. Together, Apollo and Klavier made their way back to the house. With two feet of space between them.

Dieter was waiting just outside the dining room. “I won’t keep you any longer, Klaves. You paid your dues. And Miss Justice?”

“Yes?” Apollo asked.

“Don’t be afraid to smack my son if he gets fresh,” Dieter smirked.

“With pleasure, sir!” Apollo said.

“Don’t get too carried away, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said.

“Klavier! Apologize to her this instant!” Dieter looked rather annoyed. “Just because she’s a little boyish doesn’t mean you can call her Herr.” He smiled. “But then, you’re a little girly, so that makes you two perfect for each other!”

“Girly?!” Klavier turned on his heel. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re proving my point!” Dieter said. He waved. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

XXX

Twenty minutes later, Klavier parked his motorcycle in front of the Detention Center.

This time, Apollo was less traumatized. “Why are we here?” He got off the vehicle.

“Just some business I need to conduct.” Klavier climbed the stone steps.

The door opened, and a familiar figure with dark hair in a bun and wearing a white lab coat stepped out.

Klavier gave a slight bow. “Fraulein Skye, nice to see you here.”

Detective Ema Skye had her hand in a bag of Snackoos. “Pleasure is all mine,” she said, bored.
Then she looked at Apollo and nearly dropped her snacks. “Prosecutor, who is this?!”

“This is Fraulein Artemis Justice,” Klavier said, silky smooth. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Ema chewed thoughtfully on a Snackoo. She turned toward “Artemis.” “Are you by any chance related to Apollo Justice?”

“He’s my twin brother,” Apollo lied. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, extremely,” Ema said distantly. “I’m sure he’s protective of you. That’s why…” She gave a smug look. “Would you want me to tell him you’re dating his rival?”

“What?” Apollo asked.

“It might sound harsh of me, but it’s for your own good,” Ema said. “You give off this innocent air, and this glimmerous fop will break your heart.”

“I’m sure Fraulein Justice can make her own decisions about her love life,” Klavier insisted.

“I guess,” Ema said, crunching the Snackoos. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though. So, how’s the Diamond Coat? Is it working?”

Klavier held out his hand. “I suppose. None of my nails have broken yet.”

“Ooh,” Ema looked excited. “If this stuff works, I can patent the formula. Can you imagine how many people will want to prevent broken nails? It’s an untapped market. I could be financially set for life. It’s not…burning or tingling or doing anything weird, is it?”

“Should it?!” Klavier asked.

“It shouldn’t,” Ema said. “But can’t be too careful. Some of the chemicals I used have really long names that you couldn’t pronounce.”

“Keep your cell phone charged, Fraulein, in case your invention has adverse effects,” Klavier said, jokingly.

How can he stay calm after hearing that?! Apollo thought.

Ema shrugged. “I’ve got to go to the crime lab and pick up some results. Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Fop.” She walked off.

The sound of chewing faded.

“So why are we here again?” Apollo asked, following Klavier to the visitor’s room.

Klavier filled in a new entry on the sign-in sheet. “I’m here to visit Daryan. I have some questions.”

“Couldn’t you have come alone?” Apollo whined. “You think he’s going to want to talk to you with me there?”

“He’s not going to recognize you, Fraulein Forehead,” Klavier smirked. “Not even your own mother would recognize you.”

“I just hope no one recognizes me,” Apollo said.

“I apologize for putting you on the spot,” Klavier said. “But Daryan tends to get…distracted if there’s a pretty fraulein in the room.”

“So you’re using me to loosen his lips,” Apollo observed. “Still not nice to use your girlfriend like this.”

“Are you getting into this roleplay?” Klavier asked teasingly.

“No!” Apollo snapped. “I’m just saying, if you were using your girlfriend in this situation, it’d be cruel.”

“Good thing I wouldn’t do this to a real girlfriend,” Klavier said.

The visitor’s room door on the other side of the glass opened, and Daryan Crescend was led in. He was still wearing his stage costume, a navy blue jumpsuit with a shark motif. His hair was in his oversized pompadour, but it looked messier than Apollo remembered.

“Klavier, how pleasant,” Daryan said sarcastically. He folded his arms. “What part of ‘I don’t want to see your face again’ did you not comprehend?” He glanced at Apollo. “Whoa. Who’s this babe?”

“My girlfriend,” Klavier said. “Her name is Artemis.”

“Like the flower?” Daryan asked. “Never mind. Come to apologize for this?” He indicated their surroundings.

“You murdered an Interpol agent,” Klavier said harshly. “If anything, the prosecutor’s office has been lenient with you. Life sentence rather than the death penalty. The Borginian government has asked for your head, and I don’t mean that figuratively. Make sure you send a thank-you note to the Chief Prosecutor.”

“That stuffed shirt?” Daryan asked. “I got some new lawyers. They should get me released any day now.”

“Not even Clarence Darrow could get you freed,” Klavier retorted. “So make yourself comfortable in there.”

“You’re just upset because when I get out, your girlfriend’s going to be all over me,” Daryan replied. “Isn’t that right, hot stuff?”

Apollo glared at Daryan. “You suck, your hair is stupid, and I’m leaving!” He turned and nearly fell over. He caught himself and walked toward the exit.

Daryan stared after ‘her.’ “What did I say? But oh my god, that’s turning me on. I never knew being insulted could feel so good.”

“Don’t get your hopes up with her,” Klavier smiled. “It was nice to see you, Daryan.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” Daryan remarked. “Are you done? Did you just want to rub your hot girlfriend in my face? Klavier, I know you’ve got a job to do, but when are we going to address…what happened?”

“What else is there to say?” Klavier asked. “You betrayed everyone. Me, your coworkers in Criminal Affairs, the oath you took.”

“Hmph, stubborn as always,” Daryan replied. “No sense of humor. I guess you’re right. There is nothing left to say.”

Klavier stood up and left the visitor’s room.

Apollo was sitting in the waiting area, reading an old magazine. “What on earth happened in there?”

“Apparently, Daryan thought you were hot,” Klavier said, smirking.

“If you laugh…”

However, Klavier was not laughing. His expression changed to a scowl. “Daryan said he had new lawyers,” Klavier said. “And I’ve got a pretty good idea which ones.”

“Does that worry you?” Apollo asked.

“Not particularly, but his confidence does,” Klavier said. “Ever heard of Maury Eel and Mayomyzon Lamprey?”

“Who hasn’t?” Apollo replied. “They give defense attorneys a bad name. You think they took Daryan’s case?”

“Sounds like it,” Klavier said. “I think it’d be best to part ways, Fraulein Justice. I’ll drive you home on my way to my office. I need to prepare for anything Eel and Lamprey might try. Ach, it seems a prosecutor’s work is never done.”

“Yay!” Apollo said happily. Klavier glared. “I meant, yay, I get to finally get this thing off. Not ‘a murderer might get released because of two slimeballs.’ That’s not good.”

Ten minutes later, Klavier pulled up in front of the Wright Anything Agency. “Fraulein Justice…”

Apollo jumped off the motorcycle, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. “You don’t want to finish that sentence. I’ll see you in court, Gavin!” He entered the office quickly and slammed the door behind him. He immediately sat on the couch and removed the pumps.

Athena walked in, holding a teacup. “Oh, you’re back.”

Apollo held out one shoe. “Take these. I never want to see another high-heeled shoe again. My feet are killing me.”

Athena sat down next to Apollo on the couch. She took off her white boots and slipped on the high heels.

“Didn’t I just tell you how uncomfortable those things are?” Apollo asked.

“You broke them in for me,” Athena said.

“I’m not making that a habit,” Apollo replied, getting up to climb the stairs.

Athena shrugged and sipped her tea.

A few minutes later, Apollo returned. He was wearing his usual outfit: white shirt, greenish tie, red waistcoat and matching pants, and brown loafers.

Athena held out a second cup of tea for him. “Orange pekoe okay?”

“That’s fine,” Apollo gratefully accepted the cup. “Say, Athena. You’re the analytical psychologist. Tell me why girls wear those stupid things.”

“Glad you asked,” Athena smiled. She sat down next to Apollo. “It’s a psychological effect. Girls use the high heels to make themselves look taller, because men select for taller women.
Subconsciously, they think taller women must be healthier. Because stunted growth is a sign of malnutrition.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Athena said. “Ever notice in Renaissance art, women are plumper than the models in magazines?”

“I do recall that in Art History 101, but what does that have to do with high heels?”

“Because food was more scarce back then, and women who had extra body fat were better fed.”

“Yes, but what about those skinny models you just brought up? They look like they haven’t eaten in weeks!”

“They aren’t actually that skinny. They are thin, but the pictures are airbrushed,” Athena said. “It goes to looking healthy. Nowadays, a guy assumes an overweight girl has an unhealthy diet. Too much fat. Obesity causes health problems. So thinner women are preferable. Of course, there’s also cultural preferences to consider. Eating disorders are rare in Inuit culture, where having body fat is necessary to keep warm in the cold temperatures.”

“I see,” Apollo said. “What’s your opinion on the Oedipal complex?”

“Apollo, if you were plotting something, you’d tell me, right?”

“Not me. I witnessed the ultimate passive-aggressive father-son fight. All snide comments and threats of silent treatment.”

“Oh,” Athena said. “Care to try your own analysis?”

“I don’t need your analytical psychology expertise to know why they’re that way. They’re two textbook closed-off alpha males. Maybe I did dodge a bullet by never meeting my father. What was yours like, Athena? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“He was an opera singer…” Athena began cheerfully.

XXX

(Next Saturday Evening)

Apollo sat alone in the Wright Anything Agency reading some paperwork. Trucy was at the Wonder Bar, doing her act. Phoenix was off…somewhere. Athena had gone to pick up some dinner from Pietro’s Pizza and Pies. (They had eaten Eldoon’s Noodles the night before, and Eldoon’s specialty was too sodium-laden to eat two nights in a row.)

I’m starting to hope Dr. Eldoon’s specialty was not cardiology. Shouldn’t he know too much salt is very bad for the heart? Apollo thought. His cell phone rang, startling him. He picked it up without checking the number. “Justice here.”

“Hello, Miss Justice?”

“Miss?!” Apollo cried.

“Um, who is this?” The voice seemed oddly familiar, but Apollo couldn’t immediately place it.

“Wait,” Apollo furrowed his brow. “You’re the one who just called me.”

“Your voice doesn’t sound familiar. Are you Mr. Justice?”

“Yes, I am,” Apollo said. Wait. Oh, no. It can’t be…

“This is Dieter Gavin. And I met your lovely daughter just last Saturday. Could I speak with Lady Artemis?”

This is not happening. Dieter Gavin is not calling me. Beads of sweat formed on Apollo’s forehead. “She’s…not here at the moment. May I take a message?”

There was sighing on the other end. “I already stole my son’s cell phone and dialed ‘A Justice’ on his speed dial. Might as well make my humiliation complete. You must ask your daughter…to not give up on my son!”

“WHAT?!”

“Artemis is so much better than those trashy girls he’s brought home in the past. In that one lunch with her, I can tell she’s a good person. In her, I see a pure heart to rival Klavier’s. She’ll make him happy, I just know it!”

Apollo couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I mean, I don’t care about dowry, and I’ll pay for the wedding...”

“…” Apollo stared dumbfounded at the phone.

“It’s not enough, is it?! By the way, your voice is very loud and commanding, but you must tell me your secret.”

“Secret?” Apollo asked.

“Yes, your voice sounds so young and vibrant. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in your mid twenties! I didn’t know it was possible to maintain such a young voice.”

Apollo’s hands were sweating and the phone slipped out of his hand. It hit the wood floor with a thud and the battery popped out. Apollo cursed and grabbed the phone, battery, and battery compartment cover. A question formed in his mind as he reassembled his cell phone, and he voiced it to the empty room.

“Why the hell does Prosecutor Gavin have me on speed dial?!”

The End.

“The Art of Survival”
Disclaimer: All characters from Ace Attorney are copyright Capcom
Time: Right after Trials and Tribulations

“I’ve returned from the depths of Hell to do battle with you.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much.

But even the space between life and death was less of a Hell than the one I returned to. I knew the world would keep on going without me, but to learn what I did.

I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Diego Armando, or was.

When I was poisoned by Little Miss Psycho Bitch, I wasn’t technically dead. My heart was still beating, but my nervous system was completely shot. Brain death, if you want to be precise.

My little sister was a big believer in letting nature run its course, so I was in the ‘circling the drain’ ward of the hospital, on life support.

My consciousness was somewhere else. I hardly remember it, except for Azrael. The Angel of Death.

Azrael reminded me of a bishounen prettyboy, with long golden hair, soft blue eyes, and a creamy complexion that would make male models envious. He wore a long red coat – I remember thinking red was such an unusual choice for an angel. I expected white or black. Of course, after I woke up, I would perceive it as white. My visor’s electronic sensors can’t detect wavelengths shorter than 590 nanometers.

“Can’t I make a deal with you?” I asked. “To come back to life?”

“You’re not quite dead yet, but do I look like the Devil?” Azrael replied.

“You could say no,” I said.

“Or I could say yes. You could wake up. But what you seek demands a heavy price.”

“And that would be?” I arched an eyebrow.

“The price is your acceptance.”

“My acceptance?” I repeated.

“That no matter what happens, you must accept it.”

“That all?” I laughed.

“Also, there’s the matter of your body,” he said. “It’s been in a persistent vegetative state for years. While you’ve been technically alive, your muscles have atrophied and your bones have lost density. Also, the poison absolutely destroyed your nervous system, both central and peripheral.”

“You’re an angel,” I snapped. “Aren’t miracles in your job description?”

“Hey, miracles can only do so much. I’m just being honest. Your body will not quite be as good as it was.”

“I can live with that.”

“I suppose that it’s a good sign you can joke. Very well. You’re going to feel very fuzzy in a few minutes, but you’ll wake up. It will be dark, but you will be alive.”

XXX

And so it happened. I stirred in my bed, smelling a nearby attending physician’s coffee. He let me have it. I mean, who was he to begrudge me? I was going to be the star of his career-breaking paper, the first ever recovery from brain death.

I’ll never forget how good the coffee tasted going down. Doctors have the best coffee.

Coffee is referred to the Nectar of the Gods in medical circles, and I’m inclined to agree with them.

“Rejoice, Mr. Armando,” the nurse said. She was a sweetie by the name of Carrie Taker. I knew she was smiling, though I couldn’t see her face. I was completely blind. “You’re lucky you didn’t develop sepsis. Surviving is an art, and you’re a true artiste.”

Yes, the art of survival.

XXX

Shortly after my arrest for the murder of Misty Fey, Claremont McKenna, the Chief Prosecutor, paid me a visit at the Detention Center.

They called her the Ice Queen, and not always behind her back.

She was tall and well-built for a woman. She wore a gray bush jacket complete with four pockets, a self-belt, and passants. The piping on the jacket was navy blue, and she wore navy dress pants, a collared white shirt and a navy blue ascot. Her hands were covered with black leather gloves and she was wearing knee-high black jodhpur boots. Interestingly, the pants were very straight, like a man’s trousers. Also, her jacket’s buttons were on the right side of her body, like on a gentleman’s jacket. Her shirt was covered by the jacket, so only the collar was visible, but I’m sure it was a man’s shirt.

Her hair was white, like mine. It was a lot shorter than mine, in a layered cut.

She had pierced ears. Her earrings were simple diamond studs, at least a half carat each. I can’t think of a better jewel to suit her. The old legend that diamonds were ice chunks that permanently froze. The root of the word diamond, adamas. Unconquerable. The one feminine touch on her otherwise masculine silhouette, and what does it say?

“Why are you the Chief Prosecutor? I would have expected Bratworth,” I asked after my first trial.

“He went soft,” McKenna said simply.

“Do you despise him? Because he overshadowed you?”

“I’m here in the end, aren’t I?” She replied. “And I won’t go soft like him. Nor will I resort to forged evidence, like my predecessor Lana Skye. I’ve never forged evidence. I don’t have to. I’m aware of how arrogant that makes me sound, but it’s the truth.”

But back to the present. I couldn’t think of what to say to her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” McKenna observed.

“Neither should you,” I said, recalling something Azrael told me once. Claremont McKenna, she’s frosty, isn’t she? I was cheated out of such a sure thing with her. “But we’re here.”

I expected anger, or at least surprise. As I said, McKenna is a closed book. But there was only a slight change in her expression. She seemed bemused, as the corners of her mouth tilted almost imperceptibly. She’s good.

“Cite your source on that,” McKenna said, her voice sounding cheerful.

“I can’t say,” I replied. I felt my smirk meeting her lilt. “I can say it’s quite reliable, though.”

“When I said ‘you shouldn’t be here’, I actually meant this prison,” McKenna said. “Not alive. Though if your doctor was any kind of doctor, you shouldn’t be alive.”

“Why did you want to see me?” I asked. “Surely not to discuss my severance pay. I killed a woman. I’ll lose my head. How’s that for severance?”

“Don’t be so certain about that,” McKenna replied. “I ordered a coroner’s inquest. Three judges will review the facts of the case. There are three potential verdicts: criminal, excusable, or justifiable. If your involvement in the death of Misty Fey is deemed to be criminal, you will be put on trial. And you’ll probably be declared guilty and sentenced to death, though you will likely die before your execution date.”

“And if it’s ruled justifiable or excusable?”

“Then you’re a free man.”

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Yes. In the event your verdict is justifiable or excusable, would you be willing to return to the Prosecutor’s office? Despite your quirks, you are a good lawyer. It would be such a shame to surrender you.”

“You drive a hard bargain, McKenna,” I said. “But yes. There’s sufficient evidence against me to go directly to trial, but you ordered an inquest. I’m not the sort of man to say no to a lady who’d risk her own reputation for me.” I smiled at her.

XXX

Before the inquest, I talked to McKenna. “I have one thing to ask.”

“Yes?” She asked. “I can’t really discuss the case with you, and I have no say in the verdict, so keep that in mind.”

I slipped the ring Mia lovingly gave me so many years ago off my left index finger. “Hold on to this. If I go free, you can give it back to me. If not, could you give it to my last living relative? Her name’s Frida Armando. My little sister.”

“Very well,” McKenna held out her hand, and I gently placed the ring into it.

It was ruled excusable. For a while, the judges were stuck. Judge Dike Hour wanted to rule it criminal. She has a real ‘all sinners will be judged, no exceptions’ complex. Judge Kim Yunity was leaning toward justifiable, as she has a soft spot for the safety of children. Judge Di Plomassy managed…somehow to get them to change their votes to excusable. The votes of the three judges must be unanimous in an inquest.

XXX

McKenna smiled at me. We were in her office just after the verdict was handed down. “Do you agree to serve the prosecutor’s office once more? In sickness and in health?”

“Well, I’ll always be sick,” I said. “But yes.”

“Anything you wish to renegotiate with your contract?” McKenna asked. “Any rules I should be aware of?”

“I have many rules, my dear,” I said. “But this one is first and foremost: no coffee, no workee. So you should get that antiquated machine in the lounge looked at ASAP.”

“Fine,” McKenna said. She took my left hand and slipped on the ring. “I’m glad you’re on board with me again, Prosecutor Godot. Now get to work. On Monday’s trial, you’ll be up against the Coolest Defense in the West.”

XXX

And so Prosecutor Godot remained free, though the freedom left a bitter taste in my mouth to rival my bitterest blend. McKenna had left my office exactly the way it was, so I sat down in front of my desk and drank down some coffee.

Azrael appeared before me, seated petulantly on the chair opposite my desk. “You’ve cheated me yet again.”

I threw my mug at him. It went right through.

“As cheery as always,” Azrael said. “I’m not a certain spiky-haired lawyer with a stupid name.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone pass by the open door.

“The terms of the deal were to accept what happens, no matter what,” I said. “So I’ll be sending a few sinners to the executioner’s block before your collection day.”

“I suppose so,” Azrael replied. “Does it bother you? Being a prosecutor for a reason other than your convoluted quest for vengeance?”

Another mug slid in front of me, and I drank it down. (Wonder how I do that? Trade secret.) “Being a defense attorney is a noble profession. It hardly suits a murderer, does it?”

“I hope you don’t resent me for what happened back there,” Azrael said. “It was Misty Fey’s time to die, not yours.” He reclined in the chair. “Hate to leave you, Diego, but it’s my poker night and I feel lucky.” He faded. That’s the best way to describe it. He slowly became transparent, and then even that faded.

I picked up my case file and began to read.

A few minutes later, there was a rap on my doorframe.

A tall, imposing man stood in my doorway. Hair and tie black as coal. Clad in a black and white surcoat with the Blackquill family crest. A recent hire, Simon Blackquill. Sharp like Klavier Gavin, but similarly young and inexperienced. Compared to veterans of court like me or McKenna, Blackquill and Gavin seemed like…infants. I suppose McKenna did need new blood.

“Godot-dono, who was your visitor just now?” Blackquill asked. He held a pizza bagel. Obviously, he had gone to the lounge to warm it up in the microwave and was on his way back to his office. I could smell the tomato sauce and pepperoni.

“Is there some sort of reason you’re asking?” I replied. Not to be defensive, but how would a straight-laced guy like him respond to ‘Oh, that’s the angel of death, who likes to screw me with me every now and then. His name is Azrael, and your born-too-late schtick would make him laugh, so I simply must introduce you two’?

“I saw into your office when I passed, and the man there cast no shadow,” Blackquill said, gesturing to the overhead fluorescent lights. “That would make for an interesting psychological effect in the courtroom.”

Knew I should have closed the door. But too late for regrets. “He’s no one worth your concern, Simon.”

He smirked, and he actually did look like Edgeworth. “First name? Are you insinuating we’re peers?”

Another full mug rested on my desk. I picked it up and threw it.

Quick as lightning, Blackquill drew a razor-sharp katana from the scabbard at his side and sliced the mug. It landed on the carpet, neatly bisected.

“Nice trick,” I said. “But you owe me a new mug.”

XXX

Diego Armando died, and was reborn as Godot. I thought Godot would die with Phoenix Wright’s career. Godot has survived. Or perhaps he will die and be reborn as Diego Armando.

No matter. What else can I do? Just keep working on the art of survival.

Where do I go from here?