Um... hi.

Looks like I've stumbled into this topic again. First off, I want to thank my reviewers for pushing this post onto the topics second page; now you can read this update without crashing your browser! *polite applause*

Review replies first, since this ain't a real fanfiction site and I can be bothered with them...

BS: Well, maybe in a year or two, I'll poke the owners until they submit to another OC contest. Then Jack can compete with all the Mary-Sues/Stus that happen to be lovers of the Incredibly Sexy GS5 prosecutor... whichever gender that person may be.

PG: Nice to see ya back. As for all my mistakes, I'm going to, by the end of the month, put the entirity of Episode I on ff.net and then use that as a springboard to beg for a beta or three. While I'm at it, I'll probably see if any other PW writers need a beta; I've always loved revising other people's work.

And that picture, while not a masterpiece, is still a couple notches better than what I could ever draw. DSL approves.

Mikker: I figured one Bushism would be funny; of course, I didn't want to add more for the sake of political overkill.

Phantom Pheonix: As far as the length is concerned, I'm hoping my readerbase will have a healthy increase once I put the fic on ff sites; it's nowhere near as intimidating on a site that divides the file into chapters.

Impulse: Oddly enough, I caught your mistake before I looked at your post. Heh heh, drunken squirrel...

D-Berry: Posts are posts. You'll live.

Oh, and a thanks to Auzerai, didn't post but also sent me a Jack Keeper sketch. If you want to see it... go bug her, cause I'm evil like that.

Anyway, now for the actual part (and it's a whole part, wooo!). The only thing I want to say before the story is that there's a (large) section where I italicize quotes from the TV; those will be double bracketed to make them distinct from Jack's thoughts. If it's too confusing, I'll probably go back and put them in a different font or something, I've run out of unique convention combinations.

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Part 6/7: First Blood

September 9th, 2016, 12:48 PM

Jack sighed as he slowly poured cola into an ice-laden glass. ‘I guess I should take heart that not everything has completely changed,’ he thought morosely.

“You almost finished there, Jack? I’m all hot and thirsty!” Donny Docket mock-whined before bursting into a rather disturbing fit of giggles.

“Almost there, Don,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. ‘Add some cherry syrup, and hopefully he’ll shut his mouth.’

“You know, Jack,” Donny stated, “I was actually kind of surprised to find the place open this early today. I mean, not that I’m complaining, but normally I find myself banging my head against a locked door if I try coming here before two!”

Jack frowned. “Well, let’s just say today’s a special day and leave it at that.” Almost absently, he grabbed his trusty bottle of cheery syrup and squeezed it into Donny’s cola. He held the drink up to eye level and inspected it for a moment before giving it a quick stir and declaring it done.

“Since you’re ‘very thirsty’, I guess it wouldn’t be best to keep you waiting any longer, now wouldn’t it?” Jack asked.

Donny huffed and banged a fist against the bar counter. “No, it damn well wouldn’t!”

“That was a rhetorical question, Dummy.” Jack allowed himself another dramatic shake of the head before gently placing the glass in front of his best friend. “Here you are, Don. One finely made-”

“Hey! What the hell’d you do to yourself, Jack?!” Donny interrupted, pointing at the large piece of gauze on the back of Jack’s right hand.

Flinching, Jack took a step backwards. “This thing?” He frowned as he looked at his crudely bandaged injury. “It’s a long story, Don. I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

Donny blinked rapidly in surprise; he obviously hadn’t been expecting such a reaction. Eyebrows contorting in thought, he said, “I’ve got some time left. Why can’t you just tell me now?”

“Because I said I’ll tell you later,” Jack said tersely.

“But-”

“No buts!” Jack absently wiped his forehead with his good hand; he really didn’t want to fly off the handle, no matter how bad his week had been going. “Sorry, Don,” he stated simply. “Let’s just let the matter drop, all right?” Before his friend could respond, he reached for his remote and increased the volume on the TV; at the moment, DNN was broadcasting a commercial advertising oversized chocolate bars. Avoiding Donny’s direct gaze, he pulled his chair over and wearily sat down.

Donny ignored the TV and a made an appreciative noise. “Damn, Jack,” he stated. “You look exhausted. Is that why you’re acting all upset?”

Turning his head, Jack frowned and nodded. “I had a rough night last night, Don,” he said neutrally. “I didn’t really get a lot of sleep, either.”

Surprisingly, Donny let out a chuckle. “Well, well, well...” he said appraisingly. “I might have struck out at the District Hideaway, but it looks like you had a better night than you’re letting on! I know that I told you to relax... did you close the bar early last night and go hunting for some chicks?” He chuckled and waggled his eyebrows. “Well, Jack? Is that what happened?”

Jack let in a hissing breath; he hadn’t been expecting his friend to jump to such an ironically positive conclusion. Turning his head back to the TV, he stated, “I assure you, Don... what happened last night was nothing like that.”

Donny let out a noise of surprise. “What’s gotten into you, Jack? Ever since you started making my drink, you’ve been acting all funny!”

Jack let out another resigned sigh; he didn’t want to give Donny any information on White’s visit before the trial was over... one way or another. His eyes still fixed on the television, he dully stated, “I’ve told you everything you need to hear, Don. I had a tough night last night, and not much sleep before this morning. How I hurt my hand... there’s simply too much for me to explain how that happened right now. Just enjoy your drink and watch TV with me, okay?”

Predictably, Donny didn’t do what he was told. “Before I do that, can I ask you one more thing?”

Jack decided it was pointless to resist his friend in this particular endeavor. “Go ahead, Don. But make it quick.”

Donny allowed himself a thoughtful sip of his drink before blurting, “Do you still have that list of weird crap you drew up yesterday?”

“Yes...” muttered Jack, unsure of where this was going.

“If that’s so... I think you should add yourself to it, then.”

Jack gave his friend the briefest of surprised stares before frowning and turning his attention back to the TV. He watched the news reporters chatter in relative silence for about a minute before he was interrupted by the familiar sound of the door chime. Sighing, he turned his head and watched as High Prosecutor Manfred von Karma, clad in an inordinately fancy blue suit and tightly gripping a sleek metal cane, slowly made his way across the barroom floor.

Once he’d finally made it to the bar counter, Donny stuck out his right hand in greeting. “Hey, Mr. VK! How’s it going?!” he said jubilantly.

Von Karma took one look at Donny’s eager expression and turned away from him in disgust. “I have no need for vigorous handshakes from you, lowly security guard,” he said, his voice a disturbingly low growl. “It would be pointless.”

Donny chuckled awkwardly before turning back to his drink. “Whatever you say, VK.”

Von Karma merely made a dismissive noise before turning his attention to Jack. “You! Bartender!” he barked.

Normally, Jack would have been intimidated by such an authoritative tone, but after dealing with a genuine, honest-to-God murderer, von Karma wasn’t really all too scary. “What would you like, Mr. von Karma?” he asked patiently.

“You will not speak to me with that insolent tone, Bartender!” von Karma barked. “First of all, I want you out of that chair. Such laziness is most unbecoming for a man of your profession.” After Jack rose to his feet and moved the chair aside, he continued, “And second, you should already be well aware of what I would, as you so tritely put it, like.”

“Of course, Mr. von Karma. You want me to make you one martini... and you want me to make it perfectly.”

Von Karma slowly nodded. “That would be correct, Bartender! Start making my drink. Now!” He snapped his fingers commandingly.

In spite of his mood, Jack lips curled into a small smile. ‘Nothing like an order from von Karma to keep my mind off of things. Now, to get the ingredients...’

Jack softly hummed to himself as he gathered what few tools of the trade he would need; out of all the mixed drinks a customer could order from him, a martini was actually one of the simplest.

‘A bottle of fine gin... some dry vermouth... a bottle of olives—’ Jack deftly plucked the ingredients from their spots on his series of back-bar shelves—‘and a cocktail shaker, of course...’ Jack quickly reached into a cabinet and pulled out one of his finest cocktail shakers; he didn’t want to displease the High Prosecutor by using something too ‘ordinary’.

As he fumbled for some ice to add to the shaker, Donny made another attempt at starting a conversation. “So... Mr. VK,” he said tentatively, “What do you think about the Fey Murder trial? That case has been so crazy; it’s causing almost everyone I know to act weird!” He paused for a moment before quipping, “Isn’t that right, Jack?”

Jack winced and immediately regretted the motion; it nearly caused him to spill the bottle of gin he was pouring. He quietly finished the job before opening a drawer and grabbing an overlong eyedropper... the trickiest part was yet to come.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to answer me?” Though he didn’t turn to look, it was obvious to Jack that Donny was getting impatient.

Before he could respond, however, von Karma countered with a question of own. “Pardon the interruption, security guard, but I must ask... why the hell are you in here and not on duty?”

Donny made a surprised noise and paused for a few seconds. “Well... its m-my lunch hour!” he finally stammered. “Of course... it’s only forty-five minutes long... doesn’t that just suck, VK?”

Jack avoided chuckling with some difficulty at the sound of his friend’s immaturity; he couldn’t let himself get too distracted from the drops of vermouth he was releasing into the cocktail shaker. Only after counting out ten drops did he allow himself a sigh of relief.

“It appears that I have another question for you, security guard,” growled von Karma. “Exactly how much time is left until your lunch break is over?”

“Well,” Donny began, “I believe it’s over in about... three minutes!”

“I should have known,” von Karma muttered despondently. “If your lunch break is that close to completion, I ask again: Why the hell are you still here, you inefficient buffoon?!” In a matter of seconds, von Karma’s voice jumped from a low growl to an outright snarl of rage.

“Uh, well, you see VK, it’s... I’ve got to go!” Clearly intimidated, Donny leapt to his feet. “Money for the cola’s on the table,” he added lamely. “Hope you’re head’s on straight the next time I see you, Jack.” With that, he scurried his way across the room, briefly sounding the door chime as he fled.

Now, Jack finally did allow himself a laugh; he was currently stirring von Karma’s martini in its shaker and could afford such unnecessary motion.

“I hope you aren’t taking your sweet time, bartender,” von Karma stated, “I will not be pleased if I have to wait much longer!”

Jack merely shook his head at his customer’s impatience. “It’s all right; I’m almost done,” he said simply. He hummed to himself again as he opened his refrigerator and removed an empty martini glass; he always had one stored in there for just this occasion. He took a deep breath before adding the strainer to the top of his shaker and carefully pouring the drink in the glass.

‘And now... the finishing touches.’ With a bit of effort, Jack popped the lid off of the olive jar, plucked one with his fingers, and skewered it with a toothpick before gently placing it in the drink.

Jack allowed himself another small smile as he carefully picked up the drink and sat it before von Karma with a mild flourish. “One dry martini, made with the proper amount of gin, exactly ten drops of vermouth, served in a chilled glass, garnished with a single olive, and stirred, not shaken like that foolish British spy. Will that be all?”

Von Karma made an elaborate show of examining his drink before nodding. “It is... adequate,” he sniffed. “You may stand down, bartender.”

Jack let out a small sigh of relief as he grabbed his chair and returned it to the spot directly across from von Karma. Not wishing to actually watch the TV at the moment, he decided that some small talk would be adequate for breaking the silence.

“Mr. von Karma?”

Von Karma stared at Jack with a peeved expression. “Yes?”

“Uh... It was really funny how you made Donny run out of the room.” Absently, he stood up and grabbed the single banknote that his friend had left on the table. “I’m not used to seeing him get nervous like that... usually he’ll keep talking and talking even when you want him to stop. Know what I mean?”

Von Karma frowned. “I might have an idea.”

“Of course,” muttered Jack, scratching at the back of his head. “Then again, what you said earlier brings up a decent question.”

Von Karma crossed his arms. “And that would be...?”

“You asked Donny why he wasn’t on duty. While it was a very effective thing to say, it makes me wonder... why aren’t you on duty, Mr. von Karma?”

Von Karma stared at Jack for just a moment before allowing his lips to part into a small smile. “It’s very simple, Bartender,” he said softly. “I was only scheduled to argue one trial today. Why they only gave me one, I do not know, for I ended it a matter of twenty-five minutes.” He paused to sip his drink. “With a victory, of course,” he added needlessly.

Jack nodded. “So, that means...”

“Are you that obtuse, bartender? In a matter of half an hour, my case load was finished. I came here to finalize it, and I will soon be going home. As it’s the end of the week, I desired a drink before departing. It should be obvious to you that I was-” he sniffed the air disdainfully-“lucky to find that you had opened this bar at this hour.”

“I see. That makes sense.” Frowning, Jack wondered what else he could say on the subject. Several seconds later, he blurted, “Then again, Mr. von Karma, that doesn’t seem quite like your style.”

Von Karma merely raised an eyebrow.

“I mean... you’re the type of person that likes to keep on top of things all the time, aren’t you? I didn’t have you pegged as a guy who’d spend half the workday sitting around at home.” Jack let out an awkward chuckle.

Sighing heavily, von Karma said, “If I must spell out foolish details in order to shut you up, so be it. Upon arriving at my home, I will be spending several hours reviewing the details of this week’s major court cases on my computer. Additionally, I wish to speak with my youngest daughter... international telephone calls are cumbersome, but this is a difficulty I am willing to withstand.” Upon finishing, he gave his martini another careful sip.

Jack allowed a small smile to cross his face. “Ah, yes... exactly what has Franziska been up to these days? It’s been a while since I heard you... mention...”

The remainder of the sentence died in Jack’s throat as the familiar trumpet blast of the breaking news fanfare blared from the television hanging above the side of the bar. Without another word, he turned towards the TV, hoping against hope that White’s prediction had not come to pass.

“Good evening, DNN viewers! I am Lily Jumper.” The gaunt newswoman slowly nodded her head, as if such a motion made her identity more valid. “We interrupt this broadcast of ‘Lunch Break Chatter’ in order to bring you a critical update in the trial of rookie lawyer Phoenix Wright, who has been accused for the murder of his boss and mentor, well-renowned attorney Mia Fey.”

‘Always with the recaps,’ Jack thought resignedly. ‘I guess there’s nothing to be done about that; practically everyone in this city has no clue as to what’s really going on.’

“While we have not yet received any official word of Mr. Wright receiving a guilty verdict, it appears that this trial has all but ended. For you see, we have just received word from a highly credible source that Mr. Wright, a man that had the bull-headed audacity to try and serve as his own defense, has collapsed at his bench after realizing his imminent defeat.”

Although Jack knew that Wright hadn’t possessed a very good chance of pulling off a successful self-defense, having the news channel confirm his failure hurt all the same. ‘It looks like I’m going to have to deal with White for a long time to come,’ he thought, miserably rubbing at his stomach.

Von Karma, on the other hand, appeared completely nonplussed. “Stupid newswoman,” he muttered dismissively. “How could you have expected any other result? Since the beginning, Miles has always been perfect at getting the correct verdict.”

Before Jumper could say anything more on the situation, a short, dark-haired man with headphones walked on-camera and whispered something in her ear. Though it was impossible for Jack to discern exactly what the man was saying, it was obvious from the look on Jumper’s face that it wasn’t something she expected.

As soon as the man made a hasty retreat, Jumper gave the camera a wide-eyed stare and said, “Pardon the interruption, but I have just received word that DNN has just been given permission to broadcast a live audio-feed of the courtroom while it is in session! According to our production assistant, we have been given this opportunity because all that remains is for the defendant to regain consciousness so that he can be declared guilty of his crime.”

Upon this pronouncement, von Karma smacked his left hand against the table, shock clearly written on his elderly face. “They dare to break the sanctity of the courtroom while it is in session?” His eyebrows narrowed dangerously. “This is unheard of! What sort of crack-headed legal official would allow such a thing?”

‘I believe I know,’ Jack thought sadly, remembering what White had said when he ordered Jack to watch the news channel in the first place. ‘Obviously, when you control enough officials, the unorthodox becomes easy to set up.’

Returning his eyes to the TV, he saw that Jumper’s newsroom had disappeared; replaced with a graphic of an empty courtroom and the white words “WRIGHT TRIAL PROCEEDINGS”, which took up the top third of the screen.

At first, the TV was quiet; the audio feed obviously had not been set up yet.

“We should be receiving the feed in a matter of a few seconds; as of right now, the courtroom is currently in recess.” She paused for a moment, and then, in a much quieter voice, hissed, “Hey, you... Is there any way the viewers are going to be able to tell who is who when we broadcast this thing? We don’t have any inside commentary.”

“I don’t think it matters...” returned another voice, presumably that of DNN’s production assistant. “All we were told to do was-”

With a quick series of pops, the man’s voice was cut off as the feed was finally activated. At first, all Jack could hear was a series of low, muttering voices; presumably those of the men and women observing the trial.

“Damn headshaking gawkers...” von Karma muttered in disgruntlement. “When I started prosecuting, they used to keep silent at all times, but these days... you can’t shut them up for a second.” He sipped his martini with an air of disgust.

“Mr. White.” An extremely old and gravelly voice spoke out from the TV, bringing the mutterers to a halt.

‘That would be the Judge,’ Jack thought absently. ‘Must be the white-bearded one, whatever his name is... Chief Gant brings him here from time to time.’

“Yes, Mr. Your Honor?” Jack took in a hissing breath at the sound of White’s voice; he could now recognize that nauseatingly pompous tone from even a single short sentence.

“Could I ask you something? Off the record of course,” replied the Judge, clearly curious.

“But of course!” White returned exuberantly. “I am the witness, after all.”

Von Karma let out a huff of annoyance. “What were these news people thinking? This is small talk they’re broadcasting; not courtroom procedure!”

Jack shook his head as the television-Judge asked, “Exactly why did you place the wiretap in the Fey and Co. Law offices? I understand that there’s no need to officially testify about the matter, but I still find it rather odd for someone as highly-regarded as you to do such a thing.”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. ‘Why is White saying he placed the wiretap? Didn’t his secretary get charged with that crime?’

“Now, now, Mr. Your Honor,” White admonished, “You know that I do not possessify the clearances to give you that information! I can not possibly break a confidentiality agreement while speaking of a non-related crime!”

“Yes, of course...” muttered the Judge, clearly chastened.

“That begs to remind me... I must thank you, Miles Edgeworth, for bringing upward the courage to expose my trifilitic crime to light! After all, had it not been for that act of bravitude, that nasty lawyer would have succeeded in making it appear that I was Ms. Mia’s killer!”

“Oh! Uh... you’re welcome, Mr. White.” Though the voice was a bit more aloof than usual, Jack immediately recognized it as that of Miles Edgeworth.

Jack scratched at his head. ‘If what White just said was true, that means...’ Upon realization, he pointed an angry finger directly at the television screen. “Damn it, Mr. Edgeworth!” he shouted. “You’re protecting Mr. White by making him plead guilty to a different crime!”

Of course, such yelling did nothing to change the actions of the people speaking on the TV, although it did make von Karma let out a huff of annoyance.

“So, as you can clearly gleam, Your Honor, the... truth of my placing the wiretap in Ms. Mia’s office will become splendiferously apparent when I come before a differing court for that offense.” Disturbingly, he paused to chuckle. “After all, I’m certainious that a proper small crimes court will be... arranged for my trial by tomorrow, will it not?”

”Yes... yes, of course!” replied the Judge, his tone clearly appeasing.

Frowning, Jack thought, ‘This isn’t good at all. In addition to wriggling free from justice after killing Mia, he’ll probably arrange it so he doesn’t even get slapped on the wrist for tapping her office!’ He shook his head. ‘Not that such a conviction would come close to justifying his getting away with murder.’ Letting out a heavy sigh, he wailed, “Mr. Edgeworth... how could you do something so terrible?”

“Oh, quit your whining, bartender!” barked von Karma, his tone causing Jack to jump in surprise. “It is not your place to question Miles Edgeworth’s abilities! Abilities that I taught him, in case you have forgotten! Miles must do everything within his power to make sure that the defendant gets his guilty verdict. That is always what the defendant deserves!”

Jack managed to make eye contact with von Karma for all of one second before turning away in annoyance. ‘Practically every time he comes in here, he spouts out the argument of an infallible court... his damn perfect record blinds him to the possibility of a defendant that’s innocent of his crimes!’

Before Jack could formulate another argument, however, the voice of the courtroom Judge rang out once again. ”Bailiff Neverseen!” he shouted. “Do you have any news on the defendant?”

“Yes. I am pleased to report that the defendant has regained full consciousness and is ready to return to his bench,” a loud, male voice responded. “Permission for him and his aide to enter the courtroom?”

“Yes, let them in.”

Without another word from the strangely-named bailiff, the sound of courtroom doors opening was followed by a great increase in the intensity of the crowd’s incessant muttering. Jack and von Karma stared at the stationary TV image for nearly a minute before the gavel’s bang finally forced the crowd to quiet.

“The courtroom will now reconvene for the trial of Mr. Phoenix Wright,” said the Judge, his voice now ringing with supreme confidence. “Is the defendant... rather; are you alright, Mr. Wright?”

“Yes. Sorry, Your Honor. I’m fine now.” Jack almost smirked upon hearing Phoenix Wright’s voice for the first time; even though he sounded rather sheepish at the moment, Jack was sure that he could bring the courtroom to a halt if he were to raise it. ‘As if he’ll ever get a chance,’ he thought sardonically.

“Then, let’s start where we left off,” the Judge stated simply.

“Your Honor.” In two short words, Edgeworth quickly dispensed with the aloofness he had shown when the court wasn’t in session. “There is nothing to go back to! The cross-examination of Mr. White is finished! All that is required now is for you to pass judgment on the defendant Phoenix Wright!”

Jack let in a hissing breath; as much as he wanted to hope to the contrary; it most definitely sounded as if Wright’s fate had already been sealed.

The silence on the TV was interrupted by a sharp, sudden “THUMP”; it reminded Jack of the sound his customers made whenever they slammed a hand against his bar counter.

“Your honor!” Wright shouted, his voice louder than Edgeworth’s had been before him, “Please, give me one more chance. I promise you, this is the last time I’ll ask you!” Jack let out a heavy sigh; it was painful to hear just how much the man was pleading.

The Judge let out a thoughtful noise. “But, just as Mr. Edgeworth has noticed, the trial is more or less finished,” he remarked. “Mr. Edgeworth, do you have an opinion on this matter?”

Jack rubbed his stomach nervously. ‘Come on, Mr. Edgeworth,’ he thought, ‘it can’t end here!’

“I say...” Edgeworth began hesitantly.

Jack held his breath.

“Let us give Mr. Phoenix Wright his ‘last chance.’”

Jack ignored von Karma’s harrumph and let out a sigh of relief.

“Very well!” the Judge shouted, his tone definitive. “You may begin your cross-examination.”

Jack distinctly heard White’s elaborate sigh before the horrid man began to speak. “It was the beginning of September... the week before the murder,” he stated clearly.

Jack absently wondered exactly what White would say next, but he didn’t get very far before...

“Objection!” Wright’s shout resounded through the speaker. Jack shuttered just a bit; the defense attorney had managed to put more power into that one word than he had thought possible.

“Look closely at this,” Wright stated firmly. “See the word ‘Maya’ written in blood?”

Jack’s eyes widened as he realized that Wright was bringing up the piece of evidence that Edgeworth had deemed so critical just three days before. ‘Is he going to try and uncover the conspiracy just with that?’ he thought perplexedly.

“Bwah hah! You’re grasping!” Obviously, Edgeworth had the same idea.

“I think not,” Wright retorted calmly. “Look at the other side of the receipt.”

“Th-the other side?” Edgeworth stammered.

Jack was just as surprised. ‘That thing has stuff on the other side?’ he thought, confused. ‘I guess Mr. Wright has possession of the original...’

Amazing, von Karma too appeared to be at a loss. “I knew I should have looked over that case before I came here,” he muttered grumpily. “I have no idea what is going on!”

It was as von Karma finished his complaint that the Judge finally gained possession of the blood-stained receipt. He made a thoughtful noise before declaring, “Well! A ‘glass light stand! And the date of purchase... why, that’s the day before the murder!”

“You see!” Wright yelled, his voice burning with confidence.

‘No... I don’t,’ Jack thought, wondering what the hell a glass light stand had to do with anything.

“Mr. White,” Wright continued, “When you allegedly entered Fey and Co. Law Offices at the beginning of September...” A pause. “The stand could not have been there!”

Before Jack could wonder any further, his ears were met with the most wonderful sound.

“Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!?” The television literally shook as White let out a supreme scream of agonized confusion, followed by a brief silence and... Sobbing?

Without thinking, Jack got up to his feet. ‘I’m still not completely sure what’s going on over there... but... did Mr. Wright actually pull it off?’ The pain in Jack’s stomach started to fade as he felt the first warm stirrings of hope.

“Well, Mr. White?” Wright asked jeeringly. “Can’t get out of this one, can you?”

“No...” White moaned despairingly. “It’s impossachievable...”

“My God... He’s losing it!” Von Karma’s loud shush was the only thing keeping Jack from breaking into laughter.

“Well, Your Honor,” Wright said, his tone pleasantly final. “I understand there must be quite a bit of pressure on you. But I think you’ll agree you can’t judge me ‘guilty’ under these circumstances.”

Now Jack did laugh, for it seemed that Wright had known what he was facing after all.

Von Karma, on the other hand, let out a growl of frustration. “Miles... you can’t let it end like this!” he shouted. “Stop him!” He snapped his fingers, as if Edgeworth could actually hear him.

“Very well,” the Judge stated, unaware of the emotional outbursts of two men in a bar five miles away from his courtroom. “Then that is all of the trial of...”

“Objection!” the Judge was interrupted as Edgeworth shouted the critical word. “Not so fast, Phoenix Wright!” he declared, his tone mocking.

“Eh?” Jack and Mr. Wright made an identical noise of surprise. ‘What is Edgeworth doing?! It’s supposed to be over!’

“There is a certain thread of logic to the defendant’s claims,” Edgeworth stated quickly. “However! There is no concrete proof that Phoenix Wright is innocent!”

Jack’s mouth dropped open as the crowd started to mutter; what kind of reasoning was that?

“Ergo! I would like to request one more day before Phoenix Wright is granted his freedom. I need time to make one more inquiry into this matter.” In spite of the somewhat stretched argument, Edgeworth somehow managed to keep his voice sounding confident.

In response, the Judge made an appallingly considerate noise.

“Damn it, Mr. Edgeworth!” Jack shouted at the television. “Mr. Wright is innocent! What the hell is there left for you to do!”

“Whatever it takes!” von Karma barked in response.

Jack set his teeth and returned his attention to the TV screen. The mutterings of the courtroom observers went on for several seconds before falling silent to another slam of flesh against wood.

“Mr. White’s guilt is obvious!” Wright yelled heavily. “There is no need to prolong this trial any further!”

“Damn straight!” Jack yelled as the Judge continued to consider.

“Well, Mr. Edgeworth?” he asked sharply.

“If anyone is going to call Mr. White to trial, it would be me, the prosecution,” Edgeworth recited. “I need a day to ascertain whether your claims have any basis in factual evidence!”

Jack held his breath as the Judge continued to consider. Then...

“I see,” he said blankly. “Objection denied!”

“Whaaaat!” Wright and Jack let out the examination at the same time; they were equally shocked at the sudden reversal.

“The completion of the trial of Mr. Phoenix Wright will be postponed until tomorrow!” the Judge announced, completely ignoring the DA’s outburst.

Jack sat back down in his chair as the pain in his stomach returned with a vengeance. ‘Damn it, Mr. Edgeworth, what happened to you?! I thought you wanted to see Mia’s “true killer” brought to justice!’

“Mr. Your Honor!” White shouted, his voice proclaiming that his confidence had been restored. “May I go home?”

“Of course,” the Judge said gently. “Thank you for your time.”

“No!” Jack shouted, angrily slamming his good fist against the counter beside him. “How can you let that... that monster go home without punishment?”

Von Karma snarled at Jack’s insinuation, but he wouldn’t be able to say a word before...

“The witness will stay!” An eerily familiar voice shouted through the television speakers.

Had Jack not already been sitting down, he likely would have fallen over in shock. “M-Mia...?” he whispered questioningly, before negating that impression with a shake of his head. ‘No, it can’t be Mia. If anyone, it must be Maya Fey; she’s obviously got a damn good reason to be at Mr. Wright’s side.’ Jack looked up and let out a low whistle. “But, damn...” he muttered. “Their voices are so similar, it’s scary...”

Jack returned his attention to the TV; Maya and Mr. Wright were talking about something; but he couldn’t tell what. The ever-impatient observers again began to mutter.

“Your Honor.” Wright’s confidence-filled voice brought the room to silence once again. “If I may...?”

“You’re quite persistent today, Mr. Wright!” retorted the Judge, mildly surprise.

‘Well, duh!’ Jack thought sardonically. ‘He’s trying to save his life, here!’

“I have something I would like to read to the court!” Wright declared, ignoring the Judge’s skepticism.

“He’s going to read something to the court?” von Karma growled snidely. “What is he, a filibustering politician?”

Outwardly, Jack let out a sigh, but he had to admit that von Karma had a point. ‘What’s Mr. Wright trying to pull here?’

Before he could think any further on the matter, however; Wright began to read whatever it was he had before him.

“Edward Summer.” He allowed the name to echo into silence before saying another one. “Jonathan Williams.”

“What kind of evidence is this?” von Karma sneered. He paused to waggle an accusing finger at the TV screen. “This... roll-call has no place in a court of law!”

“Randy Gray. Irene Stephenson. Beverly Clearwater...”

“Wait a second,” Jack muttered thoughtfully. “Wasn’t Beverly Clearwater that ice skater that drowned herself in the Godo River a few years back?”

Von Karma merely huffed in response.

“Jackie Winthrop. Steve Gottfried. Marcus Pennabacker...”

“I remember that name,” Jack blurted. “He used to own all those fancy buildings in the Business District before he went and jumped off of one of them.”

“Ronald Carter. Patricia Adamson. Gordon Skeptic...”

Now von Karma let out a low noise of surprise. “Skeptic became Chief Prosecutor shortly after I started working here. He finally got promoted to Assistant Public Prosecutor back in ’07... And slit his wrists a few months later.”

“Debra Hamlin. Rosa Garcia. Richard Richardson...”

“And Richard Richardson’s the old congressman that shot himself in the head last month!” Jack exclaimed in shock. “They’re all suicide victims!”

“But what do a bunch of pathetic life-quitters have to do with this trial?!” von Karma snapped in derision.

Jack remembered White’s blackmail empire and frowned. ‘Probably more than you could imagine,’ he thought sadly.

“Jacquelyn Boa. Danny Mann...”

“My God,” Jack whispered. “Mann almost became the Prime Minister before he died in that boat explosion!”

Von Karma shook his head. “Waste of flesh,” he muttered darkly.

“Nathaniel Weaver. Adam Samuels. Harold-”

“S-s-stop! Desist! Halt!” White’s frantic cries brought a rather sudden end to Wright’s recital of names. “P-please, stop! Make him stop!”

“What the hell’s going on now?” von Karma asked, clearly confused.

“How... how did you get that list!?” White added, his voice the epitome of both shock and horror.

Jack smiled rather suddenly; he had been wondering about that as well. Of course, considering the effect it had on the normally unshakable man, he decided it didn’t really matter anyway.

“Mr. White.” For the second time that hour, the bizarrely mature voice of Maya Fey echoed across the courtroom. “Admit your guilt, right here, right now.” A dramatic pause. “Or else this list will be released to the press!”

Impressed, Jack let out a low whistle. ‘Damn, for such for a sweet looking little girl, she’s awfully cold and scary...’

Von Karma, on the other hand, let out a confused snarl. “What kind of threat is that?!” he yelled. “Doesn’t she know they’re broadcasting this mockery of a trial to every uneducated fool in the whole damn city?!”

Upon hearing von Karma’s question, Jack clapped a hand against his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. ‘Maya Fey doesn’t know a thing about the audio feed,’ he thought amusedly. ‘Mr. White, on the other hand...’ He returned his attention to the television, where an eerie silence had taken over the audio feed. Jack counted one, two, three seconds before...

“I... I confess,” White whispered. “I confess.” He said it louder the second time. “I... I did it. I hit her. I hit Miss Mia with ‘The Thinker’!”

Jack stood up again, his heart hammering heavily as he White say the words he’d never expected him to say. He, the TV courtroom and, freakishly enough, Manfred von Karma all remained quiet as White’s words sunk in.

“Case closed, Your Honor.” The mildly amused words of Maya Fey finally broke the heavy silence.

“Well, I see no reason to continue this trial.” In spite of the finality of his words, the Judge still seemed rather surprised by White’s sudden confession. “Mr. Wright?”

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“You’ve done it again! That was quite a spirited defense!”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Wright’s voice sounded somewhat smug as he added, “I guess you could say that.”

“Damn straight!” Jack yelled, pumping his good fist into the air. Von Karma remained silent, though Jack noticed that a muscle in his eye was starting to twitch.

On the audio feed, the Judge made a thoughtful noise in response. “Well!” he announced, “This court finds the defense,” he coughed awkwardly, “Rather, the defendant, Mr. Phoenix Wright...” He paused. “Not Guilty!” A strangled cheer, another pause, and then, finally... “That is all. The court is adjourned!”

Only after the gavel banged did Jack finally give in to his urge to jump into the air and let out a “Whoop!” of unrestrained joy. Upon landing, however, he didn’t even get to realize how foolish he’d looked before his thoughts were interrupted by a most terrible noise.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaargh!” In a single drawn-out scream of rage, von Karma managed to effectively put forward his opinion in regards to the outcome of the trial. Jack’s eyes widened as he watched von Karma slam his fist against the counter; the force was strong enough to knock his empty martini glass over.

Von Karma started to mutter something under his breath, but Jack paid no mind; he instead deftly picked up the toppled glass and placed in the sink. Before he could bother trying to interpret his customer’s grumbles, however, he was interrupted by a sudden popping noise from the television. Realizing that the ill-fated audio feed had finally been shut off, he turned back to the screen to see what would happen next.

The still courtroom scene remained prominently displayed for just a few more seconds before the network cut back to Lily Jumper’s news desk. For the first time in Jack’s recent memory, the woman’s wan face was literally stuck in a rather comical expression of shock.

“Um, well... it seems, er...” Obviously, she didn’t know what to say. Her head frantically turned from side to side, as if hoping to find a mystical cue-card that would tell her what to say next. “And, so... I believe it’s apparent that... er...” Apparently clueless, she tilted her head to one side and mouthed, “Help me!”

Almost immediately, the production assistant from the earlier broadcast rushed on stage and again started to frantically whisper in Jumper’s ear. This time however, the exchange went back and forth for nearly half a minute before the man nodded and sidled out of the picture.

Jumper’s dark eyes shined with a rarely-seen enthusiasm as she finally returned her attention to the camera once again. “For those of you who are just turning in after the end of that monumental audio presentation, the Fey murder trial has just concluded with a Not Guilty verdict for the defendant, incredibly talented rookie lawyer Phoenix Wright!” She seemed to take no notice that she was complementing someone she’d been vilifying less than an hour before. “In spite of being presented with the unbelievable burden of having to defend himself in a hostile court, he managed to exonerate himself by bringing about the confession of the true killer: formerly well-renowned businessman Redd White, CEO of Bluecorp, Inc!”

A stock photo of White, his smarmy smile as big as ever, appeared above Jumper’s left shoulder.

“Presumably, now that Mr. White has confessed to the death of Ms. Fey, he will placed in a detention center and facing a brief court procedure for this ghastly crime before the end of next week.” A thoughtful look on her face, Jumper continued, “Of course, there will undoubtedly be further investigations towards any other crimes Mr. White may have committed, not to mention the ethics of the Company he founded and has been running for the past ten years. I mean, my God, he’s even been messing with this very...” Here, Jumper stopped and vapidly shook her head; it was obvious that she had been about to say too much. “Of course, DNN is still gathering facts on this incredible turn of events; we will be releasing more information on the ramifications of the Fey Murder Trial and Mr. Redd White’s confession as it arrives. We now return you to...” Unexpectedly, Jumper stopped and let out a bizarrely feminine giggle. “I seem to have forgotten what is on at this hour, but rest assured, we are returning you to it! Happy days, viewers!”

As Jumper’s face cut away to the breaking news fanfare one last time, Jack chuckled, grabbed his remote, and turned the set off. ‘I guess a lot of influential people are going to be happy when they see that White’s finally been taken down,’ he thought cheerfully. ‘Hell, if I’m lucky, I’ll probably have a ton of customers before the night is through.’

After dispensing with that pleasant thought, Jack noticed that von Karma was still darkly muttering things under his breath. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jack placed a hand on the bar counter and asked, “What seems to be the problem now, Mr. von Karma?”

Von Karma ceased his muttering in order to shoot Jack a narrow-eyed glare. After several awkward seconds had passed, he shook his head and let out a bitter sigh.

“For forty years, I have argued in the courts of this district,” he stated, his low voice strangely flat. “My skills are perfect; I have forged a glorious reputation for the von Karma name by winning every case that has ever been brought before me.” He frowned grumpily, as if berating Jack for making him speak of such matters. “For ten years, I trained Miles in every last aspect of becoming a prosecutor; crafting an heir that would be able to maintain this legacy for decades longer than I would be able to myself.”

Jack, surprised that he’d gotten von Karma to say anything constructive in the first place, only nodded.

“For four years, my protégé managed to enter those same courtrooms and meet my every expectation.” Von Karma’s face looked prideful for a brief moment before he turned towards the TV with a sneer of contempt. “But now!” he yelled, his eyes bulging in anger. “Now, not even before my years of prosecuting have come to an end, he has shamed the von Karma name with this... this... this unspeakable defeat! Miles has destroyed his perfect record, and that is something he will never be able to get back!” With a heavy sigh, he waggled his finger at the TV pointlessly and forced himself to calm back down to his typical demeanor.

Jack blinked a couple times in shock; although von Karma had always been prone to fits of anger or frustration, never before had he heard one so... personal. As happy as he was that Edgeworth had failed to stop White from confessing his guilt, he felt an obligation to try and console the man sitting before him.

“You know, Mr. von Karma...” he began awkwardly, “It’s not as though Mr. Edgeworth threw his victory away on purpose or anything. You heard him just as much as I did; he was pulling out every last trick in the book to make sure that the Judge would find Mr. Wright guilty! It’s just... the defendant didn’t do it, so it wasn’t his lucky day. That’s all.”

Von Karma merely sneered and waggled his finger once again. “No, bartender, that is where you are wrong,” he stated confidently. “Miles never should have let that farce of a trial progress to the point that a Not Guilty verdict could be conceived, let alone declared! Though I am not yet sure of the specifics, there’s almost certainly a point earlier in the proceedings where he could have been more aggressive and ended it.” Here, von Karma again looked at the TV and frowned. “At the very least, he could have not bothered with giving that foolish defense attorney a ‘last chance’.” Before Jack could say anything else, he added, “Of course, you do not really care of such matters, bartender. After all, you were celebrating like a nitwit when that the Judge announced that tainted judgment!”

In spite of von Karma’s angry stare, Jack cracked a smile. “Well, Mr. von Karma, I guess that’s something that couldn’t be avoided. Believe me when I say I knew full well that Mr. White was guilty and Mr. Wright was not.”

Von Karma’s face scrunched up, as though he’d just taken a swig of bitters. “It appears to me that you, bartender, are nothing more than a foolishly idealistic... fool! Charge the martini to my tab; I’ll pay for it at the beginning of next month.” After one last weary sigh, von Karma lifted himself to his feet, strode across the room, and forced his way through the door.

Jack smiled as the door chime sounded in von Karma’s wake. “Alone again,” he muttered aloud. He stared around the bar for a few moments before deciding that the counter area could use a good wiping down.

“Thank God White’s going to get what’s coming to him,” he said as he grabbed a rag and ran it under the water. “I still don’t know what I would have done about his ‘proposal’ had he not been forced to confess.”

Whistling a cheerful tune, Jack wrung out the rag and started scrubbing the bar counter with obvious relish.

‘It’s a damn good thing that Mr. Wright knew what he was doing, even after White set him up like that, the bastard. I wonder if he’ll ever realize just how many future lives he saved...’ Jack shook his head; he’d nearly missed a spot. ‘Maybe I ought to try and tell him... I could send him a thank you card... one with instructions on how to get here... of course, I’d have to give Donny a heads up in order to make sure that Mr. Wright can get in here...’

As his thoughts returned to his best friend, Jack let out a sigh. “You know, I acted like a real ass when he was in here earlier today,” he told the empty room. “Of course, I was in a bit of a bind at the time, but there was no way that he could have known that.”

Without thinking, Jack’s gaze fell on the large piece of gauze that still covered the back of his right hand. He frowned at it for a moment before squaring his shoulders and coming to a decision.

“Donny might not be very happy to be getting a call from me in the middle of his shift,” he mused as he picked up the cordless phone from its spot on the wall. “But I’m sure he’ll come by when his shift’s done after I invite him to listen to my ‘long story’...” With a contented chuckle, he started to dial.

-------------

Obviously, everything worked out sort of okay. It's hard to make dramatic tension in a story parallel sometimes...

Let's see, thoughts.

The significance of the Live Audio Coverage: Obviously, I don't think that this is what drove White to confess in canon, but I figured it'd be okay to take a liberty with my rarely altered canon-universe. My thought on how the audio feed became available was that White would have signaled to someone (e.g. a Bluecorp Employee) in the courtroom gallery after Phoenix collapsed; this person would have quickly set everything up at the news station end and held the recording device himself. While somewhat odd, the news feed allowed me to fill in the scenes where Phoenix was 1.) Not in the room and 2.) Reading the list of names. A bit strange, but I like to plug up as many holes as possible, here.

Von Karma's incredulity towards live trial coverage: The reason I made von Karma so shocked that the TV station would be able to do such a thing is simple... in order to keep the canon feasable, there can't be a lot of trial information given out while a trial is still in session. Otherwise, the real villian would be able to watch the evening news and know what points not to slip up on when they got called to the stand a day or two later. (I'm sure not many people have ever thought about that before...) Plus, it fits in with the extreme legal conservatism of the PW world as a whole.

Jack's Fey Family Confusion: Jack, being neither an expert nor a believer in the powers of the Fey family's chanelling techniques, jumps to the only conclusion (Mia must be Maya) that makes sense to him when he hears Mia's voice. The subject of Spirit Mediums in GS1 is rather tricky, after all, GS1 gives the impression that spirit channeling goes unnoticed by those not in the 'know'. Reconciling this with GS2 and 3, in which spirit chanelling suddenly becomes valid enough to be argued over in courts, is rather difficult. That's also why I stuck to an audio link to the courtroom and not a visual one. [By the way, if you're wondering when Jack will finally become aware of the Kurain Technique, I already forsee a scene parallel to GS2-2 where Franziska shows him that detention center picture she took...]

I'm sure there's more I could say, but I think that's enough for now. Hopefully, before the end of the month I will finish with Ep. III part 7, which will be titled It's about Damn Time This Episode Ended Beyond Blue. Here, we have several character's reactions to Redd White's dramatic downfall, and Jack confronting Edgeworth with his unexpectedly (to Jack) assholeish behavior towards the end of Wright's trial.

Okay, that's enough for me. Remind me that you exist, readers!

---

A new update!? In a matter of weeks?! I'm shocked and pleased!
I was wondering how you would do the trial, because, obviously, Jack wouldn't be in there, and I think the audio feed worked well. And I liked the fact you had von Karma in the bar. I've always wanted to see how he'd react to Edgeworth losing....
So, yeah, you're really good at filling in the holes in canon, and making them fit in. Also...this means you're almost ACTUALLY PAST Case 2! Yeah! It's only almost taken a year...
Looking forward to the next update, so you can finally start going on Case 3. XD

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Oh gawd, I don't even wanna think about how long case 5 will take. XD At this rate, I don't think Jack's ever going to see that Detention center photo. :P

Seriously, great chapter, though.

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Yay for not scrolling down! 8D

Dude, I like how Von Karma is portrayed here. Usually when I see fics of this guy, he's calm and cold. Here, he seems like an impatient bastard who swears alot. Not that it's a bad thing. Glad we get to see this side of him and reaction to Edgeworth's loss. XD

Edgeworth being a dick is no surprise. I kinda hope he gets told off. *Brick'd*

Spiffy almost-near-conclusion! ^^

---

Wow! That was amazing! There were some minor coding conflicts in there, but I could keep up pretty well. I hope Jack gets to meet Phoenix soon.

(By the way, backgrounds are evil, so yeah, no background on that picture.)

---

I wasted an entire morning reading this.

Best morning wasted ever!

I can't wait for Chapter 3.

Donny will want revenge! (Read back a bit, he loves the Evil Magistrate).

I can't wait!

Well, a full month before the next case starts, which leaves a lot of filler, enough time to possibly introduce some new characters, see Redd Whites influence lift, see Edgeworth after his loss, and Have Phoenix actually show up.

---

wow, that was really amazing. One of the best parts yet. remember when phoenix is supposed to meet Mia in his office later?
I thought it would be neat if she came and stopped to see Jack earlier, yet that doesn't happen, obviously. But anyway, this fanfic is amazing. One of my favorite lines this time was this:

"Normally, Jack would have been intimidated by such an authoritative tone, but after dealing with a genuine, honest-to-God murderer, von Karma wasn’t really all too scary."

Come and stop back at IRC sometime, we miss you!

---

Ah, but DSL-69 has already said that Phoenix only shows up when 'He isn't at his best', which, presumably means after Case 5, or maybe Case 4. Or, if we aren't all killed by Global Warming before it, JFA Case 4?
However, filler= YAY!

---

Today, I had a vision of Upton Washer desribing something big.

"Big;Huge;Gigantic!"

Don't ask why. I'm reading some of this again.

Well, It's been... 42 days. How ironic.

Before the pitchfork squad comes after my ass, here is my big list of excuses.

#1. From the first week of July to the third week of August, I had a full-time summer job. Now, that wouldn't have been too big a deal under normal circumstances (HS took up nearly 40 hours a week as well, after all), but this was a night job, 11 PM - 7 AM. The pay was good, but it completely disrupted my sleep cycle and sapped my creative energy. The only time I thought of the story was during work, and usually it was strange things like developments during GS4, which probably won't be written about on this side of the apocalypse.

#2. This was a harder section to write, because I needed to bring the Case 2 Arc to its conclusion without completely shredding believability or loyalty to canon. I still think that Jack's performance in this Part comes dangerously close to wish-character status, but it was the best that I could do.

#3. I read a lot of books this summer. Aside from Deathly Hallows, there was another 600+ page book in a series I like and a book that I was required to read for college. Which brings me to...

#4. I've been preparing for college these past two months as well. Though, as a commuter from home, I'm really half a true college student more than anything, getting everything ready has taken up time.

#5. I finally bought FFXII. Whee.

Of course, I do still apologize for my tardiness, but I can make no promises about promptness until I figure out just how much time college and related things will take up each week. It's supposedly more important, after all.

Since I have a lot of comments at the end and it'll take me another hour just to type about them, I'm going to be more of an ass and forgo individual review responses. Hopefully in a day or two I'll be able to go back and do them.

...Now here is the 11,000 word conclusion to the 83,000 word Case 2 Arc: Episode III, Part 7 of 7, Beyond Blue(corp). [Yep, I like word counts all right.]

-------------
Part 7/7: Beyond Blue(Corp)

September 9th, 2016, 6:18 PM

“Okay, Jack... let me make sure I got this all straight.” Donny Docket’s eyes were wide; he paid little attention to the empty beer mug before him as he tried to mull things over. “So, yesterday, that Redd White guy, the same person that confessed to Ms. Mia’s murder this afternoon, came here?”

“Yes,” said Jack, frowning slightly.

“And he pretty much told you that he’d been the real killer guy, even though the trial wasn’t finished?”

“Yep. He was a real jerk about it, too,” Jack said tersely.

“And then he told you that he already had the entire trial under his control?”

“Yes.”

Donny furiously scratched at the back of his head in an attempt to keep thinking. “And then he threatened you... said he was going to ruin you, me, and... and L-l-the Chief if you tried to talk?”

“That’s right.”

“And he used that stupid old blog I kept back in High School to help shut you up?”

Jack sighed. “Yes, though I’m sure he would have had something else had he needed it.”

“And that’s when he burned your hand?”

“Yes. Until then, I never knew they made cigars that wide...”

Donny ignored Jack’s attempt at dark humor. “And then he put the entire end of the trial on TV, just to make sure you wouldn’t screw with his plan?”

“That’s what he hoped, anyway.”

“And then that Mr. Wright guy completely screwed up his plan instead... and that’s why he confessed?”

Jack smiled. “I believe so.”

Donny blinked once, twice, and slammed his hand against the table with as much force as he could muster. “Damn it all to hell!” he shouted, before shaking his head and adding, “And get me another beer, please. I... I still can’t quite take it all in.”

Jack tried not to laugh at his friend’s reaction. “Its okay, Don. When I told you it was a long story, I hadn’t been kidding.” Absently, he grabbed a mug out from under the counter and put it under the proper beer tap.

“Damn straight you hadn’t,” muttered Donny. He shook his head again and frowned. “I guess I can sort of get why you are acting all weird during my lunch break... you weren’t sure what was going to happen and all... but it was still really creepy!”

Jack sighed. “I’m really sorry I acted like that.” Silently, he sat Donny’s drink in front of him.

Donny ignored the beer and waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s just...”

Jack crossed his arms. “Just what?”

“Well, when you were putting on that ice cube act today... did you notice that you were acting exactly like L-l-”

Jack frowned. “Like Lana?”

Donny snapped his fingers. “Yeah, just like her!” he exclaimed brightly. “That’s what got me more than anything... one old friend going nasty’s more than enough.” He sighed and sipped his drink before appearing wistful once again. “Hey, do you think that...?”

“Think what?” asked Jack, mildly annoyed by Donny’s constant trailing off.

“If you were giving me that cold and spacey treatment because White was messing with you, do you think that... the Chief has been giving us the cold and spacey treatment because White was messing with her? Maybe she’s been keeping away from us to protect us... you know, that whole storybook-hero type thing!”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise as he considered the possibility. “You know, Donny, that might just be true!” In spite of himself, he started to feel mildly hopeful.

Donny’s face broke into a wide smile. “Damn straight, Jack! Why don’t we try giving her a call; we can see if she treats us like she did in the old days!”

Jack thought about it for a moment before frowning and shaking his head. “It’s not that easy, Don,” he said with a sigh. “She hasn’t acted pleasant towards us since she got promoted to the Chief’s office... asking her if she’s been catering to the whims of a murderer for a year and a half is not the best way to break such a silence.”

Donny’s face fell. “But...?”

“Tell you what, Don,” said Jack, rubbing at the center of his forehead. “You’re in that little guard station of yours seven or eight hours a day, are you not? Keep an eye out for her and see if you can get her to talk to you... if White’s the reason she turned sour on us, you should be able to figure it out.” Looking downward, he added, “Of course, if things really work out well, she’ll come to us in order to apologize... she started the rift, after all.”

The bar fell into silence as Donny merely nodded and sipped at his beer. Jack placed the other mug in the sink and managed to get it halfway washed before the sound of the door chime forced him to turn around once again.

Upon looking across the room, Jack held back a chuckle; of all the mismatched duos he’d even seen enter his bar, Winston Payne and Robert Hammond had to be one of the most disparate. Even before they’d made it to the bar counter, he could see that their moods were exact opposites: Payne was wearing a smarmy grin whilst Hammond’s expression was even grumpier than what was normal for him.

Before Jack could say a word, Donny wheeled around on his barstool and exclaimed, “Hey, Mr. H; Mr. P! Have a seat, guys! Relax! Make yourselves at home!”

Payne took a step backwards in surprise before letting out a squeaky chuckle. “You do know how to greet people with enthusiasm, don’t you, Mr. Docket?” He tapped his hand to his forehead once before settling on the barstool to Donny’s right.

Hammond, of course, was not quite as pleased. “A real charmer,” he muttered sarcastically. He let out a tortured sigh before taking a seat two spots away from Payne.

“Don’t mind Donny; he forgot to put his head on straight this morning,” Jack said with a wry grin. “Now what I get you two?”

“Whiskey,” Hammond said tersely. “Make it a double, and don’t bother trying to serve it all fancy.”

Jack nodded. “And you, Mr. Payne?”

“My usual, please!” Payne chimed eagerly. “Today is a good day for celebration, after all!”

“You know, Mr. Payne, I don’t disagree with that statement one bit. Now, if you’ll give me but a moment...” Jack turned and headed for the liquor shelves first; Hammond’s request was definitely the easier to fulfill.

While Jack grabbed one of the finer whiskey bottles and searched for a tall shot glass, Donny said, “Well, I guess you two have heard about today’s big legal news, then.”

Payne let out a somewhat girly-sounding laugh. “You’re quite right, Mr. Docket! I know I’m a prosecutor, but I’m happy to see that Redd White man get thrown in jail all the same!”

“Really?” Donny asked incredulously. “Well, I guess I’m glad-”

“-I mean, even I could see that something was wrong when they let the Fey-girl go and tried to put pink-shirt in jail again!” Payne ranted, oblivious to the fact that Donny had tried to speak again. “Heaven forbid I try to like that guy, but the way they tried to switch everything around without extra evidence was crazy!” He let out a little huff of annoyance. “Besides, if anyone’s going to put that puffed-up porcupine in prison, it’s going to be me!”

“And I’m sure a man of your... stature will succeed where the once-perfect Miles Edgeworth has failed,” Hammond sneered, before slamming a fist against the counter with a bang. “Is my drink done yet, Keeper?!” he bellowed.

“Give it one more moment, please,” Jack muttered, trying to keep his teeth from grinding at his customer’s impatience. He held Hammond’s drink to his eye for one last inspection before declaring it done. “Double whiskey, no frills,” he said dully as he placed it on the counter.

“About time.” Hammond didn’t even bother to look at his drink before he took it to his lips and drained nearly half the contents. His face contorted for just a moment before he appraised it with a dull, “It’s good. Carry on.”

As Jack started getting to work on one of Payne’s beloved Shirley Temples, Donny decided to make another attempt at conversation. “So, how do you feel about that Wright guy getting a not guilty verdict, Mr. Hammond? You’re a fellow defense attorney, after all.”

A moment passed before Jack heard the distinctive noise of a shot glass being slammed against the bar counter. “I’m damn pissed off, if you must know!” Hammond bellowed gruffly. “You can’t even begin to imagine how far this... development has set me back!”

Jack frowned; from the way Hammond was speaking, it sounded as though he’d been an accomplice to White’s many crimes. “Maybe if you explain yourself better, we’ll understand,” he said, turning away from Payne’s drink so that he could look directly at Hammond’s face.

For what it was worth, Hammond didn’t flinch in the slightest. “It’s quite simple, Mr. Keeper.” Waving a weary hand through the air, he continued, “For the past ten years or so, Mr. White has hired me to defend many of his company’s various workers. Though I tried on many occasions to get him to pay me solely in cash, he always insisted on paying at least a part of my fee in shares of his company instead. If I recall my latest financial statements, that damn Bluecorp stock counted for nearly thirty percent of my net worth! Of course, now that the President’s about to land himself in prison, I doubt that that will be true anymore.”

Jack merely frowned again before returning to Payne’s drink in silence. ‘Hammond never was the type of attorney that cared about the innocence of his clients,’ he thought grimly. ‘Who knows how many opportunities to bring down the company were thwarted because of his skills...’

Donny seemed to be thinking along similar lines. “Well, you reap what you sow, I guess,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

Jack could only nod in agreement as he dropped two maraschino cherries into Payne’s drink and declared the Shirley Temple done. Still mulling over what Hammond had said, he gently sat it on the bar counter without a single word.

“Oh, Mr. Keeper, before I forget, I have something to tell you...” With one hand, he motioned for Jack to get closer.

‘I wonder what this is about...’ After a quick glance to make sure that Donny and Payne were okay, he placed a hand on the bar and leaned forward so that his and Hammond’s faces were only about a foot apart.

After a satisfied smirk, Hammond stated, “I received a visit from that eyesore of an attorney Upton Washer this afternoon.”

Jack nodded; his expression darkening a bit as he remembered the accursed customers Washer had brought in the night before. “I’m surprised Washer visited you,” he muttered finally. “He doesn’t seem to be your biggest fan.”

Hammond grimaced. “Indeed, that is quite true, but... my office is only two blocks away from his, and he must have wanted to find the closest sympathetic ear he could. He was in quite a state of shock when he barged in my office... his tie was on crooked, his hair was greased the wrong way... shedding tears faster then he could spout synonyms, if you can believe it.” He let out a light chuckle. “To say I was not pleased to see him would be an understatement.”

Jack smirked as he tried to picture just how displeased Hammond would have truly been. “Believe me, Mr. Hammond; I’m rather relieved that he ran to you and not me instead. But why are you telling me this?”

Hammond frowned. “After he’d blubbered all over my fine carpeting, Washer told me to give you a message.”

Jack placed his injured hand against his chest in surprise. “Give me a message?”

“Indeed, give you a message!” Hammond snapped impatiently. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “He told me to tell you, and I quote, ‘I’m sorry about Niño.’” Hammond sniffed at the air. “Exactly what that statement is supposed to mean, I do not know.”

Jack shot Hammond a skeptical glare; he’d been defending Bluecorp employees for ten years and he didn’t know the president’s nickname? ‘Of course, White was most definitely as slippery as they come,’ he thought. ‘He could have given different nicknames to different “friends”, for all I know.’ He sighed. ‘As for Washer...’

“Well?” asked Hammond. “Aren’t you going to tell me what it means? At the very least, I need a response so that I can get weepy Washrag off my back...”

Jack let out a hissing breath as he came to a decision. “The next time you run into Washer, tell him to come here. I’ll only accept his apology if he has the integrity to give it to my face.”

Hammond considered that for a moment before slowly nodding. “I’ll make sure to tell him the first opportunity I get,” he said gruffly. “The way he was acting earlier, I don’t know if he has the bal- er, the integrity to do such a thing but... at least it’ll get him to leave me alone.” He smiled for just a moment before returning to his usual gloomy expression. “Now then, I must see just how much damage these developments have done to me. Turn on the financial channel, and get me more whiskey. I’m going to need it.”

“If you say so.” After a brief pause to make sure Donny and Payne were still all right, Jack turned on the TV and, after a few seconds of frantic flipping, managed to find the city’s financial network. Curious, he started making Hammond’s drink in such a way that he could watch the screen at the same time.

“...with each passing minute, we are receiving word of more and more ramifications in regards to Bluecorp President and CEO Redd White’s confessing to intentional murder,” stated a young newswoman with heavily tanned skin and frizzy white hair. “The latest of this list of many stories is that the State Government has confirmed the formation of yet another centralized investigation, this one searching for information that Bluecorp may possess in regards to the tragic death of Congressman Richard Richardson. Even though Mr. White’s confession occurred less than two hours before trading closed for the day, the ensuing avalanche of bad news has caused the stock value to tumble an unprecedented eighty-seven percent. And, considering the rate at which bad news is continuing to strike this company, it’s highly probable that there won’t even be any value to trade when the market reopens on Monday...”

Hammond let out a wounded moan. “Ugh, change the channel, change the channel! And where’s my whiskey?!”

“Right here,” said Jack, placing the new glass before him.

“Good,” was Hammond’s only reply before he downed over half the contents. “You might as well get me a third one now; I’m going to need it too.”

Jack merely shook his head before approaching Donny and Payne. “Do either of you want anything else? You’d better tell me now, before Hammond drags me away again.”

“Nothing right now,” said Payne, pointing to his half-filled glass.

Donny stuck out a thumb and turned it downward. “Nah.” He then glanced to the left; a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Unless you want to tell me what Mr. H’s being all hush-hush with you about, of course.”

Jack shrugged. “He was just giving me more complaints; that’s all. It hasn’t really been his day.” He shot Donny a wry smile before turning about and using his good left hand to pick up the television remote and pressed two buttons. “He also told me to change the channel. Hopefully the regular news will keep him quiet.”

Returning his attention to the TV screen, Jack was met with the sight of legal-correspondent Bill Grantor; his bearded face was even more tired looking than usual.

‘It’s too late for this to be his show... the network’s probably been making him spout information ever since the trial ended,’ Jack thought levelly.

“...the final blows, of course, did not occur until the end of the trial, after Mr. Wright’s return to consciousness,” Grantor stated, his voice slow and heavy. “For you see, Mr. Wright used a department store receipt, which he had located on the other side of an irrelevant piece of evidence, to prove that Mr. White could not, in fact, have seen the glass light stand when he allegedly wiretapped the Fey and Co. Law offices. After this contradiction was pointed out, the only conclusion that remained was that White had seen it after its time of purchase: The morning of Ms. Fey’s murder. With that, it became rather obvious that White must have been at the crime scene during the time of the murder, and not only when he was supposedly placing a wiretap the week before.”

“Man, Bill’s being even more long-winded than usual,” Donny said mockingly. “Did you get any of that, Jack?”

“A bit,” Jack replied, smiling. ‘So that’s why the light stand was so damn important. A rather odd way to bring about the fall of a conspiracy, that’s for damn sure.’

“This was not the end of the story, however, as Mr. Edgeworth objected to Wright’s conclusions and asked the Judge to delay the verdict for another day of investigation, citing nothing more than a lack of definitive proof in the defendant’s innocence. In hindsight, such a move seems to be rather cold and callous, but we are talking about the demon prosecutor, after all.” Grantor chuckled wryly.

Upon hearing Donny let out a strangled noise, Jack turned his attention way from the TV. ‘I guess he didn’t expect Edgeworth to be capable of such a move,’ he thought, casting a wary gaze over his friend’s open-mouthed expression.

Before he could say a word about it, however, Hammond slammed another fist against the bar counter. “Turn off this junk too, Keeper!” he yelled. “I can’t stand to hear another word about that miserable excuse for a trial!”

Jack clenched his teeth in annoyance, but did as he was told. ‘Hopefully, Hammond will calm down a bit once all that whiskey gets through his system...’ he thought solemnly. ‘I think my poor counter’s had enough punishment for one day.’

The momentary silence was broken when Donny made another noise, this time one of awe. “Damn...” he muttered. “I didn’t realize Edgeworth fought so hard once everyone knew that White jerk was guilty... I don’t think I feel so sorry for him losing any more.”

“A good prosecutor fights to the end,” recited Payne, absently swirling his drink with his finger. “Of course, that might be a bit beyond the end... even baseless conjecture has its limits.” He laughed airily.

“If he made that argument, it wasn’t near the end,” Jack said wearily. “By that time, he was just trying to save his verdict... he just dismissed all of the arguments and whined for more time.” Absently, he added, “I wonder if he’s going to show up anytime tonight... I don’t see why he wouldn’t, unless he wants to avoid me or something.”

Donny’s eyebrows drew together in thought. “Well, Mr. E does seem to be the avoiding type... but this is a really bad thing that happened! From his perspective, anyway.” He tilted his head and shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He turned on his barstool so that he was facing Payne. “What do you think, Mr. P?”

Payne frowned. “I am not an expert on Mr. Edgeworth’s behavior.” He plucked a cherry out of his drink and popped it in his mouth. “When he shows up, he shows up.”

Donny frowned before leaning forward so that he could see beyond Payne’s meager frame. “Hey, Mr. H! Do you think Mr. E’s going to show up? He hasn’t been in here for a while!”

Hammond’s face went from its usual scowl to one of alarm. “You know, Mr. Docket... I hadn’t considered that!” he stated, his voice much higher-pitched than normal.

“Hey, what’s with you, Mr. H? You stopped grumping... and your eyes are really big!” Obviously, Donny too noticed the difference in Hammond’s demeanor.

Hammond coughed and turned to his third drink, which still sat completely filled on the counter before him. “Well, Mr. Docket, it’s just that... well... oh, it does not matter.” He cast his gaze about the room before focusing on Payne. “So, um, Mr. Prosecutor,” he said jerkily. “How well have you fared with your caseload this past week?”

Payne, as usual, appeared shocked at the fact that one of the other customers was speaking to him. “Oh, uh, well... I had a decent victory on Monday, and then I was handling guilty pleas on Tuesday...”

Jack frowned at the doubly awkward conversation. ‘Even after two double whiskeys, Hammond’s not the type of person to stammer or make small talk... What’s going on, here?’

He wondered whether he should see what Donny’s thoughts were, but the door chime cut his musing short. He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise as he watched Miles Edgeworth and Dick Gumshoe wearily make their way through the bar door. ‘Speak of the devil,’ he thought.

Upon hearing the chime, Donny had stopped staring at Hammond’s awkwardness and spun around to face the new patrons. “Well, will you look at that! Mr. E, ‘Tective G, over here!”

Hammond let out a short gasp; his face was now forced into an expression of outright panic. Jumping shakily to his feet, he turned to Jack and stammered, “P-put it on my tab.”

In lieu of words, Jack pointed to Hammond’s completely full glass of whiskey and shot him a suspicious glare.

Hammond rapidly shook his head. “It... it doesn’t matter. Just do it!” Breathing heavily, he squared his shoulders and made his way to the door, detouring around the pool table so that he never came within fifteen feet of Gumshoe and Edgeworth.

Jack, Donny, and Payne stared at Hammond’s strange exit, however; neither Edgeworth nor Gumshoe seemed to notice. After a quick glance at the other customers, Edgeworth settled in Hammond’s old spot whilst Gumshoe filled the spot between Edgeworth and Payne.

Before Jack could think of just how to properly greet his newest customers under such circumstances, Edgeworth broke the silence with three sharply spoken words: “Whiskey. Now. Please.” He pointed his left hand at the liquor shelves commandingly.

‘Looks like callous men drink alike,’ Jack thought grimly. Turning towards Gumshoe, he added a formal, “And you, detective?”

“Just a beer, pal,” Gumshoe said with a sigh. “Even if I had money for something better, I wouldn’t really feel like using it.”

“As you wish.” Jack grabbed a mug and fulfilled Gumshoe’s request first; not only was it quicker to carry out, it was also the one not given out by the person he was currently upset with. Only after handing Gumshoe his mug with the briefest of smiles did he reopen Hammond’s whiskey bottle and slowly fill a shot glass with the amber-brown liquid.

‘Of course,’ Jack thought, ‘I could just give him Hammond’s unused glass, but he asked for a single, not a double. Besides, I don’t want to confuse him... he needs to know what’s going on, first.’

Shaking his head, Jack sat the shot glass in front of Edgeworth with a dull ‘clunk’. “Your whiskey, Prosecutor,” he stated flatly.

Edgeworth looked at Jack’s blank expression and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, Mr. Keeper, must you be so immature?” he asked sharply. “This has been quite a tiring day for me, and I don’t need you to start acting all upset as well.”

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘as well’, Mr. E?” asked Donny, who was leaning heavily forward so that he too could hear the conversation.

“When we left Mr. Edgeworth’s office, we ran right into Mr. von Karma, pal,” Gumshoe said slowly. “Well, not literally ‘into’ him, but he was so close to the door that we could have had we been in a hurry!” After a weak chuckle, Gumshoe added, “He must have been standing there for a while, just waiting for us to show up.”

‘I guess Edgeworth’s defeat made von Karma change his evening plans,’ Jack thought absently. “And why, Detective Gumshoe, does that have anything to do with my supposedly cold behavior?” Jack looked at Gumshoe with a neutral expression; he didn’t want the man to realize that he already knew the answer.

Oblivious to the nasty stare Edgeworth was giving him, Gumshoe continued, “Well, he said some things about ‘the von Karma name’, and the ‘way of a prosecutor’, and ‘imperfection’ and stuff... And as he talked, he kept using more and more big words and getting louder and louder... before today, I didn’t know a voice so low could make my ears ring so much, pals!”

“You sure aren’t joking about that, detective!” chimed Payne. “I don’t know how anyone can stand a man with a growl of a voice like that. I was observing one of his trials just last month, and I couldn’t help but jump every time he countered the defense’s argument.” To further his point, he took in a great gasp of air and shouted, “Objection!” in a very crude imitation of von Karma’s voice.

Jack winced and covered his ears. ‘Dear God, he sounds like that dog from the 1960’s mystery cartoons...’ Jack glanced at Edgeworth, who was currently shooting Payne a look of absolute loathing, and shook his head. ‘I’m getting off track here.’

Leaning close to Edgeworth, he stated, “Your observation is correct, Prosecutor: I am upset with you. Of course, if you can remember a single damn thing about me and this case, you’ll be well aware that the reasons for my disappointment are opposite those of Mr. von Karma.”

Edgeworth shrugged. “Well, I would presume that to be obvious; you and he possess considerably different personalities.” He paused, grabbed his shot, brought it to his lips, and downed it with a flip of the wrist. Waving his left arm around airily, he continued, “In that vein, however, I fail to see why you would be upset with me to begin with. After all, I dropped the murder charges against Maya Fey... was that not the result you’d been hoping for?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in anger upon hearing Edgeworth’s sweeping statement. No longer willing to keep his voice level, he smacked his hand against the bar and sputtered, “Do you really take me for a fool, Mr. Edgeworth?! Maya Fey’s arrest may not have made much sense, but Mr. Wright’s arrest made even less sense! You were prosecuting a different man for the same crime with no new evidence! It didn’t even add up!”

For a brief moment, Edgeworth looked taken aback at Jack’s sudden outrage. Schooling his features back into a relative calm, he stated, “I will admit, Mr. Keeper, that there was no new evidence to bring about that development in the case. At the time, however, the testimony of the new witness had been enough to bring about the new charges. You don’t understand-”

“-You’re damn right, I don’t understand!” yelled Jack, resisting the urge to take a leaf from Mia’s book and slap Edgeworth across the face. “I don’t understand how a star prosecutor such as you could have done so much as talk to Redd White for ten minutes without figuring out he was guilty! It was damn obvious!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to Mr. Edgeworth like that!” bellowed Gumshoe, his face the epitome of irritation. “He’s been cleaning up this city for four years now, and this is the first mistake he’s ever made! And... And...” his eyebrows contorted as he struggled to find the right words, “And just what makes you think that Mr. White’s guilt was so obvious, anyway?!”

Jack nearly smiled; Gumshoe had managed to ask him just the right question. Deciding it’d be best to let Edgeworth find the answer himself, he leaned against the bar and, in an even voice, said, “Answer me this, Mr. Edgeworth. Did you speak privately with Mr. White anytime before the trial this morning?”

Edgeworth looked insulted. “He was my witness, Mr. Keeper. Of course I spoke with him!”

Jack nodded sagely. “Good, that’ll make the next question easier.” After a brief pause, he continued, “While I understand that you try to keep pre-trial conversations professional, Mr. Edgeworth, was there any chance that Mr. White made small talk with you as well? Did he tell you what he did last night, for example?”

Edgeworth harrumphed. “I tried to keep things focused on his testimony, but Mr. White did have a habit of buffeting me with information that had nothing to do with the trial.” Absently, he tapped a finger to his left temple. “In fact, he did seem to be a fairly good mood regarding his previous night’s activities... though he wouldn’t say much more than the fact that he had a ‘splendiferous time at a cozy little drink-warehouse’, whatever that is. Sounds like he was at a beer distributor, but those aren’t small or cozy, so I guess that was his way of saying that he was at a small bar, probably hidden away... somewhere...” He trailed off and his eyes grew wide as he realized the significance of what he was saying. “Wait a second,” he stated weakly. “Did he come-”

“Here? Why yes, he most certainly did!” exclaimed Jack, nodding with sarcastic vigor. “Said he wanted to take a look at the place; spend some time with his lawyer friends. He and I had a long chat, we did!” He let out a manic laugh, and then his face became stonily serious. “And, lawyer though I may be not, it was pretty obvious that he was the one that did Ms. Fey in. Even from the very beginning, that man oozed guilt from every glittery pore.”

Edgeworth appeared mildly troubled, but he quickly managed to pull himself together. “I hate to sound so dismissive, Mr. Keeper, but your accusations would have, before the trial, been dismissed as nothing more than mindless hearsay.”

Jack smirked. “You mean, just as Mr. White’s version of the events had been proven to be mindless hearsay?”

Edgeworth winced and leaned backwards. “Unfortunately, yes. But his version of the events was, in the beginning, reasonably plausible.”

Jack frowned and shook his head. “The only reason the legal system believed White’s story was because none of the officials had the courage to pick it apart,” he said tersely. “In fact, only two people grilled him hard enough to uncover some semblance of the truth.”

Edgeworth shot Jack a look of confusion. “Two people? You just told me that I came nowhere close to Wright in questioning White’s true motives. Have you already changed your-”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind!” Jack snapped angrily. He calmed himself a bit before adding, “As I was saying, there were only two people that managed to get White to cough up the truth about Ms. Fey’s murder. Obviously, the first was Mr. Wright.” He paused to take a steeling breath. “As for the second, that was... uh, me.”

Jack was not surprised when Edgeworth’s mouth dropped open in shock; after all, to an outsider such a revelation sounded rather surreal.

What he had not expected, however, was Gumshoe’s reaction. “What do you mean, you?!” he barked, his eyebrows narrowed in surprised anger. “You aren’t a detective! You aren’t carrying a police badge, pal! Heck, you don’t even have one of those silly circle badges, like that sneaky lawyer! How could you have possibly gotten that guy to say he was a... a... murderer! And... And... And if you did, how come you didn’t try to speak up about it!”

Edgeworth appeared to be mildly impressed. “Loathe as I am to admit it, bearing witness to an admittance of guilt would have been a bit more credible than a circumstantial hunch, Mr. Keeper,” he stated quietly. “If you were truly able to get such a thing, I’m rather astonished that you wouldn’t have tried to spread the word. Why didn’t you?”

“It’s a long story,” Donny interjected, the ghost of a smile on his face. Getting to his feet, he added, “Why don’t you let me sit next to you, Mr. E, and we’ll tell you a tale.”

“I can hear you just fine from where you’re at, Mr. Docket,” Edgeworth said plainly. “Do you really need to change your seat?”

“Sure I do!” exclaimed Donny. Quickly, he walked the length of the bar, eyed the empty barstool on Edgeworth’s right, and plopped down on it with a thump. “After all,” he added grimly, “You need to hear me a lot more than Mr. P does. Isn’t that right, Mr. P?” The last sentence was given in a needlessly loud yell.

Characteristically, Payne looked startled at suddenly being singled out. “Uh, sure, t-that’s right...” he stammered. “C-crazy stories tend to give me nothing but headaches anyway.” He tapped his head once to emphasize his point. “Can I have some diet cola please, Jack? I’ll probably need it to soothe my nerves...”

“Of course, Mr. Payne,” Jack said pleasantly. As he rummaged through the refrigerator for the aforementioned drink, he added, “After all, nothing soothes the nerves like a healthy dose of caffeine.” Sadly, no one else noticed the sarcasm.

“Get me another whiskey when you’re finished, Jack,” Edgeworth said abruptly. “I have the distinct feeling that I’m going to be in need of it soon...”

Jack nodded; for once that day, Edgeworth was on the right track. ‘I wonder how I should handle this?’ he thought, paying little attention to the cola he was pouring. ‘The fact that he started out believing White’s story wasn’t so bad, considering Parsons’ influence and all. The lengths he went through to try and save him in the end, however...’ Handing Payne his drink with a smile, he turned to the back bar and grabbed both a clean shot glass and the oft-used whiskey bottle. ‘If I keep things simple and to the point, I should be able to shame him into a decent explanation...’ Sighing heavily, he filled the glass with whiskey and sat it in front of Edgeworth with little fanfare.

Donny looked at Edgeworth with narrow eyes. “What do you think, Jack?” he asked warily. “You’re the one that actually dealt with that killer... should I tell him the story, or should you?”

“I don’t know,” Jack muttered softly. He looked upward in order to mull over the issue...

...and promptly jerked his head back down as Donny let out a loud cry of astonishment. Pointing at Edgeworth’s whiskey glass with an expression of disbelief, he exclaimed, “What the hell happened to your hand, Mr. Edgeworth?”

As he directed his gaze to the bar counter, Jack took a step backwards in surprise; wrapped around the center of Edgeworth’s right hand was a bandage that was almost the same as his own. Quickly, Edgeworth let go of his drink and hid the hand behind the bar counter; Jack realized that, until that moment, he’d only been using his left hand to gesture and drink his whiskey.

“Well, Mr. Edgeworth? What happened?” asked Donny, his tone more forceful than before.

“I don’t think that is any business of yours,” muttered Edgeworth, frowning and turning his head in the opposite direction.

Before anyone could say anything else, Gumshoe let out a hearty burst of laughter. “Now, now... there’s no need to act all embarrassed about that, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!” he said consolingly. Ignoring Edgeworth’s death glare, he stated, “After that murderer guy turned himself in, Mr. Edgeworth and I took a break in the prosecutor’s lobby.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Jack said quietly. “But what-”

“I’m getting there, pal! Don’t interrupt me!” After an amused shake of the head, Gumshoe continued, “Anyway, Mr. Edgeworth asked me to get him some hot tea, in order to soothe his nerves. It cost me all my spare change, but I got him that tea, made hot and fresh from the courtroom vending machine! And then-”

“-Must you tell them about this?” snapped Edgeworth, clearly annoyed.

“Hey, if you didn’t want me to blab about everything, you shouldn’t have brought me here, Mr. Edgeworth sir! These people-” he indicated Jack and Donny with a wave of the hand, “-egg me on so much, I can’t get away with shutting up!” He chuckled again. “So, I got Mr. Edgeworth his tea, and after he started to drink it, I tried to tell him the case didn’t matter; tried to cheer him up! But as soon as I mentioned that sneaky Mr. Lawyer he crushed the paper cup with his bare hand! It would have been rather impressive, but the tea was bubbling hot!” Gumshoe chuckled grimily. “Luckily, I always keep some bandages and wraps on me in case I hurt myself somehow. So, in a matter of minutes, I fixed his hand up good as new!”

“Ok, let me get this straight...” Donny muttered. “You’re saying that Mr. E only got hurt because he was pissed and took it out on his own teacup?” After Gumshoe nodded, he let out a shrill burst of laughter. “That’s got to be the most pathetic thing I’ve heard all night! What do you think, Jack?”

Jack decided it’d be best not to laugh with his friend; Edgeworth’s grinding teeth and shaking arms indicated that he was very close to throttling someone. “I wouldn’t exactly call it stupid, Don,” he said finally. “If anything, it’s a rather marked example of poetic justice.”

Edgeworth harrumphed. “Poetic justice... an attractive phrase, but not very meaningful,” he said tersely. “Besides, I don’t think that failing to argue a case to the standards of my bartender is a crime worthy of my receiving such bodily punishment.”

Jack shrugged. “Perhaps not, Mr. Edgeworth. I, however, was actually making reference to this,” Lazily, he held up his hand so that Edgeworth could see the bandage.

Edgeworth’s eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t seem too concerned. “I’ll admit, that is a most unusual coincidence,” he said airily. “But there’s nothing poetic about it.” When Jack said nothing, his demeanor faltered slightly. “Is there?”

Jack placed a finger to his temple and waggled it; he knew that copying one of Edgeworth’s mannerisms would annoy him most greatly. “It just might,” he said ambiguously. “During the times you’ve spoken with Mr. White... preparing testimony, before the trial... Did he ever stop to smoke a cigar?”

Edgeworth paused to think. “Yes, he did smoke one,” he admitted. “But what does-”

“Could you describe it for me?”

“Describe it? But what- Oh, never mind.” Edgeworth let out an irritated sigh; it was obvious that he was tired of being treated with so much disdain. “Mr. White smoked what he called a
Caribbean cigar, though I would’ve called it obscene. It was dark brown in color, about twelve inches in length and about-”

In a swift series of motions, Jack sat his hand on the counter, detached part of the tape surrounding his bandage, and lifted it up so that Edgeworth could clearly see the burn mark. “-This big in width?” he finished grimly.

Edgeworth gave a start at the sight of the wound, his mouth opening and closing several times with nary a sound. “Yes, that wide,” he said weakly. His eyebrows moved back and forth wildly as he put two and two together. “So Mr. White is the reason behind your injury?”

“Yes. And as his guilt was, indirectly, the cause of you burning your hand as well, I describe that injury as an example of poetic justice.” Jack titled his head coyly. “Any questions?”

Edgeworth looked at his whiskey glass and sighed. “Yes, I am most definitely going to need this,” he muttered, before grabbing it with his unadorned hand and downing it in a single gulp. After making several undignified faces in reaction to the burn of the liquor, he managed to settle on his usual frown. “Okay, Jack, you win. You’d better tell me the rest, as it has become quite obvious that I won’t get a moment’s peace in this bar until you finally do.”

Jack nodded in satisfaction. “Damn straight, Mr. Edgeworth. And, since I want you out of my bar sometime before two in the morning, I’ll even be nice enough not to drag it out in my regular style.” Upon saying this, he made a point of ignoring Donny’s responding laugher.

“The only reason I was able to dig the truth out of Redd White was because I was... lucky enough for him to choose to come to my bar and not go somewhere else. Had he wasted the night at say, the District Hideaway in Center City, I wouldn’t have had a clue that he was even involved. Of course, even had he not shown up, I still wouldn’t have swallowed those media stories about Phoenix Wright being the real murderer.”

Edgeworth nodded slowly. “Considering how you were acting during my last visit, I guess I can believe that,” he said.

“You’d better believe it, Mr. E!” Donny added exuberantly. “Jack was acting crazy paranoid... I was afraid he was going to put on one of those tinfoil hats and start taping a bunch of metal hangers to the ceiling!”

Gumshoe let out a hearty laugh. “That’s just silly, pal! Everyone knows you’ve got to stick the tinfoil to the ceiling and bend the hanger wire into a hat if you really want to be protected from anything!”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Donny, a mere second before he realized what Gumshoe had actually said. “Wait... huh?”

Edgeworth sighed. “You’ve been reading that stupid tabloid again, haven’t you, Detective?”

Gumshoe let out an indignant huff. “So what if I have, Mr. Edgeworth? The Revealer’s a good source of useful information. Heck, if I hadn’t read it, I wouldn’t even know about that murderer Harry Butz! And another thing-”

‘I don’t need this,’ Jack thought as he rubbed at his aching temples.

Thankfully, Edgeworth must have been having similar thoughts, as he quickly silenced Gumshoe by raising his palm. “Sorry about that, Mr. Keeper,” he said bluntly. “Continue.”

Jack nodded in gratification. “Anyway, Mr. White decided to come here because of some things he’d heard about me from Upton Washer, the defense attorney. He and Washer both showed up here last night, along with Public Prosecutor Parsons.”

Edgeworth paled slightly upon hearing that fact. “Parsons was here as well?”

“Yep. Of course, with White around, he wasn’t really up to his usual spit and polish... he was just as nervous as when he’d given you that phone call on Tuesday.” Jack paused and made a thoughtful noise. “You know, if you had been as suspicious about White as you’d been about Parsons, things might have turned out a lot less messy.” He shook his head. “But Mr. Parsons and Mr. Washer didn’t matter; White had only come to talk to me and make me an offer. You see, the bastard wanted me to become one of his little spies.” He let out a brash laugh.

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “Spies?”

Jack shrugged. “He didn’t call it spying, but that was what he wanted me to do. I guess it made sense to him, considering all the lawyers and detectives I see, but... not something I wanted to do. I turned him down.” Jack frowned. “He didn’t care for that.”

“No, he wasn’t a person that took denial very well,” Edgeworth muttered. “I had quite a few arguments with him while we were working out his testimony.” He let out a sigh. “Keep going.”

As he nodded, Jack wondered if this was what it felt like to be one of Edgeworth’s witnesses, providing him a deposition. Putting such thoughts to the back of his mind, he continued, “In order to ‘prove his trustility’ to me and make me change my mind, he told me he was the secret witness in the Fey trial; the witness that the media had been parroting all day.” He paused and scratched at the back of his head. “I was quite surprised by that fact, I’ll admit. Then he told me his version of events, hoping that I’d accept them as truth and give into his demands.”

“And that didn’t work out either,” Edgeworth added grimly.

“Nope. Mr. White must have been a bit off his rocker last night, because the tales he told me didn’t quite coincide with all the official accounts. I called him on it; told him he must be the reason behind all the odd behavior and nonsense. When he asked me why he would do something so crazy, it became obvious that he’d only do such a thing if he’d been Ms. Fey’s real killer. I was too angry to hold my discovery back; I threw it right in his face.”

“Damn, pal!” exclaimed Gumshoe, clearly awestruck. “You should know better than to do something like that without someone backing you up!”

Jack gave the detective a small smile. “In retrospect, I probably should have remained silent and waited for him to leave before calling someone for help. But... as I said, I was just too damn pissed. Ms. Fey was one of my closest friends, and have her murderer smiling his smarmy smile in my bar... it was too much.”

“So why didn’t you call for security?” asked Gumshoe, his tone suddenly serious. “That man might’ve been sneaky, but they could have gotten him in for more questioning...” His voice faltered. “Right?”

Jack shook his head. “He had planned for such an eventuality; he had some sort of phone jamming device hidden in his coat. That’s when he pulled out one of those stupid big cigars, and told me just how hopeless my situation was.”

“He was always b-big on f-flair,” Payne stammered. When everyone realized he was still in the room and turned to face him, he jumped and added, “I’ve m-met him a couple times before... I somehow managed to prosecute one of his workers every now and then. M-makes me wish that I’d dealt with him before my d-downfall.” He tapped at his head once in shame.

After giving Payne a wary nod, Jack said, “Basically, he threatened me, and he was obviously very experienced at doing it. Said he’d expose the bar to the public, get me and Donny fired, and—” he absently gazed at the ceiling, “—some other things.”

Edgeworth appeared briefly thoughtful, and then nodded. “I believe I see what you’re getting at,” he said slowly. “But how does that lead to your injury?”

Jack frowned and shook his head. “While he was telling me about his evil plans for screwing the justice system and such, he showed me some, er, documents to cement his position. I tried to take them from him, and failed most painfully.”

“Right bastardly thing he did,” Donny agreed.

After a quick nod, Jack took a step forward, the better to look at Edgeworth face-to-face. “And that leads me to the heart of the matter, Mr. Edgeworth. When I realized that I couldn’t do anything in that moment, I put my hopes on you seeing through him and putting a stop to him. In response, he laughed, called you a fool, and told me to watch the news channel today just to see how right he was.” Jack paused to take a heavy breath. “Apparently, he had some ‘friends’ at the station... he’s the reason that the last part of that farce everyone called a trial was broadcast live, you know.”

“Broadcast live...?” Judging by how much paler Edgeworth’s face had become in that moment, he had been unaware of the transmission.

Jack’s eyebrows drew upward. “Didn’t Mr. von Karma tell you, Mr. Edgeworth? The News Network got a live audio hookup to your courtroom. It transmitted everything from after Mr. Wright’s collapse to the verdict.”

“How did...”

“Jack already told you how; White did it!” Donny snapped impatiently. “He heard it, and probably a couple thousand other people heard it too!”

“And, of course, Mr. von Karma was in here as well,” Jack added basely. “I don’t think he would’ve stayed in the building today and given you that foolish lecture had he not heard your first ‘not guilty’ verdict while it was happening.”

Edgeworth pointed a shaking finger towards the television as he struggled to come up with something to say. “Breaking the sanctity of the courtroom... the nerve of them...”

“Yeah, Mr. von Karma said pretty much the same thing,” Jack supplied dully. “But that’s not what has me upset, obviously. Care to guess why I’m upset?”

Edgeworth looked at his empty glass and frowned. “Why should I, Mr. Keeper? You’re going to tell me anyway.”

Jack merely nodded and ignored Donny’s laugh. “Very well, Mr. Edgeworth, I’ll just tell you plain and simple. I know that you’re a prosecutor, and it’s your job to try and prove a defendant guilty. But, by the end of that trial, it was obvious to everyone in that courtroom that White was the one that did it. Even after you tried to-” he wrinkled his nose- “defend that man by claiming he’d tapped Ms. Fey’s phone—a crime that I’m fairly sure April May already confessed to right in front of you, Mr. Wright managed to prove that he couldn’t have. But then,” Jack sputtered, his voice suddenly loud, “You tried to keep Mr. Wright in detention just by claiming that, in spite of all the obvious proof that Mr. White was guilty, stating that there was no definitive proof that Mr. Wright was innocent?! What kind of messed-up procedure is that?! The only reason that Mr. White isn’t sitting here and laughing in my face right now is because Mr. Wright rattled off that list of suicide victims and his assistant had the guts to blackmail the blackmailer! I know-” Jack started waving his arms around exasperatedly, “—I know that not every trial follows a simple path to a verdict, but that was just insane! So, Mr. Edgeworth, what I want to hear from you right now is the answer to this question: Why the hell did you try so hard to keep an innocent man in prison, and let an obviously guilty man return to the streets?!” As he finally stopped to catch his breath, Jack noticed that all four of his customers were staring at him as though he’d lost his mind; however, he couldn’t really find the energy to regret tearing into Edgeworth the way he just had.

After a few moments of rubbing at his temple, Edgeworth managed to look Jack in the face and flash a tiny smirk. “That was quite a display,” he said levelly, “But I’m rather shocked that you would snarl that question at me as though you didn’t already know the answer.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me...?” he asked wearily.

Edgeworth shrugged. “You have been running this place for over three years now, Mr. Keeper. And in that time, you have become quite aware of my policy when it comes to finding criminals guilty.”

Jack blinked several times before he realized what Edgeworth was talking about. “You don’t mean that fancy-pants mantra about guilt and innocence, do you?”

Edgeworth frowned. “Yes, that is indeed what I am referring to. Also, it is not ‘fancy-pants’, it is how I was taught.”

“You mean what Mr. VK told you, right?” Donny scratched at his head; he was obviously having trouble keeping up with this latest turn of the conversation. Finally, he chimed, “You really should try to get out of his shadow sometime. He’s a bit of a scary grouch.”

Edgeworth started clenching his good fist. “It is not your place to insult him,” he said tersely. “The methods he taught me have been undeniably successful.”

Donny sighed and folded his hands together. “That’s true,” he muttered. “But, from what Jack’s told me, it sounds as though you should have put that aside when you came across a defendant that was obviously innocent.”

“Innocent...?” Edgeworth repeated the word skeptically. “How could I have known that?” He directed his gaze upward, as though he were remembering something. “The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There’s no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent. Thus, all I, as a prosecutor, can hope to do is to get every defendant declared guilty.” He shook his head and returned his gaze to Jack’s face. “That’s what I told Phoenix Wright before the trial today, and that’s what I repeat to you.”

Jack frowned as he mulled over Edgeworth’s latest pronouncement. ‘He’s mentioned that little mantra on many different occasions... probably at least once a month for the past three years. A shame that it took Mia’s death and the false accusations of both her sister and her student for me to see just how unfair that policy can be.’

“Damn...” Donny spoke up before Jack could say a word. “That might make you a good prosecutor, Mr. E, but that still sounds awful cold...”

Edgeworth merely shrugged again. “Call me what you want... I can take it. What matters is that my methods get results.” He turned his head the other way. “Don’t you agree, detective?”

Gumshoe, who had been watching the most recent arguments as if they were volleys in a tennis match, snapped out of his trance and vigorously nodded. “I sure do, Mr. Edgeworth! You can’t trust those sneaky defendants one bit! The things I’ve heard some of the worst ones say... it’s enough to make me sick me sick, pals!” He leaned forward and fixed Donny with an angry glare. “It’s not acting cold... It’s using common sense!” Huffing, he starting turning his head back and forth, as if waiting for someone to disagree.

Luckily for Gumshoe, Jack had decided to do just that. “I don’t think your policy is cold, Mr. Edgeworth,” he said crisply. “I think it’s stupid.” Before Edgeworth could even try to retort, he continued, “With all the odd events that’d been going on, didn’t you at least once consider the possibility that Mr. Wright could have been telling the truth about his innocence after all?”

Edgeworth clenched his good fist in anger, but managed to maintain his composure. “No, Mr. Keeper, I did not,” he said bluntly. A second later, however, he added, “And even if I had, I would have immediately dismissed it without consideration. Such weak thoughts are completely unbecoming for a successful prosecutor to have.”

Annoyed, Jack shook his head. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Don’t you insult my philosophy, Mr. Keeper,” spat Edgeworth, clearly incensed. Smacking his hand against the counter, he added, “These ideals are what have led me to all my successes so far.”

“That may be true,” Jack retorted bitterly, “But it’s obviously not the only path to success. Look at Mr. Payne, here-” he indicated the man with a wave of the arm, “—he’s had plenty of successful trials, but he still knows when it’s best to back down. Isn’t that right?”

Noticing all eyes upon him, Payne shakily adjusted his glasses. “I guess you could say that, Jack,” he stated softly, “Though I used to be more successful in the days when I didn’t...”

“Okay, bad example,” Jack said hastily. “But what about Mr. Oldbag? Or Mr. Riverboat? Or Ms. Streamer? They’ve all had as much press coverage as you have at one point or another, in spite of the fact that they’ve lost cases every now and then!”

Edgeworth shook his head. “Oldbag’s lost his way, and Riverboat and Streamer don’t even take murder cases unless they are related to their specialties,” he said disdainfully. “It’s not quite the same as what Mr. von Karma and I have to deal with.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!” snapped Gumshoe, his face alight with adoration. “Besides, Edgeworth only follows that mantle-thingy because he trusts detectives like me to get the right man! Mr. Oldbag doesn’t do that... he yells at me! Mr. Riverboat doesn’t do that... he asks me stupid questions like I’m a child! And Ms. Streamer doesn’t do that either... she just turns me away and uses the internet instead!” He paused to catch his breath. “Heck, if anything, Jack, you should be blaming me for this mess.”

Jack frowned. “That’s a good point, detective, but it still doesn’t quite excuse the fact that Mr. Edgeworth ignored the truth when it became obvious,” he said derisively. “And there are prosecutors that have been both graceful and trusting, you know.”

Gumshoe scoffed. “Oh yeah, pal? Name one!”

Jack quickly opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it when he realized he had no names to respond with. ‘I’ve already named pretty much all of the higher-up prosecutors... damn it, why don’t a have a larger clientele?’ He started messing with a button on his shirt, racking his brain for an answer when...

“Mr. M... Neil Marshall.” Everyone stared at Donny in surprise as he supplied an answer. “Before he died, he managed to win that crazy K-trophy, and I’m pretty damn sure he lost a few cases the year before.” Absently, he stroked his chin. “Hell, if it weren’t for that bastard Darke, he’d still be ahead of Mr. E, and probably giving Mr. VK a run for his money!” He spun in his chair in order to glare at Edgeworth and Gumshoe both. “How about that?”

Surprisingly enough, both Edgeworth and Gumshoe had fallen silent, though from the looks on their faces it didn’t appear as though they were going to start groveling for forgiveness anytime soon. Weary from all the arguing and strangely satisfied by the heavy silence, Jack walked over to the sink and drew himself a glass of water.

“Um... can I have another drink, please, Jack?” Payne’s reedy voice cut into the heavy silence.

“Sure,” muttered Jack, managing to take a quick sip before putting his glass down. “What do you want?”

“Um... another diet cola would be fine, but... Could you put some extra cherry syrup in it, please? The sugar will keep me from falling asleep during the drive home.” He managed a weak laugh.

“Understood.” Without another word, Jack grabbed a glass out of a cupboard, a bottle of diet cola out of the fridge, a bottle of syrup of the shelves, and set himself to work.

‘Now that I’ve yelled myself out, no one really feels like seriously speaking up,’ he thought, pouring the cola into the glass. ‘If I’m lucky, Edgeworth will at least think of all the crap I spewed at him the next time he has a big trial.’ Loosely biting his lower lip, he unsealed the new bottle of cherry syrup and poured some into the glass. ‘A lot of things have happened since the last time I made Payne one of these. I’ll be damn happy if I can make it to the end of the night without any more craziness happening.’

Unfortunately, before he could even finish stirring Payne’s drink, he was interrupted by the sound of the oft-present door chime. Cursing the Gods of Perfect Timing, Jack took a deep breath, turned around...

...And let out a relieved sigh as he watched Marvin Grossberg slowly meander towards his end of the bar. Compared to several of the other people that could have dropped in at this hour (Upton Washer and Manfred von Karma came to mind), the old defense attorney was mostly harmless.

Upon reaching the bar counter, Jack noticed that Grossberg was whistling a tune; obviously, he was in a very good mood. His happiness became even more self-evident when he managed to clamber onto the empty barstool next to Payne without uttering a single buttock-related complaint.

“Good evening, Mr. Barkeeper!” he greeted, his voice full of genuine enthusiasm. “How are you and your customers faring on this most wonderful of days?”

Jack frowned. “Er, well, we’re, uh...” Unable to come up with a decent adjective, he merely waved an arm in the direction of his lackluster clientele.

Grossberg’s eyebrows drew together as he took in the expressions of the other four men at the bar. “Well, this certainly won’t do,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Will someone explain to me why everyone appears to be so hopelessly down in the dumps?”

“They’ve been arguing,” Payne stated, after just a few seconds of pause. “You should be glad you didn’t show up any earlier.” He rubbed at the side of his head. “Even by my standards, it was a rather ear-splitting event.”

Grossberg made a contemplative noise. “That does sound rather serious, Mr. Payne,” he said quietly. “Do I want to know what this so called argument was about?”

Payne glanced at Jack, who tiredly shook his head. “No, Mr. Grossberg, I don’t think that would help any,” he muttered.

Grossberg nodded in satisfaction. “Well, in that case, I’m not going to inquire about it any further.” Turning to look at Jack, he added, “I am not the prying type, you see.” Glancing down the length of the bar, he frowned again. “What I will not tolerate, however, is this purposeless moping! If you have finished with your various noisy arguments, I suggest that you all apologize or at least try to put it aside!”

The other customers stared at Grossberg as he finished his little statement. “Now see here,” said Edgeworth, his voice impertinent, “It’s not quite that simple...”

“-It is only as complicated as you make it, Mr. Edgeworth,” Grossberg retorted smoothly. “You need not forget your disagreements; just try to act like reasonable human beings. This is one of the finest days I’ve had in fifteen years, you see, and I do not need it ruined by something so petty!”

Jack frowned as he glanced at Edgeworth (and, by association, Gumshoe). ‘Had I tried to re-explain the entire argument, Grossberg probably would have taken my side. Still, he has a bit of a point. Edgeworth’s been a decent customer these past few years, and I don’t really want to act all pissed towards him forever...’

“Alright, pals,” muttered Gumshoe, effectively cutting off Jack’s thought process. “I still don’t think you should talk to Mr. Edgeworth like that, but I’ll let it go this time.” He scratched at the back of his head. “I’m guess I’m sorry for raising my voice, too.”

After giving Gumshoe a nod of approval, Jack decided to swallow his pride as well. “I think I overdid the righteous anger routine just a little bit, Mr. Edgeworth. I still can’t say I like how things happened, but the right things worked out in the end. Truce?”

Edgeworth made a face as if he’d just wafted something extremely pungent. “I guess it’s a truce,” he finally said softly. “Though I do believe that you should try to stick to your own sphere of influence instead of overanalyzing the actions of others...”

“We’ll see,” Jack said levelly. “You never know what might happen next.”

Edgeworth merely harrumphed and turned towards Donny, the only quarreler in the room that had yet to say anything. The others in the room quickly did the same.

Aware of all the attention placed on him, Donny mindlessly fiddled with his collar. “Oh, all right, I’m done yelling too!” he yelled, apparently unaware that he’d broken his rule in the process of stating it. “But, jeez, all this sudden sappy stuff is making my stomach churn! Are we done now?!”

“Yes, I believe you are ‘done’,” stated Grossberg, the smirk on his face reflecting his satisfaction. Slowly, he turned to Jack. “Now, then, Mr. Barkeeper, I believe I too should contribute towards a more sociable atmosphere. A round of premium beer for everyone, on me!”

“Here, here!” shouted Gumshoe, his enthusiasm unsurprisingly restored.

“None for me, though,” chimed Payne.

“Ah, yes,” Grossberg muttered softly. “I seem to remember a time, long ago, in which you partook in the over-consumption of alcohol... a sight as scary as it was strange.” He shook his head. “Get to it, Barkeeper!”

“Yes, sir!” snapped Jack, firing off his best mock salute. In a matter of just two short minutes, he gathered four mugs, filled each with beer from the premium tap, and set them before every customer save Payne with relaxed decorum.

“Now then, if you are all settled, I would like to start things off with a toast.” Glancing at the others in the room, he added, “You don’t mind letting an old toastmaster make use of his well-honed skill, now do you?”

“Uh, no... Of course not,” said Jack, turning around so that Grossberg wouldn’t see his amused smile. Quickly, he picked up his glass of water and turned back towards the bar counter. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Thank you,” Grossberg said gratefully. “Now then...” He raised his glass, and sat as straightly as he could.

“Ah-HHHHEM!” After making a production of clearing his throat, a thoughtful expression came across Grossberg’s face.

“I would like to raise a toast to the defense attorney, Mr. Wright, for his amazing courtroom victory today. Unlike... many lawyers I’ve come across in my many years of practicing law, he had the courage to both stand up against corruption and risk his own freedom so that Mr. Redd White finally received the prison term that he most definitely deserved. To Wright!”

“To Wright!” echoed the others, though Edgeworth’s rendition sounded extremely unenthusiastic.

‘That wasn’t too bad,’ thought Jack, drinking his water along with everyone else. ‘Considering all that White had done, Mr. Wright definitely deserves the honor,’

A wry smile appeared on Donny’s face. “That was pretty good, Big G.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Guard, I-”

“-But not good enough,” he finished bluntly. Noticing everyone’s incredulous stares, he added, “I mean, it didn’t fall flat or anything... it’s just that you managed to miss a good bit of the point.”

Grossberg frowned. “So you are stating that you can do better, Mr. Guard?”

Donny raised his beer mug and grinned. “I think I just might.”

Jack suddenly felt very, very wary, but he could do nothing but raise his glass and hope that his friend didn’t screw things up too badly.

“I would like to propose a toast... to Ms. Mia Fey.” recited Donny, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. “She was a good person, a good lawyer, and a hell of a good friend to boot.” Pausing, he looked toward the ceiling and let out a sigh. “And... although she won’t be able to physically come to this bar anymore, I’m sure that a part of her will always be here with us, watching...” Unconsciously, he swiped a tear from his face.

Jack too rubbed at his face; he wasn’t surprised to find that his eyes were tearing up as well. ‘My God,’ he thought, ‘that was brilliant! I wonder if they have an award for these kinds of things...’

Donny wasn’t quite finished yet, however; as he raised his mug higher, he dropped his solemn expression in favor of a mischievous grin. “And that part of her had better be watching us pretty damn closely,” he quipped, “Because we’re always going to be down here... drinking!” With that, he nodded to the ceiling, chugged the rest of his beer, and slammed the empty mug against the counter with a satisfied grin.

After a moment of heavy silence, Donny spun in his chair so that he could see everyone else’s face. “So...” he muttered warily, “How’d I do?”

Seeing that no one else was going to answer, Jack laughed and shot his friend an approving smile. “Let me put it this way, Don. As far as great toastmasters go, you’re most definitely one of a kind.”

--------------

So, the end halfway lives up to the title of the Episode (Which is Toast to the Sisters, in case you forgot. I know I did). It's going to be strangely refreshing when I finally move on to writing about the next case.

Now then, I have a lot of things to get off my chest, so here's with the explanations. (It's going to be sad when I finally get on ff.net and I can't explain myself in this much depth anymore...)

Hammond's reaction to Edgeworth: The hardest part about making this story jive with canon (other than the fact that no one in game ever mentions Jack Keeper, of course) is the fact that the barroom setting would cause characters to know each other far better than canon would indicate. One of the worst examples of this is my old Case 4 contradiction that no one ever figured out: If both Robert Hammond and Miles Edgeworth go to the Gavel, why wouldn't Edgeworth be unable to recognize Hammond in GS1 Case 4?

Thus, my pitiful attempt to make things work is to have Hammond feel residual guilt towards the DL-6 case when it comes to Miles Edgeworth. Though Hammond is a cold and callous man, I figure it won't be too far of a stretch for him to feel upset about inadvertently driving the son of one of the nation's greatest defense lawyers into the hands of the Prosecution Antichrist. Thus, he does not stay in the room with Edgeworth long enough for the latter to figure out exactly who he is. Hopefully this falls within suspension of disbelief.

Edgeworth's Burn: This is a through examination of the incident Gumshoe mentions in GS1-3, where Edgeworth was so mad that he crushed a paper cup full of tea. Of course, now that I've written it, I'm not sure if that event occurred after 1-2 or on the day before 1-3, but... eh... feel the wrath of Edgeworth, nonetheless.

Also, the way Gumshoe wrapped Edgeworth's hand (around the circumference) is, according to webmd.com, a big no-no when it comes to treating hand burns. Obviously, Gumshoe is unaware of that fact.

Mr. Oldbag, Mr. Riverboat, and Ms. Streamer: This is my unholy trinity of OC prosecutors, because a twelve-story building can't have just Payne, Edgeworth, von Karma and Skye. I probably should hold off on explanations on their characters to build suspense or something, but I'm just too damn nice, so...

Harry Oldbag: At 71 years of age, Oldbag is the... oldest practicing prosecuting attorney in the district. His loud and exuberant arguing skills allowed him to climb to the position of High Prosecutor in the 1980s and 90s, but a relentless string of losses in the early 2000s caused him to lose that position and be reduced to taking small crimes cases and 'gimme' murder trials. Unlike similarly disgraced Prosecutor Winston Payne, however, Oldbag has retained nearly all of his confidence and still dreams of returning to the big leagues.

Additionally, Oldbag has some knowledge of the dealings in Global Studios, thanks to his talkative cousin, Wendy the security guard. (Oh noes, I have created an OC related to a canon character! Surely he will become a sue and destroy us all! /sarcasm)

An important part of the Gavel-story of GS1-3 and 1-4.

Chance Riverboat: Known in legal circles as the Gambling Prosecutor, Riverboat is distinguished by wavy hair, shiny mirror shades, and mannerisms that are Sin-City slick. Unlike the canon prosecutors, Riverboat specializes in cases related to money, such as theft and racketeering. Obviously, this means that his biggest cases are those which involve the various branches of organized crime. A seasoned lawyer, Riverboat will sometimes be useful by imparting his knowledge of crime families to other lawyers (and Jack) when they take mafia/yakuza related cases as well. He's also has a fondness for magicians, including Max Galactica and the Arumajiki family.

An Important part of the Gavel-story of GS1-3 and (if I ever make it there (HA!)) GS2-3, 3-3, 4-2, and 4-4.

Terra Streamer: A product of the early computer generation, Terra is a forty-something lawyer that specializes in Crimes involving technology and the Internet. Rarely found without a laptop or some other computing device, Terra will often help out by either explaining things related to computers or researching unconventional points of view on various internet sites. While not a very seasoned Lawyer when it comes to murders, Terra is at the top of her own ever-more-prominent legal field.

An important part of the Gavel-story of 1-5 and (maybe someday) 3-3, and 4-4.

Damn, when I explain them like that they seem like such odd characters. Hopefully, I will be able to weave a decent tapestry without completely destroying the GS universe. (Some days, I wonder if I should just make my own realistic lawyers and have Jack be the main character in an original murder-mystery novel. Ah well.

"I wonder if they give awards for [making good toasts]...": Yes, they do, Jack. I love in-jokes.

Sigh... that's all for now. I'm going to try and shoot for labor day for the (hopefully not crazy-long) opening part of Golden Gavel Episode IV: Samurai Shooters (lol u see what I did thar). Until then...

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42 days? Wow, creepy....
Anyway, as a 'finishing off' chapter, that was very well done. There's a few mistakes in there, but they're mostly trivial (like spelling 'whisky' 'whiskey') and I really can't be bothered to find them. XD
Also, I was wondering how you were going to keep Edgeworth & Hammond canon without resorting to amazing coincidences, and I think the way you've handled it is quite good.
So, err...I think I'm actually running out of ways to praise to your writing...err...good! Yeah!

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The conclusion was really satisfying! I liked how everyone cheered for Phoenix, yay love for him :'D

I thought "nice save" when Hammond left without Edgeworth recognizing him since it would mess up the time line. Another way you could of done it though, is make him leave earlier, but eh, this scene was much better.

I also found it funny that Oldbag's cousin has her last name. Poor guy.

Haha, well, we all are busy. School is pretty important and all. I can't wait to see the next case. =D

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Drawing with DSL-69: The joy of high (image) quality/low (artistic) quality pictures

After watching the Paintchat an hour or so, I started sketching some of my other OCs on paper for the hell of it. Hopefully, by providing my readers with at least an approximation of what the characters look like, it will be easier to visualize. Of course, I don't even visualize my own characters while I'm writing about them, so... shoop-da-whoop.



This could have been worse; I turned the overlarge eyes (I was using a thick pen) into the point of the joke. Additionally, note the gaps between the shirt buttons... his stomach is supposed to be large enough to make the fabric stretch apart.



Had to give this one a crude touch-up job to make it more true to description. Technically, he should be wearing blue suede shoes, but I screwed that up and figured socks and sandals would be something he would wear as well. Also, that's how I always pictured his hair (coming to a point above the nose), I just never could properly describe it in words. He looks like a monkey... or Alfred E. Newman.



I think the details in the coat (which would be deep green if colored) are fairly accurate; it's a cross between Lana Skye's coat and a picture of a U.S. marine officer I looked at for inspiration. The odd face at the lower left is supposed to be Parsons when he's nervous, but I can never draw the same face twice.

That's all for this moment. Keep watching the skis... er, skies.

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I have read this fic for awhile now, but never complimented it before even though I should have done it >_>

I love this fic. Every charater's personality is extremely well made and used, a thing I usally have trouble with. And I also like how you manage to connect everything that happens in the real PW games so well into situations in the bar.
A defenitve 12 of 10 stars fic. :draw:

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Hey, is Upton Washer an Elvis fan? I mean come on, blue suede shoes?! (I guess he could also be a Lonestar fan "Put on my blue suede shoes and I... boarded the train, touched down in the land of the Delta blues in the middle of a pouring rain...")

I loved this chapter! What an awesome back-to-school gift!

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Well, so much for Labor Day. To be honest, I haven't done anything with Episode IV save the Part 1 outline.

Why am I posting, then? I'm merely alerting my beloved readers to the fact that (after 13 months of farting around) I've finally started revising this and posting it at ff.net. As of right now, I'm up to Episode II, Part 1, though if you click the link you'll soon notice that I've fiddled with the numbering of that episode.

Here's a Chapter 1 link,

And here's a Chapter 4 link for you. I daresay you can get to 2 and 3 on your own.

Now then, I wouldn't worry about looking over Chapters 1 to 3 too much; I've only changed a few grammatical errors and changed maybe a couple of words apiece. Chapter 4, on the other hand, does have a notable plot alteration, in which I get that whole Lana thing out of the way early instead of stringing you along for six months. (It's about 3/4 of the way down the page, FYI) Additionally, I've renamed Episode II "Episode X", and plan to 1.) Extend it, adding in the original plot-line that I abandoned for the bird story when I wrote it one year ago, and 2.) Instead of lumping it Chronologically, I plan to split it into three sections which will fall between Case 1 and 2, 2 and 3, and 3 and 4 respectively. Of course, I'm a bit lazy; the new plot won't occur until after Case 3, so technically I'm holding you in suspense Case 2 to find out something you already know. It's called expanding the readership, sweeties.

Also, if you don't like what I'm doing and want to yell at someone, yell at my beloved adviser Yoko O... er, I mean, Headbuddy. I find it a bit surreal that I'm letting a high school freshman (?) of all people order me around on my story, but he's got some decent ideas in him.

Now, I'm hoping to get something up before the end of the month, though, if I'm not starting Case 3, rest assure you it's because I'm spiffying up Episodes I, Old II, and III up for mass consumption. I'm sick of breaking short-term goals, so I'm just going to set a long-term goal of Case 5 finished by January 2009 and hope for the best.

Oh, and one lonely night on Paint-chat, I got Yuu-chan to make me a Jack Keeper art. Here you are...



So, much <3 for that, and huzzah for mod attachment powers.

I'm sorry it's not an update, but at least I'm doing something. See you around, peoples.

---

I won't read the other one, I'm going to wait for the Next ones.

Hey there, been following this story for a little while.

I *must* say, for creativity, you definitely have it nailed down. And keeping mostly canon with the storyline already laid out, it's a definte win

I personally can't wait until Phoenix makes it to the Golden Gavel myself...here's hoping he has Maya in tow. =o

You make me sound so evil. I am a saaaaaaaaaaad person.

---

Oh, how I hate the tonelessness of this text-only system... I only mean to kid, Mr. Headbuddy; I find it difficult to convey inflections over this infernal internet-tube. I assure you, when things pan out as planned, you will be fully credited for my literary rise from the ashes. I wonder if the ff.net crowd will continued to spurn my OC-dependencies once my fic becomes the largest one in the fandom by far...

*shakes head*

Oh, and I now have a decent beta in the form of ff.net's EvilMarshmallow13, which goes by the CR handle of Super Muffin. When combined with Headbuddy and Holy Hell (or is it Hely Holl?), I now have enough boisterous fan-energy to take over the literary world!

Now if I could only get out of this mouse cage...

---

You are quite the silly man, DSL.

---

Sigh... I shoot for two weeks, and it takes a month. I was getting adjusted to college though, so I have an excuse. Basically, I wrote the outline, left the story alone for two weeks, wrote half the Part slowly over the next week, didn't touch it for a few days, then drank lots of coffee and wrote the second half all in the space of just this weekend. Hopefully, my weekends will be generally free for writing; I find that I actually have the drive to write 1250-1500 words at a time as long as I have two or three over-caffeinated hours of peace.

In addition to this and schoolwork; I've been steadily putting up the somewhat revised version on ff.net; as of now it has 7 chapters totaling 45,000 words, and has received 1130 hits, 19 reviews, 8 favorite story listings, and six story alerts. Yes, even on ff.net I'm obsessed with numbers. I don't really don't have any way of contextualizing the hits, though...

But enough about that. You're here to read the new stuff, right? I shall serve it up to your liking then. This 1st part of the 7-part Case 3 analogue is a 5,500-word chapter titled Hero of Heroes, unlike the first Parts of the Case 1 and 2 analogues, it takes place well before the actual murder, at the same time that Maya first tells Nick about the show, to be precise. I think I went a bit overboard with the allusions and references in this piece of work, but maybe that's a good thing. I also introduce the first of my 3 OC prosecutors in this Part; he will prove moderately important in both this Episode and the one for Case 4. Without further ado...

--------------
Episode IV: Samurai Shooters

Part 1/7: Hero of Heroes

“You have disgraced me for the last time, Steel Samurai!” cried the Evil Magistrate, his armored body visibly shaking from rage. “The pale moon in the sky cries for your blood!”

The Steel Samurai, defender of Neo Old Tokyo, merely shook his head in disgust. “The moon? No. It is you who should gaze upon the moon... for it will be the last moon you shall ever see!” He raised his spear; the silver of his mask gleamed with righteous anger. “See you in hell, Evil Magistrate!”

“Whoooooooaaaaaaa!” With an almighty clash, the two weapons came together and shook from the opposing forces of their wielders.

“Grrrrrraaaaaaaah!” A silver pole flew through the air, indicating that one of the combatants had just been spectacularly disarmed.

“The warrior’s swords gleam and strike in the moonlight!” announced the narrator, her melodic voice slicing right through the grunts of the fray.

“One has fallen... but who?” The scene shifted radically upward, revealing an orb that looked far too big for the evening sky. “Only the moon knows!” As the words fell into silence, so do did the scene fade to black. “Don’t miss next week’s exciting episode: ‘The Dark Messenger Returns!’”

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October 14th, 2016, 5:31 PM

“Wow... That actually rocked!” announced Jack, not caring that he was currently the only person in his bar. “It’s easy to see how this thing got so popular in only twelve episodes... For a kids’ beat-em-up, the writing is superb!” Absently, he looked down at the table he was supposed to be wiping. If only every job could narrated so beautifully, he thought as he started to wipe again.

As was usual when he was by himself and doing menial tasks, Jack let his thoughts wander where they pleased.

I guess Donny must have made plans for tonight, was the first thing that came to his mind. Most of the time this show’s on, he comes here to watch it with me. Jack noticed a dark spot near the edge of the round table; he grabbed his rag with both hands and started scrubbing that area harder.

I wonder what it must be like to be the Steel Samurai. I mean, obviously, he’s not real, but, if he were... it’d be pretty damn cool.

“Damn dark spot,” he muttered. “By now I should have banished you to the hottest fires of Mount Fury!” With a sigh, he leaned forward and pressed down still harder.

Of course, life as the Steel Samurai must also get rather nerve-racking at times. I mean, one honest hero, fighting an endless supply of dishonest, dark-hearted minions... Possessing but one shiny spear in order to bring all of the bad guys to justice... It’s enough to make me nauseous.

Jack lifted his rag from the table; to his disgust; the spot was still there.

“That’s it!” he shouted. He sat the rag on the table, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the rag again... and then, with an irrational battle-cry, he worked at the spot with all the strength he could muster.

“You think you can mess with me, stain?!” As usual, he cared little about the fact that he was taunting an intangible object. “Well, you thought wrong!” He started working the rag in furious circles; there was no way he would lose this time!

“Yes... that’s it,” he breathed. “Out, damn spot! Out I say! The incredible... er, Copper Samurai! ...Shall, uh, dispose of your dastardly attempts at discoloration!”

Jack clenched his teeth as his muscles started to burn; he could hear nothing save the blood pumping through his veins. Almost there... Almost there... And...

“What the heck is wrong with you, Jack?!” A hysterical high-pitched voice smashed into Jack’s ears; surprised, he turned to see Winston Payne and Bruce Goodman staring at him as though he’d just flown in from outer space.

“Uh, er, well...” Jack wiped at his brow as he felt his blood shift from his muscles to his face. “I was... trying to... uh... remove a stain?”

“Remove a stain?” muttered Goodman, his eyebrows rising in skepticism. “Well, if that’s how you treat matters of sanitation, I believe that you should be up for some sort of janitorial award.” He let out a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah!” muttered Payne, his face distorted by an almost unnatural grin. “Well... if that’s what you were doing, Jack... did you at least managed to finish your task?”

“I should hope so,” Jack muttered darkly. With a heavy breath, he turned to the table, moved his rag aside... and there was the dark spot, still staring him in the face.

“Damn you, spot!” Disgusted by his inability to perform this most simple of tasks, he seized his rag and hurled it to the ground. “You win...”

Almost immediately, Payne started to snicker again; Goodman, on the other hand, made a thoughtful noise and moved closer to the table. “So this is the ‘spot’ you’ve been battling?”

Bitterly, Jack nodded.

His expression guarded, Goodman turned and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t know how best to tell you this, Mr. Keeper, so I’ll say it outright. That”— he placed his finger on the spot, “-is a wood knot. The only way you’re going to be able to remove that is if you rub yourself a hole straight through the tabletop.” He turned and adjusted his hat, though it wasn’t quite enough to conceal his smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Slowly, Jack lowered himself onto his knees so that he could look at the table better; indeed, upon close inspection, the spot he’d been attacking the past several minutes was nothing more than a natural discoloration of the wood. “Well, I’ll be dipped in Everclear and set alight...” he muttered. “You’re right, detective.”

Not a second had passed before Payne broke into a fit of squealing, hysterical giggles. Jack merely grit his teeth and endured the ear-splitting noise as slowly rose to his feet.

“Well, it looks like I’ve let my imagination run away again,” he muttered darkly. “Guess that’s what I get for trying to do cleaning work as soon as the Steel Samurai’s over...” He paused to glare at Payne, who, in addition to laughing, was now frantically patting at the top of his head. “Just what are you doing, prosecutor?” he snipped.

“Making sure it’s all still there!” retorted Payne, his body still shaking. “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages!”

“Well, at least something good came from this mess,” said Jack with a wan smile. Shaking his head, he added, “Let’s go to the counter. You guys might not want any hard drinks, but I think I do.” Shaking his head, he turned and walked the short distance to his usual spot behind the bar counter.

After he’d washed his hands, Jack turned to his now seated customers and gave them a weak glare. “So,” he muttered, “What shall I be getting my most beloved customers this evening?”

“Diet Cola’s fine,” said Payne, a smile still stuck firmly on his small face. “You’ve been through quite a lot... I wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out.”

“Very well. And you, Detective?”

Goodman scratched at his chin. “The same, but with lemon.”

“All right.” With a final nod, Jack headed for the fridge so that he could prepare the drinks in question.

“Oh, and while you’re doing that, can I ask you something, please?”

“You just did,” said Jack cheekily. “But, since you said please... Ask away.”

“Alright then. Exactly what was that ‘Steel Samurai’ show you mentioned after your... er, performance?”

Jack paused from his task of filling Payne’s cola glass. How can I put this intelligently? he wondered.

“The Steel Samurai?” snipped Payne, his voice incredulous. “Why, that’s nothing more than a silly little fighting show for children.”

Jack winced and turned around. “Silly? That’s going a little too far, don’t you think, Mr. Payne?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s the only word I can use to describe it, Jack!” Turning to Goodman, Payne continued, “You should see some of the e-mails my daughter Constance sends me... they go on forever about that foolish Steel Samurai’s exploits! I don’t know why she watches it... it’s supposed to be a show for children, not college students!”

“Are you sure about that, Mr. Payne?” Goodman asked seriously. “Judging by the glare Mr. Keeper is sending you, he appears to be a fan of the show as well.”

“Yeah, well he and his security guard friend have always been a bit strange when it came to that show... heck, a couple of weeks ago I walked in on them dueling with pool cues because of it! Makes me wonder what this country’s coming to...”

Jack merely shook his head as he sat Payne and Goodman’s drinks in front of them. “Two diet colas, one with lemon.” Turning to Payne, he added, “And you should be glad that I had the reserve to serve it to you in a glass and not over your head.”

Payne blinked and then frowned. “Connie threatened me too when I criticized her favorite show... It must be a fan thing.”

Jack smirked. “Maybe.” Turning to Goodman, he added, “Of course, he’s exaggerating somewhat about the immaturity of the series. While I’ll admit that Steel Samurai is a hero-fighter type show primarily aimed at children and teenagers, there are also some things in it that appeal to adults as well.”

“Really?” Payne asked skeptically. “Like what?”

Jack looked to the ceiling in thought. “Well... for one thing, a lot of the Evil Magistrate’s – that’s the main bad guy’s – minions are named after famous historical figures, though they often add a twist. For example, near the end of Episode 4, the Steel Samurai had to defeat Bloody Lizzie, a red-masked woman that wielded a burning axe as her weapon.” Jack paused to take a breath; he didn’t need to pass out from saying too much too fast. “Now, at first, I didn’t think that referred to much of anything, but, according to the steel-samurai-dot-net Internet site, it’s actually a reference to two different women: Bloody Mary, which, aside from being a fine cocktail, was a 16th century British queen who executed religious dissenters by burning them at the sake, and Lizzie Borden, an American woman who, in the late 1800s was accused of murdering her parents through liberal use of a big axe. Thus, the ‘flaming axe’ also served as a cleaver combination of those two methods of murder.” After he finished his explanation, Jack took a step forward and leaned heavily against the bar counter. “I think I’m going to need some water now...” he muttered weakly.

Goodman let out a chuckle. “I’m sure you will. Heck, you remind me of the people in the top of my law school class, always eager to spout information even at the expense of breathing.” Shaking his head, he returned to his drink.

Payne, on the other hand, wasn’t very impressed. “So you can ramble when you want to... big deal!” he whined. “You still only managed to provide one little example on why that silly Steel Samurai show would be suitable for anyone over the age of fourteen!”

Jack frowned. “You want more proof, eh, Mr. Payne?” He scratched at his chin in an effort to remember something else that would placate Payne’s thirst for answers. If only I’d looked at those websites more often...

“Well?”

“Well... uh, in Episode 5, a lot of the villains had names based off of food-related puns,” muttered Jack, scratching at his head. “I never really cared for that sort of joke, but you have to admit that a fat minion with ring-shaped blades calling himself “The Ringed Bologna” is rather amusing. The Evil Magistrate must have been desperate when he hired that guy...”

Payne paused for a moment before frowning and letting out a giggle. “That’s still a kid’s joke, Jack,” he muttered. “Any child over the age of five knows what ring bologna is!”

“That’s a fair point, Mr. Payne,” said Goodman, nodding. “I even remember singing an inane song about it when I was four!” He turned to Jack. “Judging by what you’ve told me so far, this ‘Evil Magistrate’ character isn’t exactly the best when it comes to choosing competent underlings.”

Jack shuddered. “Just don’t let my friend Donny hear you say that,” he warned. “Main villain or no, the Evil Magistrate’s his favorite character. He’s knows more about the nuances of the series than even I do... and he can’t get enough of the Magistrate’s, er, ‘talents’ for subterfuge and surveillance. In his defense, it took twelve episodes for the Samurai to finally meet him face to face, so he must have a decent criminal network working for him there.”

“He’s still just the villain in a kids show,” Payne said smugly. “It doesn’t matter how many clever names or allusions the writers manage to throw into the series... it’s still childishly repetitive back-and-forth violence with the occasional pause for pointless travel and investigation.” He smirked and crossed his arms. “Isn’t that right, Jack?”

Jack flinched and took a step backwards. “Well... I guess a lot of that is technically true...” he admitted.

“Well then, it looks like I’ve exposed your little tales for the baseless conjecture they are,” finished Payne, tapping his forehead in triumph. “To be fair, I’m not going to criticize you for being a fan of the show, Jack; I just wanted Detective Goodman here to realize that you are the exception, not the rule.”

“If you say so,” muttered Jack, a touch of bitterness seeping into his voice. “Of course, if Donny were here, you wouldn’t have had it so easy; he knows more of the ins and outs of the Steel Samurai show than I ever will.” Turning towards Goodman, he added, “Just goes to show you, Detective, how hard it can be to defend an unpopular position when you don’t have any help by your side...”

Goodman made a thoughtful noise. “Yes, I believe that is something I’ve heard more than once before,” he said sagely. “And furthermore-”

“BANG!” Goodman’s musings were swiftly interrupted as the bar door flew open with enough force to ricochet off of its own metal frame. As the sound of the collision (and, a second later, the completely unnecessary door chime) echoed into silence, Jack quickly looked up and watched as Prosecutor Harry Oldbag confidently strode into the room.

Like most of the district’s prosecutors, Oldbag had a somewhat outdated sense of fashion: His unbuttoned tweed suit coat (while it matched his dark brown pants) did not hide his rumpled white undershirt, his dated dark-green suspenders, or his lurid sunny-yellow tie. Of course, Oldbag’s mildly irregular taste in clothing failed to hold people’s attention when compared to his highly irregular taste in hairstyle: though mostly bald, Oldbag had teased the white hair above his ears into cotton-like projections of fuzz, and, in an even greater act of defiance toward his advanced age, had let the hair at the back of his head grow into an obscenely long bushy ponytail that clashed horrendously with the large bald area up top. When combined with his pale deep-sunken eyes, large nose, and heavy jowls, Jack often thought the old prosecutor resembled nothing more than an old college professor gone heavily to seed. On this occasion, however...

“Mr. Oldbag definitely isn’t Donny, but he’s the next best man for the job!” exclaimed Jack, his voice a furious whisper. Returning his attention to Goodman, he added, “He’s got a connection to the studio that makes the Steel Samurai – he’s the key to helping me out!” Noticing that Oldbag was finally close to his area of the bar, he turned, shot him a big smile and proclaimed, “Welcome to the Gavel, Mister-”

Before Jack could finish his greeting, Oldbag leaned against the bar and stabbed a gnarled finger in his face. “Hard Lemonade, on the double!” he barked, his thunderous voice loud enough to make Jack flinch and the other two customers jump. “There is not time for such pandering while I remain sober!”

Jack, who after three years was used to receiving obscenely noisy orders from the district’s most elderly prosecutor, merely frowned and nodded. Knowing better than to take his time, he heaved open the door to the barroom fridge and dug for one of the hard lemonade bottles hidden towards the back.

“Here you go, sir,” Jack said lightly, sitting the glass bottle before his latest customer, now in the formerly empty seat on Payne’s right. “Do you need me to remove the cap for you?”

Oldbag’s heavy face contorted into a frown. “Hell no, I don’t!” he announced, his voice somewhat more reasonable than before. “Seems I can’t go anywhere these days without a bunch of scalawags trying to stop me from doing anything myself.” Gripping the bottle with his one hand, he used the other to wrench off the top in a single smooth motion. “See... it’s not so hard, isn’t it?” he quipped before bringing the bottle to his face.

“Good evening, Mr. Oldbag,” said Goodman, watching him chug the lemonade with a frown. “It’s been a while since the last time we were together... that string of South City burglaries, if I recall.”

Oldbag put his drink down and nodded once before he realized just who he was talking to. “The hell’re you doing here, Detective Goodfellow?” he sputtered, eyes wide in surprise. “The way you always harp about drinkin’; you’re the last person I’d expect to see in here!”

“He’s my new non-drinking buddy,” Payne explained with a smile. “He and I have been coming here together every week or so for the last two months.”

Again, Oldbag absently nodded for a moment before he stopped and recognized who was speaking to him. “Ah, Winston! I didn’t notice you were there... must’ve looked right over your head!” After a short wheezing laugh, he added, “Are you still hangin’ in there, kid?”

Jack suppressed the urge to guffaw; at seventy-one years of age, Oldbag was probably the only prosecutor left in the district that could refer to Winston Payne as ‘kid’.

Payne’s eyebrows drew together for just a moment before he let out a muted sigh. “As well as can be expected,” he said levelly. “I haven’t had any real big cases this past month, but I’m sure things will pick up for me sooner or later.”

“They damn well better!” shouted Oldbag, the force of his voice nearly causing Payne to fall off his stool. After another impatient guzzling of his drink, he added, “After all, it’s only been three or four years since your stint near the top, Winston... if there’s no hope for you, there sure as hell ain’t no hope for me!” Compulsively, he tugged at one the wisps of hair nearest his face.

Momentarily stunned, Payne stared at Oldbag for a moment before he coughed and muttered, “Er, well, I guess that’s... true, yes... You had your day, too, after all...”

“You’d better believe it that I did,” stated Oldbag, his voice suddenly devoid of its usual volume. Staring down at his hands, he muttered, “I might not have been as perfect as Manfred, but I held the High rank, and took a damn lot of the big cases.” His expression turned bitter as he grabbed his liquor bottle and took another long pull. “I would have been the Chief, had everything gone my way... God damn those upstart attorneys and their new-fangled trial systems.” He paused to let out one small sigh before whipping his head upward, his face suddenly resolute. “But I’ll be back,” he whispered. “They may saddle me with all of these petty crime cases and obvious guilty-pleas, but one day I’ll make it back to the top... All the way back to fame, and all the way back to glooooory!” He stretched out the shouted last word for all it was worth before turning to the other customers with a crafty smile.

Jack was glad that nobody was looking at him; he was only barely fighting the urge to roll his eyes at what he called “Oldbag’s Glory Tale”. Unless the elderly prosecutor was in the best of moods, he usually didn’t make it through a visit without giving that speech at least once in its entirety. Deciding that there was no need to let Oldbag hog the spotlight any longer, Jack cleared his throat in order to get his customers’ attention.

“What’s the matter, barkeep?” Oldbag quipped distractedly. “Got some phlegm in throat?”

“No, not really,” muttered Jack, making sure to remain polite. “I just wanted to tell you that, before you made your... vigorous entrance, Mr. Payne and I were having a bit of an argument on the subject of the Steel Samurai, and-”

“Oh, don’t get me started on that stupid piece of claptrap,” muttered Oldbag, idly waving one hand. “I don’t watch it, don’t read about it, and still that show annoys me to no end!”

“Really?” asked Payne, his voice suddenly laden with delight. “And here I thought I was the only man in this bar with a bit of common sense...” Beaming, he shot Jack a pointed grin.

I said one thing, and already this conversation isn’t going the way I hoped it would go. “I’m surprised you think that, Mr. Oldbag,” Jack said skeptically. “After all, your cousin works at the studio that makes The Steel Samurai, does she not?”

Oldbag winced and let out a wheezing gasp; Jack had apparently caught him off-guard. “How did you know that?!” he sputtered, eyes bulging with surprise.

Surprised by his customer’s unexpected intensity, Jack paused for a moment before giving his answer. “You mentioned her once, a couple of years back. You were rather... intoxicated at the time, but I know you said she worked at Global Studios, since the 1990s if I do recall. I’m surprised she hasn’t provided you with some sort of... extra insight in regards to the shows they’re making.”

Oldbag merely frowned and took a pull from his drink.

“Is this a sensitive issue for you, Mr. Oldbag?” inquired Goodman, his dark eyes wide with concern. “Mr. Payne and Mr. Keeper were merely trying to explain some aspects of the show to me, which led to them arguing over whether the show has any appeal to viewers over the age of seventeen. Since your cousin has little to do with this debate, I see no reason for you to talk about her against your will.”

A thoughtful expression crossed Oldbag’s face; his left hand absently tugged at the elastic of his suspenders. After a few seconds of this, he turned towards Goodman and smiled. “I appreciate you saying that, Detective, but to be honest, it’s really not that big of a deal. Hell, I barely even talk to that flirty old wench anymore.”

Goodman’s eyes widened in surprise; he began to rapidly fiddle with the tilt of his hat. “No offense, Mr. Oldbag,” he stated bluntly, “but I find it a bit disconcerting that you’re willing to insult your own kin like that.”

Surprisingly, Oldbag let out a lighthearted chuckle. “I understand where you’re coming from, Detective, but those are the most accurate words to describe her by far. And technically, Wendy’s not my kin; she’s only my cousin through marriage.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem quite right for you to be calling her that,” Goodman retorted with a frown.

“Now, now, like I said, it’s not that big a deal!” retorted Oldbag, holding up a hand. “Besides... Wendy’s the one that started it all... Ever since Cousin Barry died twelve years back, she’s been getting all these silly crushes on big studio stars... you can’t believe how crazy it is listen to a dame in her sixties prattle on about twenty or thirty year old men like they’re her high school sweethearts.” Wincing, he took a sip of his lemonade. “For a while, me and my darling Gabby were able keep in touch with her, but ever since about five years back she’s been trying to avoid us as if we’re made of steaming hot coals!” He chuckled.

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Jack asked, “Do you have any idea why she’d try to avoid you like that?”

“Nope, I sure as hell don’t,” Oldbag said bluntly. “Also don’t see no reason in trying to figure that woman out... what’s the damn use?”

“Well, it’s obvious that there’s a reason behind Wendy’s behavior,” Jack said seriously. “There’s always a reason why people avoid one another... even if it’s a stupid and annoying one.” He took a deep breath to keep himself from grimacing.

Oldbag frowned. “Well, Gabby says she’s trying to hide something from me, but I don’t see why she’d do that. It’s not like I’m a powerful public figure, after all.” Smirking, he added, “Of course, that might be the real McCoy right there; I don’t have the chutzpah to compete with the dashing young men that Wendy’s always ogling over. You aught to hear the way she prattles on about that movie star Jack Hammer guy... she’s still got a crush on him even though he’s nothing more than a costumed villain in that thrice-damned kids show! Which I still know very little about, by the way.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed. “Only way she’ll ever say sorry is if I manage to outshine all her movie star heroes... and that’ll only happen once I make my way back to the top!” He smacked his hand against the table in order to compliment his sudden shouting.

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you, back to the top,” Payne muttered sardonically. “No offense to you, Harold, but I really find it annoying when people whine about how much better things had been for them in the past.” Smirking, he then guzzled a large portion of his cola and let out a pathetic squeak of a burp.

Hmmm... Should I point out the obvious hypocrisy of Payne’s last statement, or should I just laugh at his pathetic attempt to belch? Before Jack could finish mulling over this latest inane dilemma, the noise of the door chime effectively cut off his thoughts. Somewhat surprised by the fact he was getting still more business tonight, he looked up and saw that his latest customer was Miles Edgeworth, who appeared to be in a fairly decent mood for a change.

Before Edgeworth could even make it halfway to the bar, Oldbag spun around on stool and started to wildly wave his arms. “Hey, Miles! C’mere and have yourself a sit-down!” He quickly indicated the empty barstool to his right.

Edgeworth paused, an exasperated expression briefly crossing his face before he nodded and took the offered seat. “Good evening, Mr. Oldbag,” he said lightly. “I must admit that I’m rather surprised to see you here.”

“Well, why in tarnation would you think that?!” snapped Oldbag, giving Edgeworth a hearty slap on the back. His voice suddenly softer, he continued, “So, how’ve you been holding up, Miles? You ready to become the attorney general yet?”

Clearly annoyed, Edgeworth let out a heavy sigh before forcing his expression back to something resembling calm. “Not anytime soon, Mr. Oldbag,” he muttered, his voice still abnormally mild. “Though, to be honest, if the government ever offered me that position I’d probably turn it down. In my opinion, putting away criminals should always be a hands-on experience.”

“Of course, of course...” muttered Oldbag, his expression placated. Turing towards Jack, he bellowed, “Hey, barkeep! Let me buy this fine young man a drink!”

“That’s nice of you, Mr. Oldbag, but I’m plenty able to purchase a drink myself,” Edgeworth muttered tersely.

“Nonsense!” shouted Oldbag, idly waving a hand. “Nothing wrong with taking a free drink when it’s offered, Miles.” He grimaced. “Besides, in this day and age... it’s the least I can do.”

A mutinous expression crossed Edgeworth’s face for just a moment before he sighed and nodded. “Very well.” Turning on his seat, he added, “A regular beer, Jack, if you please.”

Before Jack could say a word in return, Oldbag sputtered and started to shake his head. “Don’t give me that ‘regular’ crap, Miles!” he bellowed, tugging at his ponytail in disgust. Turning back to Jack, he said, “Miles will have a premium beer, if you please.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d assume that Oldbag was Edgeworth’s overbearing grandfather, Jack thought amusedly. Noticing that Edgeworth was giving him a reluctant nod, he smiled and reached for a mug.

While Jack filled the mug with premium beer, Edgeworth quickly leaned forward so that he could see the other two men at the bar. “Hello, Mr. Payne; Detective Goodman,” he said basely. “How have you been fairing this evening?” Judging by the tone of his voice, Edgeworth was desperate to steer the focus of the conversation away from Oldbag’s annoying rants.

“I’ve been doing fairly well, Prosecutor,” Goodman said thoughtfully. “I haven’t been assigned to a lot of cases recently, but that just seems to be the way it goes.” Absently, he raised a hand and started fiddling with the tilt of his hat. “There’s no point in trying to understand the actions of the Criminal Affairs Department, after all.”

After a brief silence, Payne flinched and muttered, “I’m doing okay, Mr. Edgeworth.” A moment later, he smiled and added, “In fact, I’m doing pretty well, considering what happened before you showed up. Me and Oldbag here just creamed Jack in an argument over that silly Steel Samurai show!”

Edgeworth’s eyes widened. “Really? Is this true, Jack?” he asked, his voice oddly curious.

Jack frowned and nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. I was trying to tell them that there’s some decent adult humor hidden in the series, but they just shot me down and laughed!” He let out a huff of indignation. “Oh, and here’s your beer.” He sat the drink in front of Edgeworth with a dull thump.

“Thank you.” Edgeworth gave the beer a light sip, his brows crinkled in thought. “It’s decent,” he said tactfully.

Jack smiled. “I should hope so... that stuff isn’t cheap,” he said nonchalantly.

Edgeworth nodded and sipped again; his expression still strangely thoughtful. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he finally blurted, “You know, I can understand why Mr. Payne was able to win your little argument. After all, the Steel Samurai show is undoubtedly designed for children.”

“You can say that again, Mr. Edgeworth!” chimed Payne, beaming. “Did you ever-”

“However,” Edgeworth snapped artfully, “Jack’s view of the show is not as baseless as you claim. Believe it or not, there are actually aspects that contain considerable adult appeal.”

“What?” squeaked Payne, his mouth open in disbelief. “How can you say that?”

Edgeworth suddenly appeared distinctly uncomfortable; he raised his pointer finger but seemed to be unable to speak. After a few seconds of silence, he finally muttered, “Well, to be brutally honest... I say that because I myself have witnessed many sophisticated historical and cultural references in each of the show’s twelve episodes.”

The room fell silent for a moment, and then...

“WHAT?!” shouted Oldbag, his wrinkled face screwed up in shocked consternation. “You mean to tell me that a man of your statue watches that stupid little show too?! What the hell is wrong with you, Miles?!” Gritting his teeth, he slowly regained his composure by seizing his ponytail and giving it several painful tugs.

Edgeworth looked to the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh of annoyance; Jack could tell that he was mentally berating himself for getting into this conversation.

“Well, Miles?! What say you?!” Though he seemed calmer, Oldbag’s voice was no less thunderous.

Edgeworth shook his head for a moment before lowering his gaze back to Oldbag’s face. His expression guarded, he finally replied, “I watch the Steel Samurai show for three reasons, Mr. Oldbag. First, since it airs at 5 PM on Friday evenings, I find it to be a simple and convenient way for me to unwind at the end of each week. Second, I’ve always considered Jack Hammer to be one of the best actors in the country, even if he has been performing well below his level as of late. And third—” he paused to take a deep breath, “–I’ve always kind of liked watching these foolish little kids shows... back in grade school, it was actually one of my favorite pastimes.”

Oldbag blinked in surprise as the bar again lapsed into silence. He stared at Edgeworth for a moment before sighing and looking away. “Understood, Mr. Edgeworth,” he muttered, his normally loud voice reduced to a whisper. “I apologize.”

“It’s all right,” replied Edgeworth, his face shifting into a familiar smirk. Looking beyond Oldbag, he added, “I assume, Mr. Payne, that you will want me to back up my claims with evidence, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” muttered Payne, his expression deflated.

Edgeworth’s smirk grew, if anything, wider. “Very well,” he said levelly. “Now then, since the Steel Samurai is the archetypical example of the Tokusatsu genre, it contains a large number of witty references to the history of Feudal Japan. For example...”

As Edgeworth’s educated voice started to fill the room, Jack couldn’t help but smile. Of all the customers that could have helped me out with my Steel Samurai debate, Edgeworth’s about the last one I would’ve anticipated, he mused absently. I guess that just goes to show me that help can come from the most unlikely of people.

-------------

Heh heh... foreshadow much? I'm growing tired, but I'll try to explain a couple things, because I'm such a Goddamn nice guy.

Some thoughts on Harry Oldbag: If there's one thing I'm proud of, it's the ability to pull ideas for OCs out of my ass and still have them remain fairly relevant to the story. I'll admit that my other two original prosecutors (which have yet to be introduced) don't have any considerable canon roles, but when every lawman save Winston Payne gets arrested or flees the country, somebody's got to be there to pick up the slack.

So anyway... one purpose of Oldbag is to create a link to Global Studios; the other is to fill a hole in canon that, if you read between the lines of this part carefully enough, should be pretty damn easy to discern (Easier than Donny's, anyway, and his isn't that hard either). I've already outlined a lot of his history in a previous post, but I'll note now that I based his character design off a cross between the archetypal old professor (clothing-wise) and the longest-serving teacher in my high school (who wore what little white hair he had in a long ponytail, albeit without the bushiness). The personality, on the other hand, is a cross between Wendy Oldbag, my very loud 8th Grade History Teacher, and my very exuberant grandfather. (I've got to get unbalanced character traits from somewhere, after all.) Oldbag's next appearance should be in Part 3, in which we get to see some good old fashioned family rivalry in action.

Edgeworth and the Steel Samurai: I decided to go with the Edgeworth-as-a-big-Steel-Samurai-Fan characterization seen in the semi-official GS fanbooks. I believe it will make his case-related emotions more interesting.

steel-samurai.net: Damn, my meta-humor has come full circle. Somebody shoot me.

Okay, that's all I've got for this stage of the party. Hopefully, I'll be able to speed-write my way to the fairly brief Part 2, entitled How the Mighty have Fallen, in which I jump the shark break the common mold by actually having a scene take place outside of the Golden Gavel Barroom. Before you panic, though, note that I'm not going to go too crazy with this trend; non-Gavel scenes will always be in or based on canon locations, and there will only be the one in Case 3 and one or two in both Cases 4 and 5 (After all, since Jack has strong personal connections to both of those defendants, it seems silly that he would hole himself in the bar and do absolutely nothing to help their plight).

Well, that's all for me this night. Until next time, bitchez...

---

Oh my god...I can't stop reading...this is incredible! Keep at it! Don't stop until it's finished!

I love this...I really do!

---

WHOO! Awesome, I so needed this! A new chapter, a new CSI Miami, AND a new Rascal Flatts CD?! Makes my crappy day seem a whole lot better.

---

I do not bow to gods.

So now bowing, DSL69.

This is one of the most incredible things I have ever read. In particular, I like the writing style and the whole "behind-the-scenes" thing. I can actually imagine all the characters at the bar, particularly in the Grossberg scene, after Redd White was convicted. Seriously, this story is absolutely incredible in every possible way.
I particularly like how in-character everyone was. This story, to put in plainly, is amazing.

If you do not continue, I will:
A) Cry
B) Throttle Something
C) Become Depressed and/or Violent
D) All of the Above.

THE CORRECT ANSWER IS D.

---

Updates? In my fanfic? It's more likely than you think...

I must admit that my recent writings have slowed somewhat; my college workload has somewhat crushed my old devotion to the three-week update tempo. My goal is to finish Case 3 by the end of January 08, so I guess I have to get a move on then...

A thank you to Scythemoon (that name seems familiar), PG, TNN, and Doctor for keeping this thread alive; it reminds me that my fanbase has not tapered to zero in spite of my slow pace.

Now then, this next Part, titled How the Mighty have Fallen, is, without a doubt, one of the most offbeat chapters I have ever written, due to the fact that I actually have it take place outside of the standard barroom setting. In addition to the fact that the news of Hammer's death is broken in the morning, hours before Jack would set foot in the Gavel otherwise, the main reason was that I wanted to advance a few plots and present a few pieces of information that simply cannot take place within the bar. The chapter can be broken into two big segments: The part where I stay somewhat on topic (~5500 words) and the part where I veer off-topic and barely look back. (~3500 words). This is also one of the more OC-heavy Parts as well; while many canon characters are touched upon, only three have significant roles, each of which is about a thousand words long. Basically, I have non-main characters enter and exit the story at breakneck speed the entire time.

Towards the beginning, I'm also very heavy on in-jokes and self-referential humor; it's amazing how many references I crammed in here.

But enough of my author's voice. I'll let you read for yourself...

-------------

Part 2/7: How the Mighty Have Fallen

October 16th, 2016, 8:15 AM
Jack Keeper’s Apartment


“Brrrrring...”

Lying in his bed beneath a thick layer of blankets, Jack rolled onto his side, not yet aware of the old telephone ringing from its spot atop the nearby nightstand.

“Brrrrring...”

“Yep, that’s how you get the most out of the beer market, Mr. Samuel Adams,” murmured Jack, clearly not awake. “You must corner it...”

“Brrrrring...”

“Huh?” With a start, Jack opened his eyes and forced himself to sit up on the bed; blearily, he pushed his hair away from his face as he attempted to gain his bearings.

“Brrrrring...”

“What... a?” muttered Jack, consciously hearing the phone for the first time. Probably some salesman... better pick it up and get it over with. Weakly, he grabbed the handset of the white corded telephone and brought it to his face.

“Hello? Jack speaking.”

“J-J-Jack!” Donny’s frantic voice blared through the earpiece.

Wincing, Jack surprised a weary sigh. “Donny? What time is it?”

“Quarter after eight... but that doesn’t matter! The Evil Magistrate... is dead!”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Jack thought exasperatedly. “So you found some leaked plot spoilers on the internet. Big friggin’ deal. Have you forgotten that I prefer to sleep in until nine at the very earliest?”

“No, no, Jack, but that doesn’t matter now!” Donny whined. “Jack Hammer... the guy that played the Evil Magistrate... the guy from all the movies we used to watch... he was murdered!”

“Murdered?!” blurted Jack, surprised that Donny had actually found something significant to say. “Who? What? Where? And why so damn early?!”

“Oh, wake up and smell the jelly doughnuts, Jack!” snapped Donny, clearly irate. “Unless you’ve got a hot girl on either side of you right now, this is far more important!”

“Alright, I get it, Don,” Jack muttered weakly. “Now what happed to Hammer?”

“To be honest, it happened last night, Jack, not this morning... Hammer was at one of the Global Studios, and someone done did stab him with a giant spear!”

“Giant spear? You don’t mean...”

“Yeah! It was the Samurai Spear, man! And the police arrested Will Powers for the crime... the Steel Samurai himself!”

“My God!” snapped Jack, now fully awake. “There’ve been some rumors about Powers on the TV, but no one ever said that he could become a killer! Do they have a trial date set and everything?”

“Yeah, Jack! It’s going to be held tomorrow; you know how the court system works! Man, this is going to be the most important trial since like... ever!”

Jack let out a pained hiss. “What about Ms. Fey’s murder trial? Was that less important?” he asked sharply.

“Uh... well, to you and me, it wasn’t, but to the world, Powers is an actor, so, like... Ugh, quit tripping me up, Jack!” After a pause to catch his breath, Donny stammered, “L-listen, Jack! This case is still a real big deal, and I need someone to talk about it with in person before I explode! Do you think you can meet me at my station when my shift starts?!”

When your shift starts?! Of, of all the... “Donny, that’s only forty minutes from now! Can’t this wait until your lunch break? I’ll open the bar and everything!”

“No way, dude! I can’t sit on this for that long... I’m telling you, I need to talk to you about this face-to-face, or I’ll go nuts! Besides, your apartment’s only ten minutes from the Office... I’m sure you’ll be able to make it by nine!”

“Yeah, but...” Realizing that his arguments weren’t going to get him anywhere, Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever, Don, you win. I’ll be there by nine, but only if you hang up the damn phone and let me get ready. All right?”

“Okay, Jack!” Donny chimed brightly. “I’ll see you there!” Without another word, he hung up.

“Ugh...” muttered Jack, slamming the headset back onto its cradle. Leaning on his backboard and staring up at the ceiling, he whispered, “I’ve only been awake for five minutes, and I can already tell that it’s going to be a looooooong day...”

-------------

October 16th, 8:58 AM
District City Prosecutors' Office
Ground Floor Hallway

“Yep, definitely a long day,” muttered Jack, vainly attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of his un-ironed shirt. Considering the fact that he’d arrived in this gloomy gray hallway less than five minutes before Donny’s shift had begun, he had unpleasantly surprised to find Donny was nowhere to be found. He’d even made sure to look through the narrow window embedded in the guardroom door, but a completely unfamiliar guard was the only person inside.

At least he didn’t notice me peeking in on him, Jack thought basely. I already feel awkward enough around here without some guy accusing me of being a creepy Peeping Tom.

Too uneasy to stand still, Jack paced back and forth along the narrow tile floor, his eyes constantly scanning what few features the dimly lit hall actually possessed.

The door to the Guardroom... fairly serious business, what with it being made out of thick metal and bullet-proof glass. Unwilling to risk being spotted by the morning shift guard, he quickly turned around and walked to the only other door in this part of the hall; one made of wood and marked with a panel reading “Storage”.

Of course, that sign’s only partially correct, Jack thought amusedly. Most of the rooms in that hallway are storage rooms, but the Gavel is also hidden there, right at the other end. He frowned. A shame it has to be so secret... I really could use a few more customers every now and then.

Turning around once more, Jack walked back to the other end of the hallway, stopping to glance at the T-shaped intersection just beyond the guardroom door.

Down the left path are the two passenger elevators, which bounce between here and all of the above-ground floors, one through twelve. Of course, working in the subbasement, I don’t ever really have to use it. Jack allowed himself an uneasy shake of the head. Down the right path is the door to the “A” Block of the Underground Parking Lot... only the most esteemed prosecutors can park in there, because the builders were stupid and only made it big enough for dozen cars to park there, even with the machine.

“My thoughts are really running away with me,” Jack muttered dully. “Damn it, Donny, why aren’t you here by now?” With a sigh, he walked back to the other end of the hall, where the pathway ended and bent to the left.

And that’s the path to the “B” block of the Underground Parking lot, Jack thought uninterestedly. They say it’s for all the visitors we get, but there’s not a lot of parking there, either. Of course, I just park in the Back Parking Lot, near the Gavel Entrance, so I have no reason to “B” anywhere near here.

“Oh dear,” muttered Jack, staring at the floor as he walked in the other direction yet again. “Now I’m starting to put corny jokes in all my mental observations... it’s almost as though I’m putting on a show for someone with the ability to read my mind.” He sighed. “Donny had better get here soon, or I’m going to get so crazy that I just close my eyes and run into the nearest wall...”

Thankfully, Jack didn’t get to finish that thought; however, it was only for the unfortunate reason that he’d just bumped into something unquestionably solid. Surprised, Jack took a step back and looked up to see that his obstruction was in fact Miles Edgeworth, heavy briefcase in hand, look of utter disgust on his face.

“Have you no manners?” he snapped, eyebrows focused in disdain. “I am a very busy man, and I find it quite unacceptable for you to just walk right into me, Mister-” his eyes widened in surprise, “—Keeper?”

“That was my name, the last time I checked,” replied Jack with a nervous smile. “I didn’t mean to bump into you, Mr. Edgeworth; I just wasn’t paying attention to where my feet were taking me...”

“I’ll say,” muttered Edgeworth. “Not only are you in the wrong part of the building, you are also here several hours before the typical opening time of your bar.” Again, an annoyed look crossed his face. “Exactly what the hell are you doing here?”

Jack frowned. “Donny made me come here... he wants to talk to me about Jack Hammer’s murder, at the Global Studio last night. I tried to make him see reason and wait until lunchtime to chat, but nooooo... Told me it had to be now, or else he’d go mad. Didn’t even have the decency to let me sleep until nine, the dolt. If he doesn’t show up for his shift pretty damn soon, I’m not going to be a happy camper, I’ll tell you what...”

Surprisingly, Edgeworth merely chuckled at Jack’s complaints. “Sleeping in until nine, Mr. Keeper?” he asked wryly. “You’re quite lucky that you didn’t grow up the same way I did... you would have been chewed up and eaten alive...”

“You’re probably right,” muttered Jack, rubbing at the back of his head.

“There’s no doubt about it.” Edgeworth moved his gaze to the ceiling; it appeared as though he were in deep thought.

“Something wrong, Mr. Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth returned his gaze to Jack’s face before vehemently shaking his head. “No, not really. Of course...”

“Of course...?”

“Since your overbearing friend actually forced to you to come all the way here to talk... I might as well let you know that I will be the prosecutor in Mr. Will Powers’ trial tomorrow morning. Hopefully, knowing that I am in charge of things will keep him from worrying about any uncertainties in the outcome.” Edgeworth shook his head before allowing himself an amused smile.

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise; he hadn’t been expecting Edgeworth to say that. “No offense, Mr. Edgeworth, but this is a rather high-profile case... I’m surprised Mr. von Karma didn’t take it.”

“Actually, the fact that it’s high-profile is why he didn’t take it,” Edgeworth stated seriously. “Manfred dislikes cases that revolve around celebrities... he says that they attract gossipy fools that get in the way of his perfect case strategies... not that they’ve ever damaged one, of course.”

“Heaven forbid,” Jack said amusedly. He chanced a glance down the hall; if Donny didn’t get here soon, he was going to get seriously upset. Clearing his head of such thoughts, he turned back to Edgeworth and asked, “Do you have anything else you can tell me about the case? Inside information, so to speak?”

Edgeworth frowned and shook his head. “To be brutally honest, I know little more than what the media does at this point in time,” he said gloomily. “I still have to fill out the basic paperwork for the proceedings... not to mention examine the crime scene and prepare any and all witnesses that turn up. I can not help but be struck with the feeling that this is going to be a long day for me...”

Jack laughed. “You know, Mr. Edgeworth, I told myself the same thing more than once this morning... If you really have that much work to do, I’d better let you get on your way.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Edgeworth said frankly. “No offense to you, but I shouldn’t have even stopped to talk for this long, let alone longer. Since I’m not going to be able to visit your bar anytime soon, I guess this is...”

BANG! Edgeworth’s sentiment was abruptly cut off as the “Storage” door was yanked open hard enough to slam into the inside wall. Startled, Jack and Edgeworth turned and watched as Donny Docket sauntered into the hall, completely unaware of what a disruption he’d caused.

“Goooood morning, Jack!” he greeted, round face shining with exuberance.

Jack let out a heavy sigh; Donny seemed to be the master of ill-timed entrances. “Good morning, Don,” he replied flatly. “Nice to see you finally show up.”

A nervous look crossed Donny’s face as he covered the short distance to the end of the hall. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that, Jack; I made it here on time, but I got sidetracked in the parking lot.” He maintained his solemn expression for just a second more before flashing a rather stupid grin. “But it could have been worse... at least you had Mr. E here to talk to! Isn’t that right, Mr. E?” He looked at Edgeworth expectantly.

Edgeworth frowned and shook his head. “Perhaps, but I haven’t been here for very long, and I was just about to leave for my office when you made your foolishly exuberant entrance into the hall. If you’ll excuse me, I have a certain high-profile murder case to prepare for.”

Donny smiled and nodded before realizing the implication of Edgeworth’s words. Head snapping upward, he blurted, “Wait a minute! Does that mean-”

Jack forestalled his friend with a raised hand. “Yes, he’s in charge of the Hammer murder trial,” he said bluntly. “And thus, he really needs to go-”

“-No way! That’s awesome!” shouted Donny, effectively ending Jack’s attempt to have him show restraint. “If you’re the man that’s going to make that nasty Will Powers pay for his crimes, let me assure you that I am right behind you, one hundred percent!” Smiling, he put his feet together and snapped off an aggressive salute. “For great justice!”

“Yes, for great justice,” muttered Edgeworth, shaking his head in annoyance. “Now, if you will just be so kind to let me go-”

“Go?!” whined Donny, his expression crestfallen. “But can’t you follow us into my station, or stay for a little while longer? This case is a big deal to me... I need more information!”

Edgeworth let out an annoyed hiss. “It’s rather ironic, Mr. Docket, that you’re trying to hold me here against my will mere seconds after stating that you were behind me ‘one hundred percent’. Or did you merely say that in an effort to mess with my head?”

Donny flinched and took a step back. “N-no, Mr. E, I’m not trying to mess with you at all! I just... I just thought that...”

“For your information, Mister Docket,” Edgeworth continued, “I’ve already told Mr. Keeper what little I know of the case so far, and that isn’t really much more that what is already on the television. I suggest you look there if you really need the latest information.” He paused and let out a heavy sigh. “And furthermore, exactly what reason would I wish to spend my workday hours hiding out with you anyway?”

At the sound of this question, Donny’s face again broke into a silly grin. “That’s easy, Mr. E!” he declared confidently. “You’d want to spend time here because me and Jack are such interesting characters... a couple of real originals!”

Edgeworth harrumphed loudly. “Well, in my opinion, too many ‘originals’ do nothing but spoil the scene. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He turned and walked to the elevators, shaking his head the entire way.

Wide-eyed, Donny watched him leave, and then turned to Jack. “I think Mr. E’s starting to go a little bit crazy,” he muttered.

“Considering what he has to deal with, I wouldn’t blame him,” Jack replied with a smirk.

Donny stuck out his tongue before turning around, knocking on the door to the guardroom, and letting himself in. Unsurely, Jack followed him through the door a few seconds later.

Just beyond the threshold, Jack stopped and attempted to acclimate himself to the sharp features of the dark blue room – he’d visited Donny at his guard post before, but the last occasion had been nearly two years ago. The door was located in the back-left corner of the room; Jack was standing next to a simple metal table, upon which sat a small coffeepot, a tiny refrigerator, and ominously large stacks of security books. The side wall farthest from him was mostly bare, save for a cordless telephone and a sizable bulletin board covered with post-it notes, Office memos, and posters of scantily-clad women (“My Evidence Board,” Donny had once called it). Against the nearest side wall sat a comfy-looking leather desk chair, an ancient-looking wooden desk that held an even more ancient-looking computer, and a row of four security monitors, their images periodically changing as their input switched from camera to camera. Donny often said that he possessed three more monitors than he truly needed; after all, he was only in charge of the Underground Parking Lot and not overall Office Security.

Speaking of that... Jack’s eyes moved to the huge window that took up the entire opposite wall; even from his spot near the door he could see the entirety of the Office’s Underground Parking Lot – A Block, with the strange heavy machine that let cars stack on top of each other for extra space, B Block, an area for Office visitors that was cordoned off by a huge metal fence, and the Safety Area, a nearby space that contained a parking lot payphone, a hallway entrance, and the car-mover terminal; it was cordoned off from the rest of A Block by a bunch of 55-gallon barrels and a 9 ft concrete wall. Personally, Jack was glad that he never had to use the Underground Parking Lot; he’d always considered the place to be just a bit creepy.

“Look, Dan, I’m sorry that I’m late, but you’ve got to understand!” The sound of Donny’s whining voice snapped Jack back to reality; apparently, his tardiness had gotten him in a bit of trouble with the previous security guard.

“I daresay that there is nothing to understand,” drawled the other guard, a tall, dark-haired man whose face was currently turned away from Jack. “I hate to be so forceful, but there is no reason for you to show up before 9 AM. That is the rule, after all.”

“I know! It’s just... I got here before nine, but I ran into Prosecutor Riverboat outside the back entrance. I was telling him about the Hammer murder, and he was telling me about a new club next to one of the casinos he plays poker at... before I knew it, ten minutes had completely disappeared!”

“I understand your appreciation for clubs,” retorted the other guard, a bit of mirth entering his voice. “However, that does not excuse your tardiness.”

“-And then I ran into Mr. Edgeworth in the hall, and me, him, and Jack got to talking...”

“Jack... You mean that oddball friend of yours?” He tilted his head. “The one that wastes his life running the asinine bar in the back of the building?”

Donny’s mouth fell open; obviously, the other guard was unaware that Jack was in the room. “Uh, well...”

“Yeah, that would be me,” stated Jack, grimly smiling as the other guard jumped and whirled around. “Though I don’t consider myself to be wasting my life... nor do I consider my bar to be asinine.” He shot the guard a pointed glare. “As for being an ‘oddball’... that’s all a matter of perspective.”

The guard, whom Jack could now see possessed both round glasses and a tiny goatee, quickly reddened in embarrassment. “Uh, er... yeah,” he muttered dully. “Obviously, it’s hard to, er... never mind. Try to be on time, tomorrow, Daniel.” Quickly, he moved past Jack and beat a hasty retreat from the room, slamming the guardroom door behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Donny said sadly. “Danny tends to be a nice guy most of the time... but he can become an ass at the drop of a hat.” Frowning, he shook his head. “Let me long onto this piece of crap computer, and then I’ll let you sit down.

Jack raised his hands. “You don’t have to...”

“Sure I do!” chimed Donny, absently punching keys on the dusty-looking keyboard. “It’s not very often that I get to be the super-friendly host, after all.” After he deftly stabbed a final button, the computer made several chiming noises and he let out a sigh of relief. “Not every day that I can get this thing to log me on on the first try... Here you go, Jack.” He rolled out the desk chair and rotated it so that Jack could sit down.

“Thanks,” muttered Jack. Sitting down, he was somewhat surprised to find that, for a piece of office furniture, the chair was surprisingly soft and comfortable. “Wow, this is awesome...” he muttered softly. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I think this chair was worth getting up early over. Or this murder case, to be completely.”

“What?!” Swiveling in his chair, Jack saw that Donny actually appeared to be offended. “How can you say that, Jack? Don’t you remember all those times as teenagers that we’d stop what we were doing to watch one of Hammer’s movies? Or one of his TV shows? Hell, you and him almost have the same name, for God sake!”

I can’t exactly deny that... hell, that coincidence actually got me a decent amount of attention back in secondary school. Still... “That’s true, but...”

“But nothing! What about Samurai Summer? That used to be on TV all the time, buddy!”

“Wasn’t that the one with Hammer riding a horse from town to town in search of true love?” Jack asked incredulously. “It was a bit girly, to be honest...”

“So? I almost got a girlfriend because of that show! And what about Dynamite Samurai?”

“I was in college when that came out. I’m pretty sure I failed my calculus course because it hit the theaters the weekend before my final exam...”

“Yeah, it was great!” Donny chimed obliviously. “And then there was that one in which he got to be a samurai and show off his sultry singing voice! It was called, uh... The Singing Samurai!”

Obviously. “I guess that was kind of good,” Jack admitted quietly. “I was kind of surprised when we first saw it. It’s a shame that the Steel Samurai and those other shows he did have kept him from having any blockbuster hits recently... I don’t think anyone would have killed him to steal his current fame.”

“I think I have to agree with you on that one,” said Donny, his expression downcast. “Of course, there are always other reasons... Did Mr. E tell you any?”

“Edgeworth? No... He said he had to investigate first. All he knew was what was already on the television.”

“Is that so?” asked Donny, his eyes sparkling. “Well then... let’s just watch the TV then!” Without another word, he reached for the monitor on the right and starting fiddling with a row of buttons just underneath it. “Too bad this is the only one hooked up to the cable,” he muttered unhappily. “You know how cool it would be if I could watch four TV shows at once?”

“I guess that would be rather awesome,” Jack replied with a chuckle. “I don’t think your boss would be too happy if he caught you doing that, though.”

“Nah, probably not,” said Donny, now rapidly flipping through various television channels. “Here’s something...” He pressed another button, and sound suddenly started coming out of a pair of speakers mounted on the wall.

“...the victim was Jack Hammer, who plays the villain known as the ‘Evil Magistrate’,” droned a newsman with salt-and-pepper hair and a toothbrush moustache.

“Eh, Public Television News is boring,” Donny commented. “Let’s see what those head-in-the-clouds city newscasters are doing, instead...” He rapidly pressed a button several times more before stopping on what Jack recognized to be DNN.

“...considering Hammer’s long, rollicking career in both television and film, we believe that we should do whatever it takes to make sure that our viewers know as much as they can about this horrific crime,” stated an elderly yellow-haired woman whom Jack recognized as Mary something-or-another. “Thus, we have sent one of DNN’s many hard-hitting correspondents over to Global Studios so that we can give you first-rate coverage from the place the murder actually occurred!”

“A murder scene correspondent?” asked Jack, his voice tinged with skepticism. “That’s a pretty damn strange step for them to take. Even these sensationalists usually give the law enforcement guys their space when a murder is involved.”

Donny shrugged. “Jack Hammer’s a big-shot famous guy, and that nasty Will Powers was starting to get pretty popular, too. Nobody cares about pushing the envelope when it comes to big celebrities, I’ll tell you what.”

“That’s a truth if I’ve ever heard one,” Jack muttered in disgust. Absently, he returned his attention to the security monitor, now showing footage of a van and a tree.

“I’m telling you, this could be my big break,” proclaimed a familiar female voice. “No more lounging around the newsroom twelve hours a day, waiting for some dumbass to blast another dumbass in the face...”

“Er, I think we’re on, Ms. Jumper.”

“What?! Focus the camera on me then, you nitwit!” The camera swiveled and changed focus until it settled on Lily Jumper, who was currently standing in front of a dull beige wall.

“I think she already blew her ‘big break’,” Jack muttered sarcastically. Donny merely shushed him and pointed back to the monitor.

“...Lily Jumper, and I’m currently standing very close to the front gate of Global Studios, the scene of last night’s grisly, grisly murder!” exclaimed Jumper, unaware of just how much her excited tone clashed with the mood of the moment. “While I’m sure that there are police somewhere on the scene, they don’t seem to be very near here right now, so the investigation is obviously occurring inside! If the cameraman would just follow me, I’m sure that we can find our way to the crime scene!” Quickly, she started walking towards the right side of the screen; the camera followed her to show the van, the tree, and the front gate, which Jumper was approaching at a rather fast pace. “Now, if I can just find a way to get through this barrier,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll be able to land a correspondent’s job for sure! Nothing can stop me now...”

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Jumper froze at the sudden exclamation, and the camera swiveled to reveal a gray-haired woman running out of the beige building and straight towards them.

She must be a security guard, Jack thought absently. Her uniform isn’t that much different from Donny’s, after all.

“Well, it looks like we’ve found ourselves an interviewee!” exclaimed Jumper, obviously trying to regain the imitative. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I was wondering-”

“Wonder nothing!” snapped the guard, her eyes narrowed in rage. “You were trying to sneak inside, that’s what you were doing!”

“Well, yes... I mean no! No, that wasn’t what we were doing at all!” Jumper stammered desperately.

“Man, that woman’s hard-core!” declared Donny, awestruck. “I hope I don’t have to be that old to become that intimidating!” Jack merely nodded before returning his attention to the screen.

“Well, it looked to me like you were trying to sneak in,” the guard hissed furiously. “But you gotta through me to do that! So tell me what you want!”

“O-okay,” Jumper stammered weakly. “I’m a news reporter, and-”

The guard’s eyes flashed. “News reporter?! I know how you types act! You and your camera boy are nothing but senseless gawkers!”

“Gawkers?!”

“Gawkers! Muckrakers! Snoops!” snapped the guard, brandishing a hand with a half-eaten doughnut in it. “You people hear about something horrible happening and all you can think of is milking it for the public! Don’t you have something better to do with your lives?!”

“But this is the only-”

“But nothing! If this is what you call a rewarding career, maybe I should become a reporter too.” Her voice growing faster, the guard continued, “Sounds like a life of fun just nosing into other people’s business any time as you please; when I was young things were a bit different... mind you I didn’t dye my hair funny colors and slather all that thick ugly makeup on my face. What are people coming to these days? You remind me of my nosy cousin, calling me up and trying to talk about things that don’t need to be talked about...”

Jack’s mouth fell open as several facts clicked together in his head. This vapid security guard... is she Prosecutor Oldbag’s mysterious cousin? He looked back to the screen, where said woman was now huffing and puffing from the intensity of her rant.

“I... see...” droned Jumper, obviously overwhelmed. “So... is there any way of getting inside?”

The guard... Wendy Oldbag... let out a heavy sigh. “You’ll have to talk to the producer, and she’s not gonna let you in anyway! Only thing you can do is turn off your little camera and go back to your little TV station before I decide to get really nasty!”

“But, if you would even do so much as give me a statement...”

“No statement!” snapped Wendy, her expression again irate. “Nosy reporter, trying to make me tell you every little detail about something that doesn’t concern you... you’re just as bad as that lazy spike-headed lawyer and his whiny purple hippie girl! Now get out of my sight!” She pointed a shaking finger in the direction opposite the front gate.

Jumper looked as though she was going to say something else, but one last glare from Wendy was enough make her hang her head in defeat. “Very well,” she muttered, her voice suddenly dulled. “This has been Lily Jumper reporting; we now bring you back to... I don’t know, the studio, a commercial, just cut back to something! And turn that damn camera off!” The camera quickly changed its focus to the pavement; a second later, the screen went black.

“Damn...” muttered Donny, absently turning the monitor’s volume back down to zero. “I don’t really care for that Jumper chick, but even I felt a bit sorry for her after she got shut down like that. That old security woman’s really something, eh?”

“Yeah...” Jack muttered vapidly. “Of course, I’ve heard as much before...”

“What?!” stammered Donny, taking a step back towards the window in shock. “How the hell would you know anything about some random old lady like that?”

Jack spun his chair to face Donny before sending him a tiny smirk. “You know Prosecutor Oldbag, right?”

“The old warhorse?! Of course I do!” proclaimed Donny, his head bobbing up and down with enthusiasm. “He usually shows up two or three days a week... I like to have shouting matches with him; he’s always good for a laugh.” Frowning, he cocked his head sideways. “Why do you ask?”

“I think that security woman’s Mr. Oldbag’s cousin... by marriage, anyway,” Jack said matter-of-factly. “He mentioned that he had a connection to Global Studios once... his cousin Barry had married a girl named Wendy, and after he died, she kept herself busy working as a security guard at Global Studios. Of course, Oldbag also mentioned he and Wendy don’t get along that well...”

Donny scratched at his head perplexedly. “So she’s your customer’s cousin’s widow, eh?” His eyes bulging, he turned to look out the window. “Damn, Jack... you sure are good at knowing your wacky strung-out relationships.”

“My mind is first-rate,” lilted Jack, closing his eyes in mock-snobbishness. “That is why I carry myself with an air of dignity at all times.” Smirking, he then pushed his feet against the ground so that his chair started spinning in rapid circles. “All times, Donny-boy! Whooooooooop!”

Whirling around, Donny quickly slapped his hands against his knees as he laughed for all it was worth. “I certainly am awed, oh great one,” he said, chuckling. “But can your amazing memory recall... the last thing that Oldbag lady said?”

“I think it was something along the lines of ‘spike-haired lawyer and purple hippie girl,’” muttered Jack, struggling to ignore the dizziness as his chair slowed to a halt. “I guess she was talking about two people that’d visited her earlier... like...”

“Like?”

Well, I’ve got no idea who the purple hippie girl could be, but there’s only one lawyer I know of that’s worthy of the ‘spike-hair’ description... “Will Powers must have hired Phoenix Wright to be his defense lawyer,” he said thoughtfully.

Donny’s eyebrows danced as he tried to process the new piece of information. “Wright, eh? Wasn’t he the guy that solved Ms. Mia’s case?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Jack replied simply. “Saved our collective asses, if he didn’t really know it. I was afraid he’d fallen off the face of the Earth, seeing how I haven’t heard his name pop up since he put that bastard White in the slammer. Nice to see him taking up such a high profile case... hell, considering how hard he fought in Ms. Fey’s trial, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up proving Mr. Powers didn’t kill Jack Hammer after all!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t go crazy on me, Jack!” exclaimed Donny, waving his hands. “You can’t just go waving away a bunch of good evidence just because Mr. Powers got a decent lawyer! Why, you’ll end up-”

Smirking, Jack halted his friend with a raised hand. “Don’t worry, Don, I’m not going to go all flippy-floppy just because of that,” he said pleasantly. “While I sure as hell know better than to believe the TV for everything, right now it’s enough to make me think that Will Powers might’ve done what they say he did. I’m just keeping all my options open, that’s all.”

“If you say so,” muttered Donny, turning to look out the guardroom window.

A heavy silence fell over the room; Jack started to spin the desk chair around in slow, lazy circles. Though it’s definitely more official, I must admit that Donny’s job can be just as slow-paced as mine sometimes, he thought absently. Heck, in the last twenty minutes, I don’t think a single person has so much as walked past the guardroom door. Frowning, he was about to tell Donny that fact when...

“Waaa!” Though it was faint, Jack could distinctly hear the sound of wail echoing through the corridor. Stopping his chair’s revolutions, he noticed that Donny had turned back to face him, and that his expression was unusually tense.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yaaa!” The yell was just a bit louder this time.

“Does that answer your question?” Jack replied.

“I believe it does.” Squaring his shoulders, Donny marched past Jack and started fiddling with the buttons beneath the second monitor from the guardroom window, next to the one still functioning as a TV.

“I can get this monitor to stick with one camera if I press these buttons right,” he muttered tersely. “I don’t know which direction that yeller’s coming from, but he’s definitely coming this way.” He pressed one more button and took a step back; Jack noticed that he’d set the monitor to show footage of the hallway just outside the guardroom.

“I don’t see anyone,” Jack said bluntly.

“Waah! Yaah! Graah!” With those yells, a figure stumbled within view of the monitor, at the end of the hallway farthest from the security camera. The person didn’t seem to be able to walk any further; in fact, he was leaning against the wall and shaking from what appeared to be hyperventilation.

“I can’t tell who the hell that is, but I don’t think they’re doing all right,” said Donny, his expression grim. Quietly, he strode across the room and grabbed the handle of the guardroom door. “I’m going to try and talk with them... See if they need any help.”

Jack let out a hissing sigh; his stomach was starting to hurt. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yep. It’s my job, after all.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward for just a moment before his expression once again became grim. “You stay in here and keep an eye on the monitor. If something crazy happens, pick up the phone next to the Keyence poster and punch the pound sign; that’ll hook you up with central security. Otherwise, just sit tight.” With a final nod, he quickly opened the door and stepped into the hall, making sure to seal the room behind him.

Concerned, Jack quickly returned his attention to the security monitor; as soon Donny took a few tentative steps towards the other end of the hall, the other person pushed off the wall and headed towards Donny at a stumbling run.

“Thank God you’re here, Mr. Docket! It’s a catastrophe, it’s a tragedy, it’s a disaster!” screamed the man, whose voice was suddenly sounding all too familiar.

I should have known, thought Jack as he watched Upton Washer, his heavily mismatched features now clearly visible in spite of the black-and-white screen, stumble into Donny as though he’d been chugging malt liquor for the past several hours. Had Washer’s behavior not been so bizarre, he would have found it amusing.

“W-what are you talking about, Mr. W?” stammered Donny, struggling to keep Washer from dragging him to the ground. “Are you talking about the murder this morning? I didn’t think you’d care about such a thing-”

“What do you mean, don’t care?!” snapped Washer, his shrill voice inflamed with indignation. “I may not be the best person in the world, but I’m not heartless, cruel, unfeeling! How can you not be upset as I am about all this?!”

“Well, er...” Though Donny’s back was turned away from the camera, Jack could imagine his face twisting with surprise. “I do think that last night’s murder was important, but that’s no reason for me to become unrealistically sad...”

“What’s wrong with you, Mr. Docket?! Are you mad, crazy, insane?! Jack Keeper is deaaaaaaaad!”

“What?!” Donny and Jack both let out this exclamation at the same time.

“It’s true! I heard it on the news this morning. Your friend Jack Keeper, stabbed to death with a pair of sanded-down shears! At least, I think that’s what he was stabbed with; I was playing my techno music really loud at the time, but you’ve got to show more empathy, emotion, compassion for the death of your best friend!”

“I see...” Donny muttered loudly. “Just a moment.” Amused, Jack watched as Donny turned in the direction of the camera and clearly mouthed ‘help me’.

I guess I should be flattered that Washer’s willing to stumble down a corridor and scream his head off just for me, thought Jack as he walked to the door. Hopefully, he would take this case of mistaken identity too hard.

Opening the door very slowly, he quickly stepped out so that Donny and Washer could both see him. “I... I’m really flattered that you care so much, Mr. Washer,” he said languidly, “But it’s obvious that I’m not-”

“This can’t be!” snapped Washer, his shrill voice cutting off Jack’s explanation. Furiously, he rubbed at his eyes. When he opened them again, he let out a scream louder than any of the ones he’d uttered before. “Spirit! Apparition! Ghooooost!”

Donny’s eyes mouth fell open; obviously, he wasn’t expecting Washer to jump to such a conclusion. “No, Mr. W, it’s not like that! It’s...”

“Shut up Docket, I’ve got to warn the others!” Flailing his arms, he shoved Donny into the wall and ran right past Jack; only by stepping backwards into the guardroom did the latter manage to avoid getting bowled over.

“The ghosts are coming, the ghosts are arriving, and the ghosts are approaching!” Washer’s voice echoed throughout the halls before suddenly becoming cut off.

“I think he got on an elevator,” Jack muttered weakly.

“I think you’re right,” muttered Donny, still somewhat winded from his recent collision. Muttering under his breath, he quickly went back into the guardroom; Jack stayed out of his way as he returned to the monitor he’d been watching earlier.

“He could have gone anywhere,” stated Donny, his voice clearly exasperated. “Central Security, the 4th story lunchroom...” he fell silent. “Or the main lobby.” Stepping away from the screen, Jack saw that it was showing the reception area on the Office’s first floor; though it was silent, it was obvious from the frantic expression on the receptionist’s face that he was causing quite a ruckus.

“Shit. I’d better go up there and help Washer see reason before the other guards show up and cart him to the detention center... or an insane asylum.” He spared a frantic glance to the window and shook his head. “I don’t like having to do this, but I need you to hold down the fort, Jack,” he said seriously. “I don’t think Central Security’s going to understand what’s up with Mr. W unless I tell them in person.” Quickly, he strode back to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You know to press the pound sign if something bad goes down.” With a heavy sigh, he quickly left the room and ran for the elevators, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Jack sighed as he sat back down on Donny’s desk chair. “Even outside my bar I seem to end up by myself sooner or later,” he muttered. He frowned at the action on the screen; it appeared that two of the Office’s other security guards were attempting to calm Washer down as he continued to flail his arms and yell various words.

I hope Donny isn’t so foolish as to wait for the elevator to take him up one floor, he thought absently. I don’t want to be covering his spot any longer than I have to. Slowly, he moved the chair so that he could see the lobby monitor and the parking lot window at the same time; not a single thing had changed as far the latter was concerned.

Nothing to do but kick back and hope that this show has a happy resolution. Slowly, Jack allowed himself to settle into the desk chair, to the point that his head was completely cushioned. Focusing again on the monitor, he let out a sigh of relief: Donny was now in the lobby and speaking to Washer, the other guards, and the receptionist; more fortunately, it appeared as though they were actually bothering to listen to him.

Judging by the open-mouthed expression on Washer’s face, I think he’s starting to understand that I didn’t get stabbed to death last night with a pair of ‘sanded-down shears’, Jack thought amusedly. No longer feeling guilty about being relaxed, he slowly shook his head. As soon as Donny gets back here, I’m going to leave the Office and go for a nice, relaxing walk. I sure as hell don’t need more any more stress this morning, that’s for damn sure.

“It appears, Mr. Docket, that I can not so much as look into your doorway without seeing you shirk your duties in one way or another. I believe it goes without telling that I’m highly disappointed.” Jack froze at the cool sound of the all-to-familiar female voice – a voice that he hadn’t so much as heard in nearly eighteen months.

Lana. Of all the people to walk in on me now, why’d it have to be you? His heart hammering, Jack wondered why she hadn’t immediately recognized him for who he was; did she have her back turned to the room or something?

“Don’t think that you can hide in that chair of yours, Mr. Docket. You are well aware that your duty is to watch the Underground Parking Lot... not that damn television connection.” Obviously, she was referring to the rightmost of the room’s four monitors, which Jack noticed was still silently set to DNN. “Surely you remember that your monthly evaluations are directly based upon your job performance... if I continue to see a lack of proper dedication to your duties, your termination will become inevitable.”

Jack felt somewhat weak as Lana’s words washed over him. Donny’s trying to do his best to stop a crisis and she thinks he’s undedicated?! Dear God! If I had to witness her acting this way all the time, I wouldn’t be able to say her name either. He let out a heavy sigh. I’m obviously going to have to show myself and tell her why I’m here, so I might as well be a bit dramatic.

“First of all, I’m not watching the TV; I’m monitoring the progress of an important predicament occurring on the first floor,” stated Jack, his voice nearly as cold as Lana’s own. Slowly, he wheeled the chair around. “And second of all, I’m obviously not Donny Docket.” He flashed Lana a thin smile.

Jack’s attempt at drama did not go unrewarded – Lana’s right hand quickly flew to her uniformed chest in shock; for a brief moment, her mouth opened and closed with nary a sound. She managed to regain her composure extremely quickly, however; she had always possessed that talent, even before her personality change upon becoming the head of the Prosecutor’s Office.

“Mr. Keeper... you have five seconds to explain exactly why you are in the guard station and Mr. Docket is not,” Lana commanded. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “If you wish to continue working here, it had better be good.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve found myself on the wrong end of one of those stares, thought Jack, gulping. Realizing that nervousness wasn’t going to help his case, he sat up in the chair and retorted, “Donny left me alone here because he had to resolve a conflict upstairs, in the main lobby. That’s what’s on the screen I was watching.”

“The proper procedure would have been for Mr. Docket to phone Central Security and have them deal with the problem,” stated Lana, clearly unsatisfied with Jack’s response. “A security guard or law enforcement officer should be monitoring the Underground Parking Garage at all times... that is Office policy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Additionally, that doesn’t explain why you are even here this early in the morning. From what I recall, you normally open your tavern until sometime in the mid-afternoon.”

Jack managed to contain a huff of annoyance. “Donny didn’t bother with the phone because he had been talking to the person in distress right before he went upstairs and started making a ruckus in the Lobby, so he was the only guard that knew exactly how to talk him out of doing something foolish,” he explained hastily. “As for why I’m here, Donny insisted I stop by because he needed to talk to a friend.” When Lana continued to look daggers at him, he briskly added, “Of course, that explanation might escape you, since you’ve obviously forgotten what friendship is like.”

Again, Lana appeared momentarily stunned; this time, she had to turn to one side as she regained her frigid expression. “Your words do not matter, Mr. Keeper,” she stated, turning to face into the room once again. “What matters is that Mr. Docket should not have left you here, since, as a bartender, you are obviously unqualified to be in charge of this security station.”

Jack frowned; there wasn’t any real legitimate way to banish that concern. Guess I’d better wing it. “Your statement holds truth, La-, er, Chief Skye, but you must remember that Donny left because he was the only person in the building able to bring this incident to a peaceful resolution, and he was only able to do that in person, not over the phone. Friend or not, you and I both know just how easy it is for an unstable situation to get out of hand unless the proper thing occurs.” Grimacing, he continued, “And, with no offense to either Donny or the Office rules, being in charge of this room is, for the most part, a rather straightforward job. In the few minutes I’ve been here, not a single car has entered or left the two parking blocks, and monitoring these camera monitors isn’t too hard, either.”

Lana made a skeptical noise, but otherwise remained silent.

I guess she wants proof, Jack thought nervously. “Well, for example, I can see that Donny is telling a couple of police officers why they don’t need to arrest Upton Washer for disturbing the peace, and, uh...” He looked to the other two monitors, which were still gradually cycling through footage of the other security cameras peppered throughout the building. “I can see that there’s nothing going on in the hallway outside, nor is there anything going on in the storage hall outside my barroom door.” Unnerved by Lana’s continuing silence, he waited for the images to change. “Uh... my car is sitting pretty in the Rear Parking Lot, and Winston Payne is eating a sandwich by himself in the 4th floor cafeteria...” Another change. “Now I can see Police Chief Gant pacing a hole into the carpet of another hallway, outside of room 1201... Your office, if I remember correctly.”

Lana let out a faint gasp of surprise; upon turning to look at her, Jack noticed that she appeared paler than earlier. “Are you sure about that, Ja... Mr. Keeper?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I told you this job was fairly simple, after all,” stated Jack, frowning at his old friend’s change in demeanor. “Are you all right, Lana? You look a bit ill...”

Lana merely stared for a moment before shaking her head. “I am fine.” Slowly, she turned around, so that Jack could see nothing of her head save a blood red scarf and long brown hair. “I will grant you a reprieve, Mr. Keeper... but for the sake of you and Mr. Docket both, I’d better not see you alone in this guardroom again.” Quietly, she stormed off.

Sighing heavily, Jack turned his chair to face the guardroom window; according to Lana, that was what he was supposed to be doing anyway. She did have a bit of a point; I’m obviously not supposed to be alone in here, he thought glumly. But did she have to be so... unpleasant about it? When we were young, she was always looking out for others; cheering people up when they were down... heck, she did that in the Gavel, back when I was starting out and she was still a detective. I still don’t understand how a big case and a bigger promotion could have warped her so...

Glancing at the lobby monitor, he noticed that Donny was no longer on screen; hopefully, that meant he was coming back soon.

It’s a shame that Donny has to deal with her all the time, with her treating him like that. Not to mention little Ema... if Lana’s acting that way 24/7, then... His stomach cramped, and he shuddered. Hopefully it isn’t that bad, because there isn’t much that I can do about that, considering the situation.

Hearing a faint rumble, Jack looked up and watched as a large van slowly pulled into B Block, searching for a place to park.

I guess it’s about time I actually saw a vehicle actually come in here, he thought. Slowly, he stood and approached the giant window, the better to see it with. It says “Lunchland” on the door, complete with pictures of boxed lunches, and a logo of a cartoon cow eating a steak. Suddenly, his stomach started to hurt a bit more. They really weren’t thinking too deeply when they designed that image, that’s for damn sure.

Jack’s musings were (thankfully) interrupted by the sound of a quick double knock on the door. Turning around, he saw Donny standing there, a big smile on his face.

“Well, I managed to save Upton from the loony bin, and with zero casualties to boot!” he announced proudly. “Washer was horrified when I finally explained the Hammer case to him, of course... once I made sure he wasn’t going to get arrested, he pretty much left the building as fast as he could.” He chuckled. “I don’t think he’s going to be stopping by the Gavel anytime soon.”

“No, probably not,” said Jack, his voice dull. “Congratulations.”

Upon hearing Jack’s tone, Donny’s face immediately fell. “You look sad, Jack,” he said matter-of-factly. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

No point in hiding the truth; it’s obviously written on my face. “Got it in one,” replied Jack, nodding. “Lana was here when you were gone,” he stated. “It was a rather disheartening experience... far worse than that morning shift guard was, anyway.”

“I see,” muttered Donny, his expression downtrodden. “Why isn’t she still here, then? I don’t think she’d miss an opportunity to lecture me for bending the rules a bit.”

“I managed to tell her that you were upstairs only because you had to be, and that the world wouldn’t end if I kept an eye on the place for a few minutes,” Jack said simply. “Plus, I noticed Chief Gant pacing outside her office... I guess she didn’t to keep him waiting, either.”

“Makes sense,” muttered Donny. Slowly, he approached the guardroom window, and his frown quickly changed back into a smile. “Hey, the Lunchland Van’s here!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, it came in seconds before you did,” Jack muttered distractedly. “Are you hungry or something?”

Donny laughed. “Hungry, Jack? No way!”

Confused, Jack scratched at the back of his head. “Then why are you so excited about it?”

Donny turned away from the window and smiled; Jack noticed that his eyes had taken on a rather misty quality. “The person in charge of selling the lunches is a beautiful dame, Jack,” he said dazedly. “She’s definitely not a club woman, but I find her gorgeous all the same...”

Jack quickly surpassed the urge to roll his eyes; as much as Donny bragged about picking up tons of women at dance clubs, occasionally one would come along that stopped him in his tracks. Since Donny rarely had any success with these more idealistic encounters, Jack tended to find his friend’s accompanying shift in behavior rather exasperating.

“She’s been coming here for nearly a month now,” explained Donny, his voice still strangely airy. “Sometimes she comes in early, sometimes late, but she usually stops in at least three times a week. I’ve managed to buy a few lunches from her... I think she has a thing for me!”

This time, Jack did roll his eyes, making sure to turn away so that Donny didn’t see. “I don’t think a bit of flirting over boxed lunches is enough to foster a relationship, Don,” he said lightly. “Do you even know the woman’s name?”

Donny’s dreamy expression lessened a bit. “Not really. Whenever we talk, she asks pretty much all of the questions.” He shook his head. “If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she’s a real angel, that’s for damn sure...”

“Of course she is,” replied Jack, his tone falsely bright.

“Would you like to meet her, Jack? Maybe you can pick up a few pointers from watching us interact...”

“No! Er, I mean, no thank you, Don,” Jack said hastily. “Boxed cuisine doesn’t suit me... I think I’ll go for a walk and eat somewhere in the city instead. There’s a special over at the local Ramenburger, after all.”

“Oh. Well, suit yourself, Jack,” said Donny, turning back to the window and waving his hand good-bye.

“See you later, Don.” Shaking his head, Jack left Donny’s guardroom as fast as he quietly could.

Well, if nothing else, Donny’s ‘special friend’ will be enough to help him forget about Jack Hammer’s death for a couple of hours, Jack thought as he walked down the hall and through the door marked ‘Storage’. He didn’t even say much about before I left.

Jack idly hummed a tune as he walked down a ramp and past the entrances of the Office’s various storage closets. Well, at least I learned one important thing this morning, he thought as gave the Gavel’s unmarked entrance a customary nod. Never let Donny wake me up early ever again. He then opened the door at the end of the hall and left the building, laughing all the while.

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As you can see, it's VERY unconventional. Since you CR folk are the elite readers and I'm wide awake, I'll give a bit of commentary on each of the varied sections.

Jack, in bed ( ): Obviously, a parallel to the start of Case 3 in canon, since Donny Docket functions as such an annoyingly energetic Larry/Maya hybrid. Includes references to Samuel Adams, the title of GS4's cornered music, and a mistranslated line from Hotel Dusk. The same, but different.

Jack, in the hallway: Jack tends to be somewhat nervous outside of his "comfort zone", so I had fun with him mentally describing things much as Phoenix does within the investigation phases of the game. If you can remember the map of the Underground Parking Garage from Case 1-5, Jack is pacing in the hall on the far left side of the screen. The Storage Hallway and the path to the elevators are farther left than that map can show.

Edgeworth's Interlude: Not much here, just a bit of plot expansion and background information. I'll admit I added the idea to include Edgeworth near the end, when I noticed a dearth of canon characters.

The other Security Guard: A fairly snobbish man, he goes by the name of Danny Ducat (Similarity to Donny Docket is intentional). He may have a small role in Case 5, otherwise, this is the only scene he'll be visually depicted in.

Public Television: This line was ripped from the script; obviously, that boring description from canon doesn't match the personality of my OC reporter. Hence...

Wendy Oldbag... live! This was an amusing little part to write; even if it was basically just an alteration of the canon script. Though the longer sequences are technically rants, I don't know how best to make them sound like rants (ICouldStringWordsTogetherButIt'sUnconventionalAndBreaksBrowsers...); for now that was the best I could do. I find it amusing to drag the my muck-raker in the mud.

Upton Washer, mk II: Here's where I start to veer away from focusing on 1-3 in and of itself; for a long time, I've had a scene wherein this man of poor listening skills confused Jack Hammer and Jack Keeper (I can't make such a similar OC name and then ignore it, after all). Of course, it was originally supposed to occur in the bar, with Jack either forcing him to stay in the bar (which he goes to to mourn in) or chase after him himself. I believe this is a bit more reasonable (and funny), however.

Lana: Originally, I was never going to deal with Lana in the Episodes that paralleled GS1 Cases 1-4; instead, the storyline of her damaged friendship with Jack and Donny was going to occur in episodes between the cases (a la Episode II). Since I've been writing so slow, though, those episodes have been scratched, and thus, I deal with a bit here. I think I got her cold exterior right without overdoing it; since what Donny did (leaving Jack in charge of the room) was legally wrong, she did have a right to be upset. She's one of the only characters real enough for my mind's eye to see in three dimensions, so I hope I did her justice.

Angel: Though this won't really become a big deal for another case or two, I decided to write the start of this plot thread here; I'm pretty sure that this Part makes it undeniable that Donny is the Underground Parking Lot security guard, after all. Jack never literally sees Angel this time (I'd been writing long enough and didn't feel like adding another complication to this chapter), but she'll obviously play a part later on. As for why Donny doesn't recognize her from before SL-9, let's just say he's REALLY blind when he falls for someone hard, and, years earlier, Angel pretty much didn't reciprocate Donny's advances (if any, I'll have to decide that later). It's a bit weak, but I'm trying as hard as I can here.

Hopefully, I can get back on track with Part 3 of this episode, titled Old Fashioned Conversations. This part goes back to the typical setting of the bar, and only consists of Jack and three customers (two of which are canon). There'll be much comedy to be had, I'm sure...

Good day, reader peoples! Beware the rocking chairs!

---

*gets out poms-poms, clears throat, and then jumps up and down*

Rah rah, shish-koom-ba! Another chapter out, by Rah!
We got Upton going mad! We've got Jack and Donny feeling sad!
News-skank got chewed out, Gant's doing a classic pace about!
Lana's there and being mean, several peeps were off-screen!
So I ask as I end this cheer...
Is the next chapter anywhere near?

YAAAAAAAAAAAY! *jumps up and down, throws pom-poms into the air* I loved it, wheeeeee!

---

I love you.
Well, I love the story.
I burst out laughing through most of it.
You win, my good man.

You win.

---

Hah, getting better! I imagined Golden Gavel as an anime series, for some reason. Dunno why o.o

Good luck with it. I was looking forward to seeing you tie the victim to the Golden Gavel like you do with the others so far. Wasn't expecting the name misunderstanding, even if I WAS expecting Upton Washer (cannot explain why, though)

Anyway, this still has quality.

---

I have just finished reading what you have made so far... from beginning to end... for the first time... and I have to say, I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT!!! I've spent nearly the entire last day-and-a-half of my free time (Aside from college, sleeping, and eating, and, for that matter, the REST of my free time) reading this ENTIRE fanfic from beginning to end. I'm glad I found this when I did! All of the canon lines intertwine and weave together quite nicely. I have not yet noticed a contradiction in the canon compared to the story. Obviously, you are a far more talented writer than I could ever hope to be... :) but anyway, this awesome work is better than perfect... I'd almost say it's made of pure win!

I'd have to say my favorite original character so far is....... oh I just can't pick one. This really is a behind-the-scenes look at Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and the accompanying events and is done all too beautifully. Every character has his or her own distinct personality. All the already-in-game characters reflect their in-game personalities to a T, while the originals display traits that balance everything out like a finely-solved algebra equation. =D

As I mentioned before, I am in college. In my English class one day, we were talking about kids today and how they have to take all these proficiency tests and are not getting sparks of creativity in their education. I happened to blurt out the wonderful slogan that my English teacher, Mrs. Garshelis, absolutely loved, "You can't run the world on dry intelligence." Yeah, let those words sink in a few minutes and try to guess where I'm going with this. You, Mr. DSL-69, do not possess "dry intelligence". In fact, your intelligence is quite... um... er... (Crap, I'm at a loss for words here, Think! THINK!!) Well, to put it simply, you have an awesome imagination and I can't wait to see the next chapter in this incredible story unfold. I will be watching this very closely, Mr. DSL-69! You have a splendidly wonderful time, and I'll be catchin' yaz on dah flip-side, homie-G! *Brick'd multiple times*

For its pure awesomeness, Slezak is pleased to award the absolutely unequalled Phoenix Wright fanfiction story, *Screen dims, the words "The Golden Gavel" appear a little above the center in fancy white letters* "The Golden Gavel, (even in its unfinished state)..." *BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! ......BAM! The first five gold stars make their dramatic appearance on screen in rapid succession under the text. After a short hesitation, a sixth star appears next to the others.* "SIX OUT OF FIVE STARS!!!" *The sound of cheering is heard that should be quite familiar to everyone, for it is the same sound heard at the end of a trial in which Phoenix has scored a victory! The screen fades to black.*

Director: CUT!!!
Slezak slammed his hands down on the table he was sitting at in the Gavel, quite enjoying himself in this moment and cheerfully asked, "Well, I'd say I did a nice job, didn't I?"
Jack Keeper, Detective Goodman, Winston Payne, Donny Docket, and even Robert Hammond, Miles Edgeworth, the review's director, and the rest of the audience looking at their new bar-companion in astonishment, happily said, "HELL YEAH!"
Slezak abruptly piped up, "Well, I guesss I'd better end this self-induced cameo before it starts getting frowned upon. Thanks for letting me be in your noble presence, everyone!" He stood up, walked to the barroom door, opened it with a flourish, and quipped, "You can keep the change, Jack! It was most enjoyable being able to..." '(fantasize about being in the PW game+GG world...)' Slezak deeply thought to himself for a second, but continued his sentence. "...stop by. I hope to see you soon!" 'Although I know that won't be happening unless I make myself another cameo...' Slezak thought as he proceeded to complete his exit.

EDIT: To anyone who is actually offended by my cameo, I apologize. I was actually a little tired at the time and was just writing down words as they came to my mind. If enough people disprove of my little humorously-intended cameo, I shall strike it from my review. Again, I'm terribly sorry if I offended anyone.

---

Last edited by Slezak on Sat Oct 27, 2007 6:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

*frowns at Slezak's self-cameo*

Aweshum, DSL-69. One of the reason's I come to this site anymore.

Not dead yet, though some days I can feel death's putrid breath tickling the back of my neck... hee... hee... hee...

Though it took me four weeks and five days to get to this update, there was a twelve-day period in which I didn't write due to a influx of course-work, so technically I got this done in three weeks of active writing, just like old times. So there.

A brief thanks to Magmar, Doctor, Mikker, Slezak (reading that made me dizzy), and TNK for reviewing; nice to see my topic float near the top of the list for a few days before its inevitable burial on page two (don't blame me, blame T&T causing the second big PW fanfiction renaissance...). I'm rather tired right now, so I'm going to get the story up before I make a bunch of stupid typos. You gott hat?

(And, for those of you keeping score, it's about 9300 words long. )

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Part 3/7: Old Fashioned Conversations

October 17th, 2016, 7:45 PM

“While we are unable to legally provide our audience with every last detail of this case, we believe that the tale of the Samurai Spear, when combined with the circumstances of the time and place of Jack Hammer’s death, should be enough to convict Will Powers on the charge of murder,” explained an elderly female news reporter.

Jack nodded approvingly as he poured hot tea into his white china cup. It’s kind of refreshing to hear a news reporter admit that they’re withholding some of the facts, he thought blandly. Heck, this sweet old lady even managed to talk about the case without throwing in crazy opinions or resorting to obvious bias.

“And that’s exactly what should happen to the man, that ugly, insatiable brute!” snapped the reporter, her eyes narrowing in anger. “I mean, look at his beady eyes and his outrageous hair! Only a cold-blooded killer would have a face like that!” She waggled a disapproving finger.

“So much for that praise,” muttered Jack. He tentatively sipped his tea and wrinkled his nose; he needed to add more sugar. “I guess this woman feels like she can say whatever she wants once the main report is done.” Annoyed, he walked over the TV and turned it off.

As much as I dislike her tacking on that opinion, she had a decent point about the lack of information regarding this case, thought Jack, spooning sugar into his tea and twirling it around. Of course, that didn’t stop all the news channels from constantly repeating what little they had. That’s what happens when a celebrity gets into any trouble, let alone arrested for murder.

Tentatively, Jack took another sip of his tea; this time, the sweetness was just right. Satisfied, he sat his teacup down and turned his attention to the unfurled newspaper that was sitting right next to it.

“Whenever I look at this thing, I can almost see why all the reporters are saying he has the face of a killer...” Right on top of the front page, beneath the headline ‘The Steel Samurai Undone: Action Star arrested in brutal studio murder’, was a picture of Will Powers, presumably taken by the police not long after his arrest. As much as Jack disliked making judgments based on looks, he had to admit that the man’s small eyes, heavy eyebrows, and almost impossibly thick mane of hair left him with a rather... unsettling appearance.

I can understand why he accepted the role of the Steel Samurai. Otherwise, no one would have hired him for anything outside of a horror film. Smirking, Jack quietly sipped at his tea before, his eyes absently scanning the actual text. Sadly, in spite of having been printed this morning, this news article doesn’t contain any more information than what was on the news yesterday morning. And about the only thing that I’ve learned from the TV since then was that the killing occurred at Studio One, wherever that is. Heck, if weren’t for that informative photograph I’d call Donny up and yell at him for burdening me with this piece of trash. Lazily, he stowed the newspaper under the bar for later.

“Speaking of Donny,” Jack muttered, “I haven’t had a single customer show up since he left, and that was two hours ago. I’m going to get very annoyed if I end up just sitting here by myself, drinking tea all night just because he screwed up my waking schedule yesterday morning.”

Thankfully, Jack didn’t have to wait too long for his isolation to end; the door chime rang just as he was pouring his second cup of tea. Relieved, he looked up to see that his customer was Detective Gumshoe, who appeared to be rather weary. Jack frowned as he loped to the bar, heaved himself on a stool, and rested his chin on his hand, blinking blearily at him.

“Uh, hello, Detective,” greeted Jack, awkwardly tugging at his shirt collar. “Did you have a tough day at a crime scene or something?”

Gumshoe blinked once before nodding. “Got it in one, Jack,” he said with a tired smile. “Between investigating the crime scene, working with Edgeworth, dealing with all the potential witnesses, and filing paperwork at the Criminal Affairs Department, I probably worked close to twelve hours this day alone. It’s enough to make my eyelids feel like sandbags, pal.”

“I see,” Jack said levelly. “Some days, I end up being on the clock for twelve hours too, though I think it’s rather obvious that my job tends to be less stressful than yours.” He made a thoughtful noise as he continued to mull Gumshoe’s words in his head. “And you say you’re working with Edgeworth? I guess that means you’re working on the Steel Samurai case, then...”

Upon hearing that, Gumshoe jumped and managed to sit upright. “How’d you know that? That isn’t supposed to be public information yet, pal!”

“True, but it is public information that Edgeworth is the prosecutor in charge of that case,” replied Jack, smirking. “It’s doesn’t take a lot of logic to realize that, if you’re working for Edgeworth, you must be working on that case as well. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

After what appeared to be a few seconds of frantic thought, Gumshoe quietly nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he muttered. “Seems that no matter how hard I try, people manage to worm secret information out of me one way or another...” He sighed wearily.

“It’s alright, you know I don’t blab,” replied Jack, waving a hand. “What would you like to have? Coffee? Cola? I think I have some tea left, if you want that.”

Gumshoe frowned. “What if I want a beer, pal? Is there something wrong with that?”

Jack shrugged. “I guess I can get you a beer if you want, but I assumed that you’d rather stay awake, not fall asleep right in front of me. Of course, if you want to take a nap and pay for the taxi ride home, I’d be glad to call one up for you...”

“Taxi? Pay?” Gumshoe’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. “No way, pal! Give me some of that tea if you got any left!”

Jack nodded and resisted the urge to chuckle; Gumshoe was rather easy to manipulate when the proper financial terms were evoked. I guess that’s why Edgeworth threatens him with a pay cut so often, he thought wryly. As he procured a second teacup and started to fill it, he asked, “So, Detective... is there a reason why you had to be at the crime scene for so long?”

Again, Gumshoe’s eyebrows drew upward in thought. “Well... to be honest, it’s mostly because of Mr. Edgeworth that I had to work so hard–not that that’s a bad thing!” Eyes suddenly wide, he stammered, “I-I mean... it’s my job to do everything I can to help Edgeworth make his case! I can’t get mad at him just because he held me back for an extra hour or four! He’s the man in charge!” His breathing heavy, he added, “Why are you giving me that funny stare, pal!?”

Jack jumped and returned his attention to stirring Gumshoe’s tea–never mind the fact that he hadn’t added anything to it. “Sorry, detective,” he muttered. “It’s not very often that I get to hear such a... rousing display of dedication.” Absently, he pushed the teacup and sugar bowl towards Gumshoe’s side of the counter. “There you are detective,” he stated. “You can add as much sugar as you please.”

“Free sugar? Really?” For some reason, Gumshoe appeared stunned by this fact. “Thanks pal!” Gleefully, he added half a dozen spoonfuls to the teacup before stirring the contents as fast as he could.

Well, as long as he dosen’t stir all of the tea right out of the cup, he should have enough sugar in him to keep him going for a little while, Jack thought amusedly. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll let a bit more information spill.

“There we go!” announced Gumshoe, finally removing the small stirring spoon from his teacup. Satisfied, he quickly gripped the handle with two fingers, brought it to his lips, and made one of the loudest sipping noises Jack had ever heard. “Ahhh! That’s the stuff!” he announced. “Tastes almost as good as the hot sugar water I drink every Sunday morning!”

No offense, but I don’t think that’s much of a compliment. Deciding now was the best time to prod Gumshoe with a few simple questions, he asked, “So... do you have any idea why Edgeworth decided to work you so hard during this investigation?”

Gumshoe took another loud sip of tea before shaking his head. “Not really, Jack. I mean, this might be a big name case, but that’s never really gotten to Mr. Edgeworth’s head before. It seems like he’s just more worried about me screwing up and missing something important, that’s all.” Gumshoe paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why do think Edgeworth is trying so hard to win this case, pal?”

Isn’t that the same question I asked you, just phrased a little differently? In lieu of sighing, Jack stroked his chin musingly. Of course, now that I think about it, I might just know the reason. “Maybe it’s because of Mr. Wright,” he said confidently.

“Mr. What?” asked Gumshoe, confusion clearly written on his face.

This time, Jack really did sigh. “You know, the new defense lawyer. The one that got tried for Ms. Fey’s murder last month; the guy that you call ‘Harry Butz’ all the time?”

Gumshoe blinked dully for several more seconds before his eyes widened in compression. “Oh, him!” he exclaimed. “What about him?”

“Are you forgetting already, detective? He was the man that dealt Edgeworth his first loss, and it seems that he’s going to be the defense attorney in this trial as well. I’m pretty sure Edgeworth doesn’t want to let Wright get the best of him a second time... he wants to be able to dismiss the Fey case as an unlucky fluke, not the start of some sort of undesirable pattern.”

“That makes sense,” Gumshoe said assuredly. “I told that lawyer that Mr. Edgeworth was upset when he asked me questions yesterday morning and...” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Wait a minute, Jack! How’d you know that guy was going to be the defense lawyer? I don’t remember anyone giving away that fact either, pal!”

Jack frowned as he thought about the supposed Wendy Oldbag’s rant, the one he’d seen on TV yesterday morning. “It’s kind of tough for me to explain quickly,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say that I managed to figure it out from what someone said in passing. Besides,” he added, absently stirring his tea, “When added to what you just said about Edgeworth’s nervousness, he’s pretty much the only defense attorney that makes sense. If I remember correctly, even before his first loss, Edgeworth found the prospect of facing Wright to be rather unsettling. Makes me wonder if there’s a story there or something...”

“None that I know of, pal,” replied Gumshoe, frowning. “All I know is that that lawyer was really serious about getting some decent information out of me this time.” Absently, he scratched the back of his head. “And his assistant... she told me something that really got me down.” He stared at his tea, his face glum.

“That’s a shame,” muttered Jack, before comprehending exactly what Gumshoe had just said. “So Mr. Wright hired a legal assistant?” he asked, his tone inquisitive. “I didn’t expect him to gather help so quickly, considering that he hasn’t had many newsworthy cases as of late...”

“To be honest, I don’t think ‘legal assistant’ is the proper term,” said Gumshoe, looking upward in thought. “More of a sidekick, I’d call her...”

Well, Wendy Oldbag did mention a ‘purple hippie girl’ while she was chewing Jumper out on the news yesterday morning. Even if she was exaggerating a bit, that’s not exactly what I’d call a professional appearance. Glancing at his teacup again, he asked, “So... is she an intern or something, then?”

Gumshoe chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think so, pal. She’s Mia Fey’s little sister... you know, the girl that I- er, the force arrested last month?”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise–this was definitely news to him. “I didn’t think she’d stick around this city after all the trouble that case got her in,” he said incredulously. “I mean, she isn’t even eighteen yet, if I remember right.”

Gumshoe frowned and scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah... we really messed her life up for a while, didn’t we?” Sighing, he sipped at what was left of his tea.

Jack frowned. “I’d be lying if I said you didn’t, detective, but even I don’t want you to be upset about that incident for the rest of your existence. What matters is what little Ms. Fey thinks about it.”

“She told me I made Mr. Edgeworth upset by doing shoddy investigations,” Gumshoe said dismally. “Of course, she also seemed to be pretty happy after that... especially when she was helping that silly lawyer bug me for details.” He laughed. “It was almost cute, the way they kept turning away from me so that I couldn’t hear what they were talking about.”

“That’s a good sign,” Jack said pleasantly. “I guess it makes some sense for little Ms. Fey to be helping Mr. Wright with his investigation. They both had to deal with a lot of crap during the case last month, and now that Ms. Fey has passed on he’s probably the only person left in the city able to look out for her.” Absently, he stared into his teacup; a dark and distorted image of his face stared back. It makes me wish Mia had introduced her to me, he thought sadly. She’s technically still a minor, but I wouldn’t have minded her stopping by every now and then if it allowed me to look out for her as well. Maybe the next time things aren’t so hectic I’ll see what I can do.

“Are you all right, pal?” Gumshoe’s concerned voice quickly snapped Jack out of his reverie. “You suddenly look almost as tired as I do.”

“No, it’s all right, detective,” Jack muttered, shaking his head. “I guess I’m still a bit surprised that little Ms. Fey has remained in the area; I assumed that she’d gone back to her home up in the high mountains... Coltrane Village or whatever the place was called. I’m pretty sure she has other family up there, you know.”

“A village in the mountains, eh?” Gumshoe looked towards the ceiling thoughtfully. “I only went near a place like that once, and it wasn’t very fun up there. I can’t help but feel glad that this investigation’s right here in the city, pal.”

“Of course,” Jack muttered dully–the two of them had managed to get off of the subject of the current murder for quite a few minutes, after all. Deciding that he’d have to be cautious if he wanted to learn any more information, he asked, “Is there anything else bothering you about the case, Detective?”

Gumshoe lifted his teacup and noisily slurped up the remaining contents as he pondered his answer. “Well, like I keep saying, Mr. Edgeworth is really determined to beat this lawyer guy... I’m actually pretty worried about him, to be honest.”

Jack’s eyebrows drew upward. “Really? I know he might be working a bit hard, but it’s not like he can’t handle it or anything. Is there any particular reason you’re feeling this way?”

“I don’t know... I always feel a bit worried for Mr. Edgeworth... aside from me and you; he doesn’t really have a lot of people to be friendly with, pal. It’s just... this time; he seems to be pulling out all sorts of stops in order to make sure that he doesn’t screw up the way he did last time.”

“I see,” Jack said encouragingly.

“He couldn’t do much yesterday, so he spent most of today filling out papers and getting his evidence ready,” Gumshoe said musingly. “That was the first mistake he made during Ms. Fey’s case; I’m pretty sure he said something about ‘avoiding contradictions my bartender could see through’.” He chuckled. “I think he might have gone back to the scene about an hour ago, just to make sure that my team didn’t do anything foolish. Heck, he wants to get the evidence right so bad, he pushed the job of preparing our star witness off to one of the other prosecutors. ‘The witness is important,’ he told me, ‘but the evidence is essential.’”

Jack’s mouth nearly fell open in shock; that wasn’t something he’d been expecting to hear. “Are you sure about that?” he asked pointedly.

“Of course I am, pal!” snapped Gumshoe. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason, it’s just... that doesn’t sound like something Edgeworth would allow, especially if he’s taking this case more seriously than most. Are there any other reasons he’s delegating that much authority?!”

“Haven’t you been listening to what I’m saying, Jack?! Mr. Edgeworth is really busy!” Gumshoe stated exuberantly. “And just because he’s a great prosecutor doesn’t mean he can’t get a little help every now and then, right?!”

“I didn’t say Mr. Edgeworth wasn’t allowed to ask for help,” Jack said seriously. “It’s just... he’s so good at preparing witnesses himself I can’t see how he could give that task to someone else.”

Gumshoe looked thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that, pal. Aside from the fact that he’s really busy working on the evidence, there’s another reason that he chose to do this.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Jack, discretely refilling Gumshoe’s tea. “And what’s that?”

“The witness and the prosecutor Mr. Edgeworth gave the job to already know each other fairly well. Judging by who they are, it’s pretty easy to see why, too!”

“‘Judging by who they are?’ That doesn’t really tell me much, you know.”

Gumshoe smiled. “Of course it doesn’t! You’re not a part of the investigation, so I don’t need to tell you about that!”

Jack frowned for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, detective.”

“It’s okay, pal, I know you’re just curious. Besides, it’s good to know that there’s one fact about this case you aren’t able to figure out out of nowhere. I mean, except for the one incident yesterday morning, the news people have been pretty good about leaving our poor witness alone.”

One incident yesterday morning? I guess Gumshoe’s more aware of that televised fiasco than I expected. If my earlier suspicions are correct, than that probably means... “So the witness is Wendy Oldbag, that security guard, then. I mean, she definitely qualifies as being well acquainted with Prosecutor Harry Oldbag, after all.”

Gumshoe flinched. “I did it again, didn’t I? I say one more thing and you manage to get the last fact, too.” He huffed in annoyance. “Some days, I wish you’d stop doing that to me!”

“You mean coming up with classified information?”

“Yeah, exactly! I mean, if Mr. Edgeworth or Chief Gant were to hear you talking all this—” he furiously swiveled his stool and looked over his shoulders, as if they were sneaking up behind him even as he spoke, “—they’d dock my paycheck so much I’d wouldn’t be able to afford the ramen noodles with the special flavor packets any more! And that’s including when they’re on sale, pal!”

“Uh... I see,” muttered Jack, at a loss for decent words.

“And don’t forget how hard your mind-reading is on my nerves, too!” rattled Gumshoe, clearly irate. “It’s just like being on the witness stand–if I crack up under the pressure you’re giving me, how am I supposed to keep that lawyer guy from doing even worse tomorrow?!”

Exasperated, Jack pinched at the pain forming behind the bridge of his nose; he was obviously going to have to ease Gumshoe’s fears before something... undesirable happened. “First of all,” he stated, “I wouldn’t worry about Mr. Wright finding out that Ms. Oldbag is the key witness; he’s almost definitely aware of that fact already. Second, the only reason I knew about Wendy Oldbag was because I happened to see that ‘incident’ yesterday morning–the Office really aught to complain about those sensationalist news reporters, trying to disturb the investigation like that.”

“I think you’ve got something there, pal!” snapped Gumshoe. His expression thoughtful, he continued, “I mean, Ms. Oldbag said she took care of it, but it must have been real hard for a sweet old lady like her to shake off those pesky news people! It’s enough to make me sick!”

“I won’t disagree with you on that point,” stated Jack, nodding. “If the other channels weren’t so boring, I wouldn’t even rely on that ugly network for information.” Absently, he scratched at his head. “But did you just say that Wendy Oldbag is a sweet old lady?”

“I sure did!” announced Gumshoe, smiling. “In fact, I thought she was rather motherly, letting me share her doughnuts as we talked about the case!”

Smiling, Jack shook his head. “Well, if the person I saw was Wendy Oldbag, she must be pretty good at cranking up the heat. She ended up being quite the rambunctious rambler when that news camera came around.”

“Hey, don’t say that! She’s a real nice person, pal! I mean, that news person might not like her, and that lawyer guy might not like her, and that Maya Fey might not like her either, but that’s no reason to be mean about it and call her names!”

Well, if you admit that Mr. Wright and Maya Fey also dislike Wendy Oldbag, it makes your opposing argument seem rather weak... Deciding it best to hide his doubts, Jack said, “Well, I guess it’s kind of wrong for me to judge her. After all, it’s not like I’ve had the opportunity to-”

BANG! Jack and Gumshoe both jumped as the bar door flew open and bounced on its frame; an instant later, Harry Oldbag forced himself into the room, dragging behind him a woman in a security guard uniform that looked all too familiar...

“I keep telling you, I don’t need to have a drink!” she snapped, irate. “Why won’t you let me go home?!”

“Nonsense, Wendy, nonsense!” snapped the familiar Oldbag, shaking his head in annoyance. “You need to relax, and we never have any fun together anymore! A nice drink will cure both those ills!”

“On second thought, detective, it looks like we’re going to get a chance to resolve this little argument after all,” Jack muttered as he watched Harry Oldbag gradually push his cousin towards the bar counter. Hopefully, this won’t be an explosion waiting to happen, he thought nervously.

“Just sit down next to the detective and try to relax,” said Harry, guiding the still irate Wendy into a seat before sitting down on her other side. Quickly, he spun the barstool around so he was facing Jack. “Sorry about the commotion, barkeep, but Wendy’s not one for seizing the day after a tough situation,” he said disdainfully.

“I guess, though technically she shouldn’t really be in here,” Jack said softly. When Harry did nothing but raise his bushy eyebrows, he added, “Her job has nothing to do with this building or the legal system, after all.”

“Oh, that rule’s a load of hooey!” Harry bellowed, waving an arm. “Wendy’s not going to blab about this place to anyone... and besides, she’s a witness that’s been through a lot of tough preparation! Since when did a crime witness ever hurt you?”

Jack winced and rubbed at his hand. “Well, actually, about a month ago...”

“That was a rhetorical question, barkeep!” yelled Harry, nervously snapping his suspenders. “Sorry about the commotion, Wendy, but it seems that youths these days simply cannot take things at anything other than face value.”

Glancing to his left, Jack saw that Wendy Oldbag wasn’t paying attention to her relation in the slightest; she was instead facing Detective Gumshoe with what appeared to be a warm smile. “Do you deal with this sort of racket all the time?” she asked him, her voice much less venomous then it had been during her unplanned television appearance.

“All the time, Miss,” replied Gumshoe, a sheepish smile appearing on his face as well. “When you’re a homicide detective, you can’t let hostile arguments get to you... Sometimes you’re the only guy that can keep the investigation on-track.”

“Isn’t that just lovely!” Absently, Wendy raised a hand to fluff her short gray hair; Jack noticed that the right side of her hairdo was adorned what appeared to be three red gems.

“If I may interrupt,” Harry drawled exasperatedly, “I’d like to make with the introductions. As you may’ve figured out, barkeep, this lovely lady is my cousin Wendy, last name same as mine.” After Jack politely nodded, he turned on his stool and added, “And this, Wendy, is the Keeper of the Hidden Bar, Jack uh... um...” He stabbed a finger in the air in an attempt to remember.

“Keeper,” Jack supplied dully.

“Yeah, that’s it! Hard for me to remember a name like that; sounds more made up than anything... but that don’t matter! What matters is that this fellow’s name is Jack Keeper, and he’s the one in charge of all the drinks.” Frowning, he gave his ponytail a nervous tug. “Heck, a man his age with a name like that... he could make a decent double for the poor Hammer fellow you liked so much.”

In lieu of a response, Wendy made a dully thoughtful noise before staring Jack in the face and allowing her eyes to slowly scan downward.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this moment, thought Jack, struggling not to flinch or say something foolish. Luckily for him, it was only a second or two more before Wendy’s eyes again returned to his face. “Well?” he asked uncomfortably.

“You aren’t enough,” she replied, her voice dull. “A tall stick of a man with a copy-cat name is nowhere near enough to replace a man like Jack Hammer.” She sighed. “Nice to meet you, anyway.”

As much as I didn’t want her to swoon like a schoolgirl at my presence, I can’t help but feel a bit insulted. He shook his head. If Donny learns about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. “It’s all right, Ms. Oldbag. I don’t like the thought of being a replacement anyway.” Slowly, he smiled. “So what can I get the two of you? I’ve got plenty of things in stock, and there’s a bit of hot tea left if you don’t want a beer or a cocktail or something of that sort.”

Harry obviously already had his order in mind, for Jack had barely finished his bit when he declared, “I’ll have a Tom Collins, if you please!”

Jack nodded. “Very well, Prosecut-”

“And don’t overdo the fizz!”

It was only thanks to years of practice that Jack managed to not flinch at this latest of exclamations. “Don’t worry, Mr. Oldbag, I won’t overdo the fizz,” he said lightly. “I know it reduces the volume of the drink.” Turning his head back to Wendy, he added, “And what you would like, Ms. Oldbag?”

A moment’s pause and then, “I’d like a gimlet, please, and don’t add any ice.”

Jack nodded. “Very well. Would you like one with vodka or would you like one with gin?”

“Excuse me?” Wendy’s eyes grew dangerously narrow.

Uh-oh. “I asked you if you wanted your gimlet with vodka or with gin,” Jack repeated, nervously adjusting his collar. “Though the drink was invented with gin in mind, most people prefer to have vodka mixed with their lime juice and syrup these days. Since I didn’t know which you preferred, I made sure to ask. Isn’t that alright?”

“Alright? Alright?!” snapped Wendy, her anger clearly unabated. “Of course it’s not alright! If there’s one thing I can’t stand in bars these days, its people and their newfangled drink choices!”

“So you want gin in your gimlet, then?”

“Of course I want gin in my gimlet! When I was your age, a gimlet was gin, lime juice, and nothing else! That’s the only way they served it!”

“Okay, I understand, just let me-”

“Youths these days! Always trying to reinvent things that don’t need to be reinvented! I mean, the last time I went to a bar they wouldn’t let me have a drink without setting it on fire first! When I asked them to stop, they called me a hag and showed me to the door! The nerve of them!”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“And its not just drinks, either! I was trying to buy a television the other day, and all they did was through out these stupid letters and laugh at me when I couldn’t understand what the heck they had to do with television! Damn youths, treating me like an idiot just because I didn’t know what a DVADD was used for! You’re all the same, trying to sell off newfangled things that no decent person would want! You make me sick!”

Wincing, Jack rubbed at his now ringing ears. Shouldn’t there be a speed limit on those words? Unable to think of a decent response to such an unfocused rant, Jack merely said, “I’ll get your drinks now,” and turned to do just that.

“You really shouldn’t beat up on him like that, Ms. Oldbag,” Gumshoe muttered softly. “He was just trying to be polite and ask you exactly what you wanted, you know.”

“It’s all right, detective,” said Jack, smiling as he mixed gin and lime juice together in a small glass. “I’ve dealt with far more stressful situations in my lifetime, young though I may be.”

“That’s the spirit, barkeep!” Harry said boisterously. “If it makes you feel any better, son, you get used to it after a while.”

I doubt she’ll become a regular, but reassurance is reassurance, I guess. Conveniently for Jack, Harry’s Tom Collins was also a drink made primarily of gin, but it still took him a few seconds to get the lemon juice, sugar syrup, and soda water he also needed. Deciding it best to change the subject, he stated, “So I understand that you were in charge of preparing Ms. Oldbag’s testimony for the trial tomorrow... Mr. Oldbag. A bit of an odd move for Mr. Edgeworth to make, but I guess it makes decent sense, right?”

“You know damn well it makes sense, barkeep!” Harry chimed energetically. “I haven’t had a decent chance to speak with Wendy in years!” Jack heard a squeak as the man spun around on his barstool. “You should have seen us working out that testimony, detective. It took us nearly two hours, but we managed to polish it up real good. Real good, I say!” Jack sighed as he heard the distinctive noise of Harry’s fist striking the bar counter.

“Really?! That’s great, pal!” Gumshoe exclaimed heartily. “Mr. Edgeworth will be real pleased to hear things turned out so well!”

“He already is, Detective! I talked to him about it on the phone before we came down here–really took a load off his back, by golly!” He paused. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t the trickiest piece of testimony in the world, but it’ll be more than enough for young Edgeworth to take that shifty Will Powers down!”

“That’s the kind of thing I want to hear, Prosecutor Oldbag!” Gumshoe let out an absent chuckle. “When combined with my flawless run-down of the facts, that dastardly Mr. Powers doesn’t stand a chance!”

“I guess it does sound like a fairly open-and-shut case,” said Jack, picking up the Oldbags’ drinks and turning around. “One Tom Collins, no overdoing the fizz, and one gimlet, made of nothing but gin and lime juice... as it should be.” When Harry quietly nodded and Wendy gave him a miniscule smile, he sighed in relief and turned to face Detective Gumshoe. “Would you like some more tea, detective?” he asked. “There’s still about a cup’s worth in the pot if you want it.”

Detective Gumshoe swiftly shook his head. “No thanks pal. I don’t think I have to worry about falling asleep any longer.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Would you like something else, then?”

Gumshoe’s eyebrows shifted thoughtfully before he nodded. “To be honest, I think hearing about Ms. Oldbag’s good testimony is cause for a celebration! Do you think I can have some of my special wine?”

Jack frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, Jack. I’m only going to have one glass, if that makes you feel any better.” His eyes slowly grew wide. “Pleeeease?”

Jack laughed. “All right, but only because you said please.” Still chuckling, he opened his refrigerator, dug to the back and slowly pulled Gumshoe’s favorite wine, ‘The Box Special’. Of course, considering the fact that it’s in a giant two-gallon box, how could it be called anything else? Sitting it down on the counter with a heavy thump, he winced as he spun the cap open. The stuff smells more like paint varnish than anything else. For seventy-five cents a glass, what more can a man expect? Trying his best not to gag, he quickly grabbed a wineglass and filled it up so he didn’t have to smell the entire box’s fumes for very long. “Here you go, detective,” he said, wheezing.

“Thanks, pal!” Smiling, he raised the glass in salute. “For... how does the saying go? For Greg Justice?”

“For Great Justice,” corrected Jack, lugging Gumshoe’s wine box back into the fridge. “Greg Justice sounds more like a superhero name than anything else.”

“Okay, okay, no need to make fun of me, Jack!” Gumshoe shook his head before raising his wineglass to his mouth and taking a hearty sip. “That’s good stuff!” he announced, coughing slightly.

Alright, I think its time to change the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like to know Will Powers? Since you’ve all met him and are pretty convinced that he killed Jack Hammer, I’m rather curious about just what type of person he was before this whole mess occurred.”

Wendy sipped at her gimlet. “Powers?” she questioned dully. “He was an okay person, but he tended to act as dumb as a bag of rocks, and he looks like he was smashed across the face with one too.” Flashing a haughty smirk, she continued, “I mean, you can understand why he only found success as the star of that silly kid’s show; his face is far too homely to be improved with anything less than that thick plastic mask. He had a real pathetic personality, you know, so pathetic that I wouldn’t have dreamed he had the guts to kill another man.” Slowly, a more poisonous smile formed on her face. “That is, I wouldn’t have dreamed it before I saw him heading for the scene of the crime with my own eyes.”

“I guess that explains your certainty, then,” muttered Jack, smiling wanly.

“You bet your britches it does!” exclaimed Harry, before his eyes grew wide with revelation. “Hey, wait a second! You weren’t supposed to tell him anything about that, Wendy! That’s information for your testimony tomorrow!”

“Well, if I’m the star witness, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out I witnessed something,” spat Wendy, her eyes narrowed with irritation. “Besides, I thought this fake-Jack was supposed to be in on that sort of thing, anyway.”

“Good heavens, no!” retorted Harry, tugging his ponytail in surprise. “This fellow’s a good drink-server, but he ain’t supposed to be digging into everyone’s business!” He shot Jack a heated glare before turning back to Wendy with a heavy sigh. “Remember what I told you in my office, Wendy. That defense attorney tomorrow... he’s going to be poking at your every word, trying to make you say more things then you aught to! If you can’t keep a secret from this fellow, how do I know you can’t keep a secret from him?”

Far from chastised, Wendy let out a snort of rage. “Let me assure you, I can keep a secret just fine, cousin. I’ll be quite all right in court tomorrow, so don’t try to judge me on one little mistake.”

“You tell her, miss!” exclaimed Gumshoe, looking rather annoyed himself. “You can’t judge a person by one little screw-up... do you know how many cases I would’ve been kicked off if people punished me for my every little mistake I made?”

“How the hell should I know?!” bellowed Harry, clearly upset. “Honestly, the way you’re asking that question, it’s as if you’re proud of the answer! Sometimes I think I just aught to-”

BANG! Not wanting his customers’ argument to reach dangerous territory, Jack resorted to smashing his fist against the counter to make everyone shut up. One he was sure that everyone’s attention was firmly on him, he shook his head. “I do not like fighting in my bar,” he admonished softly. “It has been a long time since I had to throw someone out of this place for rowdiness, but I do reserve the right to do so if I have to.” Seeing that all three of his customers were acting reasonably chastised, he sighed. “I do apologize, Ms. Oldbag, for coercing you into saying things you aren’t supposed to. I’ll try to at least steer somewhat clear of the case from now on.”

Wendy sniffed indignantly before nodding. “Nice to see someone your age try and show a little reason for once.” She sipped at her drink before letting out a sigh of her own. “What else is there to talk about?”

I’m surprised she’s asking that. She must be more tired than she appears. “I seem to understand that you were quite the fan of Mr. Jack Hammer, before all this mess happened. Could you tell me about what he was like?” Noticing that Wendy looked a bit skeptical, he added, “Obviously, you don’t have to say anything related to the case... or anything you don’t want to. It’s your call.”

Harry shot Wendy a fearful look, but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “It’s alright,” she replied glumly. “Not many people ask about him these days, so I actually rather enjoy it when someone’s nice enough to do so.”

“I understand,” Jack said sagely. “Just tell me what you can, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,” replied Wendy, her mouth forming a small smile. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Jack Hammer used to be the most famous action star in the country. Just ten years ago, you couldn’t do so much as open a newspaper without reading about his latest film or TV series!”

“That was certainly true,” said Jack, chuckling. “Back when I was in secondary school, my friend Donny would force me to watch all sorts of things that Jack Hammer starred in, no matter how odd they seemed to be. I think the silliest one was called ‘Dynamite Samurai’ or something...”

“Oh, but that was the best one!” Wendy exclaimed. “You know he never once had to use a double in that series... he always did the explosion stunts himself!”

“Explosion stunts?” asked Harry, scratching at his scalp. “What are you talking about?”

“The ‘Dynamite Samurai’ series was about a Samurai who was always trying to make his fortune in the diamond mines, using dynamite to both enlarge the tunnels and to fight the cave demons that inevitably got in his way,” Jack stated amusedly. “I’m not an expert on Jack Hammer’s works, but that series was unique enough to burn itself onto my brain.”

“Unique? More like ‘insane’!” spat Harry, annoyed. “Diamond mining doesn’t have anything to do with being a samurai! Didn’t those producer folk have any other ideas?!”

“It’s what the people wanted!” Wendy snapped irritably. “You can’t blame a star for wanting to please his audience, can you?!”

“I guess not,” said Jack, raising a hand in order to avoid another foolish argument. Turning to Wendy, he added, “So Hammer enjoyed pleasing his fans, then?”

“Oh, heavens yes! Hammer always used to be nice to his fans... he made public appearances and signed autographs and everything! Even after things got tough for him, he always told me that the fans made his life worthwhile. Of course,” she added, her face falling, “His fan base had been really shrinking these past couple of years... sometimes, when no one else was around, he’d tell me that I was the only true fan he had left.” She sighed. “I tell you, fake-Jack, it was a crying shame to see his luck turn so bad.”

“He really did have a case of bad luck, didn’t he?” asked Gumshoe, scratching his head. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to by some sort of good luck charm to turn his situation around... I’ve always wanted a rabbit’s foot, myself, but they never seem to go on clearance...”

“I don’t think a charm would have helped him very much, detective,” stated Wendy, her voice suddenly warm. “We’re talking about years of working at the studio and getting paid nothing but chump change. I must admit, detective, some nights it was enough to make me cry.”

Gumshoe let out a sniff and placed a consoling hand on Wendy’s shoulder, but before he could say anything, Harry asked, “Exactly how long ago was it that Hammer started working for bupkis?”

Wendy’s face tensed nervously. “Oh, you know, just a couple years back. One of his movie projects fell through, and that was what started the bad luck that dogged him to his death.”

Absently, Harry snapped at one of his suspenders. “You know as well as I do that that ain’t an exact number,” he griped. “You say you’re this guy’s only fan... surely you can tell me the exact time his well went dry, can’t you?”

“Well, er...”

That’s odd, thought Jack. I would have expected her to react with her usual aggression, not nervousness. All because she can’t pin down when Hammer’s last big movie project fell through... I wish Donny were here, he’d probably know what they’re talking about... Suddenly, Jack’s eyes grew wide as he remembered something he’d been told a few weeks back.

“Wait! I think I know,” he announced, watching as three sets of startled eyes swiveled to his face. “Er...”

“Don’t just gawk after saying something like that, son!” admonished Harry. “Out with it!”

“Last month, my friend Donny complained to me about a Hammer movie that got halted in production,” Jack stated quickly. “I don’t remember the title, but it had something to do with samurai and professional tennis...” Nervously, he adjusted his collar. “Donny said that that was supposed to be one of the greatest Jack Hammer movies ever, but then Global Studios sacked it in the middle of production. ‘That was the last big movie Hammer ever tried to make,’ he told me. ‘He’s been stuck doing small stuff for Global ever since.’”

“So Hammer’s bad luck started last month, pal?” asked Gumshoe, his eyebrows dancing. “Man... he really fell hard, then...”

“No, it wasn’t last month,” retorted Jack, repressing his urge to sigh. “That’s just when Donny was complaining about it to me. The movie project was canned five years before then... he told me about it that day because the original date had stood out in his Samurai-obsessed mind.”

After falling silent, Jack quickly looked back and forth between his three customers; while Gumshoe appeared satisfied, Wendy was staring at her drink and Harry was fixing him with an unusually focused glare.

“You say it happened five years ago, barkeep?” he asked, his voice strangely quiet. “That’s... rather interesting.” He turned to Wendy. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about that, my dear?”

Wendy face again tensed nervously; she quickly turned her stool so that it was nearly facing the opposite direction. “O-of course I don’t!” she snapped, her aggressive tone struggling to return once more. “What makes you think I would, you overgrown ingrate?!”

“I might be an ingrate, but I’m still a practitioner of law,” Harry replied confidently. “Given the fact that you worked at that Global’s Studio five years back, I figured you’d know about why the movie was canned, not just a vague notion of the date. And besides,” he added, swirling his drink, “It don’t even take a lawman to see that you’re hiding something from me right about now.”

“Y-you can’t prove that!” snapped Wendy, clearly upset. “It was just a movie idea that never worked out. That’s all. It’s not like it has anything to do with my testimony or anything!”

“What a load of bull honky!” bellowed Harry, his face reddening in anger. “It’s not up to you to say what’s relevant and what’s not! If that Hammer fellow got a run of bad luck from that movie, it might have something to do with why he was killed!”

“That’s not why you’re harassing me, and you know it!” Decidedly nervous, Wendy looked up into Gumshoe’s face and batted her eyes. “Help me out, detective!” she whined. “Tell him that she should mind his own business!”

In lieu of an answer, Gumshoe lifted his wineglass and guzzled what was left of the contents. Swallowing gratuitously, he said, “It doesn’t really seem to have anything to do with the case, Mr. Oldbag sir!” He frowned. “Of course, I don’t see any reason that the silly tennis movie would be such a big deal... can’t you just tell him what happened back then?”

Wendy, who had looked rather hopeful at the beginning of Gumshoe’s statement, quickly jumped and flinched again. Her eyes nervously glanced about the room before landing on Jack. “What about you, Mr. Fake-Jack? You’ll tell them to leave me alone, won’t you? After all, this is no way to treat a lady!” Again, she batted her eyes in a pleading manner.

Jack narrowly resisted the urge to groan. I will admit, I would kind of like to know the story behind that movie... but it isn’t right for us to just harass her about it. Better change the subject. “Now now, play nice,” he droned, wagging his finger in a jesting manner. “If she doesn’t want to talk about it, and it’s not relevant to her testimony tomorrow, then there’s no need to make her uncomfortable. Do I make myself clear?”

Gumshoe and Harry both nodded, though the latter was still obviously resentful.

“Very good,” drawled Jack, nodding in satisfaction. “There are plenty of other things to talk about, after all, things that are far less... divisive.”

Harry snorted. “Oh yeah? Like what?!”

Jack made a thoughtful noise as he scratched at his chin. Maybe I should have thought of a new conversation topic before I admonished them the way I did. Absently, he looked at his customers again: Harry was still fixing his relation with a suspicious stare; Gumshoe was looking down at his hands and twiddling his thumbs. I’m trying to steer away from controversial topics, so I’ll avoid inquiring about the case again. Talking about the Oldbags’ strained relationship is definitely a no-no, and my day hasn’t been very interesting, either, so... “Well, I guess there are always more people to talk about; people that don’t have anything to do with tomorrow’s case.”

“That sounds just lovely!” exclaimed Wendy, obviously relieved at being let off the hook. “I know lots of things about people other than Hammer and Powers, after all. You name them, and I’ll tell you everything I know!”

I wouldn’t doubt it, Jack thought amusedly. Now, since I happen to have a Global Studios insider on my hands... “Whenever me and my friend Donny watch the Steel Samurai together, he always prattles on and on about the people behind the making of the show. Specifically, the director and the producer.”

Wendy’s expression suddenly been tense again. “The director and the producer?” she repeated, her voice wary.

That was odd. “Er, yeah. The director’s a guy named Sal Manella, and the producer’s name is... uh... I think it starts with D, but other than that I can’t remember. I’m sure you can, though, Ms. Oldbag.”

Wendy’s appeared far from abated. “Yes, I do... but why are you asking me about those two?!” she snapped, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I just wanted to know more about them. Donny’s always saying that the two of them are geniuses, and that it’s because of them that the show is so... awesome. Since they work at Global Studios and aren’t a part of tomorrow’s case, I thought it’d be neat if I could hear about them from someone who knows them firsthand. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Frowning, Wendy slowly sipped what was left of her drink before saying anything more. “I think I see what’s going on here...”

“What’s going on here?” asked Jack, knitting his eyebrows in confusion.

“I sure do, Fake-Jack... You and Harry are trying to set me up, aren’t you?!”

“WHAT?!” Jack, Harry, and Gumshoe all shouted the word at the same time.

Clearly irate, Wendy spun her barstool so that she could stick an accusing finger right in her relation’s face. “You didn’t trust me tell you the truth about poor Mr. Hammer,” she moved her finger so it pointed at Jack, “—so you decided to use him to make me babble like a sweet, innocent schoolgirl!”

“I did no such thing, dagnabit!” bellowed Harry, his eyes clearly wide with shock. “I just wanted to have a drink and a nice chat with you... that’s all! I didn’t tell the barkeep to make you babble about anything!”

“Yeah!” shouted Gumshoe, his broad shoulders squared in resolution. “Jack isn’t asking you lots of questions because he was ordered to, Ms. Oldbag! He’s just very very nosy!”

Thank you for that rousing vote of confidence, Gumshoe. Shaking his head, Jack stated, “The detective is telling you the truth, Ms. Oldbag. I’m just curious.”

“Ha!” snapped Wendy, a superior smirk appearing on her face. “I don’t believe you.”

“But-”

“I’ll tell you, back when I younger, people didn’t gang up on innocent women in seedy underground bars! I mean, back then people tried their hardest to be honest, even about all the people who weren’t in the room at the time! Of course, there were always a few twisted souls that got their kicks from silly gossip, but back then I tried my hardest not to be one of them. It was just like that time my best friend from school started dating her ex-boyfriend’s brother but he was also secretly seeing my best friend’s sister, so-”

“Enough with the goddamn fast talking, Wendy!” yelled Harry. “Do you really believe that I mistrust you enough to do that?!”

Wendy harrumphed. “Why not? It’d fit your personality to a T.” She shook her head. “I’d like to go home now.”

Harry adjusted his old suit top and sighed. “Very well. Let me just pay for the drinks, and we’ll-”

“You think I’m going to let you take me home after all this?!” shrieked Wendy, now huffing with rage. “I think not.” She turned her stool around and grabbed Gumshoe’s shoulder. “You take me home, detective. I can still almost trust you.”

Gumshoe appeared somewhat surprised at being assigned such a task, but eventually nodded. “All right, miss,” he said benignly. “Let me just dig up the change to pay for my drinks, and-”

“How much do you owe him?” snapped Harry, his voice still irritated in spite of its relative softness.

“A dollar seventy-five,” Jack replied automatically.

“I’ll cover it, then,” Harry said bluntly. “Wendy’s gimlet, too.”

“That’s all right with me,” said Jack.

“Well then, that’s settled!” declared Wendy. She rose to her feet and took hold of Gumshoe’s left arm. “Come on, detective! I want to get home before the nightly news starts airing!” Gumshoe barely managed to stand up himself before she gave him a tug and started half-leading, half-dragging him away from the bar counter.

“Uh, goodbye guys!” he blurted, awkwardly turning his head so that he could still see the bar. “Thanks for covering my drinks, Mr. Oldbag!”

In spite of having just endured Wendy’s accusations, Jack could only smile and wave as he watched the short old woman pull Gumshoe through the doorway and out of the bar. Only when the metal door slammed shut did he allow himself a dejected sigh.

“Damn woman’s off her rocker,” muttered Harry, shaking his head. “Is it so hard for her to accept the fact that I’m just trying to be nice?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied grimly. “Was she acting that... irritable towards you when you were actually preparing her for court tomorrow?”

“Pretty damn near it,” Harry stated. “She was a little more restrained every now and again—she does want vengeance for that damn Hammer fellow, after all—but she tended to clam up quite a bit when I was making sure there weren’t any flaws in her statements. She’s had quite a knack for hiding from my wife and me these past few years... I guess a bit of official business and a trip to the bar ain’t going to change that very much. So much for being hopeful...” Bitterly, he rubbed at his forehead.

Jack steeled himself somewhat in response to Harry’s mood—he had no hope of cheering the man up if he continued to act sad as well. “Well, I must admit that Wendy seems to be hiding a thing or two, but her testimony isn’t everything. As long as there’s a lot of hard evidence backing up her claims, her testimony won’t matter too much overall. You get what I’m saying?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying... only problem is the fact there ain’t a lot of hard evidence backing up her specific claims... just one piece. One goddamn piece!” Dejected, he smashed his fist into the bar counter.

“Just one piece?!” blurted Jack, surprised.

“Just one piece,” Harry repeated. “Of course,” he added, his expression brightening somewhat, “It’s a mighty fine piece of evidence... so good, in fact, that it might end up being called the one piece of evidence having measureless value in regards to closing the case!”

“Wow!” exclaimed Jack. “Do you really think so?!”

Harry frowned. “No, not really,” he admitted. “But it’s still pretty good, and that should be enough to stop that sneaky defense attorney, right?”

Now it was Jack’s turn to frown. “Er, well... uh...”

“I don’t like that uncertain turn of yours, mister,” muttered Harry, pointing a shaky finger at Jack’s face. “If you’ve got something to say, just go out and say it, alright?! No hiding!”

If you insist, prosecutor... “Well, if it were any other defense lawyer, Mr. Edgeworth would probably be able to use Wendy’s testimony to win the case in no time flat. In this case, however...” He paused.

“What do you mean, ‘however’?! Don’t trail off on me now, barkeep!”

So much for letting me gather all my thoughts. “In this case, the defense lawyer is Phoenix Wright, and he managed to slug his way through a hell of a lot of crap in order to hand Mr. Edgeworth his first defeat last month.”

Annoyed, Harry crossed his arms. “So,” he grumbled, “What you’re telling me is...”

“-That Mr. Edgeworth is actually facing someone with a chance at getting around his considerable prowess. When you combine that with the, er, newfound uncertainties in your cousin’s testimony and a lack of extremely potent evidence...” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows what will happen in that courtroom tomorrow?”

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Well, actually we DO know, which is why truly dramatic canon parallels are so hard to write. But still, it's a neat way to summarize the uncertainty surrounding various things.

While there's lots of nuances and such in this chapter (which is another reason it took me so damn long to write; it was a struggle to iron most of the kinks out), I'll use my remaining consciousness to explain the most prominent one:

Why did you REALLY let Edgeworth hand off witness duty to an OC?: Aside from giving Harry Oldbag more of a reason to exist, there's a vaguely canonical reason I did this. When Wendy Oldbag first appears on the witness stand during GS1-3 Trial Day 1, she becomes smitten with Edgeworth as she appears to be seeing him for the first time. Thus, someone else had to get her testimony ready, and that let me create a rousing round of completely non-canon family bonding. (In retrospect, Gumshoe or a member of the police force probably prepared her instead, but... eh, my universe. Whee.)

I pray that I'll be able to get IV-4 up faster than I did this update; I don't have a title at this moment, but let me assure you that the plot will be, like this one, both meaningful and amusing.

Take care, everybody. DSL commands it.

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As always this fic is full of win. I liked how you handled both Oldbags. Can't wait to see more.

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Somehow, my respect for you shot up EVEN MORE after reading this chapter. It was well-written, the characterization was spot-on, and it was hilarious in the right places!

I HEREBY GRANT THE GOLDEN GAVEL...
AN UNPRECEDENTED...
SEVEN!
OUT OF FIVE STARS!

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DUN DUN DUN
NEGATIVE CRITICISM

yeah, I actually thought that this was a bit boring compared to the rest of the parts. It was meaningful I suppose, but really it just felt uneventful. Near the end they basically stated what was obvious from the beginning; Oldbag isn't a reliable witness and Jack will prove it by taking her down, etc.

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Wow, I smell a revolution...

The biggest problem with this story is that I'm talking about events that we already know the outcomes of; thus, your statement definitely has merit. Perhaps when I revise this before posting it on ff.net I'll try to make the Oldbag section briefer and not spell out the obvious so painfully. It's at times like this I regret going into such heavy detail last case; now I have to be very careful not to replicate the formula so closely that it turns off the readers.

If it makes you feel any better, Jack does not get his own opportunity to really crack at Wendy Oldbag's lies; canon can do that all on its own (as it should most of the time). In fact, Jack does not get to "solve" any of the other GS1 cases as he did with 1-2; 1-3 is largely outside his realm while 1-4 and 1-5 are way too complex for him to tackle as an individual.

Instead of heavily centering on my already overexposed original character, Case 3 Part 4 focuses on how Edgeworth deals with the setbacks of 1-3 Trial Day 1 (with some tangential humor mixed in, I'll admit) while Case 3 Part 5 focuses almost solely on how Edgeworth is (in his own words) experiencing unease and uncertainty for the first time in his prosecuting career. While I'll admit that, like in the actual games, there will always be a pattern to how each case-analogue pans out (The Part 6s are very similar, for example, as I'm trying to show a multi-case trend in that situation), I'm going to try very hard not to whip a dead horse. Maybe after Case 3 is done I'll pause to pull out one of my other weird multi-chapter ideas, I'm going to have to broaden my horizons sometime, anyway.

There, I responded to honest criticism with a long rant on a loosely related subject. Call me a politician in training...

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It has had to have been a hard case chapter to write, but you did it excelently. I only saw one spelling mistake

I like how you portraited the dynamite samurai series. ROFL, I can totally see Sal coming up with that stuff

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...What can I say?
Your story is without a doubt one of the best I have ever had the pleasure to read. I feel that you have captured the characters who we knew so little about (Hammond is one I really like) and made personalities worthy of the game. Not only that but you have made believable OC which stand out (Washer is my favorite; first preference; most liked there).

My true favorite part of this story is making it fit in with the canon of the story, retconning it to fit GS2/3/4 in and several other key points. Your explanation for plot holes are believable and very well executed. I myself look forward to reading the parts. I am considering printing them off and reading them as a book (I would but you take a lot of room, even with the tiny text).

I also love your sneaked references. Things which are obvious or not so much. I especially like it when you make ironic references such as when Winsten (Who I'm also liking) said he'd have to have Phoenix with ammesia to beat him (which came true) I love those sorts of references and parralles (such as the horror story how the people died in order).

Please continue to wright (I must stop using this pun) more. I look forward to it.