Holy supreme beings, I actually wrote a fanfic. D: I always considered fanfics to be a form of writing only for those that couldn't be original on their own, but I have discovered that I was terribly mistaken. After completing the 2nd case in Trials & Tribulations, the irresistible urge to write a fanfic surfaced. ><; Here is the first part. I hope you Ron/Luke fans can enjoy it.

Fair warning, I wrote most of this after 11 pm, so there may be the occasional error. I am also sorry for the massive length

Title: People can be stolen as well, Mr. DeMaque
Author: Klar. That would be me.
Rating: Well, at the moment it's suitable for most.
Genre: Romance, I suppose.
Status: In progress.
Pairing: Ron DeLite/Luke Atmey. (DeAtmey!)
Summary: It's been weeks since that fateful trial, and though Ron DeLite should be getting on with his normal life, his past involving a certain Ex-Ace Detective is indiscreetly haunting him. Ron realizes he can no longer handle the uneasiness that lays in the back of his troubled mind and decides it's time to settle things. The only problem is, a near-crazed Luke Atmey doesn't seem to have that in his itinerary.

----
“Another visitor, eh?”

“Y-Yes, that would be why I’m here.”

“Hm, seems to be a busy day today…So, who are ya here to see?”

“If I r-remember correctly it was…His number is…102938…Uh…”

“Oh, no need for that crap! Just gimme a name.”

“Oh, yes, um, yes. I’m here for a Mr. Luke Atmey…The Ace-Detective.”

“You mean the freak-show who called himself Mask DeMasque in order to get away with murder? HA! Why on earth would you wanna see that creep?”

“Oh-oh, well…I just need to ask him a few things. Well, no. That’s not right. I need something different. There are questions I want answered, so I will make Mr. Atmey answer them.”

“…Wait, you just…Never mind. Follow me. I’ll escort you to the prisoner.”

The nervous Ron DeLite nodded his head in thanks as the gruff, intimidating prison guard called one of his coworkers to unlock an entrance just behind the guard. With several clicks and a soft beep, the doors mechanically opened, allowing the guard and Ron passage to the great hall of prison cells.

Though the guard seemed to be on the verge of obesity, he was incredibly fast; Ron almost had difficulty keeping up with him as they maneuvered through the gloomy halls that reeked of misery. To keep his mind off of the faces of the frightening criminals that surrounded him, Ron began to case the joint, examining any ways a nimble prisoner could have of escape. I shouldn’t think such things… Ron thought as he narrowly avoided bumping into the guard’s large rear. But I suppose being an old thief sort of gets you into the habit of doing things like this.

The further Ron traveled into the penitentiary, the scarier the detainees became. Some shouted at Ron, some growled and snorted like wild animals, and others simply glared at him. Eventually, Ron could only stare at the back of the guard’s balding head to avoid eye contact. (Even the floor reflected faces.)

It seemed they had just gotten to the most ominous part of the prison as the guard halted suddenly and muttered, “Oh, here he is. Nearly passed him, ha.”

An odd, chilling terror suddenly took over Ron, causing him to become as straight and stiff as a telephone pole. His breath froze, and he found himself unable to speak.

“Relax, guy.” The guard shrugged. “He’s behind steel bars. He couldn’t hurt ye if he tried! Just get your business over with and you’ll be fine. ‘Sides, he looks asleep anyway.”

It’s not that I’m afraid of him assaulting me… Ron thought bitterly. At this point, I wish that was all I was afraid of…

“Guy?”

“Sorry, just thinking about what I-I’m going to say!” Ron lied quickly. The guard seemed to buy it, not that it mattered.

“Listen, I figure I can trust you.” The guard stated. “I have ta hurry and get my burrito out of the microwave before someone else takes it, so you wake him up, ask your questions, and I should be back by the time you’re done. Kay? Kay.”

Without a reply from Ron, the hungry guard was off. Ron felt even less secure now, but at least he no longer had to modify his questions for Atmey in a form the guard wouldn’t quite understand. Ron watched the guard leave his sight and-

“A-HAHAHAHA! HEE HEE HAHAHA HAAAA!”

Ron leapt up what must have been two feet into the air and clamped his now shaking hands to his mouth before he could scream. Without turning around, Ron he realized that bone-chilling cackle had resonated from Atmey’s cell.

“So, you’ve come to laugh at the ruins of the tragic clown…?”

Realizing he could no longer avoid this confrontation, Ron hesitantly turned around to face the old Ace-Detective. It was definitely a sight Ron wasn’t prepared for. He hadn’t seen Atmey since that fateful trial over a month and a half ago…And he was nearly unrecognizable.

In the back of a darkened cell sat the pathetic Luke Atmey, who was leaning back, clutching at the side of his face where he usually wore his special monocle. Instead of the crisp, fancy black suit which seemed to make any man twice as tall as they really are, he now wore a dirty, charcoal colored jumpsuit which appeared too big for him. Where his neat dress shows would be were grungy, scuffed boots that made his feet look like those of a clown, especially with the jump suit. (The sight would have been a whole lot funnier if it hadn’t been Luke Atmey.) It was also surprising to see Atmey without the pristine gloves for a change; he really did have hands! However, they were now covered with dust and several cuts that probably hadn’t been there before. Next to his face, Atmey’s hair appeared to be the thing that changed the least, though it was a whole lot messier now; strands of blond air scattered all over his head, but at least the majority had been smoothed to its usual side.

“Aren’t I a humorous sight?” Atmey laughed bitterly, staring up at Ron with a single eye, the other still being clutched at. “Please, go on! Clowns exist to be laughed at and mocked!”

He looks…Crazed. I can only hope he hasn’t gone entirely insane…I’ve heard insane people are hard to talk to.

“You’re not even snickering…” Luke muttered. “Am I still not amusing enough?”

“I’m not here to laugh at you!” Ron suddenly shouted, clenching his fists. “That’s ruuuude! I only want to talk you, sane person to sane person! Pleeeaaaaasse?”

Atmey didn’t respond right away. At first, he acted as if Ron had abruptly left. He stared at the ground with his one eye for a time, and then shut it. Ron, feeling a bit ignored, quietly mumbled, “Um, M-Mr. Atmey?”

“What do you want?!” Luke snapped, unexpectedly leaping to his feet. “You aren’t here to just strike up conversation with me! Don’t lie to me! ‘I only want to talk to you.’ LIAR!”

Ron couldn’t help but slowly back away from the ex-detective. “J-just questions. I just want to ask you some questions. Then I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone, and never come back if you like.”

“Hurry, then. Ask what you will.”

Ron nodded, happy that Luke hadn’t continued to scream and frighten him. “Before I begin my main questions…May I ask why you’re clutching that side of your head?”

A harsh chuckle escaped Atmey as he tightened the grip on his face. “There’s nothing wrong with that side of the face itself. No, those insolent guards who do not know their place confiscated my lovely monocle…Now, it’s difficult to see correctly out of this eye, and quite frankly, I don’t feel comfortable without my monocle.”

“O-Oh. Ok, I see.” Ron said, nodding briefly.

“No you don’t.” Luke retorted sharply.

Ron wasn't going to fight it. He simply ignored it and began his main series of questions. “Mr. Atmey, you remember that last trial, with Mr. Wright and Mr. Godot, right?”

“YOU EXPECT ME TO FORGET?!” Luke screamed furiously as he raised his free fist. “I would not be here if it weren’t for that wretched event!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorryyyyy! Wrong question!” Ron squeaked, realizing he was very grateful there were steel bars between him and Atmey. “A-anyway, during that trial, they only discovered that one letter…The one you were supposed to receive. They never found the other ones were used to exchange.”

Luke’s vicious expression softened a little as Ron said this. “I sort of miss writing those.” He said quietly. “Wait, then how did Sir Lawyer ever find out that I was blackmailing…Writing to you?”

“I had to tell him.” Ron replied, his courage slowly returning. “I had to save myself from a crime I never committed! I wasn’t going to take the blame for a murder you committed…Which brings up my first question…Why…Why did you try to frame me?!”

Luke sighed heavily as he stared at Ron, whose face was slowly getting angrier. “Why should it matter now? You were proven innocent already.”

“I must know why!” Ron exclaimed. “Why did you do it?”

“Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

“ANSWER MEEEEEE!” Ron demanded in the harshest tone he could muster. For a moment he was surprised at his outburst, and expected the guard to come rushing back with a pistol out. After a moment of silence, Ron asked, “Why?”

“Why not?” Luke remarked, shrugging his shoulders.

This seemed to set off another one of Ron’s spontaneous fuses. “Why nooooot?! After all the letters we sent back and forth? After our perfect joint venture? After the promises you made…”

Luke snorted suddenly, an unfriendly smile materializing onto his features. “Promises? You make it seem like I promised you many things! My dear DeLite, I only promised you two things…Money in return for your services, and my secrecy.”

“That’s not what you said at all!” Ron yelled, throwing his hands up in irritation. “Remember the letter I sent you after the forth heist?”

“Vaguely, yes.”

“I…I asked if I could trust you.”

“Yes, I recall it now. You were afraid that I’d stab you in the back by revealing your identity in case something went wrong in one of our heists or if one of our letters was intercepted. I told your name would never be mentioned.”

“And then what did I ask of you?”

“You asked, ‘Would you betray me if something went wrong?’”

Ron face filled with more anticipation. “Yes, and remember what you said!”

“I said, ‘I promise to never reveal your identity.’”

“NOOOOOO!” the visitor roared, grabbing the bars fiercely. “I still have that letter, Luke! You answered with something like, ‘I will never betray as long as you never betray me. That is a promise.’” Ron thumped his head on the bars a couple times before continuing. “Everything was going so well for us. You could have dealt with Kane another way! You didn’t have to frame me! We could still be…Mask DeMasque.”

Luke scowled at the poor figure on the other side. “Are you trying to say you’re angry simply because you can’t be Mask DeMasque any longer?!”

“No, Luke…” Ron whispered sadly as he leaned his forehead against the bar. “I’m trying to say it didn’t have to happen. If you…Hadn’t stabbed me in the back…I-if you hadn’t broken…your…promise…”

Before Ron could finish, he felt a warm hand suddenly touch his cheek. He quickly glanced up in time to see Atmey had approached him at last, his free hand nonchalantly stroking Ron’s face.

“But you see, Mr. DeLite…” Luke said quietly as a soft, sad smile graced his face. “You may not realize it, but in cruel reality, it is you who betrayed me first. A betrayal is a betrayal. I had to pay you back, even if I didn’t want to; the both of you.”

His hand withdrew from Ron’s cheek. Ron was left stupefied, unsure of what to return with. His cheek also felt sort of odd; tingly, and colder than before. Out of the blue, as Ron raised his hand to his cheek, he felt a wave of confused emotions. What does he mean by that? Why won’t he give me a straight answer? If he didn’t want to set me up, why did he? Why can I not earn a single answer?!…Why do I…Care so much?

He couldn’t stay. Weird, unwelcome feelings were approaching him, and Ron did not desire to feel this way any longer. Without even realizing it at first, Ron was dashing in the opposite direction of Atmey’s cell. He didn’t know the way out, but being away from the abstract Luke Atmey was all he needed. Luckily for Ron, he’d taken the right path to exit anyway. After regaining his composure, he stepped out back into the main room.

“Go buy me a new friggin’ burrito!”

“Hey, you left it in the microwave for anyone to come and eat! Buy your own burrito.”

In the office, two of the guards were loudly quarreling, one of them being Ron’s previous escort. Ron quietly advanced on the fight and said, “Um, excuse me…”

“But you’re the one who ate it!”

“Well, you ate my burger three weeks ago.”

“That was weeks ago, and I paid you back!”

“E-excuse me, gentlemen?”

“In cash. Nothing could replace that delectable burger…”

“And nothing could replace that burrito!”

“Excuse me! Gentlemen, I-”

“Consider it an exchange! Your burrito for my burger!”

“I don’t accept!”

“IT’S TOO LATE!”

“IT’S NEVER TOO LATE!”

“STOP IGNORING MEEEEEEE!”

The two guards stared in shock at the explosive Ron. He sat before them, eyes shut in frustration and hands flailing widely. “I-I’m done.”

The guard that Ron did not recognize merely nodded and slowly backed away into another room. The previous guard continued to stare at Ron with a vacant expression. After a very awkward silence, the guard finally muttered, “Er…Kay. Is there anything else you need while you’re here?”

“Yes…NO!” Ron blurted out. There was something else bugging him. He’d forgotten to ask Atmey something… “Um…Could you please tell me what Mr. Atmey’s penalty is? For the murder?”

“The death-penalty, obviously. Lethal injection, I hear…” The guards answered, shrugging his huge shoulders. “He’ll be dead by next month. Another criminal we no longer have to worry about.”

Ron couldn’t help but wince as imperceptibly as he could. Dead by next month?! That’s only a couple weeks away…I still haven’t gotten answers from him either!

“His case file’s right here.” The guard said as he picked up a heavy file from off the desk. “Lemme check it for you, just to make sure.”

As he opened the file, a small bundle of legal documents spilled out onto the floor. “Ugh! Why do they have to make his file so large, anyway? Now I have to clean this up.”

Ron quickly noticed there was something in between the files…Was that a magnifying glass? “Let me help you!” Ron insisted as he bent down to retrieve the fallen papers.

“Hey, thanks, guy.” The guard said happily. “My gut won’t let me bend down too far at all. Getting stuff off the low ground is such a pain.”

“I’m sure it is...” Ron said, slightly distracted. As he carefully picked up the papers, he also let the item in the middle gradually slide out…Little by little, until the special monocle fell into his sleeve. “Here you are.” Please say he didn’t notice that…

The guard swiftly stuffed the papers back into the file and tossed the bundle back onto the table. “I’m not going to bother with that anymore. Too much of a hassle, it is.” The guard shrugged. “Anything else?”

“No! Nope, nope, nope! Not at all!” Ron nodded, trying to act naturally as possible (and doing a horrible job). “I’ll be on my way, now. Must get home before the wife!”

Without waiting for the guard’s reply, Ron rapidly waltzed out the door, the magnifying glass sliding into his palm as he left the prison.

“…What do I do with it now?”


Ron had spent the drive home trying to force Luke out of his mind. He turned up the radio as high as the volume would go, played the music he greatly disliked, and turned the air conditioner on, even though it was already rather chilly. I can’t think about him if I’m distracted by all these nuisances! He figured. Though the music was terribly annoying and Ron was near-frozen, Atmey’s image rested on the top of Ron’s memory. He looked pathetic, filthy, and incredibly different, bit more than anything…Broken, was the only word Ron could come up with, description-wise.

Being at home didn’t help much either, especially with Dessie out of the house. (She realized how much she loved dirt biking competitions…) He eventually gave up, realizing he’d have to find ways to make him feel better about the whole situation. He sat in his closet, staring at the letters he’d secretly kept. Oh, how I hate hiding things from Dessie! But she would never understand these letters…

After Mask DeMasque’s first heist, Luke began to send him the blackmail letters, which even Dessie knew about; the public knew about that at this point. However, he had carefully buried the fact that Ron and Luke had exchanged letters between the blackmail. At the time, Ron had no idea who the sender was…And sent a letter asking “Who are you?” Luke responded with a two-page letter full of several metaphors, abstract concepts, and dramatic language. The summarized version, “I’m not telling, because I need/like the anonymity.”

Regardless, Ron became terribly fascinated with this mystery man’s eloquent, expressive writing. Ron sent more letters, and Atmey sent his captivating responses. Ron soon became rather fond of this person, who became a friendly pen-pal of sorts. Eventually, the blackmail didn’t bother Ron. It was a good, beneficial relationship they had.

Of course, in time, Ron realized he may be getting too comfortable with this anonymous. When an artifact DeMasque had stolen was “recovered,” Ron began to wonder if he could continue trusting his financial provider. Ron figured there was no harm in asking if his instructor would continue to be loyal, and did just that. In less than a week, he received a reply saying, “How could you think so low of me, my good sir? I am a noble man! On my honor, I will never betray you, as long as you do the same for me. That is a promise, and I am a man of my word.”

“Your word must not mean much to you…” Ron moped as he let that last letter slide from his loose fingers and back into the small shoebox he kept all of their correspondence in. He then returned the box to its clever hiding place and retreated from the crowded closet. As if on cue, the moment he closed the closet door behind him, the home phone rang, causing Ron to leap into the air. “YEEEEP! Ah-hah…That ringer’s much too loud…”

He jolted for the phone, picking it off the base just before in went to voice mail. “Hello, R-Ron DeLite speaking!”

“Hey, Ronnie! How are you?”

It was Desiree DeLite, and Ron couldn’t have been happier to hear her voice. “Dessie! I’m…Ok. Are you Ok? Are you coming home soon? Please?”

“Aww…Do you miss me?”

“Yes, very much so.” Ron sighed.

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be coming home until tomorrow morning.”

“What?!” Ron cried, his voice becoming a little more high-pitched.

“Yeah…The contest was stalled, and I wouldn’t be able to drive home until two in the morning. I figure it would be easier and safer just to stay the night at a hotel nearby.”

“But whhyyyyy?”

“I’m really sorry, hun…” Ron heard Dessie exhale heavily. “…but the competition’s going to run two hours late because of a motorcycle explosion. I promise I’ll be on my way back the moment wake up. Is that alright?”

Ron made a small whimper before muttering, “…Yes, it’s the best you can do Dessie.”

“I’m really sorry Ronnie.”

“Oh, it’s OK. Have a good night, alright?”

“You too, sweetie! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good bye!”

“Bye!”

Ron briskly hung up the phone. He was…Disappointed. Who could take his mind off of that pathetic ex-detective now? Was he to suffer all night under the torment of his own guilty thoughts?

“I don’t even know why I should be the one feeling guilty.” He mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. As he slid his right hand down into his pocket, he felt the magnifying glass against his fingertips.

“You may not realize it, but in cruel reality, it is you who betrayed me first. A betrayal is a betrayal. I had to pay you back, even if I didn’t want to; the both of you.”

Without removing his hands from his pockets, he gently took hold of the magnifying glass. “I need to return this to you…” Ron decided as he returned to his closet. He frantically shoved things out of the way to get to a trunk in the back; the trunk holding the neglected attire of Mask DeMasque. “And tonight’s the perfect time to do it.”


The light of the moon gave Luke Atmey’s cell an unusual blue-gray glow that night. The ex-detective was wide awake to enjoy this change in scenery, though he knew it wouldn’t last long. Foreboding clouds were traveling nearer every moment, threatening to block out the moon and its peaceful light.

It didn’t matter to him at all, however. Nothing really mattered anymore. He never left his cell, and he stopped doing much of anything. At one point, he stopped eating, but hunger got the best of him in the end. Now, all he really did was count the moments until his inevitable death. Even in his dreams, he was counting the hours, the minutes, the very seconds…What else was there to do? The thought of hope was laughable, and trying to make “the best of things” was even more comedic.

Though Luke had discovered a new sort of hatred for all of the impudent wretches involved in that life-changing trial, seeing Mr. DeLite had actually made his day. It was a change in is daily routine, which consisted of feeling sorry for himself and counting! For the first time since he entered confinement, Atmey had been amused!

And it’ll probably be the last time I am ever amused.

A dark, sour grin rested on Luke’s mug as he recalled the event from hours before. That was quite the reaction I earned. He chuckled grimly as he remembered how panicked DeLite appeared as he ran from Atmey. I wonder…what triggered that, exactly? He was perfectly calm one moment, and running the next! He’s such an odd character…Luke then marveled at the fact that Ron came to him in the first place. He seemed so troubled... I wonder if I haunt his dreams like he threatens to haunt my own?

KA-THUNK!

Sound! Luke rapidly spun in reaction to the loud noise that came from behind him. Something was blocking the window...Something moving and alive. With several intermittent “clinks,” the window suddenly vanished altogether. Luke stood there, completely flabbergasted at this unexplainable occurrence. “Well, now I know for sure that I’m mad.” He whispered to himself.

“What are you waiting for?!” A voice hissed from the open hole. From the darkness beyond, a gloved hand reached out to Atmey. With no questions asked, Luke dumbly placed his hand into the stranger’s palm. Without warning, Atmey was being unkindly hauled out of the cell and into the outside. With numerous sounds of “Oof!” and “Ouch!”, Luke was finally outside; a place he hadn’t visited in what felt like forever.

“Is this...A dream?” Luke asked himself as he stared wide-eyed in every direction.

“No, unless we’re both having the same dream.”

Luke turned to face the figure that spoke to him, who was almost invisible against the black clouds scattered among the sky. The recognition was almost instantaneous…

“Mask DeMasque?!” Luke blurted, bringing a hand to his mouth. Before Luke was indeed Mask DeMasque, though the costume had been slightly modified…The trademark broach and plume-clip were gone, and the entire outfit had been dyed a charcoal black, even the pearly white gloves.

“Sssh!” DeMasque put up a finger to his mouth. “I’ve been able to stop the video cameras from functioning, but that doesn’t mean the guards are out of the game!” He grabbed a hold of Luke’s arm and squeezed it gently. “We’ll have to make our escape very quietly, or it’s over for both of us. Not one mistake can be made.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow at the masked figure. “Does this mean you planned this from the beginning?”

“I-if you call the past five hours ‘from the beginning,’ then yes.” DeMasque whispered. “I already have the clearest escape route mapped out, so our getaway shouldn’t be too difficult…I hope.” DeMasque swallowed hard. “But you must follow my instructions. Time is vital, and if one thing stalls us as we escape, we’re done like dinner.”

“Then let us depart!” Luke ordered, waving his hand in a hurried motion. “Time is of the essence, my dear thief!”

With that, DeMasque tugged on the prisoner’s hand and they initiated their daring break out. As they ran for their lives, DeMasque snapped orders at Luke. “Slow down for a moment…And…Go, go! Don’t slow down noooooow! Stop…Left, we go left! Turn again! Oh no, did I make a wrong turn? Oh, I know where we are! Straight ahead! OH! Slow down again, stoooop…GO! Duck for a moment…Ok, faster now!”

Luke found himself dazzled by the thief’s new cunning. He avoided every guard, missed every traveling spotlight, and kept himself out of sight so well. This wasn’t the bungling DeMasque he knew at all.

At last, Atmey and DeMasque reached the back gate, where trucks and other shipment vehicles entered the prison. “I was able to destroy the power cord that sends electricity to this electrical fence and the camera.” DeMasque explained. “The fence is left open just wide enough for you and I…Come on!”

DeMasque pushed Luke through the sufficient opening, then easily slid through himself.

“Now what?” Luke asked, still in a hushed tone.

“Well…” DeMasque took Atmey’s hand in his, in order to make sure they stayed together. “Now, we just RUN!”

It didn’t require any more instruction. Luke and DeMasque were off, like two cars missing their brakes. Hand in hand they sped through the desolate land, and farther away from that awful penitentiary. The thought that guards would discover Luke’s absence kept their adrenaline high, giving them all the energy they needed.

Panting and coughing, Luke and DeMasque finally made it to their first destination: a trucker’s rest stop. DeMasque led Atmey to the restroom behind the pit stop, where two duffle bags waited for them. “This is for you.” DeMasque said as he handed one of the bags to Atmey. “Inside is some proper clothing. Switch it out with that ugly convict suit you have on now.”

Still out of breath, Atmey just nodded with a small cough and accepted the bag. As he changed in the restroom provided, Ron took his own duffle bag and switched out his fabulous Mask DeMasque outfit with casual street clothes. (Still black, however. He was taking no chances.)

“That…Was almost fun.” Luke remarked as he exited the restroom. “It’s the most exciting thing that has happened to me since I became a charged criminal.”

“We’re not finished yet.” Ron said in a forlorn tone. “There’s still the trip back to town. The police have probably discovered you’re missing already. They’ll be in their fast cars, while all we have are our legs. Here.” He gingerly placed DeMasque’s flamboyant hat on Luke’s head. “If we happen to be spotted, or police send out a description of you, people won’t be able to see your face under the hat.”

“What about this abomination?” Luke asked, holding up the bag containing the jumpsuit.

“W-we take it with us.” Ron said. “If the police investigate this place after we leave looking for your traces, they’re bound to find the suit as well if we leave it behind. I-if they think you still have your suit, they will insert that detail in your description as they broadcast it. People will be looking for a jailbird, not you!”

He certainly is full of surprises. Luke thought. His experience as a thief and my guidance must have left their mark. Ha! I never would have guessed.

Luke was disgusted with keeping the dirt suit, but he knew it was for the better. With an annoyed expression, he slung the bag over his shoulder and waited for further direction.

“We’re ready, I think.” Ron stated. “A town is not too far from here. It’s about an hour’s walk. As soon as we get there, we can take the next step.”

Luke and Ron actually made it to town earlier than scheduled, thanks to their paranoia. Many cars crossed their path, and the couple was convinced each and every vehicle was searching for them. They would immediately burst into a sprint every time a car entered their site, and went back to their fast-paced walk until the next car came along. By the time they entered the city, they were thoroughly exhausted and prepared to pass out.

Even so, they fought the fatigue. Ron led Atmey to the back alley of a hotel that went out of business years ago. As soon as Luke recognized they were completely alone and officially out of danger, he bluntly muttered to Ron, “Explain yourself.”

“W-what?” Ron was caught off guard by the spontaneous demand.

“You heard me.” Luke sneered. “Explain yourself! Why did you go through all that trouble to save a lowly murderer?”

Ron’s professional expression collapsed. His head slumped over and his cheeks progressively became redder and redder as he thought of the proper thing to say. “Well…It’s just that…No, you see…I don’t…Actually, it’s like…No…”

Luke waited patiently as Ron nervously began a plethora of sentences and excuses, but was physically unable to finish one. After Ron started his 53rd explanation, Luke raised his hand and calmly said, “Guilt, perhaps?”

Ron’s stammering came to an immediate halt. His hands limply fell to his sides as his mouth opened and closed in an attempt to answer.

“Not, not exactly...” Ron whimpered in a very puppy-like manner. “It’s…Well…”

“Out with it!” Luke insisted, his patience running slim.

“How could I leave you there to diiiieeeee?!” Ron shrieked, balling his fists and holding them to his heaving chest. “I’ve never seen anyone look so shattered! Should I have left you there to go completely mad and eventually die? I won’t let your death haunt my nightmares!”

Atmey could no longer suppress his toothy grin. Just like before…He’s under my spell in all entirety! “There’s more to it, I believe.” Atmey hummed softly as he advanced on the poor Ron.

“N-no.” Ron mumbled. “Think of it as payback. You taught me everything I know about proper thievery; more than the books ever could.”

“You can tell yourself that.” Luke stated sharply. “I don’t accept that.”

Ron’s face turned a dark scarlet. He scrunched his eyes together, and mumbled something incomprehensible. Luke took this as a resignation, but before he could utter a word, Ron was in action again.

“We don’t have time for this!” Ron cried as he searched his duffle bag for something. He salvaged a tiny, rectangular bundle from the sack and slapped it into Luke’s hands. “Take this and get out of here!” Atmey inspected the bundle to find it was actually a large stack of twenty dollar bills. “Change your identity! Find someplace to live! Use that to start over! I don’t care what is exactly you do...Oh, I almost forgot!”

He fiddled around in his pocket for a few seconds, and with an “Ah-ha,” Ron recovered a duel monocle-magnifying glass and proceeded to shove it into Luke’s full hands along with the money. “You have all you need now to get out of this place! Now GO, as fast as you can! I never want to see you again!”

Ron did not linger for Atmey’s reaction in the slightest. The moment he finished his sentence, he turned tail and bolted in the opposite direction as if his life depended on it. The action was dreadfully abrupt, but Luke could not say he was surprised.

Zvarri...! I have you figured out entirely, lock, stock, and barrel my dear DeLite. Even though I tried my hardest to frame you for the murder of that despicable man, you still are at that beck and call of my desires, to the point where I don’t even need to tell you anymore.

Luke gaped at his prized monocle, very much like a child who just received vast quantities of chocolate. With a gentle sound of satisfaction, Luke placed the monocle in its only acceptable position, his right eye.

Your words cannot speak louder than your actions, DeLite. To anyone watching, it is plainly obvious…That you still belong to me.
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Already started on the next part! Constructive criticism and the pointing out of errors is desired.

If my avatar is any indication, I am completely against this pairing in every single way. But, that doesn't mean that I can't read something on a pairing if it's well written. However, the main problem with this fiction at this point is your leaps and bounds of logic.

1. Why in the world would a police guard leave Ron Delite in a dangerous part of the jail house because of a microwavable burrito? If he started it when he was escorting Ron, knowing that they were going far, why did he even start it? A guard wouldn't do that sort of thing.

2. Why would the prison break room have case files, convenient for anyone to read?

3. Wouldn't Atmey's Monocle be stored away with his personal belongings, things the prison holds onto? I mean, it was hardly evidence and wouldn't belong in a case file.

4. Motorcycle explosion? Are you kidding me?

5. What's the point of the Mask DeMasque suit if it was so heavily modified? Black clothing is just as effective.

Look. If you ship these two, whatever. But the fact is there are fundimental flaws in this fiction that already complicate things for a flawed ship.

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Alright. I knew this was coming, so here goes nothing...

Before I start, please keep in mind that the Phoenix Wright universe goes out of the bounds of logic, and quite often as well. Gumshoe is often spilling confidential information and letting Phoenix do things he should not be able to do. (Sure, he tells you he's not supposed to be telling you, but that doesn't change the fact that in the end, he does.) Another example is the judge. In court, the defendant must be proven guilty beyond as reasonable doubt. Phoenix gives his clients many reasonable doubts, but he cannot receive the Not Guilty verdict because he cannot come up with a motive for the next prime suspect. (Even when the defendant also has no apparent motive.) The judge also allows countless shinanigans into the courtroom, as I'm sure you've noticed. (Minus Phoenix, of course.)

The guard: He's based off of a prison guard I met named Gar. Gar is the most ridiculous excuse for a guard there is. He often leaves people hanging because the coffee pot's empty, or because the microwave went off. I'm perfectly aware that a normal guard would not be so neglegent. (However, I believe he was fired after 8 months into the job.)

Case file: I probably should have explained how it got there better. A higher-up had taken out the file, and left it on the desk for it to be returned by one of the two fighting guards. I've only seen this happen in a small Sheriff's office, so it was inserted into the story to make things easier and make up for my lack of jail-knowledge.

Motocycle explosion: Not as far-fetched as you'd think. Not to mention even more bizarre happenings have occured in the world or Phoenix Wright.

DeMasque suit: During case 3-2, Ron went to confront Kane Bullard in the DeMasque attire, even though a regular mask would have been appropriate. It seems to me that Ron would only use that attire for thieveries. Also, what else would he use the suit for? 'Might as well give it a quick dye and wear it anyway.

The pairing itself: Exists mainly because I honestly don't care for Ms. DeLite, and Luke seems like a much better companion for the nervous fellow.

All in all, this was written purely on a whim and posted for experiment purposes. After re-reading it, it's plain to see I'm much better off writing general fiction rather than fanfiction. Unfortunately, I don't really know how to delete threads, otherwise this would be long gone because of how apparent it is that I wrote this when I should have been sleeping.

...Seriously? Are you one of those yaoi fangirls who equates rape with love?

Ron and Dessie are extremely devoted to each other. If Dessie was in a motorcycle competition, it seems highly illogical that Ron, HER HUSBAND, wouldn't be there, by her side, supporting her in her dreams and aspirations.

Again, I have no problems with your pairing choices, but some just lay on the Goddamn illogical.

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Hey now, I think that was a little uncalled for. While I agree that Ron loves his waifu very dearly, there's no need to go and insult Klar like that. It's a fanfic. People will like what pairing they like, no matter how illogical it may seem to you. That's why crack pairings exist.

Also, if you're the same Zetto San from 4chan, then fuckin' lol.

Now, in response to your fic Klar, I honestly liked it a lot. I love Ron & Dessie as a couple, but I've always harbored a secret love for Ron & Luke. I don't know why really, I just do. So it was nice to read a fic centering around the two.

You said this was your first time writing a fanfic, right? Well I thought it was pretty damn good for your first try at it. The dialog flows nicely, and I can tell you put a lot of effort into keeping the character's dialog in character.

As Zetto San pointed out, there are some things in your story that would seem out of character. Don't let that stop you though. The only way you can improve is by making mistakes and making your way through things.

I'd love to see you continue this fic. I'd like to see how it gets resolved and I'm really glad you wrote for this pairing. I really did enjoy it.

As users like Bolt Storm can attest to, I am the one and only.

I wouldn't say I insulted the user, but more made a sweeping generalization. However, I never make an accusation without some support. To accuse without evidence has never been my style.

For Klar to out right say that Ron and Dessie aren't meant to be, that causes me to furrow my eyebrows a bit.

Also, I would like to point out one of the last lines.



That line caused me to throw the "Oh shit, it's another yaoi fangirl/boy who tends to think in terms of seme/uke relations and thinks overpowering someone is considered love" flag.

Bottom line: Enjoy yur crack pairings all you want, but if you say a canon couple isn't meant to be, dem's fighten words.

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@ Zetto: I never said they weren't meant to be. I just simply don't care for Ms. DeLite. It's a matter of opinion.


Have I mentioned any rape? ._.;
Though I do enjoy the occasional Shonen-Ai, I wouldn't quite call myself a fangirl. I enjoy heterosexual relationships more than I do anything else, but I have not yet had the motivation to write one.

When I started writing this, it wasn't supposed to come across as a seme/uke relationship. It was supposed to be Ron feeling a bit guilty, and Luke slowly coming on to him. However, I can't really see too much of a subtle love when it comes to Atmey. Considering he isn't very an very subtle person, anyway...

(Off topic, but if you're the same Zetto San from 4chan, then are you the same Zetto San from Gaia?)


@ Detective: Well, thanks! In order to remove a few of the errors, I think I'll take the story back and revise the first part. I'll keep the basic plot, but I believe the revisions I have in mind will make more sense. [After I re-read it the second time, I realized I didn't fully remember writing a few bits of it because of how late I stayed up writing a it.]

(I probably shouldn't have made my first fic a crack! pairing. Experience is something you need for these sorts of things.)

Wait, what?

Someone took my name on fucking Gaia?

MOTHERFUCKING GAIA?!?!?

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I'll take as a no.
Here's the profile, in case you signed up for Gaia and just forgot: http://avatarsave.gaiaonline.com/profiles/11458796

The only time I'd ever sign up for that fucking lousy excuse of a website would be for trolling. I might have to just to give this impostor a piece of my mind.

In any case, all I see is some stupid looking avatar. No text.

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