CHAPTER ONE: A LOT to Do About Nothing

Hello. I'm Geno Creed, a rookie attorney. Just like many before me, I am a fighter for truth, justice, and...and...bored. Really friggin' bored. You see, law offices hit slow days as well. They don't have a constant case load where drama happens on a daily basis like it does on television or video games. It makes me wonder what Perry Mason did on his day off. Probably just ran around LOOKING for crimes to solve and defendants to save. I'm not nearly as dedicated. I SHOULD just call in sick. I just got the new Elder Scrolls game, and it calls me with it's addictive awesomeness...

No, I'll go...sigh...maybe someone will commit a drive by and end the monotony. I just wish I wasn't doing coffee run.

"Sir?" I mean, I don't even LIKE coffee, much less drink it.

"Sir, are you still there?" Who drinks coffee? Probably a bunch of pretentious rich guys with vests and goatees.

"SIR! Are you going to order or not?"

"Buh? Oh, right. Sorry. I'll be taking one small cup of black coffee for the boss, a triple mocha latte for the annoying one, and an herbal tea for Victoria. You ever get annoyed when people just dump everything on you, especially if you have no involvement once so ever? I mean, Victoria and Mr. Holt have a car, so I don't see why the guy with the bike has to do everything."

"Sir, I just work the register, so..."

"Spare me your life story, sheesh... I'm paying, aren't I? How much is it?"

"Forty dollars."

...This is SO going in fmylife.com.

* * * * * * *

"I'm here." Geno says, moving into the small apartment renovated to be an office backwards, holding the three drinks cautiously. The front office is painted yellow on the walls, the single window in the room giving it an air of timelessness, yet that of antiquity. The single mahogany desk stands guard at the hallway, papers scattered all over it. near the window is a couch, in front of which stands a small television set, whose age is indescribable, and palpable whenever it turns on or off with a concerted effort. "Hello, I'm here. Geno. The guy that left for about an hour?"

"Great, no one cares." A voice from the hallway replies, followed by a few giggles. "No, not you, hon. Now where were we?"

"I have coffee, Ami. Why did you bother asking for it if you didn't want it?"

"Fine, I'm in my office." The young man in the blue suit sets the drinks down on the front desk, carefully extracting the latte from the carton cup holder, and moving towards the hall, takes a deep breath. "Yup, I'm a lawyer. Didn't I say that in the bar?"

(Oh great, girlfriend of the day is on the phone. I know I'm immature as an attorney as well, but at least I don't play my video games during work.

...Much.)

Geno enters through the threshold of the office, transitioning from a sterile carpet and yellow wall paint into a world unlike many he had known before. The walls are painted a scarlet red, a single Japanese paper lantern illuminating the windowless room, the design of multiple butterflies overlapping, their colors of green, black, and blue sensually illuminating the confined space. Her desk is an arch, the top black and shimmering, almost like obsidian in the twilit evening. A calender hangs in the corner, reading "Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition Calender: 2031", turned to the month of June, where a woman is suggestively laying on a stack of hay, in a bikini and cowboy hat. On the desk lies a single piece of sentimentality, a nostalgic picture of two young girls in school uniform, standing in front of a large building. On it, in black permanent marker, it reads "Tori And Ami: BFFs!", a tiny heart replacing the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point. Geno places the cup on the desk, quietly waiting out the call.

"Really? Ohh...that sounds nice. You say you wear that normally? Oh. So you really ARE a nurse...no, I didn't doubt it, I just hear that a lot is all. What do you mean 'how often?', I'm just making conversation...okay, look, I've maybe been around a little, but that's no reason to get all fussy, sweetie. Why don't you and I...no, I know it's too early, but from last night- oh. So there's not a chance of that happening again sooner?... What? What'd I say? Aw come on...fine. Bye." Ami slams the phone on the receiver, letting out a forced sigh, her hand going to the locket between her prominent cleavage. "You wanted something?"

"I'm here to give you your coffee."

"I saw that. Why aren't you gone?"

"I'm waiting for something along the lines of 'thank you', or 'here's my part of the rather large bill for three drinks'. Y'know, something to help me not think my time completely wasted."

"Well, it was. Now shoo, I need to find a date for tomorrow."

"...Why tomorrow, specifically? Don't you usually find them from anywhere?"

"Normally, yeah, but Neal's dragging us to some sort of gala tomorrow night."

"...What?"

"Didn't you get the memo? I gave it to Flash, and-"

"That explains it. He's probably just looking for the best time to rub it in my face-"

"That you're a loser who'll never find anyone who'd ever want to willingly spend more than an hour in your company."

"...Not exactly, but thanks for the continued degradation of my self-esteem."

"No problem. Now scoot, I've got a little black book to sift through."

"You mean the dictionary-sized thing under your desk?"

"Yup."

"Good for you. I'll be off in my office trying to plan what to wear." Geno turns and shuts the door behind him, sighing. He turns the corner to see the front door opening, a woman with long, lavender hair entering the door, a blue teddy bear standing on her shoulder. The teddy bear jumps down, and walks up to the attorney clad in blue.

"You're back. It's sad when I'M earlier than YOU."

"Shove it, Flash. I don't want to hear it. Victoria, your herbal tea is on the desk." She nods, and walks over to the cups.

"Thank you very much." She blows on the drink, the steam rising from it. Flash tugs on Geno's pant leg, and the attorney bends down to investigate.

"What is it, Flash?"

"Guess what?"

"There's a gala tomorrow night, and you didn't tell me about it when Neal tried to inform us."

"...Once again, you've ruined the fun."

"You mean the kind that ends in my pain?"

"Exactly. Some best friend of the greatest animate teddy bear in the world you are. Seriously, it's been 19 years. Stpo being such a fuddy-duddy."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey Victoria, you hear of this?"

"Oh yes. Ami's already asked me out in her...special way."

"How do you two stay friends?"

"Well, Ami's didn't always use to be like that." Victoria stops for a calculated moment, taking a sip of her tea. "She used to be a little worse." Geno and Flash stare at the woman for a moment.

"Geno...was that a joke...from Victoria?"

"I dunno, but the world may be ending soon."

"Oh, you two..." She begins, taking a seat at the mahogany desk. "No, she's a nice girl, she just seems to be that way on the outside."

"Well, she's never been any way else with me." Geno responds, Flash moving to a sitting position on him.

"She doesn't like you. We formed an anti-Geno club, too. No Geno's allowed."

"Shut up, Flash." Geno takes a seat on the couch, Victoria smiling, a shy laugh escaping her lips.

"I think you two get along in your own way. Sort of like a brother or sister."

"Meh, I just want something to do."

"Why not organize those files Mr. Holt asked you to take care of?"

"You mean the crap work? Pfft. No." Victoria sighs, moving the papers and such into an orderly fashion, returning it to its usual pristine state. "Look, I'm just going to take a nap. Wake me up when Mr. Holt gets here, Victoria."

"Will do." Geno reclines onto the cushions, his eyes blinking slowly a few times before closing, a deep sleep overcoming him.

CHAPTER TWO: THE OTHER DAY...


The people at my office are...characters, to say the least. Though I wouldn't choose anyone else to be in my company. You see, many things may annoy you about someone, but that doesn't mean that you should shun them. In fact, some of the greatest people I've met have annoyed me to no end. But I suppose I shouldn't be so rude...

My name is Neal Holt. I'm a veteran attorney...or, I supposedly am. I haven't personally taken on a serious case in years, I've always sent my employees to do such work, and hope for the best. Most of them become so experienced, they leave my office every year or so, and I've had to hire new talent, and take on a few misdemeanor cases, which aren't this office's forte.

But I digress...gosh, where was I? Ah yes...never shun those that may annoy you at the moment, for you may not know what good they do in the long run. For instance, take one Mr. Maxwell Payne, son of the infamous Winston Payne. I know Winston Payne rather well. He has a real passion for his work, though he hasn't won nary a case in his lifetime, bringing me wonder why he is called "The Rookie Killer". But, his son, Maxwell is a different story. Sure, he's won every case in his career, but... he lacks the one thing his father has...

Oh my, another tangent...

As I was stating, Mr. Maxwell Payne is a contrast of his father. He's quite rigid and blunt. Today, he came up to me, and said, "You there. Holt. There's a charity gala coming in a few days, and you are to attend, understand? The same goes for your worthless lackeys."

As you can imagine, I was surprised to receive an invitation from such a misanthrope. But, he continued, stating, "The Chief Prosecutor and The Head of The Attorney's Guild want us all to make nice over some frivolous charity. Goodbye."

At least were invited, yes? The Attorney's Guild was formed a while back to help regulate ethics amongst the attorneys, and work in tandem with the government, but they still are far from some stock bureau. When you are truly recognized by these elites via induction as a patron, that means you are worthy of some benefits.

In my case, that would mean making rent for the office, and being able to keep paying my employees a steady salary, even if cases happen to be...not forthcoming. I know Ms. Hamilton always has a place to return to, but I fear for the others.

Of course, one is only inducted via recommendation.

This is why this gala must go just right. Not just my fate, but all of our fates could very well rest with The Attorney's Guild.

...

My love...if you can hear me...watch over us...


I miss you so much...

* * * * * * *

The phone rings in a simple office, which has several filing cabinets forming a legion around a single, wooden desk, a foam rubber office chair, whose tears reveal multiple uses, supports the weight of a bearded man, who has papers strewn about.

"Carry the three..." He mumbles, fervently typing on a cheap calculator, sweat running down his bald scalp. A polyphonic tone emanates from his chest, causing his concentration to break. his hand reaches inside his suit jacket's coat, pulling out an ancient cellphone, with an equally aged Steel Samurai wrist strap. He presses the talk button as he raises it to his ear.

"Holt & Co. Law Offices. How may I be of service?"

"Is Mr. Holt there?"

"This is he speaking."

"The name is Apollo Justice, a member of the board of The Attorney's Guild. We wanted to check on you, since you have yet to RSVP for the charity gala tomorrow evening."

"T-tomorrow?"

"I'm sure this hasn't escaped your attention, Mr. Holt."

"No, it's just..." Neal hesitates, his eyes growing wide. "Well, I'm bringing my employees plus their dates, and wanted to wait until they finalized their plans."

"Oh? If that is all, it will be no trouble to make a few extra seats, and order a little more, concerning food and drink."

"Yes, sir..."

"No need to be formal, Mr. Holt. I'll see you there?"

"You can count on it."

"Good. So long, Mr. Holt. Though I won't be personally attending, I wish you the best of luck." The other side clicks off, and a stubby thumb ends shuts off the cellphone.

"Me too..." he sighs to himself, arising from his chair. His trembling hands move his body upwards, and he exits his office, pale and breathless. As the door swings open, he can hear the chattering of his co-workers.

"Yes, sweetie, it's me, Ami. ...Ami? The girl from three months ago that met you at the art museum, and we were together for about...three hours? Yeah. Are you sure? ...okay." A loud slamming of a phone is heard from a room as he passes, the low hum of a conversation getting louder.

"...And THAT is how I got arrested for fifty misdemeanors and three felonies in the span of two hours." A familiar voice boats, the bearded attorney seeing a teddy bear standing triumphantly on Victoria's desk.

"...Flash, I remember that. It was five misdemeanors, and five misdemeanors only. You got probation for a week, and poor Geno had to pay hundreds for your bail. Is that something to be proud of?"

"Ms. Hamilton, Flash? Any possible clients today?" Flash slides down the desk, moving towards the couch, the lavender-haired woman looking melodically down at her hands.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holt, we haven't even had a criminal or tort litigation query today."

"I see..." Neal's head moves to the right, and he stares at his office door, unsure of what to say.

"OW! What the heck!?" A voice cries from behind them, and Neal turns, frightened, to see the blue teddy bear standing over Geno with a paper fan. "What was that for?"

"You said you wanted to be woke up when Neal came."

"Not like that, you jerk!" Geno rubs his eyes, sitting up where he is. He turns his drowsy gaze towards his boss, blinking a few times. "Sorry, Mr. Holt. Anyway, I was wondering, since the gala thingy is tomorrow, if I could...um...take some tiem off to prepare?" Neal bows his head, his eyes shut. He stands in deep thought.

"Sure. In fact, I think we shall close early tonight, and take tomorrow off."

"But Mr. Holt-" Victoria quietly objects, her hands writhing together in nervousness. "Are you sure? What if a client should come?"

"Don't worry, everyone, I will personally handle everything. Enjoy yourselves." The employees awkwardly stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, sir." Geno responds, moving toward his office, Flash following closely following. Victoria sadly gathers her things, sighing. She stands, and moves from her desk, one of Neal's hands moving to her shoulder.

"Don't worry, someday we'll get a tort. Then you'll finally have your day to shine."

"...Thank you, Mr. Holt."

"Anytime." Victoria walks out the front door, Neal watching her leave, relieved that no tears had been shed. He looks around, unsure of what is next. He slowly crosses to the couch, sitting down with a laggard speed. He takes a look at his watch, which reads "14:32". "Everything will be alright...it has to...just one more day."

CHAPTER THREE: AGONY, AMI'S REPRISE.


You'd think a girl could catch a break, right? I have an I.Q. of 200, a body to make models jealous, and...well, if I were to go into THAT part, it would take too long, and probably get censored.

Ami Collins, attorney. I'd also probably classify myself as "ace lover".

Anyway, I'm scrounging for a date for tomorrow night. I'm halfway through my "little" black book, and I've had no takers. Some have found someone, some don't want to see my face...and one girl had the gall to tell me she was straight, and that it was just one drunken night together.

There are only two women in this world: lesbians, and women who haven't met me. Got it? Good. Because if you disagree, we're going to have some problems.

Sigh...it's kidna lonely, though, going from one one-night-stand to the next. But that's life, kiddies. I do my job, I hang out with Tori or Flash, and I go to the bar for a drink. I have no time or energy for this romance crap. You know what I do? I go find a girl, we have a night, and release our frustration at each other in the form of a night of passion, and we move on. I do this pretty often, and I'm damn happy with the way it is.

Bottom line? There are lovers, never couples. The sooner you get over it, the sooner you stop whining over each and every break up. And like me, people always have to find out the hard way.

But that won't stop me from getting a date. And I tell ya what, I will NOT be seen in a date-bringing function without a date.

Lessee...555-7854...

Oh, excuse me for a moment.

"Lynda Warren, secretary in the office of State Treasurer Jim Feldspar."

"Hey Lyndy... it's me, Ami."

"...What?"

"Remember, from college?"

"It's been a while..."

"Yeah. Want to go to this gala with me?"

"Depends, what is it?"

"Some random bleedin' heart whiny cause supported by The Attorney's Guild and the prosecutor's office."

"...You mean, that political function where a bunch of other public officials will be?"

"Yup."



...What's that clicking sound? ...UGH! Damn it all...Welp, back to the drawing board.

* * * * * * *

A woman, with a black vest, and a buttoned down white blouse with pink, vertical stripes, and a black skirt, cut off very high, almost revealing her thighs. Her spiked heels are audible as she exits her office, the locket between her bosom glimmering in the sensual light. Ami closes the door behind her, locking it with a key concealed within the hem line of her skirt. She begins to exit the office, when she sees a blue teddy bear sitting on the couch, lucidly gazing at the television.

"Hey, Flash. What's up?"

"Not much. Geno's being boring again."

"Aw, sweetie...he's ALWAYS boring." They both have a laugh, and Ami has a seat next to the azure stuffed animal.

"Well, at least you don't have to live with him. ...So, whatcha up to?"

"Actually, I'm taking a break from date searching, and looking for a dress."

"What?"

"Oh don't worry, it'll be sexy."

"Oh, for a moment there, I thought you were going out of character." Flash jumps up onto the woman's lap, looking up at her. "Can I come along? I'm pretty sure I could swipe some loose change while I'm on the trip, too."

"I don't see why not! Lemme get my purse!" The young, pink haired woman retreats to her office, to return with a fashionable black purse, into which Flash hops into with a gentle ease when it is put near him by a graceful arm.

* * * * * * *

"Do...you think it looks good?" The young woman is clad in a tight, amaranth backless cocktail dress, a halterneck accentuating her "features", the dress slant revealing one of her legs, all accented but a pair of amaranth spike heels.

"Um...I'm a teddy bear. Who wears a ribbon." Begins Flash, juggling a jiggling bag of change. "So anyway, being the keen eye of fashion I am, that's the best outfit ever."

"Awesome! I'm DEFINITELY going to be turning some heads." Ami quickly retreats to the dressing room, whistling to herself softly, as Flash tugs along a small bag of change, heading toward the front door. Suddenly, a shriek fills the tiny store.

"THAT'S MY COIN PURSE!"

"Cheese it!" Flash exclaims, finding the first available hiding spot, being a circular rack of dresses, quickly climbing up one of similar shade. The shopkeeper, bewildered, moves to the frantic woman, trying to clam her down.

"Ma'am, what's wrong?"

"A teddy bear has stolen my coin purse!"

"...A what?"

"Yes, a blue teddy bear that spoke stole my coin purse!"

"...Of course it did, here, let me lead you to the back room, and I'll call the police."

"Thank you..." The woman replies, calming her breathing. The shopkeeper passes her lone clerk, and whispers softly in her ear.

"Call the funny farm, we've got a crazy one."

"Gotcha."

* * * * * * *

Flash sits in a purse, holding coins in his cloth stubs, smiling. "Forty five...fifty! Eight dollars and fifty cents in change! Not my usual antics, but it'll get us something to drink!"

"Sure. I was walking to the usual place anyway."

"Oh, the Wonder Bar. You know, I hear they had this one magician there that helped the business take off."

"Yeah, I saw a poster once. She was really cute. Ah! Here we are!" They enter a small bar, cleanly maintained and adorned with faux wood. She approaches the bar, Flash leaps out of the purse, and takes a seat on a coaster. "I'll have a vodka."

"Sure thing, Ms. Collins." The bartender replies.

"HEY! BARKEEP!" Flash shouts over the noise. "Downy. On the rocks."

"Um...I'll check inventory." He sarcastically retorts, getting a clear bottle for the young woman.

"So, Ami..." Flash begins, twiddling his ribbon. "You gonna work your magic?"

"Why do you think we're here?" She says, scanning the room. Soon, her eyes catch another young woman across the bar. "Bingo. The prey has been sighted."

"Cool! I'll be over here eying what I want out of this." Flash states, his shifty glance turning towards the cash register.

* * * * * * *

Dear Diary~

Met a sexy lady named Shawna...something. I'll ask her last name later. So now I don't have to go dateless. Flash is currently working off his debt to the barkeep by washing some dishes still. Ah well, he'll get home.

I wonder how Tori's doing...I haven't talked to her since this afternoon. Things seemed awkward after I asked her out...again. I mean, usually they are awkward for a few minutes after, but I think she took it a little more personally this time.

...I know this sounds mushy and crap, but I really value our friendship. We've been friends since...God, I can't remember how long. She's my best friend, and losing her would...

Nope, can't think of that right now. In fact, I do believe someone is getting rather lonely right now. I think I should tend to her. <3

- Ami.