189 When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going

A/N: Thanks to everyone who still is reading – and I love every single one of you who takes the time to review me. It means the world to me! 😘💖
Good news –Am back in my writer’s zone – next update coming in August 2019!
p.s. Also, next project – finishing Filling The Void!😊

Have work in the morning
And up at the crack of dawn
All my money worries
Wherever I go come along

Worry’s a bully
That just won’t let me be
Trying to keep me busy
Tussling and struggling

No home since the fire
Me and the ash can’t settle down
Unsure of where I’m bound
So I sink another round

Placebo for pain
And there’s no one to blame
I refuse to accept
That my work is all in vain

Worry’s a bully
That just won’t let me be
Trying to keep me busy
Tussling and struggling

Still always remembering
When the going gets tuff
That the labor of our love
Will reward us soon enough

Man’s never alone
If he can offer help
Always thinking of
Everyone else before himself

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Location: ?
Date/Time:?

“Miles! Noooooooo!”

The agonizing shriek of distress reverberated through her, piercing her like a shard of glass. Her eyes widened in terror, her pulse raced, and her heart pounded with an intensity that felt as if a rock were rattling inside her chest.

BANG!

The noise rang out and reverberated harshly within the vast, high-ceiling area.

Lana felt numb from shock and trepidation. Her throat was now raw and aching with clogged tears, she then shifted focus onto her former lover, not even daring to breathe as she braced herself for the gruesome sight of his remains.

The astonishing sound of the prosecutor’s unsteady breathing snapped the ex-detective out of her stupor; she then incredulously realized she could not only still hear, but feel the rapid rise and fall of the man’s chest against her shoulder.

Miles was still alive!

She shut her eyes and offered a silent thanks to whatever celestial beings were responsible for this phenomenon.

Oh, ye gods and pink fishes and all that is holy – thank you!

By some miracle, despite Li following through with her homicidal threats and firing the weapon, Lana and Miles had been spared their lives – thus far.

Nevertheless, the drawn-out ringing in her ears from the Futilitarian Queenpin’s fired bullet was enough to cause all fears to remain unabated; the epigrammatic silence returned far more thickly than it’d been before the shot.

It was as if everything around them was collectively holding its breath.

Gunshots in movies and video games may be commonplace, hardly eliciting a surge of adrenaline from the viewer. However, in this desolate hangar, far from civilization, each bullet’s thunderous echo feels like a direct infusion of adrenaline into the heart. The resounding cracks permeate the empty space, underscoring the gravity of the situation and magnifying our profound sense of vulnerability.

Thence, Lana’s ragged mind would not allow her to feel any respite; she was certain their macabre fate hadn’t been changed at all – merely deferred.

But why? The bewildered captive thought. Moreover… How?!

In the next split-second, she got her answer as the atonal screech of Mandarin filled the air.

“Cào nǐ zǔzōng shíbā dài! How dare you?!”

The intransigent Damien was presently holding the incensed femme fatale’s gun-toting hand in a vice-grip, rendering it fruitless. It’d been his last-minute intervention that’d resulted in the intended shot whizzing past and missing the bounded duo, leaving them both unharmed.

Accordingly, much like lightning on a pitch-black night, Li’s orbs were now dangerously fulgurant as she glared at him with deadly outrage.

Arsen and Arachnis were visibly tremorous to be witnessing their hot-headed mistress so unhinged; animus-filled steam was practically swirling from her flaring nostrils. In contrast, the serpentine-eyed exterminator was as unfazed by his employer’s matchless fury as he’d been by hearing the expletive to “fuck his ancestors to the eighteenth generation!” The adventitious blasphemy hadn’t gone undetected; Damien’s lengthy term as a seasoned executioner meant he was also a very cultured globetrotter, subsequently fluent in nearly a dozen languages.

“Just who the happy hell do you think you are, defying me like this?” Li thrashed violently to wriggle free from the executioner’s clasp; her pulchritudinous face twisted into a mask of demonic rage. “I exhort you to answer me this instant, you putrescent, feckless … reprobate knave!”

The hitman merely shrugged languidly in response to the four-color, full-stereo rage while maintaining his steadfast hold on her wrist.

“Apologies, Madam, for interceding and hence, temporizing that lovely itchy, trigger-happy finger of yours,” Damien replied smoothly. “Undoubtedly, such actions from a lowly, scaturient jollier like myself belie the customary gnathonic behavior demanded from those on your payroll. Be that as it may, there was indeed a sound foundation behind my perceivably roguish insubordination.”

“I am in the plenipotent one here, you shit cunt!” The normally composed Li was officially in a corybantic frenzy. “Not you but me! I say: kill and you say: when?! Therefore, why would I give a flying sheep’s queef about any rationale of yours?! You are nothing more than the equivalent of a human colostomy bag that doesn’t deserve to have an opinion on anything!”

The contract killer placidly disregarded the frumious outburst and went on speaking as though the Chinese woman hadn’t just subjected a series of scorching barbs against an inexorable slayer armed with the skilled ability to snuff out her life in over 700 ways – and that was just with his bare hands.

“I’m a visceral man to the hilt – I consider it to be an occupational hazard. This auspicious knack has determined that bái chī one and bái chī two over there….” He coolly jutted his chin at the gangly Arachnis and corpulent Arsen, who scowled at the abstruse Mandarin reference. “… Possess the combined IQ of a raisin.”

“Screw you, dip nuts!” The behemoth’s piggy eyes shot daggers at the assassin. “You’ve got some damn nerve!”

Damien ignored Arsen and continued to address the now somewhat calmer Asian, who’d ceased struggling and was listening to him intently.

“No doubt, this doomed triad alliance was a textbook case of birds of a feather flocking together, given the peccable nature of Dumb and Dumber’s recently departed superior …” He cocked a pointy brow in the direction of recently massacred bookie on the ground. “Presumably, an egomaniacal mental midget such as Shang-Chi was incongruous to hire anyone who’d be a slicker góu zaĭ zi than he was, ergo…”

“That’s enough out of you, you gaping, prolapsed anus!” Arachnis straightened out his fedora and marched up to the rapscallion, a scowl splayed across his rodent features. “Can it with show-off Chinese speak and talk English already! If you’re going to throw shade at me and my man Arsen, not to mention our poor boss…”

He carefully averted his gaze from the fallen man’s cadaverous remains and puffed out his bony chest in a show of indignant bravado.

“At least have the cojones – lookit here, you’re making me bust out my foreign lingo, too! How ya like them apples?! – to say that shit in a language we less sophistimacated guys can comprendemos! We deserve to know what youse tryin’ to say behind our backs – even though we’re standing right here!”

“Very well,” Damien assented cordially. “Your blundering human stain – a term which can now be used literally, thanks to Madam! – of a boss…”

He affixed the shorter man with an oily grin.

“Used the flimsy excuse of not knowing the true identity of Agent Skye as the reason for not asking the two of you slack-jawed, banjo-playing inbreeds to inspect for any sort of tracking devices on her person, which neither of you questioned, proving that two heads are not always better than one, and in this case, were equal to none…”

Arsen gritted his teeth at this latest jibe, while Arachnis pressed his lips together so tightly, they disappeared.

The assassin ruthlessly pressed on his biting onslaught.

“…Consequently, I then had to do your dirty work for you and bust out my filleting skills on the damn Interpol broad, all because you two are as useless as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest!”

I immediately sensed where this conversation was going, her eyes narrowing as the hitman continued.

“As I am not Willy Wonka, I’ll stop all sugar-coating, at the behest of el presidente of the (Unwashed) Hair Club For The Vertically Challenged. Just answer this: did either of you bother checking the phony billionaire playboy here for any sort of tracking device, or did you just mindlessly dispose of his cell phone as well, and call it a day?”

Damien’s leer only widened as Arachnis squirmed and attempted to discreetly tuck his greasy rat ponytail under his fedora, under which he sported a shameful, not-so-secret, gleaming pate.

“My guess would be no, then? You see Madam, I am a man who prides himself in the unmatched art of bodily disposal. But even with these two fart-knockers – who I suspect would be about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican – assisting me with dismembering the carcass, it’s still not an immediate process. Plus, I still have the remains of your little brother to take care of! Surely by now, Interpol is looking for these two. I was simply buying you more time so we wouldn’t have to flee your HQ and make it no longer usable if it were tracked, due to a rash action made in the heat of the moment. I only halted you in the act of blowing the pretty boy pettifogger’s brains to smithereens because those subdermal trackers tend to off like a car bomb when the heart stops.”

“And you’re an expert on car bombs, aren’t you?” Miles said dully. “I reckon you’re the Machiavellian miscreant who planted the explosive that nearly killed Detective Badd!”

“At my bidding,” Li purred flagrantly, utterly unrepentant. “The old man was never the target, of course – his Judas informant was. My motto has always been: snitches belong in ditches.”

Her self-satisfied smile was replaced by a menacing glower as she sidled up to Arsen. Although less than half the gargantuan brute’s size, in her stiletto-heeled boots, she stood almost nose-to-nose with her dead half-sibling’s malefactor. Their backs were to the Americans, so neither could make out either’s expression, but the tension in the air was like the hot static buzz one felt before that first clap of thunder.

“Arsen, my dear, is Damien wrong in his implications?” The mafia princess queried in a feint soft voice. “While I imagine my scum-sucking maggot of a half-brother undoubtedly employed the sort of ‘honest’ men who’d proclaim they actually like going to strip clubs for the food…”

Arsen gulped nervously.

“…Did either of you check Miles Edgeworth for any tracking devices when you accosted him at the airport?”

The colossal ruffian began to sweat-drop.

Flashback…
15 minutes before the trial

Phoenix Wright 
Outside Special Court, Labyrinthia Town Square
July 21, 2026

The card shark cursed himself for the umpteenth time for his unchecked reign on his emotions, not to mention his runaway tongue, when he’d received the notification from his daughter that there would be no way to ship any of his forensic tools from Ema in time to help him out with the trial.

I shouldn’t have let that poor girl see how freaked out I was by Trucy’s text message. How could I have forgotten about her radar hearing when I blurted out: “Well there goes my last and final hope for winning this case?!” Right in front of her! Nice job, Phoenix. Isn’t Athena the lucky one to have you on her side? You’re every bit the bloody imbecile Edgeworth keeps calling you!

Then, to make matters worse, he’d muttered some feeble excuse about needing air, and run out of there like a bat out of hell, not stopping until he reached the outskirts of the court area, at the entrance of Town Square.

Leaning back against a stone wall, he buried his head in his hands.

He hadn’t practiced law in seven years, and based on his panic attack due to lack of investigation tools, it glaringly showed; as painfully evident as a wart on a toad.

How could Athena entrust her life to be in his hands when he didn’t even trust himself?

There was a period when I believed I possessed all-encompassing knowledge, brimming with unwavering confidence. However, as time marked its presence upon my aging bones and my eyes widened instead of being adorned with wrinkles, I began to realize the limitations of my understanding. It appears that regardless of my actions, there is always someone left unsatisfied with the version of myself I present… but no one is more disappointed in me than I am in myself. At times, I feel disoriented and perplexed, while at other times, I experience happiness and certainty. I am akin to a tangled ball of yarn, with some parts unraveled and ready for use, while the rest remains a chaotic mess, waiting to be sorted out. That mess seems never-ending and often resistant to untangling…

“I’m a goddamn mess is what I am!” He shouted out loud, turning his anguished face up towards the heavens, as though the solution would be found in the cloudy sky. “I can’t do this! I – I’m not an Ace Attorney anymore! I’m just a hobo bum pianist now. That poor girl’s life is in my hands, and I know I’m just going to let her down…”

“Is this a private pity party, or are you allowing visitors?” An oddly familiar voice asked from beside him. “Long time no see, Sir Blue Knight.”

Startled, he turned his head towards the source of the throaty feminine cadence and immediately recognized Rouge, the titian-haired owner of the town’s main speakeasy. The sexy bar wench had given Luke, Espella, and himself a hiding place for the night when they’d been fleeing the courtroom knights in hot pursuit of them 10 years ago, and he’d never forgotten her kindness. Beside her were Bardly, the local minstrel, who’d since swapped his lute for a bass guitar, and a frondy-haired Latino, college-age in years, whom Phoenix didn’t recognize.

“This is Daniel,” she gestured to the brunet young man. “He’s my main bartender/nightly singing entertainment … The voice of a lark. And I’m sure you remember the town troubadour, Bardly,” Rouge added breezily, not seeming to notice the startled pianist still hadn’t spoken. “The scuttlebutt around town was you had made a long overdue appearance in court yet again, so we were just heading there to go see you in action – yet found you here. You appear bluer than a bathing beauty at the North Pole, good sir. What troubles you so?”

He met her inquiring green eyes with his lugubrious ones.

“I got stripped of my lawyer badge seven years ago, yet somehow have been tasked with defending an innocent American girl for a crime I know she didn’t commit. I am not only unqualified for such a daunting task now, but due to this place having primitive/non-existent forensic equipment, I can’t even gather the proper evidence to support my case, and therefore, have no hope in hell of winning…”

“Since when does Phoenix Wright rely on tricks and toys to be a champion courtroom defender?” The comely redhead queried harshly, putting her hands on her hips. “I’ve been familiarizing myself with all your past cases since we last met, you know. I have the gen on how even before your arrival here when I saw you triumph over the formidable Inquisitor Barnham, you were a legend of your profession. You have overcome surprise witnesses, even defended both here and over in the USA when you had no memories of who you were, and still emerged victorious! So why self-doubt? Are you no longer The Phoenix, and all it represents, just because you now lack a formal badge? Was that what made you a man of the people?!”

Phoenix was taken aback by this impromptu, passionate speech. In hindsight though, he shouldn’t have been. Considering the no-nonsense, tough-talking Rouge had been the one to get him off his self-pity train and get back on track with his priorities a decade ago when he’d thought Maya had been roasted in the fire pit, it was heartwarming to see she hadn’t mellowed with age.

Moreover, she was compelling him to remember exactly why his mother had named him after the mythical creature.

Physician Roc Gryphon Wright and Human Rights and Equality Lawyer, Faith Prudence, had had difficulties starting a family. After many heartbreaking miscarriages, they had given up on ever being blessed with a child, until one day, when his mother was 39, the miracle happened.

Phoenix Gryphon Wright had been born.

“Phoenix,” his mother would whisper to him every night as a young boy, weaving a tale in his bedtime story. “We named you after the most magnificent of all mythical birds, a symbol of rebirth and resilience. I felt its ethereal presence that night in the delivery room, sensing the brush of its fiery wings passing by, infusing me with warmth. It circled me, its graceful flight coming to a rest atop my bed, watching over me. Its body blazed with an eternal flame, illuminating even the deepest darkness. A fire is a beacon of light in the shadows, while the phoenix itself is the light of the world. You, my child, are the light of my world. From the moment you descended from the heavens into my embrace, you displayed a fighting spirit. Just like the great phoenix, no matter how many times life may knock you down, no matter how many times you fall, you will always rise from the ashes, renewed and stronger than ever before.”

“Rouge – you’ve given me a lot to think about within two minutes just now.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I – I, I don’t know what to say…”

“Well, I do!” She pointed her index at him, objection style. “Burn all those doubts that are dragging you down to the ground – and put on your war paint!”

“Wait – what?”

“You heard me.”

She snapped her fingers at Daniel and Bardly, and a bass guitar, similar to the minstrel’s, appeared as though from mid-air. She and the other musician began strumming an energetic beat as she nodded at her bartender, who began belting out the mesmerizing lyrics in a rich baritone, which, as Phoenix listened, magically became a soothing anodyne for all his distress.

Put on your war paint

You are a brick tied to me that’s dragging me down
Strike a match and I’ll burn you to the ground
We are the jack-o-lanterns in July
Setting fire to the sky
Here, here comes this rising tide so come on

Put on your war paint

Pride and courage washed over him like a tidal wave.

Crosswalks and crossed hearts and hope to die
Seal the clouds with grey lining

So we can take the world back from the heart-attacked
One maniac at a time we will take it back
You know time crawls on when you’re waiting for the song to start
So dance along to the beat of your heart

And it was within that very moment, that a transformative surge of invincible courage coursed through his veins, banishing doubts and instilling an unwavering strength within him.

Gone are the limitations and hesitations that held me back. I stand tall, untamed, and unstoppable. The mere thought of death, pain, or torture fails to deter me, for I have become impervious to their grip. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this level of unwavering bravery, and it fills me with a profound sense of exhilaration. At this moment, prodigious courage surges within me, demanding that I be bold and resolute. I’m reminded of the dormant power that lies within, urging me to embrace my true potential. It’s a transformative experience that reconnects me with my inner warrior, propelling me forward with an unyielding determination. With every breath, I bask in the radiance of this newfound bravery. It fuels my spirit, compelling me to face any challenge with unwavering strength and resilience. I am in awe of the possibilities that lie before me, for this extraordinary courage holds the key to unlocking my truest self. Here and now, I embrace the call to greatness and embrace the power within me. I am ready to face the world with unyielding bravery, triumph over adversity, and discover the depths of my own capabilities. 

It was an extraordinary sensation as if he had shed the shackles of fear and limitations. He became untamed, unstoppable, and fearless, ready to face any challenge that came his way. The barriers of death, pain, and torment appeared insignificant in the face of his newfound bravery. It was a rare and remarkable experience, one that reconnected him with his inner warrior, urging him to rise above adversity and embrace his true potential. This extraordinary courage, long dormant, now demanded to be embraced and wielded as a beacon of strength and resilience. He embraced this moment, for it held the power to propel him forward on a path of triumph and self-discovery, unlike anything he had experienced in a very long time. He couldn’t help but marvel at the incredible sensation that washed over him. The doubts and uncertainties that once plagued his mind suddenly seemed so trivial and insignificant. It was as if a dormant warrior within him had awakened, empowering him with a profound sense of courage and fearlessness. He felt an indomitable strength coursing through his veins, urging him to embrace challenges and conquer any obstacles in his path.

What an incredible feeling it is to acknowledge that my doubts hold little importance when my courage is called upon. I feel my fears dissipating, making room for the emergence of a warrior deep within me. There is a sense of invincibility, a fearlessness that courses through my veins. The thoughts of death, pain, and torture fade away in the face of this newfound strength. As I stand here, I am filled with profound courage that urges me to be brave and resilient. It has been so long since I’ve experienced such unwavering bravery, and I cherish this sensation with awe and gratitude. I am unstoppable, and nothing can hold me back.

Hey Youngblood doesn’t it feel like our time is running out
I’m going to change you like a remix
Then I’ll raise you like a phoenix
Wearing all vintage misery
No I think it looked a little better on me
I’m going to change you like a remix
Then I’ll raise you like a phoenix…

A small smile played on his lips as he now recognized the tune as one of Trucy’s often-blared teenage anthems around the apartment.

So we can take the world back from the heart-attacked
One maniac at a time we will take it back
You know time crawls on when you’re waiting for the song to start
So dance along to the beat of your heart…

Even though the dawn is still some time away, there is a light in my heart that was missing just yesterday. Right now, it is a spark of hope, a ray of sunshine yet to be born, but it is there and I feel it. Perhaps that is optimism, the anticipation of good things to come. It is a feeling I haven’t apperceived in so long that it feels as foreign as it is welcome.

The war is won before it’s begun
Release the doves, surrender love…

This…this welcome, strange sensation…it is the confidence of the phoenix, of one who has suffered into ash, reborn in the flames of hot pain and commanded to sing again. This is confidence, hard-won yet deep, anchored in the true self that is always safe at my core. It is that which grows within, purging that which was born of fear, clearing the way for love to grow, to take up every aspect of who I am. And in this rawness, in this absolute vulnerability, I am confident. I can do this. I can win this case – if I give it all I’ve got. Hang on, Athena, I’m coming back to you. And I promise I won’t let you down. All I need to do is never stop believing in you – and myself.

End Flashback

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Location:?
Date/Time:?

“Start talking, you Fat Bastard!” In a flash, as if from nowhere, Li whipped out her trusty ivory-handle switchblade, which she immediately pressed up against the land whale’s groin. “I will not be ignored!”

The manatee was now in such a swivet, his innards began to quake. He felt like passing gas.

“It would behoove you to answer the question, Shamu.” She pressed the tip of the knife against his fleshy, gelatinous inner thigh, just millimeters from his crotch. “Unless of course, you’d like to start singing soprano…”

“Noooo!” The land whale whined. “Not my dick!”

“Stop it, you crazy dame!” Arachnis begged. “Lady, what’s with the perverted fetish of hitting below the belt of poor, unsuspecting men?! Are you seriously so twisted that you get your rocks off by altering a fella’s gender against his will?!”

“At ease, turd golem. I may not do full-blown emasculation, assuming this testicle-shitting rectal wart decides to man up in time and speak for himself. I might feel benevolent and settle for only semi-castration.”

Li didn’t even turn her head in the smaller thug’s direction as she pushed the knife even further forward into the blubbery hooligan, aligning it so that either his slightest movement or a mere flick of her wrist would immediately change his religion.

“So, tell me, Wide Load: Did. Either. Of. You. Incompetent. Micro brained. Degenerate. Butt-Wipes. Check. Edgeworth. For. Tracking. Devices?”

Each word was punctuated by a painstakingly slow dig of the sharp metal, and Arsen could feel warm wetness forming in his nether regions. He couldn’t tell if Li had actually drawn blood at this point, or if he’d wet himself. He didn’t care anymore – he just wanted to keep his junk intact!

“No, we didn’t!” He whinnied, his voice at such a tinny high octave, it was almost comical in contrast to his Goliath size. “We just took his phone. That was all! I – I’m sorry!”

Li eyed him in stony-eyed disdain.

Ugh, even his whimpers sound fat!

“I see.” She paused in her impromptu sex-change operation and beamed at him, her inflection as sweet as molasses. “Now then, was that so hard, Big Boy?”

Despite himself, the magenta-clad lawyer couldn’t help but instinctively cringe on Arsen’s behalf.

The Queenpin was using the same overly saccharine tone that the duplicitous Melissa Foster (an alias used by the diabolic Dahlia Hawthorne) had first used to charm His Honor, Jughead Chambers, and everyone else within proximity upon her very first courtroom appearance at Miles’ premier trial.

And look how that had turned out!

Ergo, the prosecutor knew whatever was coming – it wouldn’t be good.

Nnph! Verily, this shall be a frightful example of odorous matter flung freely around the room due to mechanical interference…

Beside him, the flinching Lana was experiencing a nearly identical train of thought.

Oh dang! The shit’s about to hit the fan!

“I’ll explain and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon.”

Li’s voice had gradually dropped several degrees in temperature with each passing word, all the while keeping her plastered beaming expression intact.

Damien couldn’t help but be impressed by how the woman could change her tone from warm honey to impending Arctic blast within the blink of an eye.

This dame’s so damn cold, she would make a Siberian Husky shiver.

The Lady Boss batted her long, mascaraed eyelashes at the huge thug, the sweet smile still on her face, blade remaining poised at the apex of Arsen’s right inner thigh.

“Arsen, you and your scrawny fellow shit-weasel, Arachnis…”

Her eyes turned into onyx stones.

“You are the fork to my soup. The salt to my coffee. The hot sauce to my ice cream. The glitter to my sushi. What I am trying to say is, you are useless.”

Then she thrust her weapon forward.

“AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes
Special Court, Labyrinthia Town Square
July 21, 2026

“Wayland is alive?” Athena’s azure eyes were round with shock as her hands flew to her cheeks. “What the – how?! I mean, I’m happy I didn’t kill anybody but… He was declared dead …was he not?!”

“What is this, Night of the Living Dead?” Bleeped the glowing yellow Widget. “Does this mean the minger is a brainless zombie? Cuz that would explain EVERYTHING!”

The flustered girl reflexively clapped her hands over the talking pendant and mumbled an apology.

“Prosecutor Barnham appears as gobsmacked as we are about the bloke rising from the dead,” noted Espella, who was every bit as flummoxed by this precipitous turnabout as everybody else in the courtroom. “Believe me, if this town actually had an official medical examiner present; I would have Father fire him post-haste for such an unforgivable cock-up!”

The redhead and pianist both gawked at the blonde, who clapped a palm over her mouth while the rosy calescence in her fair cheeks grew steadily.

Something had gotten very lost in the American vs. English translation!

“A cock-up means you have made a mistake!” The baker explained hastily. “I swear, in this country, the phrase has naught to do with any parts of the male body!”

“Let’s skip the crash course in British colloquialism for now.” Phoenix eyed her dubiously. “What do you mean by no medical examiner?! I know this village is supposed to be set in medieval times but …what the heck?! Does that mean your town surgeon is also the barber?!”

“Or is it that he’s the local barber/dentist?” Athena was eager to show off her knowledge about bizarre European moonlighting throughout history.

“Good heavens, no!” Espella replied earnestly. “Nay, we aren’t that behind the times! Willie – er that is, Dr. Pushengrebbe, is an actual MD! He pulls double duty you see…”

“With that kind of name, MD must stand for Massive Dong!” Widget chimed. “Dr. Strangelove by day, porn star by night!”

The English gentlewoman bit back a titter and chose to ignore this cheeky outburst.

“…He’s the town veterinarian, as well. However, since he also works on the mainland in the hospital Emergency Room, Labyrinthia only has him on a part-time loan. He’s married to Emeer Punchenbaug’s sister, Anita Pushengrebbe. She’s the town midwife.”

“And a fine one at that!” Knightle chimed in enthusiastically, reminding the trio that despite the considerable distance separating the inquisitor and defense benches, they could still be heard. “Wayland Payne didn’t have a completed autopsy report per se; it was more of a preliminary medical report. Mistress Pushengrebbe only took a brief shufti at the supposed stiff at the time and merely did a quick mirror test under the nostrils to see if he was breathing. Naturally, she deemed him to be deceased since the glass did not fog.”

“What business did the local midwife have to do any sort of medical examination on a presumed corpse in the first place?” Barnham demanded incredulously. “Being a specialist in childbirth doth not a doctor make! Where was her husband?!”

“Dr. Pushengrebbe was called to London for a rare medical phenomenon at the zoo – their elephant was set two deliver twin calves – one of whom was named Elon Tusk!” Knightle explained, then frowned at the barrister. “I will not have you point an unjust finger of accusation at the good lady, Ex-Inquisitor Barnham! I have several townsfolk who can attest that before the incident in the woods, this witness attempted to have a drinking contest with our town drunkard, and may have temporarily lapsed into a coma, thus showing no sign of immediate vitals at the time! Furthermore, she was otherwise up to her elbows in placenta until an hour ago with Kira, delivering our son…”

“…Jack Barrow Knightle!”

“Shiver me timbers!” Widget piped up. “Be they Pirates fans, me hearties? YaRrr!”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Knightle, none of us were victims of any head injury, ergo needn’t be reminded of your son’s name for the second time within five minutes,” the judge said dryly. “I daresay everyone in this courtroom is au fait with the fact that you and Lady Knightle are blatant Disney enthusiasts.”

“Not really, more so us being fans of the dishy Johnny Depp, and when I say us, I mean
Kira’s fancy,” Knightle grinned ruefully. “Not that I could pose any sort of objection to any name of her choosing! It seemed to be a fair equivalency exchange, considering she spent 14 hours in labor birthing our progeny. One who inherited, and I quote, ‘his father’s stonking, cantaloupe-sized noggin, which nearly tore me bleedin’ fanny from stem to stern!’ Unquote.”

Not even Barnham could stifle a derisive snort at this latest anecdata, then hastily cleared his throat when the judge shot him a pointed look.

“Ahem, let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we, Mr. Knightle?”

“Yes, let’s,” Phoenix agreed quickly. He was eager to keep the trial at its current kangaroo court level of lunacy and not fully graduate into a full-blown, three-ring circus! “How on earth did you manage to come across Mr. Payne and ascertain that he was actually alive?”

“Labyrinthia doesn’t have an actual morgue so to speak, Sir Blue Knight,” Knightle explained. “The plan was to ship the body back to the mainland in the morning. Thence, to keep it preserved until then, the body was placed on a slab in the ancient catacombs under the cathedral. The chilly and dark penetralia are perfect as interim cadaver storage. It was a pure fluke that I was in the vicinity when Mr. Payne woke up in his Daliesque surroundings. The poor lad was screaming blue murder! What fortunate happenstance this occurred whence I was chivvying along from the midwife’s home to the off-license; it’s right beside the church…”

“The off-license?” The spiky-haired man echoed blankly.

“Er, yes. I believe you Yanks call it a liquor store over there in America. I had to leg it over there to fetch a bottle of rum…”

“God Blind Me!” Barnham slammed his fist down on the bench and glowered at his colleague. “Abandoning your wife’s side when she’s in labor just so you could go gallivanting and get bladdered should be cause for divorce! What kind of a bloody, inconsiderate tosser are you?”

“Belt up, and stop being as daft as a brush, you gormless git!” Knightle snapped back. “It wasn’t for me! It was at the behest of Mistress Pushengrebbe herself. Being a wee bit rat-arsed lets her be ace at her job. She needed to wet her whistle to keep going because it was such long, arduous labor. Most brilliant accoucheuse in the country; alas, she also inherited the infamous Punchenbaug love for the bottle. Fortunately, she at least is more of a functioning drunk than her brother!”

“Apologies for jumping to conclusions, Mr. Knightle.” Barnham was shamefaced and bowed humbly, and took an assessing squiz at the truculent Wayland, who wore a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head and a hostile expression. “Although seeing as how no murder was committed as the former victim is very much alive, you can certainly understand that Ms. Cykes can no longer be charged with homicide…”

“No, but she can certainly be charged with attempted murder!” Wayland growled before Knightle could reply, glaring hatefully across the courtroom at Athena. “Also, once you let me speak, you’ll see that I have the testimony to also substantiate charges of robbery and aggravated assault!”

Athena turned absolutely white. Phoenix had to put a steadying hand on her arm to make sure she didn’t fall over; her knees had begun to buckle that badly.

“No!” She shook her head vehemently and began trembling from head to toe. “Lies! All lies!”

“Did that head injury make his brain roll outta his ears?” The angry glowing red Widget demanded. “Cuz what’s left is so minute, a hungry zombie couldn’t scoop out enough to cover a small water biscuit!”

“What a load of cobblers!” Espella whispered in a fierce undertone as she warily eyed the rotund, querulous teenager, who was having a hushed conversation with Barham across the way. “Mr. Wright, surely you can tear apart the bloke’s pox testimony and have it thrown out? Even a blind man could see something dodgy about that roly-poly… Gannet!”

The storyteller’s daughter seemed to be in the minority, as the boy’s damning words resulted in an immediately boisterous rustling in the gallery. Nearly everyone in the courtroom began stage whispering about the girl’s guilt being a foregone conclusion, some even insisting on the return of the fire pit for such heinous crimes being committed in their quaint little town.

It was like they’d all entirely forgotten that the death penalty wasn’t even a viable option anymore as they regressed to their bloodthirsty, medieval mob mentality.

Despite Phoenix’s newfound instilled confidence boost from Rouge, the raucous crowd chanting nevertheless created a sickening sense of déjà vu, reminiscent of his last harrowing Labyrinthia visit.

“Burn that redheaded witch!”

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Location:?
Date/Time:?

“Arsen!” Arachnis cried in dismay, trying to rush to his partner’s side, only to get blocked by Damien, who simply smirked at the admittedly comedic spectacle of the gigantic goon falling backward onto his massive rear end and clutching at his bleeding groin area. “Nooooo!”

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” the hitman chuckled sadistically. “I bet they felt the tremors caused by Buffalo Butt down in Argentina!”

“What did you do to him?!” The scrawny man shrieked at the impassive Li. “Last time I checked, being stupid ain’t no crime! If it was, half of the earth’s millennial population would be on death row!”

“Calm down, you bleating, pillock! While it may look like a lot of body fluid, it was only a minuscule nick to the inner thigh. It should not kill the gigantic man baby, assuming he is not a hemophiliac,” Li informed him coolly. “What a ninnyhammer milksop!”

Arsen continued to writhe and groan on the ground and the stoic woman expelled an exasperated sigh, her cadence lined with derision.

“You accursed pantywaist, sissy wimp, will you just shut your blasted trap already?! Despite being the size of an ox – and twice as dumb! – you are the most pathetic, weakest individual I have ever known! And considering who your boss was, Big-Booty, that is truly saying something.”

She turned back to Arachnis.

“It was merely a flesh wound. Your cohort is lucky that I was merely trying to make a point. I spared his manhood. God knows why. It is not as if his cocktail weiner will ever be of any use to Stay Puft Marshmallow Man – who would be eating alone even in a women’s prison!”

“Heh, heh. Chunks wouldn’t have hope in hell of eating a piece of fur pie, even with a fistful of dollars, in a Thailand bordello,” Damien inserted sardonically. “The only way Lard Bucket’s ever getting under a woman is if she and whomever she’s boning used him as a mattress!”

That was when Arachnis officially snapped.

“Gnnnnngh!” The shyster exploded wrathfully at the killer and Queenpin. “That does it! You both suck! Suck worse than being an Amish virgin!”

These vicious insults, coming hot on the heels of his partner’s assault, were the last straw. By now, the wiry ruffian was a tumultuous mess of fear and resentment and was out for blood. With nowhere else to turn his blind fury, he turned towards the legal eagle with crazed, beady eyes.

Miles recoiled at the sight of his kidnapper’s hunched form slithering towards him; it exuded an animosity that was like acid-burning, slicing, potent. His pinched rat features were red with suppressed rage, white knuckles from clenching his fist too hard, and gritted teeth from the effort to remain silent through all of Damien and Li’s cutting invectives.

“You!” He spat venomously at the chess enthusiast. “This is all your fault, you meddling, ass-ramming, ball-sucking… dick weasel!”

Then Arachnis hauled off and slugged the bonded Miles right in the gut.

The punch knocked the wind out of the unprepared legist, and he went limp as a noodle against the horrified Lana’s shoulder.

Aside from the haunted house sneak attack by the Blue Badger imposter many moons ago, the barrister had never been physically assailed by anyone in his entire life. As fit as he was, with impressive abdominal and overall gym muscles beneath his suit, he was a sitting duck seated there on the floor, with his hands literally tied. There was nothing he could do to fight back or even protect himself in defense of the madman.

Therefore, all he could manage was a feeble whine, akin to the desperate squeaking sound of a leaking balloon. Time stretched out mercilessly as he struggled to regain his breath, each second an eternity. But without respite, the enraged lout struck him once more, his fist connecting with brutal force, further diminishing any hope of finding solace amid this violent ordeal.

“That’s for not keeping your nose out of our business, and making us have to waste that limo driver, you big, weeping dick!” Arachnis snarled. “I got his blood all over my best hand-crafted, calf-skin, Italian loafers because of you!”

At that juncture, the world blurred into a haze of fuzziness and desaturated gray, enveloping Miles in an ominous shroud. In that dire moment, he truly believed his time had come, that he was on the brink of becoming a mere footnote in history. His mouth moved in feeble protest, desperately attempting to form words, yet nothing but silent gasps escaped his trembling lips, rendering his voice utterly impotent in the face of impending danger.

In a desperate bid for self-preservation, he shut his eyes tightly, disengaging from Lana’s grasp and surrendering to the ground, lying motionless as if feigning death. His strategy was to minimize the barrage of strikes by presenting himself as lifeless, hoping to hasten the assault’s conclusion. The thought of sticking out his tongue for added effect briefly crossed his mind, but he swiftly dismissed it as excessive and opted against such theatrics.

The playing dead technique might have worked fabulously for possums, but it sure didn’t work for the attorney.

The incorrigible hoodlum then proceeded to viciously kick the prosecutor in the thigh bone with a force so hard that his big toe made a sharp popping sound – like a cork from a champagne bottle.

Arachnis started hopping around and hollering that Miles had busted his foot.

Arsen stopped bellyaching from his own genitalia grievances long enough to then add insult to injury.

“Yikes, you like you swallowed an undercracker full of vole poo, my dude. It is not a good look.”

Manatee Man then opted to compound the damage by idly remarking that it was usually a smart idea to not be wearing shoes that boasted they were the next best thing to being barefoot (the craftsman’s slogan was the loafer felt like you were wearing “nothing at all!”) before you started kicking somebody.

Arachnis snapped back at his friend, for whom he’d lost all sympathy, to shut the holy fuck up and gimped away, moaning.

Miles could hear both Damien and Li snickering as the smaller hood hobbled over to where the hefty lummox– whose bleeding seemed to have somewhat abated – was now standing, and assumed a sullen expression that would have made any petulant teen proud.

I would be chuckling, too, if it didn’t hurt so much.

“Being a goon must pay handsomely if you get paid enough to afford customized, dead baby cow shoes from Italy,” Lana discerned innocently. “A pity about the bloodstains, though – maybe try some club soda? It worked wonders on my sister’s pristine white lab coat, years ago, when some idiot at a bar spilled his cocktail wiener – er, sorry Arsen, I swear I meant to say, cocktails! – all over her!”

“As much as I hate to admit it, the American woman does have some astute observation skills, Arachnis,” Li concurred, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Considering my bastard half-sibling was nickeling and diming over a paltry amount like $10,000, to the point where he had you, oafs, shaking down a poor, peasant woman for funds she didn’t have, I’m rather surprised you could afford such opulent footwear, myself. Italian leather isn’t exactly cheap. I must say is most impressive that skinflint bastard who ran such a tight ship would part with enough money to pay his henchmen enough money for ostentatious accessories, including that gold watch on your wrist.”

“Is that a Rolex?” Lana inquired; her tone rife with interest even though there was a knowing glint in her eye. “Wow! The bookie business in remote parts of Eastern Europe must be booming! No poor relation, that brother of yours, Li!”

Rather than subject them to endless jactation about the details of his admittedly exquisite timepiece, Arachnis shuffled uncomfortably from his one good foot to the other and attempted to casually cover the Rolex with his free hand.

“I inherited it from my grandfather,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze. “This thing’s ancient. No big deal.”

“You got that from your Gramps?” Arsen stared at him blankly. “But I could have sworn that you just – ”

His colleague subjected him to a withering glare and kicked the other man’s tree trunk shin in a discreet effort to get him to shut up, promptly forgetting that he was doing so with his injured foot.

As Arachnis spent the next half minute howling in pain, to the amusement of everyone in the room, Damien began to grow bored of these harebrained shenanigans and cast a sideways glance at his boss.

“You know, Madam, that man is a classic example of the inverse ratio between the size of the mouth and the size of the brain.”

“I am wholly aware that the spindly one, who makes my uterus throw up, as he looks like something a booger with hairs would puke on, is at the shallow end of the dream pool in more ways than one,” she returned wryly. “Truth be told in both their cases, if brains were gasoline, neither could run a pissant’s go-kart two laps around a Cheerio.”

Rolling her eyes at the still whinging goon and his mirthful sidekick, she looked back over at the Americans, spotted the amused smirk on Lana’s face before the Interpol Agent could hide it, and narrowed her eyes.

“Well, aren’t you the jovial hostage, Agent Skye?” Li’s voice was pure ice as she addressed the brunette. “As comical as it is how those two all but beg to remind me that they collaboratively bear no more brains than I have in my elbows, I do believe there was still a pressing matter at hand. We were about to determine whether your lover boy there has any sort of tracking device on his person. Isn’t that right, Damien?”

Lana’s heart sank. The diverting antics of the pea-brained duo had temporarily made her forget what mortal peril she and Miles were still in, and she cursed herself for letting her guard slip, even briefly.

“I’ll get right on that, Madam. Just give me a moment to get the RF Signal Detector so I can scan him.”

“Oh, no.” A sinister gleam lurked in Li’s eye as she regarded Miles dispassionately. “I thought we could be much more creative in locating any pesky devices on Sir-Spits-A-Lot here. I say you carve every single square inch of him like a Christmas turkey and start with that man-pretty mug of his, Damien. And don’t stop until you hit pay dirt.”

The way her eyes squinted when she glared at him reminded Miles of a pit viper’s slit-like pupils. He swallowed apprehensively. A burning animosity was developing in her ebon orbs, and he could tell he was the root cause of the antipathy.

Li loathed him. He had wounded her pride with his actions, and the orgulous beauty would never get past his unforgivable sin of spitting in her face when he’d rejected her advances.

Which meant he was a dead man.

And there would be no swift, humane death for him, either. She was going to ensure he was a mutilated, rutting mess who agonizingly bled out like a stuck pig before he met his Maker.

It would have been better if Li just shot him, as she’d intended to do earlier. Damien had done him no favors in delaying the inevitable.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses (a quick, merciful) death…

Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes
Special Court, Labyrinthia Town Square
July 21, 2026

“Witches are to be cast straight into the hellfire!”

The former Ace Attorney gave his head a firm shake and drowned out the throng cries, instead finding himself drawing on the strength gained from all the invaluable pearls of wisdom he’d ever gotten in his life from people he’d loved.

Right now, he could hear the words of the late, great Mia Fey, as clear as a bell. He’d never forget what she’d said to her quaking future protégé, post-first murder acquittal, right before he’d been about to take the bar entrance exam.

“Take a deep breath, Phoenix. It’s alright. You will be alright. Just breathe, and recall all those moments in the past when fear consumed you. The times when anxiety and overwhelm threatened to drown you. The instances when pain engulfed you, like the betrayal of your perfect Dollie who supposedly didn’t poop. And remind yourself that in each of those instances, you persevered. Life has tested you in numerous ways, and despite the hardships you’ve faced, you have endured. Breathe, and have faith in your ability to overcome this as well. Have faith that this struggle is a necessary part of your journey. Have faith that as long as you refuse to surrender and keep pushing forward, regardless of how bleak things may appear, you will be alright.”

Phoenix expelled a deep breath and found his anxieties slowly quelling. With each calming exhale, he forced himself not to be affected by the angry mob chorus.

He shifted his focus on keeping the positive, uplifted mindset he’d acquired from his heart-to-heart with the tavern owner and the reminiscing of his beloved boss, and how she’d kept encouraging him, even after he became a lawyer.

“Never forget how far you’ve come, Phoenix. Everything you have gotten through. Reflect on all the challenges you have conquered, the moments when you persevered despite feeling defeated. Recall those mornings when you summoned the strength to rise, even when it felt insurmountable. Think of the times when giving up seemed like the easiest path, yet you found the courage to endure another day. Never underestimate the resilience you have cultivated on your journey. It is a testament to the immense strength within you.”

He shut his eyes.

Thank you, Chief, he thought. Thank you for believing in me, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. It’s time to pay it forward.

Nevertheless, this proved to be easier said than done, since both Espella and Athena were shrinking back and visibly cracking under the disapproving glare of the judge, who already seemed to have made up his mind, as well as the strain of the crazed gallery shouting.

“Back to Hades where she belongs!”

“Mr. Wright, please help me!” The teenager clapped her hands over her poor, sensitive ears to drown out the overwhelming cacophony. “Wayland is lying! I swear to you, none of this is true!”

“Calm down, Athena.” He took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “You have my solemn word – I’ll keep believing in you no matter what. We’ll get through this, I swear it!”

He heaved a gusty sigh.

“Nevertheless, I’ve got to be honest with you. From where we stand right now, the victim ending up undead isn’t getting us off easy whatsoever! On the contrary, if his ‘firsthand testimony’ is as damaging as I suspect it’s going to be, it might make things worse for us!”

“Worse?!” The schoolgirl cried plaintively. “Even though Wayland is alive?! And the rest of his allegations are bogus?! How?! What could be any worse than fighting an erroneous, first-degree murder charge, which is a capital offense?!”

“Actually … there is one pesky little thing…” Espella began but was interrupted by the heavy thud of the judge’s gavel.

“Order! Order I say!” The old man had to bang three more times before the crowd quieted down to even a dull roar. “Order in the court!”

Once the bustle had died down, the magistrate then regarded the defense bench with a stern expression.

“Miss Cykes, I’m afraid the severity of this case has not lessened much despite these unexpected circumstances, due to you being an American citizen, accused of committing felonious crimes against another American. Should you be found guilty of the charges of attempted murder, aggravated assault, and robbery after you are officially tried at the Old Bailey, you will be extradited to the United States to face punishment. But until then, you will be confined here in the UK, at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.”

He banged the gavel again.

“We’ll take a 20-minute recess now, and reconvene then.”

“Her – Her Majesty’s Pleasure?!” Athena’s visage changed from pallid to green as she faced the Englishwoman and Phoenix. “As in … being put into an English prison with – with no release date?!”

“That would be that one pesky thing I was trying to mention just now – if guilty, you’d be detained until they manage to get things sorted and send you back to the States,” Espella affirmed dismally, placing a comforting hand on Athena’s arm. “I’m sorry, pet. Everything’s going quite pear-shaped right now, isn’t it?”

Widget began flashing a neon blue sad face.

“Buggeration and blast! When I asked how things could possibly get worse, it was meant to be RHETORICAL…not a CHALLENGE!”

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Location:?
Date/Time:?

“No!” Lana shouted desperately; teal eyes filled with panic as she fought desperately to protect her friend against the excruciating filleting that she’d had to endure. “Please, listen to me – Miles was never a trained Interpol Agent. He was just helping us out as a prosecutor, which means he wasn’t ever given a weapon, ID, or anything else that you would normally find on a trained field Agent! That also includes any sort of tracking device. All he ever had was his cell phone, which your thugs have already taken from him! There’s nothing else – you must believe me! There’s no need for you to be so barbaric!”

She held her breath as she stared pleadingly at the assassin, who despite having been the one to have committed the heinous act of tracker extraction on her, still seemed to be the most marginally sane person of the villains and most likely to listen to reason.

Especially since Li was proving, with each passing minute, to be crazier than a caffeine-addled dingo in an Adelaide maternity ward!

The killer frowned as he wrestled with this latest dilemma.

It was true; if the lawyer had been an actual Agent, he would have been armed or had a badge of some sort, and neither had been found on him. Therefore, using Li’s beastly methods to locate a tracker on the prosecutor seemed unnecessary. It wasn’t as though he was averse to marring his prey before extinguishing them. Damien found a perverse satisfaction in engaging in multi-instrument murder. It offered him a twisted amalgamation of his desires: financial gain and the gratification of violence. Deep down, he was aware of the immorality of his actions, but the allure was too strong to resist. It had become an addiction, a dark compulsion that he couldn’t shake off. The wealthy were willing to pay exorbitant sums for his unique “skills,” and Damien willingly catered to their sinister demands.

However, he was also certain the Agent wasn’t lying simply to protect her swain – not that he’d ever take her mere word! – but everything she said made real sense.

After a long pause, he looked away from Lana and addressed his employer.

“Madam, at the risk of sounding as though I’m going soft, I have no desire to be on
redundant additional cleanup duty,” the hitman agreed, nodding. “Using a knife is so much messier than a swift clean gunshot wound, and I still have Shang-Chi to deal with, too. I say we stick to my plan, scan Edgeworth for any tracking devices, which I can easily pluck out of him as I did with his broad, destroy it, and then you do whatever you want with him while we try to interrogate Agent Skye.”

The Asian’s eye began to twitch at his refusal of her command, and a glimmer of hope coursed through Lana. While she may not be able to save herself and Miles from certain doom, perhaps she could at least ensure they both exited this world with the minimal amount of suffering possible.

“You seem to be losing your touch, Li,” she noted gleefully, using her most nerve-grating, singsong voice. “First you had your baby bro trying to run his own illicit side empire, and then it turns out that Shang-Chi’s moronic henchmen live their lives by the power of numbskull. Last but not least, your top-hired gun openly demurs a direct order! Ouch! That’s gotta be rough, considering everything you’ve done to claw your way to the top. It seems nobody around you respects your authority!”

Every taunt landed like a searing brand, igniting an inferno within the explosive Queenpin. Each violated phrase functioned as a catalyst, adding fuel to the already raging fire. Her fists clenched tightly, and her jaw locked in determination. Lana’s words served as the final trigger, causing the volatile mixture inside her to reach its tipping points, like the explosive combination of Mentos and Diet Coke. When Li’s anger erupted, it was an unbridled force, unleashed without restraint. Objects defied gravity, shattering as they were propelled through the air. People instinctively dropped to the floor, seeking safety as primal instinct took hold. There were no boundaries or rules as Li launched herself into a frenzied attack. She would yank hair in handfuls, claw, bite, kick, and headbutt with unrelenting fury. And through it all, her rage-filled scream pierced the air, paralyzing her victims with fear, and forcing them into a protective fetal position as they braced themselves for the storm.

“To hell with all of you!” Li burst out, her baleful glare, which hitherto had been reserved for Lana and Miles, now directed at the executioner as well. “Especially you! Who needs you, anyway?”

She waved her knife defiantly under Damien’s nose.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to utilize a blade, you worthless, defiant dingleberry wrapped in a dirty diaper! It seems if I want something to be done properly, I shall have to do it myself!”

“Oh, give it a rest!” Lana was completely unaffected by the volcano she was ensuring got erupted. “You’re all talk and no action, lady. As if you’d ever get those pretty, well-manicured hands of yours dirty! Puh-lease! You didn’t even get to where you are now by taking care of loose ends by your own doing – you hired Damien or God knows what other killing machines to take care of business for you! You’re a pampered princess, Li! The day you take care of anything all by yourself is the day I square dance naked on the White House lawn!”

The anger within Li surged like molten lava, flowing through her veins with an insatiable hunger for destruction. It churned and roiled deep within her, fueling her primal instincts and driving her toward a path of reckoning. Without a second thought, she whipped out her pistol again.

“Is that so, Agent Skye?!” Li seethed, her breast heaving with fury. “You dare insinuate I can’t put my money where my mouth is, you garrulous little bitch? Well, how about trying this on for size? You get to experience the sanguine body fluids of your lover slowly dripping all over you before he crosses the rainbow bridge, while I make a tidy bullet hole into that marvelous chest of his. Sound good?”

Pulling back the hammer of her gun, she pointed it right at Miles.

“You win, Agent Skye. You’ve convinced me that there’s no tracking device. Ergo … Shot through the heart – and you’re to blame.”

This time Damien didn’t bother to intervene as Li pulled the trigger.

Interpol Rescue Team
Borginia Friendly Skies
July 21, 2026

The tensions were mounting higher than the sky-bound chopper itself as it sped towards the targeted location, which meant the silence inside could only be described as deafening.

This was no small feat, given the constant droning of the helicopter blades, yet the familiar whirring did nothing to quell the anxieties of the greenhorn pilot. He was painfully aware of how dire this situation was. However, despite that knowledge, when coupled with the ongoing terse reticence from the three passengers, the entire journey remained positively nerve-wracking.

Kay took a deliberate, measured breath, consciously attempting to release the tension coiled within her body. She understood the importance of staying mentally prepared, yet she also knew that being too rigid and mechanical wouldn’t serve her well in this situation. Despite her efforts to appear relaxed, she couldn’t fully hide the signs of mounting stress. Her movements, though controlled, carried a subtle undercurrent of unease. Her eyes darted around with heightened alertness, a reflection of the pressure weighing on her. And her clenched jaw revealed the grip of subconscious tension, a constant reminder of the challenges ahead.

Please, God, let Lana and Mr. Edgeworth be all right! The Yatagarasu prayed, clenching her hands into gloved fists. We’re almost there! We’re so close…

The grim-faced Badd was seated in the back next to Kay, earbuds plugged into his MP3 player, head back and eyes closed, like a soldier in a meditative state, sagaciously prepping for battle.

Another head, aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no, help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah

The only sounds he cared to hear were from the skirmish anthem he tended to listen to whenever he was going out on a dangerous mission.

And when there’s nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain’t changing me
The cold-hearted boy I used to be

Time is our enemy now. Apprehension builds in my chest, ready to engulf me. Maybe it seeks to protect, and our friends could be safe. But it lingers, a seething presence, pushing me towards disquietude which is the last damn thing I need right now!

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
You’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down

Finally, the aviator had to break the taciturnity for the sheer sake of his sanity.

“Ms. Von Karma, could you please maybe put away your whip, at least for five minutes?” The pilot asked pleadingly as the German woman seemed content to be slapping the coiled leather repeatedly against her gloved hands in what could only be seen as an unspoken threatening gesture. “You’re making me nervous! And – and that’s not a very good thing for a guy who has to operate a sky – or any kind of! – vehicle!”

“Silence, you foolish fool! And that’s Agent Von Karma to you!” Franziska snapped, making no move to pay heed to the nervous young man’s pleas. “You have but one job, so I suggest you make that, and not my actions, your sole focus – unless you wish to know the taste of leather firsthand!”

The aeronaut whimpered slightly, so the raven-haired ninja, who’d also been uncharacteristically mute as well, seemed to take pity on him and leaned forward to pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t let her rattle you. You’re doing just fine, Rusty. Pay no mind to Agent Von Karma. She’s just a little on edge, and that whip is less like a weapon, and more like a childhood blanket at this point. It’s comforting for her since she’s so on edge.”

I got soul, but I’m not a soldier…
I got soul, but I’m not a soldier…
I got soul, but I’m not a soldier…

“Enough, Kay Faraday! I object to you conveying my personal details to this sudoriferous simpleton!” Franziska fumed, turning back in her seat to glare at the other woman. “I do not know what we have done to have the misfortune needing to entrust such an imperative operation to the shaky hands of an obvious rookie aeronaut… with the discomfiting name of Rusty Landings!”

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down

“S – Sorry my name sucks, ma’am!” Rusty shrunk slightly under her seething glare. “But senior pilot Kent Ackoff was out sick today!”

“Just shut your foolish mouth and get us there already! The three of us have the most daunting quest at hand … Assuming we even get there in time before our friends become entirely perforated! Can you not make this God-forsaken heap of raucous metal go any faster?”

“But – but this is a top-of-the-line chopper, Agent Von Karma!” The pilot protested feebly. “It’s a Colibri EC120B, one of the quietest in the world! If I land this thing a reasonable distance from the site, we can arrive while remaining virtually undetected!”

“Leave the poor kid alone, Franziska.” Badd finally spoke, although his eyes were still closed. “There’s no point taking out your frayed nerves on the only guy here who knows how to fly this thing! I get it – you’re jittery about this undertaking. We all are.”

“Humph!” Was all he got in response from the irritated Profiler, but she quieted down.

The air inside the helicopter is as tense and fragile as glass ready to shatter. Silence hangs heavy, words unable to bridge the gap. Platitudes hold no weight at this moment. Just days ago, the revelation that the criminal mastermind was a Queenpin instead of a Kingpin lulled us into a sense of false security, imagining the fairer sex was a lesser evil to contend with. How foolish we all were, allowing ourselves to make such undervaluing, sexist conjectures. But at the time, we would have clung to anything to ease the terrible burden of worry about the fact we were seemingly on the road to nowhere in this sting.

She needed to be quiet to cerebrate. To reflect. To pray.

The weight of uncertainty presses upon us, and I can’t shake the feeling that Miles is in grave danger. I just know it. I can feel it. It’s relentless anxiety that gnaws at my core. Right now, even as I think these thoughts, he exists in a limbo, teetering between two extremes: either engulfed in a fiery inferno or safely sheltered within the capsule, his fate unknown like Schrödinger’s cat. But I refuse to accept the notion that he could be in both states simultaneously; he is not a mere scientific paradox. Miles is my beloved, my former betrothed, and the everlasting love of my life. In this suspended horror, where time stretches into eternity, we all stand on the precipice of the ultimate battle. Merely minutes from now, once we arrive, only then will we know if we got there in the nick of time; we will then cheer the roof right off or pain will engulf us entirely. There is not a person in this aircraft who does not love Miles, but Mein Gott, I am perhaps the only one that will require sedation if he is lost to us…

Over and again, last call for sin
While everyone’s lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I’ve done
All these things that I’ve done
(Time, truth, hearts)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on…

Unnamed Airline Hangar
Location:?
Date/Time:?

BANG!

“Nooooooo!”

This time, it was too late.

More screaming.

Blood gushing.

The crimson droplets cascaded down, defying the laws of time, as if each one carried a weight of its own. They transformed into a torrent, a scarlet fountain painting the cold cement with their macabre dance. The slumped body served as the source, releasing the life force that now flowed relentlessly, staining the ground with a relentless sanguine trail.

Praying.

Crying.

Unyielding and unabated, the blood continued its relentless flow, a thick crimson river defying all attempts to staunch its tide. In the glaring brightness of a summer’s day, its vivid hue appeared indecorous, as if flaunting its brazen vermillion, as red as any flower in bloom.

But for Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye, forever marked by the somber weight of their shared destiny, robbed of all vivid hues, this fateful moment would be forever grey.

Mandarin Translations

(bái chī) – idiot

(góu zaĭ zi) – son of a bitch

(cào nǐ zǔzōng shíbā dài) – fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation

The Growlers – Going Gets Tough (Chapter Quote)

The Killers – All These Things That I’ve Done (Badd’s thoughts)

Fallout Boy – The Phoenix