This is set after Joe Darke is convicted for Neil Marshall's murder when the rumors about Edgeworth started circulating. Right around when Phoenix read that article about him, and tried to get a hold of him.
By the way, this is NOT one of the two "longer drabbles" I promised. This isn't supposed to be funny. If you laugh at this, you have no soul. Shame on you. I'm back to the depressing type stuff I'm actually good at writing, instead of corny shorts.
Once out of the courtroom, Miles Edgeworth sat at his large desk and sipped at some tea.
He had just finished reading an interesting newspaper tabloid about himself.
"The Dark Suspicions of the Demon Prosecutor" or something to that effect.
A demon that puts criminals in jail?
A demon that takes the slime of the city and makes sure they get what they deserve?
But of course people aren't interested in talking about what good others do, but only to watch their downfall.
That didn't matter to him.
His cases were perfect.
He was perfect.
He had won, of course.
He had become a prosecutor two years ago at the age of twenty and was still undefeated.
Being young and talented however, came with consequences.
He had many enemies.
Almost any defense attorney in the Los Angeles area would be sweating bullets as they sat across from him.
Friends and foes didn't matter to Miles.
His main concern was his verdicts.
He would accept no deals, no agreements and no sugar-coating.
The police brought him criminals and he gave them what they deserved.
Prison.
Or death.
He didn't care what was needed to get that guilty verdict.
His last case was a hard one however.
Miles never thought about cases after they were closed, but this one was particularly unusual.
There was barely any evidence.
Half as much as their usually is.
Even the decisive evidence was still suspicious.
A knife that didn't match the wound in the last victim.
But the tip of the switchblade was broken, and found inside the last victim's wound.
The wound was questionable, but the evidence was all that mattered.
The judge had asked for several coroners to perform new autopsies, to find the reason behind the wound.
All autopsies came back with the same result.
Numerous professionals couldn't all make the same mistake.
He finished his tea and forced thoughts of the past out of his mind.
He set down his tea cup and caught a red flashing light in the corner of his eye.
Four messages?
He had been busy lately with the SL-9 case and didn't take any calls during that time.
He pushed a button on his switchboard and listened closely.
"You have four new messages. First message sent Monday eleven twenty-three A.M."
The machine beeped.
"Uh, hey Edgeworth. This is Phoenix Wright. We went to fourth grade together for a few months before you transferred, but I was just calling to catch up. Give me a call when you get some time, I'd like to have a word with you. My number's 555-3411 and the area code's the same as yours. Alright, bye.
The machine beeped again.
Phoenix Wright?
Calling him out of the blue after thirteen years?
"Next message sent Tuesday two forty-nine P.M."
"Edgeworth? It's Phoenix Wright again. I called yesterday too, but I guess you're busier than I thought. I just read up about your case recently. You know, the serial killer guy and I wanted to ask you about it. My number's still 555-3411. I'm local so hope to hear from you."
Beep.
First he wants to catch up, then talk about SL-9?
Next message sent Wednesday nine twenty-six A.M."
"So I guess you don't work NORMAL business nine through five hours. I thought I'd catch you if I called earlier. If it would make life easier I could stop by the Prosecutor's office and talk to you then. Please Edgeworth, just call me. Number's the same...bye."
Beep.
He was getting annoyed.
Miles wasn't in his office all week; he was in court and investigating.
But he didn't think Wright cared much about catching up.
"Next message sent Thursday four fifty-four P.M."
"You know, that lady that transfers calls to you is rude as hell! Alright, I'll tell the truth this time. Why'd you become a prosecutor? I thought you wanted to be a defense attorney. Remember all that ranting you did about being 'just like father'? What happened to you, Edgeworth? You were a real stick in the mud, you know? I don't want to believe that you forge evidence, but there's always some truth behind rumors one way or another. Please, five minutes of your time is all I'm asking for. Please?"
So maybe he did want to catch up, but not in the friendly way most people do.
Who cares about what was said all those years ago?
Things change, and so do people.
Besides, Wright would never understand, nor was it any of his business why things turned out the way they did.
Miles knew it was mostly concern on Wright's part, but he was sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
It was irritating.
He was startled when he heard his phone start ringing.
Instinctively, he was about to reach for the receiver, but remembered the four messages he had just listened to and decided to let it ring.
He didn't want to speak to Wright, if that's who it was.
The phone beeped.
"You've reached the desk of Miles Edgeworth, High Prosecutor of the Los Angeles District Court of Law. I apologize for missing your call, so please leave your name, contact information and a detailed message and I will get back to you at my next available moment. Thank you."
Beep.
"..." Edgeworth heard a sigh and a click, then the phone beeped again.
It seemed like he'd given up.
Finally.
Just in case though, Miles took out his cell phone and added Phoenix Wright as a new contact.
His number was easy enough to remember.
Wright may get a hold of his cell phone number and try to reach him that way.
At least this way he'd be able to see his number on the caller ID and reject the call.
Why didn't he want to talk to Wright?
He'd probably start with why he transferred schools, then why he became a prosecutor.
Then if the rumors of forging evidence, back alley deals, and faulty testimonies were true.
He just didn't feel like explaining himself, or even talking about any of that really.
It wasn't personal.
He had no bidding against Wright, but the accused will always lie.
They don't want to be found out and convicted.
There's no way to accurately determine if somebody is truly guilty or innocent.
That's why it's so important that he does everything in his power to get a guitly verdict every time.
He was aware of the risks.
He knew what he was doing and why he was doing it.
Wright was too simple-minded to understand anyway.
But knowing him and how he was when they were children, once his mind was made up there was no changing it.
And he hadn't seemed like he changed much either.
This was probably just the beginning.
The beginning, indeed. More chapters to come. Review please.
Guys, I made up that number. Don't call it asking for Phoenix. It's fake. FYI 555 numbers are always fake.
Edit - I must apologize for the enormous amount of grammar errors I didn't catch before I posted this chapter. Thank you Jade for the heads up.
