A/N: Before starting, here's the explanation: the first dialogue between the two is based largely on, if not taken from, a brief conversation that the RPers on deviantART had. I thought something could be made of it, as everyone loves power struggles. :)

Again, rated T for sort of lust. Manfred/Lana. Implied Gant/Lana.

Manfred von Karma was never one for a small entrance, even in the most inconsequential of rooms. This is why he flung the door to the Prosecutor's Office with such great force that it seemed as though the entire building rattled.

The main lobby, which had been full of people running about, making final preparations before their holiday leave, suddenly fell still and silent as they felt the temperature drop, either from the brisk winter air or his presence. Most of them assumed it was his presence.

Manfred looked down at them with disgust. He wasn't sociable on the best of days, but today, his flight had been late, the service substandard, and now he had to deal with these pathetic commoners.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I, Manfred von Karma, have returned to this country!" he barked, an aura of command radiating from his person. "I have come to claim my position as the head prosecutor, as I rightfully deserve!"

At this, a few heads turned toward one another as they exchanged confused looks. "What?" Manfred roared. "Was that too complicated for your simple minds to comprehend?" He paused, glancing about the room thoughtfully. "…You!" he shouted at a bystander, a young spectacled woman.

"M-me, sir?"

"Of course!" Manfred snapped, both in speech and literal action. "Bring me a cup of coffee. Black. I require sustenance from my journey."

"Y-yes, sir!" she replied in a voice of restrained fear and perkiness, quickly leaving the room. Manfred crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "Now," he said, now in an unnervingly quiet voice. "Go fetch me a case file. Get me the toughest one you can find, so I don't have to leave the work to any of you amateurs…"

"Excuse me, Mr. von Karma," said a voice suddenly.

Everyone's heads turned to see a young woman standing in the threshold of an interior door. Her military-style uniform gave her an austere appearance, complimented by the grave expression on a face that seemed too young to be so serious. She frowned slightly. "Those are my subordinates you are talking to."

"Your subordinates?" Manfred exclaimed, glaring at this woman. He strode toward her and stared her down, his nostrils flaring as he gave her his most intimidating glare.

She did not flinch despite Manfred's giant stature; her face remained oddly calm. "Yes, my subordinates." She took a quick glance over Manfred's shoulder to nod at the group that had been paralyzed by his presence. With her signal, they slowly began to shuffle out of the room, leaving the two of them face to face. "My name is Lana Skye," she said evenly. "I'm Chief Prosecutor of the district. All prosecutors report to me."

Manfred smirked, his face just inches from hers. "You? Chief Prosecutor?" Wagging a finger at her, he stated condescendingly, "You poor, misguided girl. I have been prosecuting since before you were born, and I have never lost one case. My record is perfect. I think it's clear to see who is the chief prosecutor here."

Lana narrowed her eyes. "While you are here, Mr. von Karma, you shall call me 'Chief' or 'Ms. Skye'. If you have any issues with that, you should take them up to Police Chief Gant."

"Ha!" Manfred let out a harsh, barking laugh, his twisted features becoming even more so. "Are you that desperate to become unemployed, my dear? If I did seek out Gant, I assure you, your job would be no longer for the state, or having to do with law, for that matter."

From the corner of the room, he heard a small voice whisper, "Ten bucks on the Chief!"

"No, you idiot, have you seen von Karma? He's like a monster!"

Both Lana and Manfred turned in the direction of the whispering buzz. A large group of people was watching their interaction from the hallway. Manfred snarled at them, making the group collectively take a few steps back, but remain within view of the two 'Chiefs'.

"Alright, everyone, move along!" A commanding voice came from behind the group. The members of the crowd took nervous glances at one another, and slowly made their way out of sight. The owner of the voice slowly made his way through the throng of people into the front lobby. Lana nodded at him. "Mr. Edgeworth," she said, as if acknowledging his act.

Miles Edgeworth bowed toward her out of respect, briefly stated "Chief," and turned to see the newcomer. His eyes widened, but he quickly turned them down to refrain from making eye contact. His former mentor, Manfred von Karma, peered down at him. "…Edgeworth," he hissed, not in the same acknowledging tone as Lana, but with a sense of disgust and hatred.

Edgeworth nodded once and exited the office.

"Fine," said Lana suddenly.

"Hm?" Manfred raised a sharply shaped eyebrow. "'Fine'?"

Lana stared back into Manfred's eyes, illustrating a sort of bravery in the face of a terrible storm. But this wasn't all that took Manfred aback. It was the fact that she seemed to display no emotion, not fear nor pride, as she looked at him. "Let's go to Chief Gant's office now," she said coolly, "to discuss this matter, shall we?"

Scowling, he thought, 'If the only way to become Chief is through talking to him…I suppose…'He nodded briefly, agreeing to her terms.

-.-.-

"I'm sorry, Manny, old friend!" said Damon Gant, his ever-present smile plastered on his well-tanned face. "No can do!"

"What do you mean?" Manfred roared, his rage contorting his face into something monstrous. "How can you allow this girl to be the Chief Prosecutor? She's but a child! An amateur!" He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "And a woman of all things!"

A fleeting look of irritation passed through Gant's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with his usual jovial demeanor, though there was an underlying aura of sternness to his face. "I'll ask that you give Lana the proper respect. She is the Chief."

"But this is preposterous!" shouted Manfred, hunched over as he slammed his hands on Gant's desk. Then, after a few deep breaths, he collected himself and stood back up straight. "Are you not supposed to appoint the most experienced, worthy prosecutors as Chief?"

Gant beamed. "But Lana here is worthy of the position," he said brightly. "Aren't you, Lana?"

"…If you say so, Chief Gant," Lana replied shortly. Manfred eyed her carefully. Her eyes were downcast, as if unwilling to make eye contact with Gant. Her hands clasped over one another, her right thumb rubbing her left. A nervous habit? he wondered.

"Anyway, Manny," Gant continued, clapping his enormous hands together. "How long are you going to be in town? A few days? I'm sure you don't need to really be the boss for just that short period of time?"

Scowling, Manfred looked at Gant, and haughtily walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. However, he lingered in front of the door as he heard Gant and Lana's voices through the solid oak.

"…Do you know him, sir?"

"Manny? Oh, yes. We worked a few cases together back when I was a junior detective…Way back in the day…" Manfred's frown grew even deeper as he recalled those days. Gant had always been a pain to work with, with his horribly cheerful demeanor that never failed to irritate Manfred; it surprised him to no end to see Gant as the Chief of Police.

"So…what shall I do about him?"

"Hm? Oh, just let him be, Lana. He'll be gone in a few days. Besides, we're going off on vacation tomorrow for Christmas Eve until the 26th. See? He'll be out of your hair in no time!"

-.-.-

The following evening, Manfred found himself walking down the streets of the city, bearing a bag of newly purchased wall sealant.

Manfred von Karma had always hated Christmas. Everything it stood for, family, cheer, gift-giving…it was all pure nonsense. As he walked down the streets, he saw various fools running about the shops, purchasing last-minute gifts and walking with loved ones to see the lit-up buildings. Manfred frowned. Normally, he would be inside his house, reading over a past case file, grinning to himself as he recalled that particular triumph. However, this evening, he had come home to discover an imperfection in the wall, as if the prior tenants had nailed something, perhaps a picture frame, there. Picture frames were such foolish things to have; he knew what his family looked like. And it disgusted him.

It was a chilly night; Manfred turned up his collar with one hand as the other carried a bag with a patching compound to fix the wall. He'd typically let a menial laborer fix it, but all companies that offered such services were closed. For Christmas.

It only made him loathe Christmas more.

As he walked through the streets, he saw a couple having romantic entanglements under a piece of mistletoe hung from a store threshold. Passerbys were slowing down to watch. The voyeuristic side of humanity.

Manfred scowled the entire way back to his house. How archaic. How primitive. He never had believed in love; there was only animal instinct. Lust. But for some reason, seeing the couple reminded him of someone.

Lana Skye's legs were very finely shaped, like that of a model, even. Perfection. Manfred licked his lips as he unlocked the door. He imagined what they would look like if her plain brown skirt had been raised higher, just enough to reveal what he inferred were well-toned thighs.

Her omnipresent expression of severity made her young face look so aged. So mature. Her sharp mouth and jaw line almost too well-sculpted, creating a face shape that seemed to have a sort of haughty, regal appearance. She knew that she was the boss. The chief. And her eyes: the ones that seemed so boldly fierce, yet to lack emotion at all... a strange paradox.

Suddenly, Manfred shook his head as if his thoughts were a cobweb he had just walked through. That girl was not worth his thoughts; she was just a commoner, far from perfection. He dumped his purchased items on the countertop and took out the sealant. After taking a glance at the protocol, he set to work to repairing some fool's damage.

As Manfred fixed the wall of the house, a realization struck him: tonight was Christmas Eve. A smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards. He would have a case to work on tomorrow, as long as everything went according to plan.

And it would. His plan would be carried out to perfection, as always.

-.-.-

The following morning, Manfred walked straight to the Prosecutor's Office only to find the doors to be locked. He glared at the doors as though they would unlock themselves if he looked at them hard enough.

Roughly half an hour later, Lana Skye arrived at the office, carrying a load of folders. Manfred did not offer to help her as she unlocked the doors.

"You're late," he pointed out.

Lana frowned. "Of course. It's Christmas Day."

"So?"

"…I was at home. Plus, I did not expect to come to work today. It's supposed to be a holiday, after all…" She began to walk down the hallway to her office; Manfred followed her. "Why are you here so early on a holiday, Prosecutor von Karma?"

"I heard there was a murder," he responded tersely. "I have come for the case file. That is what prosecutors do, after all," he added, a biting tone of smug superiority in his voice. "Regardless of the date."

As soon as she entered her office, Lana set the folders down and opened various cabinets to retrieve new ones and replace the ones she had been carrying. "Miles Edgeworth is the defendant in this case," she said, slowly and calmly as she methodically organized her files. "As one of, if not the best prosecutor I have here, his charge presents us with a complex situation." She looked up at Manfred. "I shall be prosecuting this case. You have no business here."

"Impossible!" Manfred glared at her. "I must be the prosecutor."

"You have a personal bias as his former mentor." Her statement took Manfred aback. "How are you aware of that information?" he asked softly, like a snake before striking.

A flicker of satisfaction flashed in Lana's eyes, but her expression did not change. There was no countenance of delight from his surprise, nor any sign of arrogance on her face. "I do my research, Mr. von Karma. Now, I do not know what terms you two were on when he studied under you, but I cannot allow you to prosecute this case."

"Is that so?" Manfred smirked. He strode closer toward her, staring down back at her with an expression of smug satisfaction. Just like their previous encounter, Lana did not flinch. She continued to watch his face.

And suddenly, he realized what her expression meant: she thought she could beat him. That's what this was about. He took a few steps back in shock, but was careful to mask his face. By not showing any signs of fear, she thought that she would diminish his might, somehow. He frowned. She was just hiding behind that porcelain mask; underneath, she was just a girl. She must be, he thought.

In that instant, the same thoughts as the previous night crossed his mind. He was so close, he could sense it; her finely shaped, petite body ever so close to his. They were alone. What if he could make her lose her composure, just for an instant? How would she respond if he pinned her to the wall? An image of her body pressed against his wormed its way into his mind's eye, her face wearing an expression of complete and utter shock. He almost grinned again. Surely she would lose that fair façade if they were that close.

And he would be victorious. He always was.

"Yes, that is so." Lana's soft voice snapped Manfred out of his thoughts. Continuing to maintain her expression void of emotion, she said, "Unless you have a very good reason, I shall be taking my leave; it is Christmas Day, and I have to get back home to my family." But before she could make it to the door, Manfred crossed her path and slammed it shut. Lana stared blankly at him. "Is there something else you require?"

The sheer nerve this girl showed irritated Manfred to no end. Such haughty arrogance, to think that she can best the perfect prosecutor Manfred von Karma. And yet there was something about her that made Manfred want nothing more than he had ever wanted a woman before.

"Yes," Manfred said, his voice so quiet and low it was just above a whisper. He walked around her and forcefully slammed his hands on the door, her slender neck between his gnarled hands. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "I think you would like to reconsider that, decision, my dear", and he pressed his lips against hers.

He had expected some reaction, some sign that she realized what he was doing. But for once in his perfect life, he was wrong.

Lana showed no signs of surprise. No matter how roughly he seized her, how forcefully he meshed his mouth with hers, she remained still. When he parted from her, she said nothing, but slowly removed his hands, methodically, as though she was sorting her case files. She stared solemnly into his cold, black eyes. "Good day to you, Mr. von Karma," she stated flatly.

And with that, she left.

Manfred couldn't understand why he just stood there, watching her open the door then strut away on her finely shaped legs. Had he really been wrong? He saw her turn the corner of the hallway. She was gone, leaving him to ponder the mystery that was Lana Skye.

In the midst of all of his thoughts, something struck Manfred as odd. When he was holding her, her lack of response wasn't the only thing that bothered him; it seemed as though being spontaneously grabbed was a familiar experience.

And then it hit him.

-.-.-

An hour later, Manfred von Karma walked out of the Police Station, his broad, twisted grin on his face. Success. He would be prosecuting the case against Miles Edgeworth. Just as planned.

Persuading Gant had not been a problem; Manfred had easily figured out their relationship. The way Lana Skye had been unwilling to make eye contact with someone who was supposedly her "equal" as Chief, the way she seemed so willing to only do what Gant told her to.

The way she had felt in Manfred's arms.

Manfred had figured out the entire thing on his way to the station. How ironic, he thought, still smiling. How ironic it is that I'm blackmailing a man with his very own blackmail. The mere thought of using Gant's own poison against him was extremely satisfying.

Yet, Manfred never had any intention of releasing the fact that Damon Gant was controlling Lana Skye. He didn't care that she was doing anything against her will; it served her right, he told himself. It served her right for having the audacity to defy Manfred von Karma.

As he flipped through the papers, Manfred smirked. He wished he could be there when Lana found out that he had received this case. But then again, he supposed, there really was no need to. Now that he knew the truth, there was nothing to break in this mare.

She was already broken.

A/N: I feel like that was a rather twisted story. I'm not really used to writing anything like this, so...feedback would be very much appreciated.