DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the Ace attorney characters. Capcom does. I don't own Capcom either, but if I did, we'd have AAI2 here in the states by now. But we don't. Which sucks.

For the first time in my prosecuting career (and quite possibly my whole life up until this point), I feel a sickening feeling in my gut that nearly causes me to retch all over the courtroom's glossy tiled floors. It is before the trial has even started, and already, I feel an overwhelmingly nauseating mixture of…nervousness? No, something far less trivial: Unease. Uncertainty. Regret, for something I've yet to do. And a massive dose of ignorance, for not knowing what crime I will unwittingly commit…

But I grin and bear it. After all, I have no doubt the defendant is guilty. My case against him is perfect in every way; absolutely flawless in every manner of the law. And, besides: the last thing I want to do is to look weak to my over-confident opponent. I shall not let this meager defense attorney-some "genius" known as Gregory Edgeworth-to see me in a less than perfect state of control.

The trial goes by as a blur. Much of it steers in my favor, but that fool Edgeworth manages to bluff and bluff and bluff to keep himself (and his client) afloat. However, the judge happens to hone in on one particular idiotic proposition suggested by the fool defense attorney: none of the crime scene photos show the corpse.

Indeed, it seems that the only things implying that there was a body were the large amounts of blood traces fund on the scene and the autopsy report.

MY autopsy report.

A police officer is called to the stand, and confirms that, even though there were enough bloodstains at the crime scene to suggest that someone died there of blood loss (if not from something else), there had been no body when the police had arrived there and, thus, there had never been the chance to perform an autopsy. Thus, the authenticity of my evidence was nullified. My whole case was utterly destroyed thanks to that; it built upon the assumption that the autopsy report was legitimate evidence. No body, no case.

Dear God, why hadn't I been told about the fake evidence?! Why was it never mentioned the body was never found?! Why did I even HAVE the forgery in my hands anyway?!

I had been humiliated and turned into a fool. HE turned me into a fool. Gregory Edgeworth. That smarmy "genius" of a defense attorney. I get a bad taste in my mouth whenever I hear his name.

Partway through my mental breakdown, I look over across the courtroom, and I see that damned fool Edgeworth… smiling at me.

That's when I know: He knows. Somehow, HE KNOWS the autopsy was a fake. Hell, he could've asked for the forgery to have been made himself! I thought logically, that no defense attorney could just bluff and bluff and bluff his way through a trial and eventually end up with the upper hand (years later, I would be proven to have been mistaken. However, I had no idea that cross-examining A PARROT would've turned out to be so crucial to the turnout of the trial…). Ergo, he must have been warned ahead of time by whomever ordered the forgery's creation, or he himself had ordered it.

In that moment, I utterly despise him. How DARE he humiliate the good name of Von Karma!

That is the first time I'd ever felt true, pure hate for someone. That hatred fuels me throughout the whole rest of the trial.

After that unsatisfying trial (I managed to get a guilty verdict, but only as an accomplice, and my hatred still left me hungry for vengeance), I am summoned up to the chief prosecutor's office. (Oh! How I wish I had known that HE was the conspirator who had ordered the forgery, and not that poor fool, Edgeworth! Perhaps then, I would not have done what I did next…) Once that ill-fated conversation is over, I am so dazed, I barely notice the way the tile flooring seems to rock back and forth quite violently, nor do I pay attention when the power goes out in the halls.

Suddenly, cruel fate adds injury to insult. I feel a sharp pain in my right shoulder-one unlike any other I'd ever experienced before or since-which accompanies a loud "BANG!"

And then, the elevator doorways open, and I behold the sight of the unconscious man slumped closest to the door.

Gregory Edgeworth.

A pistol lies beside him, just begging for me to cave into my temptations.

My body moves on its own. I watch as it bends down and caresses the firearm gently, as if it were its best friend. It is only now that my mind fully processes the situation I am currently tangled up in.

I am about to find Gregory Edgeworth guilty of singlehandedly tainting my formerly meticulously handled record.

A second shot rings out through the courthouse.

A/N:Hopefully, this story makes up for the (I'll admit it: somewhat cruddy) first fanfic I posted! So anyway, one of the things I've had on my bucket list to do was to do the impossible: flesh out Manfred Von Karma. Give him an actual personality; try to get in his head. What was he thinking when he killed Gregory Edgeworth? Was there a method to his madness? We know 2 or 3 things about him at all:

1. He was a ruthless, perfection-obsessed prosecutor.

2. He raised at least 3 kids (Franziska, Miles, and his granddaughter's mother)

3. He had a vendetta against Gregory Edgeworth.

I wanted to humanize him a bit more than that, or at least try to attempt to. Online, I found a way: the story from Ace Attorney Investigations: 2. However, since it's not released in English yet, I am not fluent in Japanese, and I know pretty much anybody can edit those online wikis (i.e. Ace Attorney Wiki, :D), I'm not sure if that's how the story really goes.

But, the info seems pretty legit, and, anyway, this is a FANFICTON. Therefore, it can go against canon if canon goes against it.