The Crimson Stain

A/N I don't own Phoenix Wright or any of its characters. This fic takes place after Trials and Tribulations, so there might be references to earlier games. There won't be any major spoilers though... Yet again, I'm adding another fanfic to my plate... Sorry for all you Perfection fans out there, but I'll still be slow at updating that because it takes me along time to think up ideas that would be Manfred von Karma-y. Anyways, this isn't a slash fic, or romance fic at all. It's Gumshoe and Edgeworth friendship, because I really don't think that there's enough fics about the pair... But I digress... On to the fic!

Gumshoe glanced around at the dimly lit bar. He was supposed to be meeting someone here who had information about the case he was working on, but so far no one had shown up. The bar was strangely empty, and there was only one barkeeper working that day. It actually made him kind of nervous... He wouldn't have come at all, except for the fact that Mr. Edgeworth was pushing them hard to find the killer. He could understand why; it was a brutal killing of a young woman. It was the most violent case the department had had in a long time. He glanced around the empty room again, scowling as there was no sign of his informant.

"Could I get you a drink, sir?" the barkeeper asked.

Gumshoe looked up at the barkeeper in surprise. Usually in lowdown places like this, people weren't polite. "Sure, pal," he replied absently, trying not to stare at the stitches the barkeeper had running down his face. He must have been in one tough bar fight, but then again this far into the slums that sort of thing was probably common.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective."

Gumshoe whipped around to see a large man standing behind him. He had a blue baseball cap pulled down so it shaded his face. He glanced down at the black and gold football jersey the man wore. "The Steelers? You're not from around here, are you?"

"I don't believe where I'm from is important. I believe I'm just here to give you some information," the man said gruffly.

The detective frowned, unhappy with the man's attitude. "Alright, pal. What've you got for me? This is about the Shervaldi case, right?" He took a swig of the drink the bartender had given him.

"I know who did it," he replied.

Gumshoe stared at him and waited for him to say more. The man just stared back, and he creased his brow. "Well?"

"What's in it for me if I tell you?"

The detective blinked and his frown deepened. "Look, I don't have the authority to offer you anything. If the DA wants to reward you if your information's good, that's his decision. Now just give me the information."

"I want fifty thousand."

Scowling, Gumshoe took a long pull of his drink, emptying his glass. Another was placed in front of him. "Listen, pal. I don't even get paid fifty thousand a year."

The man raised his eyebrows. "That's unfortunate for you, Detective... It looks like I won't be giving you that information after all..."

Gumshoe rubbed his eyes, beginning to lose his focus. He glared at the man and took another gulp of his drink. "Look, if you would just tell me, I'll put in a good word with the DA. I'm sure I'll be able to get you something for your troubles..."

He didn't answer. Instead, he said: "Tell me, do you know Miles Edgeworth?"

"Mr. Edgeworth? Of course, he's my fr- er... a prosecutor I work with frequently..."

"I know he's your friend, Dick. You're probably one of the only friends he has." The man smiled slightly.

Gumshoe shrugged. "Well he doesn't exactly call me a friend, but... Wait... How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I've been looking into your friend quite a bit... I probably know him better than you do."

At this point, the detective had half risen from his chair, trying to banish his dizziness.

"Goodnight, Dick..." the man brought down a bottle of red wine over Gumshoe's head, knocking him out cold. The crimson liquid poured from the bottle, spilling onto the floor.

"He was already drugged. That was really unnecessary," the bartender commented.

The man shrugged. "It was taking too long. Besides, this was more fun..."

"That's going to leave a stain you know."

He shrugged again. "Not my bar... Now come on, help me get him into the van."

The two men lugged the unconscious Gumshoe to a broken down old van and threw him inside, leaving nothing at the bar but a single crimson stain.