As Franziska Von Karma walked through the dark parking lot towards her car, three figures watched her from the shadows. The first figure had been lurking in the shadows for many hours now, a lack of foresight meaning it hadn't thought to check exactly when Franziska usually left work, and it had considered leaving multiple times, but that didn't lessen how menacing the intent behind the lurking was
The figure stepped from the shadows and began walking quickly and quietly over to Franziska, drawing a gun from its pocket. Franziska froze as she felt the gun press against her back.
"Ms. Von Karma?" A man's voice asked. Franziska silently cursed herself for being so foolish as to drop her guard.
"You know it is me, otherwise you wouldn't have that gun pressed to my back," she said, struggling to keep her voice level as she let her hand fall casually to where her taser was hidden under her skirt.
"I am sorry about this, but having you prosecute my case would be disastrous," the man said. Franziska couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride at this, but she didn't need praise from a murderer. She gripped the taser and began to piece together a plan of action.
This proved unnecessary, however, as Franziska saw a blur of blue from the corner of her eye and spun around in time to see her would be murderer falling to the ground, knocked out by a punch to the jaw. The person who delivered the punch looked… well, like an idiot.
He was clad entirely in blue spandex and had a red cape attached to his shoulders. A red mask around his eyes expertly hid his identity. The spiky hair seemed so familiar to Franziska, but she couldn't place where she had seen it before.
"Who are you?" Franziska demanded, pointing the taser at him. The man straightened up and placed his hands on his hips, clearing his throat.
"I am the champion of the night! Fighter for Justice! Defender of the weak and—"
"I am not weak!" Franziska yelled. "And I do not need defending. Now, who are you?"
The strange figure, who had paled a little at Franziska's outburst, pulled himself to full height again.
"I am the Blue Spike!"
Franziska stood gaping at the caped figure, absolutely speechless. The 'Blue Spike' was beginning to look uncomfortable and was considering leaving when Franziska moved again.
More accurately, she lunged, taser aimed directly at the man's chest. With a yelp, he leapt aside and then backed out of harm's way.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Franziska growled, taser pointed threateningly.
"I… I must go!" The Blue Spike said lamely before turning and running from the parking lot.
Franziska watched his go and then, after taking a second to compose herself, she called the police. After some consideration, she called Edgeworth too and, this done, she leaned against her car and watched her unconscious attacker, wondering who that masked man could have been.
And in the shadows the third figure crept off, clutching a camera to their chest.
It is a widely believed cliché that someone wanting to include a certain piece of news in the latest newspaper would enter the printing room and yell 'stop the presses', but the only recorded use of that phrase was as the last words of the journalist Richard Grey who died during a terrible accident at a printing factory after falling into one of the presses.
But Lotta Hart was in a particularly good mood today, so she kicked open the doors to the printing room and yelled 'Stop the presses!' at the top of her lungs. Everyone turned to look at her as she strode in, smile wide on her face. A few veteran workers took cover as she passed. Lotta Hart was a well known name in the freelance journalist business, the kind of name that when someone mentioned it everyone in earshot would throw their arms over their heads and looked around fearfully.
Lotta liked this particular newspaper as it was one of the few that bothered to put up with her, and the newspaper bothered to put up with her because she had a knack for getting good scoops and not complaining about what she got paid. It was a relationship built entirely on toleration, and as far as Lotta was concerned that's a good enough foundation for any relationship.
She strode into the main office, passing the somewhat bored looking secretary who put minimal effort into stopping Lotta, having met her enough times to know better than to try. Lotta pushed open the door to the head editor's office and held up a manila envelope.
"You're gonna love this!" She exclaimed. The editor sighed and rolled his eyes.
Edward Etor had long suffered under the reign of 'Loopy' Lotta Hart. When he had taken the job of head editor 6 months ago, people had pointed her out to him and had told him to beware of her. But he was young and foolish and, taking pity on her, had agreed to publish some of Lotta's articles. If he'd known back then what he knew now he would have chased her from the building with a blunt object, but, as they say, hindsight is always 20/20.
"Lotta," Edward said, voice deadpan. "To what do I owe the…pleasure?"
"I got a great story for you, Ed."
Edward sighed. While Lotta did, on occasion, uncover some great scoop, Sturgeon's law was firmly in place. For every article about a robbery or conspiracy she discovered there were five about UFO or Gourdy sightings. Edward felt he had no choice but to fall back on his usual defence.
"You've already had an article this week. Come back on Monday."
This was usually the part where Lotta would begin shouting loudly and at great length about how much she had contributed to the newspaper's success and how they owed it to her to print this article, so Edward was surprised and somewhat frightened when Lotta simply smiled slyly.
"That's too bad. Thought you'd love some pictures of the Blue Spike, but guess not…" Lotta sighed and turned to leave, causing Edward to stammer and jump from his seat.
"Wait, wait, wait, Ms. Hart!" Lotta turned back and raised an eyebrow in faux confusion. While Edward was smiling, his eyes betrayed his desperation at hearing the words 'Blue Spike'. "Let's not be hasty now. I'm sure I could find somewhere to squeeze an article in, if it is of particularly good quality."
"Well that's awfully kind of you, Ed," Lotta said, a smile spreading over her face. "But first I have some demands."
The next morning, Phoenix sat at his desk, asleep. The door to the office slammed shut and he jumped, grabbing some paperwork to make it look as though he had been working. He didn't quite make it before Maya entered, but her eyes were affixed to the newspaper in her hand, so she did not notice.
"There's another story about that Blue Spike guy." Maya said. Phoenix murmured an acknowledgement as he signed his name at the bottom of the form in front of him. "They have pictures this time," Maya continued. Phoenix froze in his seat, eyes wide in horror. "He looks awfully familiar…"
"L-Let me see!" He said loudly, causing Maya to jump.
"Didn't know you were such a big fan," Maya said as she handed him the newspaper. "It's so awesome, isn't it? Like something out of a comic book."
Phoenix didn't reply. He was too busy looking at the pictures. They were clearly taken last night when he had rescued Franziska, showing him striking the attacker across the jaw and standing over his unconscious body.
"He really reminds me of someone, but I can't quite place it," Maya said as her eyes narrowed in concentration. "It's on the tip of my tongue. Brain. Whatever."
"Burgers!" Phoenix exclaimed suddenly. Maya stared at him. "Let's go get some." He continued, grabbing his coat.
"Sure. Let me just grab the paper. I want to read the rest of the article. Lotta wrote it. Remember her?"
Phoenix laughed at this. Lotta was a hard person to forget.
"We should go visit her later and ask her some questions," Maya said.
Phoenix considered the idea. "Yeah. We should."
Miles Edgeworth was not having a good day. He stared scornfully at the front page of the newspaper with an intensity that would make rocks shiver before throwing it onto his desk and sighing heavily. This vigilante was being very troublesome, and with the police force proving as incompetent as ever, Edgeworth had been working harder this past week than he had in a long time.
To make matters worse, this vigilante had won public favour and the press were hailing him as some kind of hero, cleaning up the streets and picking up the mess caused by the bumbling police force.
Speaking of which, where was Detective Gumshoe? He had gone to get Edgeworth more coffee half an hour ago. Knowing the detective's luck he had probably fallen down the stairs or gotten his tie stick in the elevator doors. Or perhaps he had gotten into another altercation with a puppy. The detective still flinched every time he heard a dog bark.
Edgeworth stifled a yawn. As loathe as he was to admit it, he was getting too old for staying up late, especially so many nights in a row. He tried to remember the last time he had gotten a good night of sleep and failing to do so, he lifted the newspaper from his desk and read the front page again, though by now he knew exactly what it said.
It was another headline about the vigilante. That… 'Blue Spike' (what a ridiculous name, Edgeworth though). The article extolled the greatness of the masked man and berated the police force for leaving it to 'good Samaritans' to do the work.
Edgeworth was just grumbling that he'd like to see the newspaper do a better job when he heard the door to his office open and the clip-clop of high heels on the floor. He didn't have to look up from the paper to know who it was. Only two people would dare to or, indeed, be allowed to get away with so brazenly entering his office unannounced, and unless detective Gumshoe had suddenly taking a liking for lady's footwear, that meant Franziska had decided to grace him with her presence.
"It's a comfort to know that America's police forces are as foolish as ever. They were questioning me for hours," Franziska said as she at down on the office sofa and crossed her arms moodily.
"Standard procedure, Franziska," Edgeworth said, taking care to nonchalantly glance at the newspaper as he spoke. "You of all people should understand that."
Franziska sighed. "Still, it's a waste of my precious time. Have you found the costumed idiot yet?"
It was Edgeworth's time to sigh now. "No, but we have a lead."
Franziska turned to face him, surprised. "You do?"
Edgeworth held up the newspaper. "It appears a reporter was present at the scene of the attack last night."
Franziska snatched the newspaper, her hands crushing it as she read. She got to the end of the article and let the paper drop to the floor and she glared at the space it had been.
"Lotta Hart. Let's go pay her a visit."
Franziska stormed out of the office and Edgeworth stood, smiling.
Now they were getting somewhere.