A/N: My first ever PxE historically based fic and I am thrilled to be able to write one! :) History is my passion-and has been for over two decades-so I'm happy that I can combine the two things I love most at last in a fic: History and PxE! :)

*************************
This is a horror story and, as such, there will be scenes of graphic horror, violence and descriptions of death in death devices of Antiquity that may disturb some readers. Reading discretion is advised.

*************************

*******************************************************************************************************************
Professors seem to be disappearing at an alarming rate at Cromwell University and turning up dead in some very gruesome ways that were common methods of execution in Antiquity. Phoenix wonders if these murders at the University have any connection to reports of numerous disappearances of street people occurring with alarming frequency over the past three months and, when the mutilated remains of a homeless man who disappeared three weeks earlier are found, he's convinced that the answers lie in the University.
Now Phoenix, with help from Miles and Gumshoe, is in a race against time to prevent another murder and bring the killer or killers to justice. However, thwarted ambition is a dangerously lethal mix when added to a already unstable mind and it explodes in violence as death pays a visit to its next potential victim...
*********************************************************************************************************************

History meets Phoenix Wright! What a wonderful combination! :^D All of the methods of execution that follow in this piece are real and were used, at one point or another, in Antiquity (The Ancient World).

First up is the Brazen Bull, a particularly nasty, not to mention excruciating-but, without a doubt, a most original and unusual-form of execution.

(The following is taken from the spiritus-temporis website. The website's address appears in my profile since it won't upload here for some reason. My comments are in brackets.)
Created by a brass-caster of Ancient Greece, Perillos of Athens, for Phalaris, Tyrant of Agrigentum (Sicily) in about 560 BC, it featured a hollow bull made of bronze that could open either from the side or on top. (I've seen it both ways and I've chosen to go with the opening in the top since, in the sources I've read on the Brazen Bull, they don't state exactly how they were able to close it from the side to make sure the victim/victims stayed inside. Therefore, the opening in the top makes much more sense to me and I will use it accordingly.)
The victim/victims were placed inside, a fire set underneath the belly of the Bull which heated the bronze until it was hot and roasted them alive. To make things even more horrific, there were a series of tubes and stops in the head of the Bull that converted the victim's screams into what sounded like the bellowing of an enraged bull. It served the dual purposes of being not only entertainment for the Tyrant at a very public feast but also a warning to those who might have the thought of rebelling against him.
Ironically enough, the first victim of the Brazen Bull was Perillos himself although Phalaris had him taken out before he perished. Some time later, Phalaris had Perillos tossed off a cliff. (Talk about ingratitude!)
( Another source of information on the Brazen Bull comes from the TV series "Surviving History," episode: Brazen Bull and Discovery Channel's "Machines of Malice," episode: Ancient Machines.)

The first I had heard of this horrible method of execution was from the bloody reign of the Roman Emperor Elagabalus (who reigned from 218-222 AD) some years ago and it prompted my search to find out, some years later, who had created it and why. The Judeo-Christian value of the "Sanctity of Human Life" that we are familiar with today was unknown in Antiquity (it was a terrifying world where death lurked around nearly every corner and life was, to quote Thomas Hobbes, "short, nasty and brutish;" admittedly, if you were of the noble class it wasn't as bad as those below you) so do keep that in mind while reading. The Ancient World was far different in terms of societal norms and values than our own and life then definitely was held to be very cheap, indeed. (Which is the view held by my killers for their victims.)

I've left out the incense that was placed in the Bull to sweeten the awful stench of burning flesh-mentioned in the spiritus-temporis information on the Brazen Bull-since I am not sure exactly how or where it was put in the Bull or what kind of incense was used.
Cromwell University is my own creation as no university of that name exists anywhere in Los Angeles (although, according to Google, there is a Cromwell College in Queensland, Australia. Google is indeed a wonderful thing!) and the plot of the story, the Professors, the homeless people who have disappeared, the University President, the University Vice-President and the Dean are my own characters and belong to me. Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright and Detective Gumshoe, of course, belong to CAPCOM.

Thank you to Midnight-hunter, my beta, for her advice and suggestions! You ROCK! :)

Special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for his love, unflagging support, nagging (when necessary) and keeping me grounded during the writing process so I don't end up tearing my hair out! I appreciate it more than I can ever say! Love you!

I hope that you will enjoy the story! Comments, suggestions and critiques, as always, are welcomed and appreciated! :)

Rated NC-17, M, Graphic horror and violence, male/male relationships, Phoenix & Edgeworth

* * * * *

September 16th
Cromwell University Campus, Nathaniel Park
Los Angeles, California
5:45 P.M.

The day had been dark and forbidding from morning to late afternoon with thick, black clouds hanging low in the sky. Now, in the early evening, it had begun to rain, a light mist settling over the park like a twisting, writhing shroud.

The old man shuffled slowly down the path, ignoring the hostile stares and mumbled epithets that rang in his ears as he passed by. He'd been hearing the same thing, though from different mouths, for the past twenty-five years or so, he'd lost count of the years some time ago, and had long since ceased to care what others thought.

At the end of the walkway, he stopped and wearily pulled a faded and creased photograph from his pocket, his weathered eyes filling with tears. The woman staring out at him from across the years was in the springtime of her life, her beautiful face smiling, happy and unfettered by cares or the weight of the world.

He slowly lifted his head to stare up into the drizzly grey sky, memories flooding over him like a tide. He preferred to remember her this way instead of the closeted, unhappy, sickly woman she later became. He couldn't remember a time after either their marriage or the birth of their two daughters that she had anything kind to say to him or about him. He wondered if what the neighbors had told him was true all those years ago but now, after all this time had passed, it no longer mattered.

She'd hated and despised him and he had no idea what it was that he had done to her for her to change so dramatically. He did everything he could think of to try and make her happy but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to please her; he eventually gave up and stopped trying. In retrospect, this had been about the time when he had begun to suspect that she was unfaithful to him-not only had she abandoned their marriage bed but she also refused to let him touch her-although he could never prove it which made an already bad situation much worse.

In the end, he had given up, choosing the bottle with which to drown his sorrows and pain, which effectively ended his marriage for good. The love they had once shared was gone, buried deep in animosity, anger, confusion and pain, in recriminations and ugly taunts, hurtful and spiteful words that came between them repeatedly and much more often. She had left him one November morning and he didn't know she had left until he came back home form the bar where he and his friends had gone after they got off work.

He knew something was wrong the moment he staggered through the doorway to the empty and silent house. It was so quiet and still, with a deafening silence that unnerved him, bereft of life or any of the thousand other sounds that one associates with a busy household: the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, the happy barking of the family dog and the squeals of laughter and joy from the children as they romped throughout the house, engaging the dog in a mad chase around the living room which had never failed to amuse him. His wife never seemed to be too happy about it but she never said a word, for the most part; she knew how much the girls enjoyed it and, at their age, they needed a way to burn off their excess energy so Julia kept her feelings to herself.

His lip quivered as he remembered a time when he had come home-before all their troubles began-to the usual dog chasing antics from Caroline and Julian, giving them a big smile when he walked through the door which the girls took as a sign of his approval. He smiled at them and, catching a steely glare from his wife out of the corner of his eye, he grinned back at her-he always enjoyed teasing her since she used to get so angry with him; he knew that she was trying hard not to laugh by the mischievous glimmer in her eyes that outshone the stormy countenance of her face-and told the girls to take the dog outside for a run in the backyard since "you don't want to annoy your mother..." the latter said with exaggerated, rolling eyes. He still remembered the sound of their laughter all these years later.

He'd loved them all with all of his heart and that was why it had hurt so much when Julia-his wife-began to distance herself from him; in the process, she also was the catalyst who turned Caroline's heart against him since she, of the two, was the one who was the closest to her mother. When Julia began to widen the gulf between them with emotional and physical distance, Caroline inevitably followed suit.

Tears were pouring down the old man's face now in a steady stream, his heart aching as it had all those years ago, wondering for what seemed to be the millionth time over the course of his lifetime if there was anything more he could have done that he hadn't already tried to bridge the growing chasm between Julia and himself. No matter what he did or what he tried to do to please her, it was never enough; after he turned to the bottle for solace, she tore off the mask she'd been hiding behind and openly despised him. What she had once said in private, she now said openly to anyone who would listen: their neighbors, their pastor, their friends and his oldest daughter, Caroline.

Caroline took her mother's part but Julian sided with her father which lead to the irrevocable breach between the two that never healed, not even after Julia had left him and took the two girls with her.

Poor, sweet Julian... how he missed her sunny smile and loving heart! He often wondered why Julia had taken Julian with her when she left; Caroline he could understand but why Julian? Was it a ploy to punish him or Julian herself? He never knew.

He ached with the memory of his poor, unhappy child who had suffered so much in choosing his side; her mother and older sister had never forgiven her for what they termed her "betrayal" and made her pay dearly for it, year after year with their contemptuous silence, biting words and hate until she could stand it no longer and ran away, coming back to him for refuge.

Guilt slammed him right in the gut as he thought of it now. What kind of haven could he have offered her? He was a full-blown alcoholic who was drinking heavily, had lost his job three days before she had arrived and had no other prospects lined up or even the desire to look for work. All he cared about was where he was going to get his next drink from since the liquor cabinet was almost empty.

Shame flowed through him as he remembered the tortured last months of Julian's life; he could never shake the feeling that he, and he alone, was responsible for her death. She'd tried-God, how she had tried!-to help him pick up the pieces of his shattered life after her mother and his oldest daughter had left but he wasn't interested in going on with his life; he was trying to end it.

He had nothing to live for and his wife's and daughter's ugly taunts rang in his ears on a daily basis which made him sink ever deeper into an alcoholic stupor; there, at least, he could forget his problems and be happy at least for a little while until the demons came back stronger than ever.

He barely remembered the night that Julian died. Through an alcoholic haze, he saw his daughter, then nineteen, rush in front of a knife to save him from the wicked blade aimed at his chest. He heard a grunt, the sound of scurrying feet running away down the street and the soft bump as Julian slowly fell to her knees, her eyes half-shut, her mouth creased in a sweet, sad smile, a tiny trickle of blood bubbling from between her tightly compressed lips.

He didn't remember much after that and couldn't even remember how he had managed to bury her decently or where he found the funds to do so. Perhaps someone had helped him... it was all just a blur in his memory. Maybe that was what kept the guilt from eating him alive in the days after her death. He couldn't remember now where she was even buried.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried to shake the memories now coming unbidden into his mind but he had no way to stop them from coming; perhaps this was his punishment after all these years, to suffer from the haunting of the ghosts of his past and the guilt that ate at him like acid. He accepted this as a matter of course; he did deserve nothing but pain after all he had done.

If only, if only, if only... It ran through his tortured mind endlessly, like a reel. If only I'd been more of a man... if only I'd been able to break through the barrier that Julia erected around herself... if only I'd been there for Julian, she might still be alive and well today... if only I'd hadn't turned to drink for comfort...

If only...if only...if only. The epitaph of a wasted life.

He stared at the faded photograph for some time, lost in his bitter memories and unaware that the light misting of rain now became a steady shower; had he noticed, he wouldn't have cared very much at any rate. Life held no happiness for him anymore and hadn't for years, really; truth be known, he was just waiting for the moment it all would end. Maybe then he would finally be at peace.

Julian... My poor, poor child...

XXXXX

He jumped when he felt the soft touch on his arm, whirling around in shock, a hoarse cry being ripped from his throat and his heart pounding in his chest. He'd been so lost in his memories that he hadn't realized that anyone else was there.

"I'm terribly sorry to have frightened you," a soft, musical voice said softly in front of him and he looked up in surprise to stare into a woman's concerned face. "I certainly didn't mean to. Are you all right?"

She was very beautiful: about 5'9 inches tall, a heart-shaped face, cupid mouth, almond-shaped green eyes, prominent cheekbones, sweetly curved in all the right places, filling out the crimson colored dress that went down to her ankles perfectly, covered by a dark grey cloak, wearing smart black pumps on her feet with a gentle look about her that made it clear that she was a lady of some standing.

He knew it was rude but he couldn't help himself; he stared at her, his mouth working with no sound coming out of it, enthralled at the beautiful apparition he saw standing before him that was looking at him with an amused smile, mischief twinkling in her bright green eyes.

She doesn't seem offended, he thought to himself with relief, slowly starting to relax after his fright. All to the good. She's so pretty...

As she came closer to him, he opened his mouth and a strangled croak emerged.

Julia...!

The woman stopped, cocking her head in an inquisitive manner as she looked at him, her eyes narrowed in confusion, her hands placed lightly on her hips. For one awful moment, he thought that this really might be Julia and she had come back to haunt him but, as she came closer to him and he could see her face much more clearly, he saw that it was definitely not his ex-wife. It was both a relief though, at the same time, it broke his heart all over again.

The woman noticed the changing expressions on his face with a gentle and benign gaze, her eyes glittering softly. She put out a hand to him and smiled when he shakily took it.

"Whatever it is that is weighing so heavily on your heart, would you not tell me?" She smiled that glowing smile. "Perhaps it might help to talk about it."

He shook his head.

"I do not wish to ever remember the past again," he said stiffly, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Whatever it is I'm suffering now is my own folly and no one else's. The past is past; it's dead and buried and I wish to leave it that way." He looked at her, his lips trembling, his eyes filling with tears that spilled down his cheeks, scrubbing them away impatiently, with a touch of embarrassment, with his free hand. "I don't mean to sound rude since you're being so kind to me but..." He took a deep breath. "The memories... it just... hurts... too much..."

She said nothing in reply but merely squeezed his hand tightly, that beatific smile making her seem like an angel. He felt himself relaxing for the very first time in many years with another human being, opening up to her in a way that he had been unable to do twenty-five years earlier with someone who, finally, saw that he was a fellow human being and not just another homeless drunkard. For the next hour, he poured out his heart to her and, though she never commented but merely squeezed his hand, she did smile at him, encouraging him to tell her everything that was on his mind.

As he talked, the old man noticed his spirits beginning to rise and felt lighter than he had in years, that terrible guilt slowly melting away along with some of the sadness he'd been carrying deep within him as well. The lady was right: he shouldn't take responsibility for more than was his due. He hadn't been fully responsible for Julian's death-he hadn't been the one to plunge the knife into her chest, as the lady pointed out during their conversation-and felt the bittersweet sting of pride of Julian's selfless act of sacrificing herself so that her beloved father would be able to live although, even now, he wished that she hadn't.

He had nothing to live for; even if this beautiful angel had freed him from his soul-crushing guilt of causing his daughter's death, he knew that he was still responsible, to a great degree, for the failure of his marriage and his descent into alcoholism that put the final nail in the coffin of his life. He'd tried to convince himself all those years ago that he wasn't to blame but the truth reared its ugly head, staring at him with an unwavering gaze that forced him to face the facts of why his life had gone so badly wrong.

After some moments of silence, the lady finally spoke.

"I have some food in my car," she said, her gaze locking onto his and never wavering, her mouth curving into a smile. "I had come here to picnic with a friend and, now that I think of it, we packed far too much for two people." She smiled that dazzling smile once again and the old man nearly melted in its intensity. "If you'd like to come with me, we can go get it." She looked him squarely in the face and, to his great surprise, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You look like you haven't had a decent meal for quite some time."

The old man was about to answer in the affirmative but there was something that had put him on his guard; there was something about this woman that just didn't feel right. He had no idea if this was only his usual distrust of people in general, having been shunned, spit upon, occasionally beaten and berated for over four decades-which would, he was sure, make anyone nervous and suspicious of a "kindness"-or if there really was something amiss.

She seemed too good to be true and the fact that she had come with someone else-that she hadn't mentioned until now-didn't sit well with him and made him feel very uneasy. And that smile... it now looked... predatory, for some reason... Was it only his imagination or did her eyes seem to... glitter... with an intensity he found unsettling?

She seemed to notice his hesitation and that dazzling grin returned, her eyes creased in evident amusement, her grip on his hand loosening just the slightest bit. Relief washed over him as he looked into her eyes once again, losing himself in that brilliantly enticing gaze; whatever predatory look he had thought he had seen in her eyes was gone and he let himself relax.

There's nothing wrong here at all, he concluded in his mind, following when the woman pulled him lightly forward, inviting him to follow her to the interior of Nathaniel Park. There's nothing wrong at all... everything is all right; there's nothing to fear here... She's what she seems to be: a beautiful, kind woman, sent from heaven to help me... and the only one who, in twenty-five years, has shown me any kindness at all.

As they walked, the old man didn't notice that the gracious smile on his companion's face had turned into a wolfish grin, her grip tightening on him as they made their way deep into the Park. The old man was surprised to see a large statue of a bull resting on a creamy white marble pedestal deep in the thickest part of the forest that surrounded the campus.

He bit his lip as he quickened his pace to keep up with his companion.

I don't remember seeing that here before, he thought with some amount of surprise, his eyes widening a little as he followed the woman deeper into the twisting, tangled maze of trees and brush. But this is truly a most amazing sculpture!

The closer they came to the bull, the more he appreciated the wonderful work of art it was. Made of shining bronze, it stood proudly against the thick copse of trees and seemed to fill the area where it stood, its nose pointed toward the East. It was a fabulous work of art, very lifelike and exceptionally intricate, especially on the finer details such as the eyes, ears and mouth; he could easily imagine the bull stamping and bellowing, it was that detailed.

"Impressive, isn't it?" the woman whispered into his ear and he jumped slightly since he hadn't realized she was so close to him and her proximity startled him. "It almost looks alive, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he whispered back in a choked voice, his heart beginning to beat faster, his hands trembling a little. "It... it... does... look very much... alive." He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling so tense but there was something about this woman that struck him as being... hidden although, what that was, he couldn't say.

He didn't know why he was feeling so uneasy and that was troubling him greatly. His instincts had, of necessity, become quite honed in the intervening years and he could usually tell when something was amiss but this was different... or so he tried to convince himself. The woman smiled once more and turned to walk deeper into the trees, beckoning him to follow her.

There was no reason that he could see why his instincts should be screaming at him like this; the woman wasn't a threat to him! She had been the only person in a very long time to show him kindness of any sort and he wasn't about to let his overwrought imagination get the better of him!

With that firmly in mind, he pivoted on his heel and followed the woman as she walked deeper into the forest...

XXXXX

Locals that lived in the vicinity would later say that they were surprised to hear a bull bellowing in the forest at Nathaniel Park since, as far as anyone knew, there weren't any ranches with livestock within a fifteen mile radius. It was a mystery, to be sure, but not to the woman and her companion who stood beside the bull statue and watched dispassionately as the fire licked the underbelly of the life-sized statue, giggling softly as the bellowing sounds grew louder and more desperate. It was delicious music to their ears.

"It is beautiful, is it not my darling?" the woman's companion said softly beside her as the bellowing becoming louder with each passing moment, his arm sliding around her shoulder. "Beautiful and deadly... isn't it sweet?"

The woman nodded as she leaned into him, her lips curving into a wolfish smile as she playfully nuzzled his neck, giving him a playful nip. "Very much so, I agree."

It had been so ridiculously simple to place the test subject into the Bull once he had eaten the drugged food she had given him. She recalled that he had been so pathetically grateful for her "kindness" that he had failed to notice she was literally trembling with suppressed excitement at the thought of what was to come. If he had had any second thoughts at all, perhaps it was to wonder why he should have been shown such kindness when he had been belittled and insulted a good portion of his life.

What fools men are, she thought to herself, a wide smile spreading over her face with little animal moans escaping her lips once the Bull had begun to "bellow." Give them a little attention or affection and they'll do anything you want them to do. She giggled softly as the intensity and noise level of the bellowing continued to rise. Just like a little puppy dog.

Of course, they had had to wait until he was semiconscious before they lit the fire; she had pouted that this would ruin the fun considerably although both she, and her partner, were amazed when the wait had served to raise the excitement level to a much higher place than either of them had reason to suspect. It was a wonderful surprise.

The test subject had been the perfect sacrifice; she was pleased with her choice. When the Bull first began to "bellow" as the fire slowly warmed the statue from beneath, she had moaned like an animal in heat, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, her eyes glittering with mad intensity. The pleasure the woman felt was so intense that she nearly lost consciousness but she managed to get herself under some semblance of control and went on to enjoy the spectacle.

The burning flesh... the charred bones... the melodious bellowing... How wonderful it was...

After some moments of silence between them, she looked at the Bull once more and then her eyes flickered over to her companion, her tongue slowly sliding over her lips until they gleamed wetly, her rich, throaty chuckle tinged with menace. "Beautiful and deadly... just like me."

The man laughed as he held her close to him, nuzzling her neck, his gaze lustful and his eyes hungry. He stepped away from her, trembling with barely concealed excitement as his hands cupped her face.

"Just like you, darling. Just... like... you, my precious little Princess..."

"Mmmmm..." was all she said in reply as their mouths met, tongues meshing and bodies melting into one. The bellowing went on for some minutes before it died away into an eerie silence although the couple was not aware of it as they fell to the ground, pulling off clothing as they did so, hungry hands exploring each other's body with glee as the fire burned brightly far into the night accompanied by the sickeningly-sweet odour of burning flesh...