"Lone Wolf and Cub"
Chapter 1
"He only learned about this now..."
Tyrell Badd stepped out of the plane, bag hung over his shoulder and lollipop safely tucked inside his mouth.
The large Detective looked up, closed his eyes against the sun, and took a deep breath.
It was good to be home.
The past three months were nothing short of excruciating, as he worked day and night with the Belgian police department to capture a group of copycat murderers that followed the plot of a popular crime series nearly to the "T", even going so far as to go after the author when they ran out of books to copy having everything they're going to do literally written and handed to them in a nice, colorful hard cover, the Copycats weren't making it easy for the at random times during the weeks, in different sides of the country. A pattern decided by the roll of a dice, as Badd discovered during the final they finally cornered the obsessed murderers in the author's home and took them to jail, Tyrell and the rest of the investigation squad were allowed to go home with the promise of a nice long week of strength recovery, by their bosses.
A week which he's going to spend hanging out with his best friends Byrne Faraday and Gregory Edgeworth, and planning the next Yatagarasu heist.
The following hours passed by like a blur, the road to the Faraday residence a comforting familiarity.
Soon he'll be greeted by Byrne's surprised yelp, and Gregory's gentle scolding about not informing them of the precise time of his arrival back in the country, as they're probably going to be in the middle of planning another data stealing operation when he arrives.
Tyrell smiled.
Yes.
It was good to be home.
Something's wrong.
Tyrell's detective instincts tell him, as he drives into Faraday's parking lot.
For one thing Edgeworth's car isn't here, and it always is.
Another thing is the stillness in the yard.
Miles, Gregory's son and arguably the most adult-like and Intelligent nine-year-old Tyrell had the pleasure of meeting, wasn't there training his new dog, Pess.
This could mean a great number of things.
Maybe Gregory had a trial prolonged and couldn't come to the weekly meeting.
Or Miles just got sick and Edgeworth had to take a day off to take care of him.
Or maybe Gregory decided to spend this evening bonding with Miles doing father-son activities.
Any of those situations could explain why the familiar black sedan wasn't there.
But something deep in his gut told him that was not the case.
He stopped the car and exited the vehicle, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach.
Threading through the snow gathered on the sidewalk, he hummed to himself to drown the silence that Miles's absence left behind.
'God, I miss that kid...'
Before he knew it Tyrell was at the door, raising his hand to knock.
The wood felt cold to the touch, the sound echoing hollowly through the air.
Byrne opened the door, looking genuinely exhausted and miserable, dressed in all black.
"I'm sorry I have nothing else to say about the situ-" Faraday started to say something, voice uncharacteristically bitter, before he realized who he's talking to. "Tyrell?"
Badd smirked, trying to put some levity and familiarity into the situation.
"The one and only, Faraday." His dark eyes looked the smaller one up and down. "Jesus, you look like hell… was Hammer giving you a hard time in court while I was gone?" Tyrell teased gently.
He expected Byrne to respond kindly, to say that he can take on Hammer just fine thank-you-very-much And that, if he can't, there is always Gregory who can ask as the calm and collected buffer.
He expected him to tease him back, commenting on how he's getting old if solving one simple case took him almost four months.
But Byrne did none of those things.
He just looked at Tyrell with those sad brown eyes, as he wordlessly stepped aside to let the detective in.
Badd blinked, and followed him inside.
He wasn't used to Byrne being this quiet.
Hell, he wasn't used to seeing this house not filled with Faraday's snarky comments, Edgeworth's good-natured quips and Miles's childish voice trying to correct everyone.
"Did… did something happen?" Tyrell asked tentatively, not being able to deal with all the silence surrounding him. "Where is Gregory? Is he sick? Is Miles sick? Why aren't they here?"
Byrne blinked at him.
"You… you don't know?" He whispered in disbelief.
The void in the Detective's stomach grew.
"Know what?"
His friend swallowed thickly.
"You might want to sit down for this, Badd." He said after noticing Tyrell's questioning gaze. "There is… a lot you aren't aware of." He shook his head. "God why me? Why couldn't you be notified sooner..."
In the kitchen Byrne did everything he could to postpone the inevitable.
He warmed water for tea, cleaned what little dishes he had in the sink, wiped the table and even polished the mugs they were going to have the tea in.
All the while Tyrell squirmed in his seat wishing that this nightmarish anticipation would just end already.
After a solid minute of Faraday attempting to clean the windows, the Detective couldn't take it anymore.
"Byrne-"
"I know what you're going to say." The Prosecutor cut him off. "That I should stop acting like a drama queen, and just tell you what's going on. And, in any other case you would be right to tell me that but..." He leaned on the counter and rubbed his face. "It's… it's not… I don't think I can do it this time, I'm sorry."
Tyrell blinked hearing the genuine sorrow coming from his best friend's tone, and moved to get up.
"Byrne, hey." He walked up to the smaller man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it looks bad but we'll get through it. All three of us, just like always."
He thought saying that would help, that it would lift Faraday's spirit.
But it did the exact opposite.
Byrne's eyes widened and his hand traveled to his mouth.
"H-How can you say that?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "How can you s-say that everything will be okay after… after what happened?" Faraday blinked again and his other hand traveled to his temple. "You don't know… You have no idea that Gregory-" He cut himself off.
Badd, seeing an opening, grabbed Byrne by the shoulders and squeezed.
"Because you refuse to tell me what happened!" He was worried now that his initial fears were being proven true.
Finding out his friends got into trouble while he was away was bad Enough. Hearing that Gregory was in the heart of it, when he's usually the one pulling them away from trouble, just made the situation all the more bizarre and frightening.
"Tyrell… Gregory he-" Byrne choked up again.
"Where is he?" Badd was beginning to feel panic welling up in his stomach. "Since you don't seem to be able to speak properly, maybe he'll tell me what's going on."
This was, again, the wrong thing to say as Byrne just shook his head, tears pouring out of his closed eyes.
"Tyrell..." He swallowed. "Badd… Gregory can't talk to you right now..."
"What do you mean?" The panic grew inside his stomach. "Is… is he locked up?"
Byrne shook his head.
"No… but..." He swallowed. "He won't be... helping us with the Yatagarasu jobs a-any t-time soon." The Prosecutor let out a shaky breath. "In… in fact," He swallowed thickly. "He won't be helping us in c-court anymore…either."
Badd blinked.
Was he hearing things right?
Faraday can't possibly mean...
"Was he… disbarred?" He asked, gently, hoping he was wrong.
Edgeworth was a very good attorney that valued truth and honesty above a perfect record. Taking his badge was like riding the Justice system of someone who could inspire other attorneys to consider defending truly innocent people, and forgo the notion of being the best in the job.
That… it couldn't have… they wouldn't do that to him… would they?
"Jesus Tyrell, do I have to spell it out for you?!" Byrne blew up suddenly, unable to take it anymore. "Gregory Edgeworth can't talk to you not because he's in jail or disbarred, he can't talk to you because he's dead!"
Everything froze and the air filled with static.
Badd wasn't sure his ears worked anymore.
"Gregory is… dead?" He echoed lamely, his brain slowing to a crawl.
It swarmed with questions that no one gave answers to.
Why was this happening? Who would be cruel enough to go through with that plan? Why would anyone-
His heart skipped a beat when a small boy with gray hair and sharp eyes pushed himself to the forefront of his mind.
"Miles..." He breathed, looking down at Byrne. "What happened to Miles?"
Faraday swallowed.
"It's… a messy situation, Tyrell." He said slowly. "Gregory was his only family so… he was-"
"Orphanage." Badd finished not letting him continue. "He's been placed in an orphanage."
The large detective then turned away from the Prosecutor and began marching towards the front door.
Gregory wouldn't want his son to be placed in such a hellhole of a place, after going through such a tragedy.
He'd want Miles to be in good hands, and Badd was disgusted by the fact that he's not here in Faraday's house yet.
"W-Wait!" Byrne grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Where are you going?"
"Where do you think I'm going?" Badd snapped, violently pulling his hand out of the Prosecutor's grip. "I'm getting our friend's child out of that place."
"Tyrell he's not in the orphanage!" Faraday was not to be deterred. "He hasn't been there for two months now!"
"He got adopted?" Badd knew he shouldn't be surprised. Miles was an amazing kid with good study habits, a brilliant mind, and an air of responsibility and maturity that put children twice his age to shame. There is no shortage of parents that would love to take him under their wings. But something just didn't feel right about that.
If Miles was placed in a good home and now lives with people that love and care for him as if he was their own, then Byrne wouldn't still be grieving Gregory's loss with the same intensity as he probably was three months ago.
Something wasn't right.
Faraday nodded, face solemn.
"By who?" When the Prosecutor didn't answer, Badd grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Who, Faraday?!"
"Von Karma." Came the quiet response.
"He was adopted by Manfred Von Karma."
Tyrell Badd believed himself a strong willed man, one that would normally not break under pressure, but there are situations that excuse going back to a bad habit he promised to give up with the beginning of last year.
This was that type of incident. At least… that's what he told himself as he took a deep drag of the cigarette that seemingly replaced his ever-present lollipop.
He looked over to the primary school nearby, leaning casually against his car.
It wasn't the public one Gregory sent his son to. Instead it was a prestigious one, the type of school Edgeworth could only dream of enrolling his boy in.
Badd's teeth tightened on the cigarette, nearly breaking in half.
Yet another thing Von Karma just had to best Edgeworth in. He thought angrily. Then shook his head. The man's already dead, Von Karma. The Detective tapped away a bit of ash that gathered on the end. The least you could do is let him rest in peace.
He glanced at his wrist watch.
It was 13:27.
In exactly three minutes Miles's school day ends and he'll exit the building.
Hopefully, Badd will be able to talk to him before Von Karma arrived to take him home.
Because Tyrell needed to know if the boy was okay, if he wasn't being abused and mistreated by a man who harbors an unhealthy grudge against his late father.
He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he allowed the innocent child to suffer just because he was Edgeworth's blood.
A loud shrill echoed from the school indicating the end of the lesson, and Tyrell mentally prepared himself for what will happen next.
He watched in silence as numerous kids, snotty nosed with freshly ironed uniforms and heads held high enough to suggest enormous egos and arrogance, exit through the door and wondered if Miles was also turned into one such brat during his time here.
Tyrell wished he could say the boy was above such petty behavior, as the Miles he came to know truly was not prone to such notions, but he could no longer be sure of anything.
The boy just lost the only real family he had to a murderer, and was adopted by a man known for his enlarged sense of perfection which he enforced onto everything he surrounded himself with.
As much as it pained him to admit it, he wouldn't be surprised if the silver-haired child changed his personality to better fit his caretakers preferences, if only to appease Von Karma and not get punished.
With a sigh the good Detective put out the flame on what was left of his cigarette, and promptly disposed it in the nearest trash bin.
When he returned to his car he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the students exiting the building had familiar looking dark gray bangs.
The boy's head was lowered, his tiny shoulders slumped, almost bowing under the pressure of the backpack he was wearing.
He looked… broken.
Crushed by sadness and grief that had no business plaguing the mind of such a young lad.
The sight made Badd's heart clench.
Why did everything have to go so wrong for this poor kid? He thought shaking his head. When is enough, enough?
"Miles!" He called out to the boy, waving his hand. "Miles! Over here!"
The kid stopped and looked up, eyes scanning for the person calling out to him.
When he finally spotted Badd he slowly made his way over to him.
It was during that walk that the Detective really noticed just how thin Edgeworth's boy became while he was gone. It seemed like Manfred wasn't paying attention if his new charge even ate what he was given on his plate.
Miles stopped inches away from him, not meeting his eyes and instead looking down at his polished shoes.
Tyrell sighed.
"How are you doing, kid?"
Miles shrugged, still refusing to look at him.
"I'm doing okay, Uncle Badd." Came the quiet response.
Uncle Badd. The Detective's heart soared at the name.
It took him months to get the child to call him that instead of "Mr. Badd", as Edgeworth's son refused to call him that as they weren't related by blood, and not even Gregory's gentle insistence that his close friends could in fact be called "uncles" could dissuade the boy from his decision, for a long long time.
"Are you sure, kid?" Tyrell asked gently, kneeling before him. "You don't look so good."
It was then that Miles began to shake under the pressure of unreleased sobs that he tried to bury deep inside him.
"I-I'm f-fine." The child tried again, but it sounded less like a confident statement, and more like something that preceded a nervous breakdown.
Tyrell let out a long sigh.
"Oh, kid." He then pulled Miles into a tight kid. "No matter what the old bastard says, it's alright to cry."
At first the boy was tense in his arms, unused to physical contact that didn't come from his father, but after a few seconds he returned the hug with surprising strength for a child who was malnourished.
"There, there." Badd rubbed circles on Miles's back, hoping the notion would comfort the distraught child. "You don't have to hold back with me, kid." He whispered. "Let it out. Let it all out. You'll feel a lot better when you do."
That was all he really had to say, because the moment those words left his mouth the dam broke.
So Tyrell held the crying Miles pressed against his broad chest, until he cried out all the pent up hurt, grief and sadness.
Feeling his shirt soak up the salty tears, Tyrell seethed in anger.
This was a sign that the child had not been comforted nor brought to a specialist to talk about both his grief, and the trauma he suffered in the elevator. Those feelings and emotions have been building up inside him in a manner that was ruining his emotional state.
Everything he saw spoke of huge negligence on Manfred's part.
Whether it was only towards Miles because of his relation to Gregory, or executed towards all the underage denizens of the Von Karma mansion, did not matter.
One thing, however, was clear.
He can't let Miles stay in that home.
