It's me, Michael Fri of Black Scepter. Wow, it's been awhile since I worked on anything Phoenix Wright related. This idea came into my mind, completly different from anything I ever worked for this section. And I'm a little excited about this idea.
Time-wise, this takes place after Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney. And it's also assuming the fact Phoenix decided not to retake the BAR exam, or at least not right away. I hope you enjoy the beginning of the story, and I hope it's a good mystery.
Chapter 1
Thunder's boom and lightning's crackle cradle the rain as the drops in rapid splashes against the old weathered mansion. The rain water did nothing more than help rot the already rotting oak wood. The mansion's creaking and groaning under it's old joints as the silent rain, accompanied by the rambunctious thunder muffled the sounds of heated arguing inside. Where the owner of the mansion, Lloyd C. Nolan, was sitting in the comfy office chair behind his beautiful polished desk. Listening to the testy tone of his heir's voice, which had begun to rise in anger.
"Why father?" His heir called, "Why have you taken me out of your will?!"
Mr. Nolan sunk into his office chair and folded his hands underneath his chin. He pretended to consider what his heir was protesting when, in honesty, he was dead-set on his decision. His heir probably knew that too, but he continued to stare with a slight glint of hope in his wide eyes. But hope, like glass, can be shattered when smashed.
"I removed you for the reasons that best suit this family and it's future," he answered. "And no amount of pleading will be able to sway my mind."
The heir's curses melded with the thunder, making them inaudible to the elder man's ears. He sat there and let him yell and scream at him, his voice rising higher to the point where he couldn't even produce words. When the heir finished he simply stood there, shaking all over, the utter calmness of the old man fueled the fire of his rage. Cool brown eyes surveyed the young man as he spoke in a quiet and final tone.
"Are you done? You entered my house, demand to speak to me, and say only useless words followed by useless emotions." He said, "Your younger sister truly is the more sensible one…"
"Fool…" the heir trembled in pure hate.
"What did you say?" The elder man demanded, his brown eyes narrowing at him.
The heir shook as he stared at him, he swallowed once or twice before speaking in a louder voice than he intended.
"You fool… you old weathered prune, you will regret doing what you did. And don't you dare bring Leila into this, don't you dare…"
"Or what?" The old man challenged, despite his many years he sometimes acted like a hotheaded young man than a wise senior. "What will you do?"
"I'll…I'll make you sorry!" the man's voice rose once again, his yell echoing down to the foyer where the maids paused to listen.
The elder man lifted his head slightly to look at him, it was only now he saw the seething hate in his eyes. His will faltered, for once in his many years he felt his strong soul waver in the presence of his heir's. But it lasted for a moment, like a fleeting spring breeze, it passed him and his strength returned. Now he needed to reestablish dominance, he stood up tall and proud as he moved in front of the desk. It was now the young heir's turn to be afraid, his back stiffened and his body went rigid as the elder man approached. He attempted to put on a show of bravery, but the act was stale and needed improvement, he could be easily seen through.
"You, make me sorry?" The elder man laughed. "I am sorry, sorry I never dumped you like the brat you are!"
His voice rose to a roar and everything froze, the heir, the maids, even the house stopped creaking. It's as if all activity in the house came to a halt, for fear of being a victim of the angry man. He swung his arm out, smacking the heir and pointing his finger at the door,
"You disgust me!" he shouted, "You and your sniveling whiny voice, get out of my house, now!"
The heir stood in defiance at his yelling, an action that surprised the old man, before he marched right out of the door and out of the office. The elder man stood frozen for a second, before walking back to his desk and opening the top right drawer. He pulled out a brandy glass and a bottle of amber liquid. Pouring himself a glass of bourbon he turned to the window and held the glass to his lips, placing it to the cup and slowly downing the strong tasting alcohol. He felt his entire body become warm and fuzzy, his senses and emotions becoming dulled. He was about to raise the glass to take another drink when a shrill scream startled him. He managed to keep a good grip on the glass though, setting it on the desk and hurrying out to the foyer.
"What's going on?" Mr. Nolan asked, seeing many of the house servants and maids run outside into the rain.
"S-sir!" One of maids cried, "It's Charles, your son, he's…he's…"
The elder man did not wait for her blubbering to continue, despite the argument and feelings of anger, parental concern kicked in. He pushed past his stuttering maid and several other servants, his concern turned to fear as he found a crowd of his servants outside. Pushing past them he demanded to know what happened, what he saw next he will never forget. There was his heir, his son, lying on the stone walkway: blood pouring beneath his body. His body was numb and cold, his world was broken like twigs under a man's boot. His son, his only son, gone… the elder man of iron will found himself threatened by sorrow. Yet no one would ever be able to tell. Because tears, like the rain, wash away together and become one. The thunder roared in angry and sorrow, the lighting flashed, the rain poured harder. The heavens were crying: for a life was taken, and world of a old father was broken.
Somewhere, unseen by the elder man, a stranger of the crying heavens smiled cruelly at his sorrowful time.
"Cry all you wish," the stranger of rain grinned. "You will be crying again very soon, when I take everything you hold dear…"
The stranger of the sorrowful rain walked away, drenching in the tears of pain and loving it. The rain did not hinder the stranger, nor did it welcome the figure, the stranger merely walked in it. Unwelcome, unneeded, and yet he melded with it perfectly. The heavens could only wonder, what tears this stranger could draw from the heavens for what is planned to come?
Only time would tell.
End of Chapter 1.