A/N: Hello peeps! This is AK with a new fic for your reading pleasure. This is my first Yandre fic and also my first contribution to the AA fandom!

Warnings: Major/Minor character death, mental instability, mild psychopath-ism, homosexuality (do I need to mention this?) and horrible things done in the name of love. Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: The Ace Attorney Games do not belong to me (if they did, do you think that Clay would be dead?) and the story alone is mine.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Midnight Feeding Madness

Chapter one: In Which We Begin Not to Understand

Slick fingers smoothed back chestnut hair.

His spikes were as unruly as ever, even when streaked with red.

His name was Apollo Justice.

His name which used to be a part of what invigorated him in his career as a defense attorney was now a cruel, cruel contradiction.

For he was no longer a staunch pursuer of justice.

Love had taken the top spot in his priority list and had shoved all the other slots off like a cuckoo bird in a crow's nest.

They said that it made you blind.

They said it drove you mad.

Apollo never knew how true that was.

Not until what he loved the most was nearly torn away from him.

Apollo would never let that happen ever again.

Monday morning, the sun was shining brightly.

The salary men kissed their wives on their rosy cheeks and bid their children goodbye.

Apollo, who had neither, donned his coat and took his case files underneath his arm.

He stepped out on the porch and stretched his arms out.

His joints popped with a satisfying sound.

He put his hands on his hips and breathed in the morning air.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ladybird, Mr. Gardener," he greeted his neighbors.

They were a lovely old couple, married for fifty years and knowing each other for seventy.

Childhood sweethearts and still together at a ripe old age.

Truly, they were living proof that first loves could last.

Honestly?

That was the only reason that Apollo didn't finish them off by telling them that they lived next to a murderer.

Really now, they were so delicate.

The husband had a bad hip and the wife had heart problems.

They stood testimony to the fragility of life.

Not that he needed any reminders.

It would be so easy to fake a fall, easier still to fake a stroke.

So easy that he was tempted to do so before anyone else did-

No, bad Apollo! Bad!

As much as you want to destroy the world person by wretched person, you shouldn't.

Your neighbors were your cover, people who gave an alibi to where you were at night.

And old people were always so easy to manipulate.

Hard of hearing, hard of sight…

Though there had been one shrewd old bat that had given him a run for his money.

It was a pity that he had to kill her off.

He would have liked to have played chess with her someday.

Ah, no matter.

He had more serious matters to think about.

He opened his file.

Clara Banks.

A fine-boned old lady with a peaches and cream complexion stared at him sweetly out of the victim's photograph.

Looking at that picture, no one would guess that she is one of the greatest undercover agents of the detective sector.

Apollo remembered how those endearing periwinkle blue eyes had hardened to steel just seconds before the life faded from them.

He grinned slightly.

How will he manipulate this case into proving his client's innocence this time?

Because he knew that his client was innocent.

He was certain, one hundred percent.

How, you ask?

Simple.

He was the one who killed her, after all.

Who knew, he might even drop a hint on how this case might be linked with a few other of his cases… maybe it was done by the same person? He would the hide grin as his opposition tore down his perfectly sound argument.

Fools, the lot of them.

A/N: So here it is! What do you think?