Recommend listening to this band while you read…namely this song: watch?v=KuGMs-IYirM
"First, tell me what you do remember…"
The man remained silent for a moment, recalling the incident, "… I remember the feeling of grass beneath me; a warm substance covered my entire body. Sight was impossible; I couldn't open my eyes. My chest was numb and my hands groped out at nothing. I fell in and out consciousness, my life was fading; that, I was sure of." He thought a moment, so, if that's the case…how is it that I'm here?
Light became bright behind the thin curtain. "I can't do this."
"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Cirque de la Vérité!"
The crowd was already going crazy. "Why am I doing this? I can't do this."
"For our first act, let's start off strong. As you know, our former Animal Tamer, my beautiful daughter, has regrettably resigned from her position…"
Was it really worth it…? It's not like he had anywhere else to go… "Oh, God. I'm going to die. I can't do this."
"…But do not fret! While the old has moved on, the new generation has risen!"
Phoenix sweated fiercely, smearing his already sepulchral makeup in his attempt to wipe it with a gloved hand, "I don't have a choice, I guess."
"So…without further ado, say 'hello!' to our new Animal Tamer, Phoenix Wright!"
Within, the curtain around the middle ring lifted and exposed what was the new Animal Tamer. The hungry crowd cheered for their new daredevil.
The audience was funereally sublime; their macabre faces were twisted with joy, strangely cheery in their supposedly constant agony. Normally, someone would be petrified to see such ghastly creatures enter their sights. Not Phoenix, however, although this was his first time, he felt curiously unafraid of these cadaverous people. That is, if you could call them people, they were demons, the very residents of hell; and they were the only 'people' that would be coming to this circus.
Phoenix felt the air leaving him as stage fright constricted his throat with spectral hands. There were so many of them. Too many of them. He felt his knees buckle beneath him, but somehow managed to keep smiling, and standing. He maintained a toothy, almost embarrassed grin as the Ringleader panned his gloved hand back to the frozen performer.
The Ringleader was an elderly man with slicked back grey hair and a fierce, almost sculpted face. He had piercing dark eyes; they always seemed to be looking at you, glaring. The bright, dancing light of the big tent was almost cavorting off his aged face as he walked to the side of his new performer. He was holding his beloved cane, the head of a grotesque looking creature with sapphire eyes on its top. The older male looked back at him with what Phoenix knew was a fake smile,
"Knock. Them. Dead."
He said slowly; his voice was rough and low, a toothy grin across his wrinkled face that would forever haunt the new performer.
After the reveal, everything came naturally. Everything he had learned from training was put for the audience in almost autopilot. The cracks of the whip, the growls of the animal, and even the famous act of putting one's head in the mouth a huge cat flowed out his body as if it were breathing or blinking. Phoenix felt it growing easier to cope without looking at the mass, and do what he was trained to do. The crowd loved their new animal madcap; they cheered wildly, some screamed in fear as the act became more dangerous, the lion growled in bloodlust, and the audience cried out in shrill masses. In the end, the debut of the new animal tamer was a complete and utter success.
Phoenix bowed with his fellow performers, leaving the huge dankly colored tent. The lights died, the people left, and all that was left was the cleaning. The excitement in his heart died as he left the now darkly lit area, he glanced back at the huge tent, noticing yet another hole in the dankly colored fabric. He stroked the edges with his fingers; he been noticing that there were a lot of huge holes in this tent. He vaguely wondered why he never saw them on the inside. Phoenix pondered the tent as he walked back to his trailer. Upon entering the space, he quickly shut the door and fell on his couch. To his surprise, the couch fell beneath him. He was now in the couch, confused and dazed. He groaned and stood,
"Why is everything in this place so old?" he thought as he left the trailer a huff. The air on the outside was suddenly freezing. He shivered and sat in the grass beside his hunk of junk trailer, looking at the ground. The grass was dead; brown patches began to eat away at the other, healthier bits like leeches. Also, a lugubrious fog hovered in the distance, impairing the young tamer's vision in all directions. The sky was pitch black, stars speckling the scape. The sparkling masses in the sky were usually something you'd associate with happiness; however, the sky itself emitted a melancholy feeling when you looked at it. The moon hung low and large, its pasty white, alabaster surface was little light on the gloomy area.
The dark haired man wondered subconsciously as to why he went outside in the first place. He played with the dirt thoughtfully; he hadn't been the same since he started working here. Phoenix had often had unexplainable and irresistible urges to come outside in the middle of the night, thinking about nothing really, simply being outside when he could be inside. He rubbed his face against the cold, smearing his makeup further. He looked at his hands, frowning at the black and red substances that smeared his now bare hands.
A chilling wind swept through, causing Phoenix to shudder in his costume. He rubbed his arms in a sad attempt to warm himself; it seemed like he was always cold here. Here. Where was here? He leaned back against the cool metal surface of the trailer. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to remember anything.
"Where is this place?"
"You're meaning to tell me you don't remember…?" The elderly man looked confused, staring with that ever-present fiery look in his eyes.
"Should I?"
He sighed, "Hell, Wright. You're in Hell." He said, rather bluntly.
"What do you mean…?"Surprise laced Phoenix's face.
"What do you think I mean…?" The Ringleader was looking more and more confused on just how little the young man knew. He cleared his throat and started again, "I mean you are in Hell, Satan's…playground, if you will."
"S-satan's playground…?"
"His personal circus. You really don't remember a thing do you, Phoenix Wright?"
Memories assaulted Phoenix's brain; however, they weren't what he wanted to remember. Just what was it that he couldn't remember? He remembered waking up on a bed in this place, Manfred standing over him like a hungry vulture. Manfred Von Karma, The Ringleader, did not seem to want to tell him anything. He continued to insist he needed rest before "training". However, little did Phoenix know the "training" would be to become the new tamer.
The other performers, however, seemed to recall whatever Phoenix had lost quite clearly. They all seem to know his name; some of them even referred to him as, "Nick", and spoke to him as if they had known him for years. That is, until Manfred had a 'talk' with them. After that, they had all just been avoiding him. This was, all except for one. He avoided the tamer as well, but then again, he seemed to do that with everyone. He was the contortionist, acrobat. He wasn't one of the ones that Manfred had to 'talk' to. His name was Miles Edgeworth. The man himself was a very curious and hauntingly mysterious person; he seemed about the same age as Phoenix, although he was a bit taller than the tamer. The contortionist had striking silver hair, stunning black eyes, and carried himself like a prowling cat, always aware of his surroundings. Holding true to his sociopathic nature, after practice he would return to his trailer, not exchanging a word or glance to anyone; tonight was no different.
In fact, the only time that Phoenix had ever seen Miles interacting with anyone was in his act, with Franziska Von Karma, the daughter of The Ringleader. Apparently, she used to be the animal tamer, switched into the mold on an acrobat, in a breathtaking act with Miles. The woman didn't seem to like Phoenix at all, be it jealousy or something more, that was the only person Phoenix tried to avoid back.
Sounds of movement hit Phoenix's ears, causing him to jump in surprise. He looked up towards the noise; it came from the depths of the thick fog surrounding him. Slowly, a human figure appeared in the shadowy fog. The tamer tried to remain calm, thought he was scared stiff, so he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to. He strained his eyes to try and see who the approaching figure was, as more detail came into shape. Just as Phoenix was about to call out to the figure, it entered his field of clear vision. It was Miles, the contortionist.
The animal tamer didn't say a word until the taller male was in front of him, standing above him. Before Phoenix could even open his mouth to speak, his voice came, it was decorous and stern,
"You did well today."
The tamer was thrown, it was a small, simply sentence, but it made him feel unexplainably happy. He didn't know how to respond, but he managed to choke out a few awkward words,
"T-thank you. You didn't do half bad yourself."
"Mm." He only seemed to be half paying attention, although he was staring at Phoenix with intent, stoic stare.
To his further surprise, the arresting and fascinating man sat next to him, staring him in the eyes. The young performer's eyes were even more stunning up close. The pale light from the moon reflected off of them, creating a sort of glistening feel to them. Phoenix stared deeply into his eyes; there was something written there, a message of some sort, but he couldn't seem to put his finger on what exactly it was. It was strange; he'd only now just met this enigmatic man and he was already enthralled into the want to learn about him. He was so dark, yet so majestic; not to mention his talent was breathtaking. Miles turned to looked at the ground, a sudden uneasy look about him,
"You're very good. You know…" he spoke almost cautiously, "at…taming animals." He rubbed his arms in uncertainty and chill.
Phoenix found himself smiling, it wasn't often he received compliments, or at least, of what he remembered. He played with the dirt again, speaking without thinking,
"Um…" he spoke his mind, "Why are you talking to me?"
He looked up to see a light blush and almost a bit of hurt on the mysterious man's face. He waved his hands; Phoenix realized he was sweating,
"Oh, no, no! I didn't mean to imply I didn't want you to talk to me, I just-!"
He held up a hand to stop him, his composure back as quick as it left,
"I understand. I don't really make conversation much, so I would expect myself to be unaccustomed with it."
The now-blushing tamer smiled softly; something about Miles' polite and blue-blooded manner of speaking was making Phoenix's heart beat hard in his chest. The perplexing contortionist's voice flooded his ears again,
"I just…wanted to ask you something."
"Ask me something?" His heart skipped a beat at what the question could be.
"Yes. Do you mind?" Phoenix almost laughed; was he really asking permission? It's almost cute…
"N-no." He blurted, he couldn't afford to visit La-la-land just yet.
Miles looked satisfied as he nodded softly, "Good." Then the awkward uneasy look came back, "Do you..." he paused, anticipation was now bubbling in the tamer's heart; odd foreign feelings swelled in his virgin mind; he had never felt this way before. Is there any way that this peculiar man could be confessing his love to him?
The silver haired performer cleared his throat and choked up uncomfortable words,
"Do you remember…your life before the circus...?"
The tamer felt his kindling hopes shatter; he can't believe he had gotten so worked up. It was a question he'd been asked plenty of times before, even coming from Miles' lips it was a boring phrase. Phoenix sighed and cleared his throat, all the man worried about was his memory. The shorter male turned to look into the eyes of the perfect male in front of him, only to be completely infatuated with his stare. It wasn't just his stare either, it was his hair, his nose, and his…lips. Oh god, his lips. They were soft and full, plush against his other hard, powerful features. He quickly banished the thought from his mind; it was outrageous to think he could be in love with a man he'd just met. However, it did feel like he'd seen him before…
"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand. I'll go talk to someone else." He shifted his weight forward to get up, and without thinking, the recently returned to reality Phoenix gripped his arm, a bit more aggressive than he would have preferred but, what the hell, it got him to stop didn't it? What really worried the black haired performer was his voice; it was a bit too loud against the eerie silence that blanketed the circus grounds,
"No!" he yelled, covering his mouth directly after, "I mean…don't go. Stay here. I, um," Miles was giving him a quizzical look; this was not going so well, "Uh…I …don't remember, no. Do you…?"
At this, the dark eyed male raised a questioning eyebrow, shoving his arm away and rubbing the sore bit,
"You're a strange man, Phoenix Wright."
Phoenix felt his heart skip a beat; all he could think to do was to smile, embarrassment was practically pouring from his face.
Miles didn't smile back; instead, he got up once more, without the arm gripping, and turned to leave,
"I have to go. Thank you for telling me what I wanted to know."
The young tamer opened his mouth to object, however, he stopped himself; somehow he knew he wouldn't stop. The fog engulfed the man; his frame but a figure once more.
Just as abruptly as it began, the surreal conversation with the contortionist had passed. The moment had fluttered in and out, leaving the dark featured tamer confused and in denial of his adoration for the odd, enigmatic and striking man. Disgruntled, Phoenix wandered back into his trailer. He glared at the imploded couch and lay on his bed; a petite hammock-like thing was more like it. The thing beneath him was less a bed than he was.
He tossed and turned in the creaky hanging mat beneath him; his mind buzzed of the mysterious man who'd, only hours before, had never even passed him a second glance. It was only then that Phoenix had realized; he'd never answered his question. And why exactly did Miles want to know such a thing anyway? Why hadn't he asked before? Did he remember? The small conversation left more questions than answers, but one thing seemed clear to the young tamer.
He was in love, and there was absolutely no fighting it.
Cirque de la Vérité = Circus of the Truth (French)