Disclaimer : I own nothing but the clothes on my back.

Summary : Remember the time when deKiller offered Phoenix to be his successor? Well, this is like a fanfic of the time between his adopting Trucy and re-meeting Shadi Enigmar. And yes, there will probably be loads of holes in the plot but...whatever, it's the fun the counts!

And : I'm sorry if the words are clumped and hard to read. Something's wrong with my html and um, newsflash, I can't figure it out. I suck that way.

Lesson 1 : Debtors' prison.

Phoenix looked at pile of mail-slash-bills sitting in front of him. The mail man had just dropped them off in front of his door, apparently a whole week late because he couldn't carry that much mail with him, and had only managed to carry all Phoenix and Trucy's mail today because it was a slow day at work. He had apologized profusely, and Phoenix had assured him that it was okay, because truthfully? It was okay.

Because there was no freaking way he could pay those bills anyway.

He sighed. Might as well get them over with anyway. He took up the first of the pile. Oh yeah, his credit card. Ripping the envelope apart, he ignored the red letters strewn over the paper in dire, life-threatening fonts and went straight at the list of bought items.

Grey hoodie – 25 $ (Well that was necessary. I mean, it's not he can walk around in his blue suit while working at the Hydeout, he'll look ridiculous.)

Assorted Magyke Stuff toys, Gramarye original limited edition signed poster – 128 $ (Um okay. That was necessary too, because Trucy was down and needed some cheering up.)

Vintage '86 Red Wine – 25 $(Therapy, so it doesn't count.)

Vintage '86 Red Wine

Vintage '86 Red Wine

Steel Samurai Director's cut twin pack DVD – 55$ (Doesn't count. It was a discount item. When you buy discount items, you actually save a lot, better than say, buying it later when there's no discount.)

Nickel Samurai Season One – 120 $ (That was to compare with Steel Samurai, doesn't count either.)

Hobo Sparkling Grape Juice – 12$ (Can't resist.)

Hobo Sparkling Grape Juice – 12$

Hobo Sparkling Grape Juice – 12$

Wine Red Couch (2) – 500$(Well, where were they supposed to sleep?)

And the list went on and on. By the time he reached the end, Phoenix was sure of two things.

One, he was officially in debt.

And uh two? He's not going to get out of it any time soon.

The thing is, he just wasn't making enough. The poker doesn't pay bad, and Trucy was getting pretty decent money from working her magic tricks at the bar but it wasn't enough to support the both of them AND pay rent. And it's not like he had an arsenal of talent to ply his wares elsewhere. He did ART in college for god's sake. And if that's not one thing that doesn't pay, he sure doesn't know what is.

He rubbed his temple. Headache warning in 4...3...2...1... How the heck is he going to get that money?

Bring!!

"Aiyee!" Fingers accidentally stabbed his eyes. "Jesu Christo!"

The phone was ringing on Mia's old desk. Great. More debts. Maybe he should just announce himself bankrupt to get all the debtors off his back? It's not like he's going to be needing to buy any property after this whole mess.

"Hello, Wright Talent Agency."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wright." Came the reply. It was smooth, exceedingly polite voice. Something about that voice send shivers down his spine for a reason.

"Um, yeah. I'm Wright. I mean, yeah, I'm Phoenix Wright. Who am I speaking to?"

"There is no need for you to know that, Mr. Wright." Wow, deja vu.

"Excuse...me?"

"I am here to offer you a job. As a...successor, if you will."

He held his chin. This guy sound strangely familiar for some reason. That...That TONE that offer no discussion or opportunity for bickering. He was positive that he heard that vo---

"Shelly deKiller?" he asked, half wonderingly, half incredulously.

"That is my name, correct. It is good that you remember, Mr. Wright. I will not find myself needing to explain myself again."

"Wh-Why are you calling me? I-I mean, I didn't hire you or anything."

"Must I repeat myself Mr. Wright? I know you are lacking a stable income right now, and I am offering you a job with a... sufficient amount of pay. Do you decline?"

His job was stable, thank you very much. It just didn't pay...much.

"Um, no. I mean, no, I don't decline." He answered. Best not to anger a professional assassin, after all. He wasn't interested in being plastered all over the obituary sections.

"Very good, Mr. Wright. Meet me at Elmer's, on . You know where that is, correct?"

He shook his head, then realized he couldn't seem him through the phone. "Sorry, I don't."

"It is insignificant. It is opposite Lordly Tailor. I will meet you there in half and hour, Mr Wright."

Shelly deKiller hung up. This day just keeps getting better and better. He rubbed his face, then pulled up his hoodie. Oh well, no sense in making assassins wait.

He groaned at the thought.

No sense at all.

He left a note on the table to explain his absence to Trucy, who was still at school and quickly took a bus down to Lordly Tailor. He had made sure he put up a pair of huge sunglasses that Trucy used for her magic tricks first before heading out. He wasn't keen on being recognized by Adrian Andrews or any of the plenitude of Lordly Tailor employees he met over the course of that case. Sympathy was nice, but that wasn't what he needed right now.

Elmer's, as it turned out was a smooth little bar tucked into the corner of, looking as though it stepped out of mid-40's, it looked like a specimen entirely carved out of a block of mahogany. It had class, though it definitely wasn't up to Edgeworth's taste. He smiled ruefully at the thought.

It was the middle of the day, and the only people in the bar was deKiller and the bartender, who was rubbing smudges off glasses with the disinterested air of someone who has seen to much and told too little.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wright."

Phoenix took his seat opposite him, taking the opportunity to get a good look at deKiller.

He didn't looked much different from the last time they met, when he was posing as the butler to Matt Engarde and he was desperately trying to solve the whole mess with Juan Corrida's death. It didn't really helped things along either with the man opposite him right now kidnapping Maya and forcing him to defend Matt Engarde, his client. All things considered though, he didn't really thought badly of deKiller. The assassin had honour, that much was for sure, even if that honour was a little strange, in Phoenix's opinion.

He still had the trademark stitches that divided his face into half : That much at least wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, but he wasn't in the bell boy uniform any more, obviously. Those black leather gloves remained though.

"What did you call me out for?"

"This is the third time I am repeating myself, Mr. Wright. If you make me repeat myself again, I am afraid I will have to inspect your self for hearing impairment." His tone sounded no different than it would if he had been discussing the weather. "I am here to offer your a job."

"As what? Some kind of mess-cleaner when you go around bulldozing people?"

"Interesting choice of words, but no, I am not."

"So what is it you want then? And god help me, if you're thinking of doing something to Trucy, then I assure you, you'll like me better when I was a radio transceiver away, deKiller," Phoenix snarled.

"Do not threaten me." His face remains calm and impassive, not even a single line marred that perfectly smooth mask of a face. "If I had wanted to put your daughter to her demise, Mr. Wright, I assure you I do not need your permission or aid in accomplishing the matter."

"Sorry," came the mumbled reply. "I'm just, kind of...New, to this whole father thing I guess." He rubbed his temple again. He seemed to be doing it a lot these days.

"No matter." deKiller leaned forward a little. "What I am offering you Mr. Wright, is a job, as the successor to the deKiller name."

Huh, successor to him huh? That wasn't too hard---Wait, WHAT!?

"Uh-Buh-Uh--" Phoenix's brain, always on the slow side, was having trouble COMPREHENDING. That was a joke right? He doesn't look like he's telling a joke –(But then again, when does he look like he's joking?) -- but there was NO WAY that can be true.

I mean, no one ask people to be assassins just like that! Come on!

"That's, you're – I mean, you're joking right? That's—that's just a joke right?"

"I assure you, Mr. Wright, I am not in the habit of cracking jokes of that nature." Or any at all.

"But WHY? I'm not even physically fit! I can't climb a wall, I can't shoot someone , HELL, I can't even throw darts accurately, much less shurikens or whatever thingamajig you use."

"You are thinking of ninjas. We, that is to say deKillers, do not resort to things such as shooting stars to get our job done."

"It doesn't change the fact that there must had been a reason for you to ask me – not that I would accept."

"It is simple. During our trial, I realized that I am after all, getting on in years." Really, he didn't look a day over forty-five. "And I need an heir to the deKiller name whom I can train before I am incapable of doing so. And I remembered the interested sounding lawyer and decided to check up on you."

What the HELL?? Why is everyone determined to interpret all his "No"s as "Yes"?

"Now, as it is, were you still a lawyer I would not request this of you. After all, I would not want you contradict your vow to the court."

Wow, thanks for the careful consideration. Paper cranes?

"But you have, I have heard, been...Discharged. And that your situation is most unbecoming. That is why I have chosen to make this offer, because I'm sure you understand, this job would be the cure for all your dilemmas. My...Work pays quite well after all."

Okay. He won't even begin to count how many ways that is wrong. "Your...Work..." happen to be to snuff out the candle of life of poor, unknowing, innocent people. Okay, well maybe not so poor or innocent, but they definitely didn't know did they? And okay, he can't pay his bills, and he can barely afford their groceries, and yeah, if he doesn't pay his rent sometime between um, right now and the next second, he's SO evicted, but that doesn't mean he's going to resort to a life of crime! He's not that desperate!

"I'm sorry, that was a really nice offer of yours, Mr. deKiller, but I really can't accept."

"It is alright. I did not expect you to come around to my way of thinking immediately. You can contact me with this number when you have agreed." He slide a smart looking contact card over the wooden surface and got up and leave.

"When" huh?

When his bus dropped him off and he walked the dozen or so blocks back to the office he shared with Trucy, it was already almost two hours after he left. Trucy would be back, he realised. He found himself smiling at the notion, for some reason. Yes, life has gotten him down lately - finding out what he worked half his life away for is forever taken from him is a bitter pill to swallow. Knowing that it was someone else's fault was even more bitter. But he had Trucy now, and he was a daddy. A daddy. He can't seem to stop smiling.

That smile slipped off his face, however, when he arrived on their floor.

Trucy was obviously bickering with their landlord over something heatedly.

"Daddy!" she ran over to him at once and dragged him over to where the landlord was. His face was stern, and Phoenix recognized determination when he saw it.

"This strange man said we're not allowed to stay here anymore unless we pay the rent!"

He looked helplessly at said man, and shrugged, but it came out more like a nervous twitch in his shoulder.

"Daddy?"

He looked at Trucy, who was looking up at him. She was obviously confused, not to mention one heck of upset over the fact that all her magic tools are locked up in the office. His gut twisted a little.

"Excuse me, I have a call to make."

He took out the card with the pink shell imprinted on it and walked off to find the nearest payphone.