Let's play a game. I call it, 'spot the Aldous Huxley refference' xDD
I changed chapter one, a bit. It was bugging me, so I fixed it up a little.
Here's chapter two :) I hope you like it!
The Ace attorney series is not mine. It belongs to capcom :)
Also, I've been playing AA: Investigations? All similarities to case one are totally an accident, I swear.
Pain and a dull roar of garbled sounds brought her back to her senses. The dankness broke into forms and the beginnings of colours. Bright bars of light swam overhead as the rest of the bleary room took shape. A searing pain in her skull seemed to trickle down into her stomach, and it churned uneasily, weakness and agony keeping her fixed securely to the firm, sticking cushions she felt beneath her. The sounds, hollow and from a figure obscuring the bands of flourescent light overhead, rearranged themselves gradually into words, and a moment later, into words she understood.
"Miss Laurent? Miss Laurent, can you hear me?"
She became aware, now, that the groaning accompanying the coherent statements came from her own mouth, and with a wince and effort, forced them into the shape of her greatest concern. "My notes..."
"Excuse me?"
"My notes," she repeated more clearly, her hand groping blindly over the edge of the seat for her bag. "Where– "
The even, and rather rigid, voice persisted. "Miss Laurent, do you know where you are?"
"Precinct. First floor, lobby."
"Very good," he, for it was indeed a man, replied with a halfhearted attempt at enthusiasm.
She narrowed her eyes, as her thoughts returned to their normal speed, and forced herself up on her elbows. She processed the severe features of the man kneeling, disinterested, beside her. "Do I know you?"
"Not at all."
"What a relief," she smiled, letting her eyes slide shut again as she forced herself to sit upright in earnest. "Because I have no idea who you are."
The flourescent lights overhead were blocked out all together as another, larger figure dashed over, shouting in a voice that she, thankfully, remembered very well. "Hey! Hey, look, she's come-to!"
The man rolled his eyes and smiled tersely. "Thank you, Detective. How observant."
***
"And then, Miss Laurent?"
"And then?" The young woman drummed her fingers against the stand's surface thoughtfully. "Well, I was checked over by a paramedic, and deemed healthy enough to return home. I took a substantial dosage of painkillers, slept, woke up, showered, dressed, ate breakfast, and then came here, Mister Wright."
"Ah," Phoenix cleared his throat anxiously. "And those painkillers–"
"Nothing too powerful," she added, nodding. "Nothing over the dosage, and worn off now."
"So you'll be in a considerable amount of pain, Miss Laurent?"
"Objection," came a languid voice from across the room.
"On what grounds, Mister Edgeworth?"
"Relevancy, Your Honour. The prosecution sees no point to this line of questioning."
The judge sighed, narrowing his eyes at the defence from behind his reading glasses. "Overruled, but what is the defence getting at, exactly?"
Phoenix glanced momentarily back at the girl beside him, then at his shaking client. "Your Honour, the defence insists that the witness's memory of the event is essential. I am merely trying to ensure that nothing is, uh... compromising it."
From the stand, the witness, one Danielle Laurent, shook her head calmly."I assure you, Mister Wright, my memory is fine."
This isn't good... Phoenix bit at his lip, but stopped when the prosecutor across the room caught sight of the nervous tick. She'd been through her testimony twice now, and everything matched perfectly with the two preceding witnesses, both of which had flawless accounts of the night's events. There wasn't a contradiction to be found anywhere, and when dealing with the likes of Detective Dick Gumshoe and Maggey Byrd, that was nothing short of a miracle.
Gumshoe had been to visit Maggey at a diner, not far from the Precinct, following a meeting that had run extremely late. Maggey had become a waitress there following the mishap at Très Bien not long before, and as always, her goddess of bad luck status had caused problems. She had spilled coffee over the counter, and sent a tray of cupcakes she was putting away for the evening flying. It was when one landed against the diner's front window that they had noticed Miss Laurent pacing by the bus stop, and her subsequent attack. Maggey and Gumshoe had both witnessed the young woman being dragged forcibly into an alleyway, and in an act of carelessness and brashness only possible through Dick Gumshoe, the detective had bolted out of the diner, gun drawn, and charged the man.
Surprisingly, the assailant had bolted rather than fire, himself. Miss Laurent had been struck once, with the back of the weapon, and then dropped as the attacker ran, gaining a brief head start as the detective paused to check on the victim; however, Maggey had followed suite, and the unconscious psychologist had been left with her as Gumshoe resumed the chase.
While only Gumshoe had possessed a weapon, Maggey had managed some shooting of her own. A rather grainy image, shot on a camera phone, had been submitted as evidence. It was rather useless, as Maggey herself had pointed out sullenly while on the stand, but it corroborated Miss Laurent's description of her attacker, dressed in black. That was the only really discernible feature, as it was essentially a photo of Gumshoe starting after a dark patch of pixels rounding a corner in the distance. The odd angle had him running almost sideways, along the small hill and an edge of the precinct's mostly abandoned parking lot.
It was further down the street around said corner that Gumshoe had found his client, idling under a street lamp, and resumed the chase, eventually tackling the young man, Neil Duncan, to the ground. A rather tall young man of twenty, he had been dressed in black from head to toe, and most damningly, had connections to Mark Harris, the drug dealer who's gun was supposedly the murder weapon in the three previous killings.
Phoenix Wright, he said to himself, resisting the urge to bolt for the door, you certainly have your work cut out for you this time.
It was Maya who had talked him into this, of course. Not that he could have said no either, he supposed, when Marlee Duncan had arrived at their office early that morning, and begged them to take her brother's case. Naturally, he had no alibi for the times of the other three killings, but she had been adamant in her brother's innocence, and while a particularly pesky psychelock had barred them from his reason for being out there, at that exact hour, dressed as he was, there was nothing in place to suggest any dishonestly when he insisted that he was innocent, and had never harmed the three murdered victims, or this attempted fourth. What choice did he have but to defend him?
He could hear Maya's hushed encouragement, but couldn't quite focus as he poured quickly, mentally, over the evidence.
"One more time, Miss Laurent. Please, from the end of the meeting to waking at the precinct, tell me everything that occurred last night."
The witness took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's see... From the end of the meeting, I returned to my desk, and gathered up my things to go home."
"Your things, Miss Laurent? Such as?"
"A few textbooks I like to keep with me, and notes, on the day's cases, and patients," she informed him again, patiently despite the audible sigh and roll of the eyes from the prosecutor's bench. "I record things they say, and my own observations to help determine progress when they visit next. I'd seen several officers and detectives that day, in regards to the killings. While trauma counselling isn't my exact area, I can help refer people in need of more help than I can supply to the proper places and people."
Wright pulled at the collar of his shirt with a nervous, hooked finger, and pretended to ignore the well meaning smile that flickered across the psychologist's face as she noted it. He turned his anxiety instead to the papers in front of him, lining them up as she went on with her still-perfect retelling, so that Maggey's enlarged, grainy photo sat on top. The parking lot appeared to be deserted, save a green sedan parked beneath a street lamp, and a black van one row behind, partially obscured by the hill.
"Officer MacArthur offered to give me a ride home, but I had a bus to catch, so I declined."
"Which bus?" He tried, defeated.
"The forty-seven, at eleven fifteen."
"Then what?" Wright resisted the urge to sigh, glancing guiltily at Duncan.
"MacArthur got into his car, left. I ran after the bus, I rolled my ankle, I missed it."
"Where was the car parked?"
"The prosecution requests that the defence give up this pointless line of questioning. I think it's fair to deem Miss Laurent's memory reliable?" Edgeworth interjected, shaking an accusing finger in Phoenix's direction. The grey-haired man smiled smugly."The lady has been assaulted, and now you're harassing her." The rather angry chorus from the courthouse forced Wright to sink a little lower behind the desk; however, his eyes widened, and he stood straight when her even, collected answer cut through the disapproving murmur.
"He was parked at the edge of the lot, under a lamp, Mister Wright."
His face brightened, and a satisfied smile pulled at the defence attorney's lips. "And what kind of car was it?"
"A..." Laurent inclined her head, gesturing the general shape of the vehicle with her hands, beaded bracelets clicking together with the movements. "A hatchback," she started, "a...well, a car. I'm sorry, I know more about Freud than Ford."
"And what colour was this car?" He smiled at Maya, who looked slightly more reassured by his growing confidence.
"Green, I'm certain."
"It wouldn't be this car, would it?" With that, and a great sigh of relief, Phoenix pulled Maggey's photograph from his pile. "This is the photo submitted as evidence by the last witness. If I could direct the current witness's attention to this vehicle..."
The young woman's eyes widened in disbelief as she examined the photo. "Oh!" Laurent clapped her hand over her mouth, eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, this is... but...."
"The timestamp on this photo says it was taken two minutes after midnight. Could you explain to me, Miss Laurent, how a car you claim left this lot at eleven fifteen hadn't managed to clear the parking space forty minutes later?"
"Objection!" The familiar sound of Edgeworth's palm on the wood of the bench cut through the excited chatter of the crowd. "The defence is neglecting the possibility that officer MacArthur did, in fact, leave, and simply returned later that evening. Do you have any evidence that the car was present between eleven fifteen and midnight?"
The judge's gavel was louder still, and silenced the noise with a few solid strikes. "Prosecutor, do you know if this officer is present in the courthouse?"
"Yes, your honour," Edgeworth replied, mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Then I'm calling a ten minute recess. You," He indicated a bailiff with a gesture of his gavel,
"obtain a statement from this man, and then we will resume."
"That's it, Nick!" Maya slapped him a bit to heartily on the back. "You've got her on the ropes now!" she proclaimed joyfully, "go in for the kill!" Phoenix winced at the rather inappropriate analogy, but his face fell into a look of confusion, mirroring Maya's face as it did the same. "Hey, Nick, what's she doing...?"
Miss Laurent was staring rather intently at their trembling client, head inclined, head propped up against loose fist beneath her jaw, elbow on the stand. Across the courtroom, the prosecution had lost it's certainty. After a tense pause, the eternal ten minutes ended, and the bailiff returned, a signed paper in hand, which he passed, in turn, to the prosecutor– Edgeworth paled.
"MacArthur's testimony," he began, breathing deeply to steady himself, "states that he never actually entered the car. He swears that he walked her towards the bus station, until she took off running, and then returned to work, in his office, alone, until one. He wasn't aware that Miss Laurent had been attacked until early this morning, and left long after she did."
The witness's eyebrows furrowed. "I could have sworn..." she began, distracted. A triumphant grin pulled at Phoenix's lips.
"Would you like to change your testimony?"
"No," she replied, still puzzled and completely oblivious to the look of abject horror the refusal cast on the prosecutor's face. "He got into that car. That is how I remember it, I'm certain."
"Miss Laurent," he began with newfound confidence, "In your professional opinion, as a psychologist, if you were asked to evaluate a patient who had suffered an extreme shock and abject terror only a few hours prior, had sustained a blow to the head, and was demonstrating lapses in memory... Could you, in good conscience, deem this person fit to stand trial and give reliable testimony?"
"N-no," she paused, then shook her head more resolutely. "I could not."
Phoenix breathed a heavy sign of relief. He wasn't out of the woods quite yet, but this was something. "Move to strike, your Honour. Clearly the shock of the event has effected the witness's memory."
"Sustained. The testimony of Danielle Laurent is to be stricken from the record." From across the courtroom, Miles Edgeworth clenched his teeth and had paled visibly as the steady pounding of the judge's gavel called the session to and end. "This court will reconvene here, tomorrow, at eleven AM. The defendant will testify. Court is adjourned." And with that, their client was lead away, back towards the detention centre, as the sounds of Maya's joyous cheering rang out through the courtroom.
"Way to go, Nick!"
***
Danielle sighed, slinging her heavy messenger bag of notes and texts over her shoulder. Now as she awaited the bus, she kept well huddled into the crowd of fellow would-be passengers, trying to avoid glancing nervously over her shoulder any more than she could prevent. It was irrational. The killer had supposedly been apprehended, and in broad daylight, she assured herself, surrounded by witnesses, she was in no danger. The back of her head pounded dully, and she popped some mild painkillers into her mouth with a guilty flick of her wrist, and swallowed hard.
"Miss! Miss Laurent!" She started, a cold shiver running down her spine at the sudden outburst and the recognition of her own name. The jump had shrugged her bag from her shoulder, and tomes, binders and notepads hit the ground with a thud.
A dark red sports car had reached a stop sign at the corner a few metres away, and while the driver was less than enthused, it was the familiar passenger calling to her, leaning over the driver's side of the car.
"Miss Laurent," Gumshoe grinned, waving. "You're heading to the precinct too, right?"
"Detective..." the prosecutor began, a warning edge to his voice.
Gumshoe's eyebrows knitted above his puppy dog eyes. "You'd make a girl with a head injury take the bus, Mister Edgeworth?"
He sighed again. "Though it would be the chivalrous thing to do, detective, there is simply no room for her in my car." He glanced behind himself at the various necessities piled into the back seat. He chuckled to himself with a roll of his eyes. "Unless, of course, you'd like to do the gallant thing, take the bus yourself, and offer the lady your seat."
His face brightened. "Hey, good idea, pal! Maggey's waiting over there, I'll catch the bus with her!"
"Detective, I was– Don't– Detective Gumshoe, get back here this instant–!"
Gumshoe leapt from the idling vehicle, and pushed a similarly protesting psychologist towards it. "Detective, this is highly necessary, really, I like the bus– " As soon as he'd gotten her to the car, however, Gumshoe took off towards Maggey, and was out of earshot of her arguments.
She stared uncomfortably at the gaping car door, and the lawyer eyeing her warily from within. "Alright," he said finally, defeated. "Get in, we've both work to be attend to." And with that, she slipped into the passenger's seat, and shut the door behind, setting her book bag down between her sandalled feet.
I hope you're enjoying this so far! Thank you!
