A man is sleeping on a large double bed. It is quite clear that he is no sound sleeper; he tosses and turns in between the sheets while mumbling incoherently. A mobile phone, a box of sleeping pills and a half empty glass of water lie on a bedside table. The room is a bedroom/study by the looks of it. At the present time, the room feels more cluttered and cramped than it really is, mainly because of all the clutter and paperwork on his large desk. The rest of the room is very tidy, with his work suit, all ironed and spotless, hanging outside his big wardrobe for the morning.
Suddenly, his mobile phone goes off, emitting a loud, piercing noise. The man groans and he groggily reaches for the phone on the table. After some fumbling, he manages to do so, and he brings it for a closer inspection. The screen reads 2.21am. He sighs, and places the phone right next to his right ear.
Man: (Half-asleep with his eyes still closed) Hello?
There is no response. The man can only hear ragged breaths. After a few moments in this awkward silence, the man feels more awake and opens his eyes in confusion. He decides to break the ice.
Man: Hello? Who is this?
Man's voice: ... Miles, it's me.
Miles: (Sitting upright, frustrated) My God, Wright! Do you know what time it is now? I'm having enough trouble sleeping as it is! (Pause) Make this quick, please. What's going on?
There is yet another tenuous pause. By now, Miles feels quite curious and at the same time, anxious, about the phone call. He presses the matter further.
Miles: Talk to me, Phoenix. Why are you calling me at this hour? Did something happen?
Phoenix: (Resignedly) I... I don't understand a thing anymore, and I don't know what to do, Miles... They've been toying with us all this time ever since we took on this case...
Miles: I don't unde-
Phoenix: We could've probably stopped this from happening. No, we should've foreseen this coming. It's our fault... It's all our-
Miles: (Shouts) Phoenix! You're not answering my questions! What the hell is going on?
Phoenix: I... I can't talk about this over the phone. (Pause) Turn on the TV now. It should give you an idea of the mess we're in right now.
He hangs up on Miles. Miles is puzzled, and he looks absentmindedly at his phone for a while. He then gets up and walks to his living room.
His flat, located near his workplace in the City of London, is spacious and tidy. It is so neat that there are no traces of life around, except for the bedroom. The kitchen adjoining the living room, the bathroom, the storage space... Everything is in its proper place and orderly, bathed in a soft orange glow from the streetlights below. But Miles likes it that way. He feels that homes are a means to escape from society and at the end of the day, he wants to come home and immerse himself in the work that continues to fascinate him every day. It would be an understatement to say that he liked his job as a prosecutor of the Crown Prosecution Service. It is a job he takes pleasure in, despite it paying him less than most of his banker friends from university.
As he picks up the remote from the modernistic glass coffee table, he ruefully muses the fact that he would not have been able to afford this lovely place without family connections.
He switches on the TV, and begins to fumble for the button that switches channels almost immediately. He is still half-asleep, and he would like to just get this over and done with and go back to bed while he could feel the sleeping pills still in his blood. After all, he had only slept for an hour before he was so rudely woken up by Phoenix.
TV Advert: Feeling lonely? Text 'PLAYMATE' for sexy-
Woman: Satisfy your desires with online poker-
Man: Feeling peckish? Order a pizza-
Man: The key to success lies in your hands-
Miles: (Frustrated while still flicking through the channels) Goddamn cable TV... seriously, does anyone watch all these? Ah!
He finally finds the channel he was looking for: BBC News 24. His eyes bore into the TV screen as he takes in all the information.
Male newsreader: -ccording to the reports that have been just flooding in, a man has been found dead in Tottenham, north London. The Metropolitan Police have identified him as-
The Cloud - Jim Guthrie, Sword & Sworcery
His eyes slowly widen as he processes the news. He sits down, shaking in disbelief. He continues to just watch the TV, frozen in shock. He doesn't know what to do next, lost and confused, just like Phoenix. Then his blood starts to rush to his head, filling him with fury.
Miles: (Throwing down his remote) This CAN'T BE! What have we done?
He lowers his head between his hands and starts to rock back and fort, distraught. He doesn't move for a while. Everything has gone silent to Miles; he has withdrawn himself from the world to dull the pain, the guilt and his shock. He feels the emotions taking over his body and soul, however, and finds that he can't concentrate on logic and reason at all.
He stays like that for a few minutes. Were he more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed that a car alarm has started to go off in the distance since he watched the breaking news. But he doesn't give a damn about anything right now. Except for one thing. His head snaps up at the thought, and cold reason returns to him at once. He gets up from the couch very quickly, causing him to sway a little. He strides back to his bedroom and picks up his phone off the cluttered desk.
His fingers quickly work through the buttons, and he dials Phoenix's mobile number. After some time, Miles begins to be agitated and he starts to pace around the room.
Miles: Come on... It's not that hard. Pick up the bloody phone, Phoenix Wright… Please.
Suddenly, he hears a click.
Miles: Hello? Phoenix? I-
Voicemail: I'm sorry, but the person you're calling is not available. Please leave a message after-
He groans angrily, and hangs up. He tries calling the same number.
Voicemail: I'm sorry-
He hangs up again, and this time, tries Phoenix's home phone number.
Miles: I know you're there, Phoenix… Just answer my call, please, and talk to me...
After two minutes of the constant dialling tone, he finally gives up. He sits down at his desk after having paced around the room in frenzy, and he looks at all the files around him. He then decides to push everything off the desk, letting all the files fall around him and creating more clutter.
He is beyond caring now.
He looks sadly at the now empty desk, reflecting on what's happened in the last few minutes.
Miles: What have we done...? Phoenix.