Note: Phoenix Wright / Gyakuten Saiban, its settings, plot points, and characters, are all the property of Capcom, and are being used here without permission. This chapter takes place the evening before GS1 Case 1; Spoilers for that case and (again) a small bit of GS3 Case 1.

Part 2/3: A Break in the Gloom

August 2nd, 5:58 PM

"Even for the Gavel, this is pathetic!" Jack yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of his again empty bar. "Most days there are at least one or two people here by now." Jack didn't really care how crazy he sounded talking to himself; you had to be a little crazy if you wanted to survive in the tavern industry.

Jack sighed loudly. "I'd better calm down. Getting all angry isn't going to make people suddenly show up."

Bored, he started occupying himself by wiping down the bar counter. In order to make the time pass by more quickly, he turned on the radio and started singing along to the first tune he could find: one of the new-age techno-pop songs that helped define the 2010s as the decade of the "New Electric Revolution". Of course, in Jack's mind, many of the alien vibrations coming out of his TV were not so much revolutionary as they were revolting.

"When I find... the best iridium..." he crooned; shaking his head slightly at one of the songs most nonsensical bit of lyrics.

"I'm gonna try... to prove my idiom!" boomed a baritone voice.

Jack jumped and blushed when he realized that he was no longer alone in the bar. Standing before him was a rather childish-looking man, his security guard uniform somewhat distorted by a not-so-childish looking belly. Scratching at a head of short and curly dark hair, he said, "Now, Jack... I know you're alone in the bar and all... but seriously! You couldn't find a better song than 'Justice-man forever' to sing along to?! I mean, even that 1980's station's got better songs than this piece of cyber-trash!"

"And a warm hello to you too, Donny." Jack said dryly, forcing back his embarrassment. "I was starting to get worried when you didn't show up last Friday; I thought you'd finally kicked the bucket on me!" Seriously, Jack hadn't worried too much about the absence of his best customer (and best friend); Donald Docket often skipped a trip to the Gavel in order to spend some time at places more befitting for a single man in his late 20s.

"Sorry about that, Jack. You see, yesterday one of the third-shift guys told me about this new little club near the edge of the city and I just had to give it a try. It wasn't as good as I'd hoped."

"Oh?" said Jack, a slight bit of superiority slipping into his voice.

"Um-hum. Turns out it was of those hick places; nothing but cheap beer and country music. They had some weird clubbers too."

"Weird, eh? Well, I just happen to be an expert on the subject of weird," joked Jack in a pompous voice. "What's the best example you've got?"

"Hmmm... it'd have to be during the mechanical-bull riding contest."

"Oh yeah... I used to have a regular that tried to make me get one of those things. I think I'd rather drink straight bitters than deal with such... bull."

"That was lame, Jack," Donny said with a groan. "Anyway, nearly everyone that rode that thing was nutty, not to mention drunk stupid. The weirdest one was definitely the winner. Have you ever seen a redheaded woman with an afro?"

"No, I can't say I haven't." said Jack.

"Well, this afro-woman rode the damn thing for over a minute! I thought she was going to get brain damage getting all shook up like that. And then she just lets herself get thrown off and starts talking about UFOs giving her magic powers or something. If I hadn't still been sober at the time, I wouldn't have believed my ears."

"Hmmm... sounds absolutely mental. Did you try asking her out?"

"Gak!" shouted Donny, clutching his chest in mock agony. "That's a cheap shot, Jack! You'd better not be expecting any tip after that one."

Jack smiled and clutched at his stomach in turn. "Oh, I have been impaled upon my own sword!" he said, his face distorted from surprised laughter. He paused a moment to gather himself. "So, do you want me to get you something or not?"

"One beer should do the trick."

"Say no more, Donny, say no more." Jack quickly grabbed a clean mug and walked over to the three beer taps near the center of the bar counter. He pulled the middle tab and filled the mug with regular beer, then sat it on the counter and slid it ten feet over to Donny with a flourish.

"You're a good man, Jack." said Donny stoutly before taking a large swig.

"Got any other interesting stories for me today?" asked Jack brightly.

"Not up here," he replied, tapping a finger against his head, "but I did take the courtesy of brining you a newspaper." He reached into the back pocket of his uniform and produced a rolled up copy of the District City Examiner. He sat it on the counter, unrolled it, and shoved it over to Jack. "Look at the bottom of the front page," he added. "It looks like our squeaky-voiced buddy Mr. P finally got himself a decent break."

Jack peered at the bottom of the page and blinked at the sight of a small article titled "Prosecutor Payne Promises Punishment: Guilty verdict expected for Happy Heights Murderer".

Looking up from the paper, Jack smiled and said, "Payne's always complaining to me that he never gets much notice from the media. Maybe some honest publicity will get him out of his blue funk."

"Maybe. But if he does win he just might start talking a lot more, too, and I for one don't think I can keep coming here if I have to listen to that happy pixie voice chattering all the time."

"Be nice, Donny," said Jack, drawing out each syllable in admonishment. "He's as good a customer as you are, and I'm in no condition to start dealing with barroom brawls between two of my regulars." He paused before smiling and adding, "Of course, considering what building this is, it wouldn't be too hard for me to get a couple of police officers with handcuffs here in a jiffy."

Donny chuckled in return. "Of course not; this is one of the safest places in the City! Aren't you glad I helped you get this job?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Jack dismissively. Indeed, Donny was the man who had told Jack that the Gavel needed a new bartender just three years earlier, and he had a tendency to bring up the subject every time Jack put him under pressure. Jack added, "Now, will you let me read this damn article, or do I have to get you a muzzle?"

Donny merely sighed and looked down at his drink. Jack gave him a little smile and started to read.

Prosecutor Payne Promises Payback

Guilty Verdict Expected for Happy Heights Murderer

By Henrietta Happenstance

As District City continues to mourn the death of innocent young woman Cindy Stone, preparations for tomorrow's trial are being made on both sides of the courtroom. District Prosecutor Winston Payne has already expressed his confidence in an eventual 'guilty' verdict for defendant Larry Butz.

"You see, I've already seen the evidence and talked to a reliable witness. Any attempts the defense makes to let this killer free will clearly be lies," Payne said.

The relationship once shared between the defendant and the victim will have a profound effect on the emotional atmosphere in the courtroom.

"Oh, yeah. Mr. Butz and Ms. Stone used to date, but some bad things happened and she broke up with him. I guess Mr. Butz wanted revenge for that," Payne said.

However, despite the almost overwhelming amounts of evidence against the suspect, the defense still has a rather alarming belief in Mr. Butz's innocence.

"My new understudy believes that the allegations against Harry are completely and utterly untrue," said Defense attorney Mia Fey, owner of the Fey and Co. Law offices. "I believe that he is perfectly capable of proving this in front of a judge."

The aforementioned understudy, a Mr. Phoenix Wright, was unavailable for comment.

Jack folded the paper and looked up thoughtfully. "I guess Payne's actually serious about winning this one," he said. "Of course, the paper's already behind him; I have yet to see the Examiner side with the accused guy before a trial. Damn reporters know they'll sell more papers with bloodlust they than they will with rhyme and reason." He folded the newspaper up and placed it on a shelf under the counter.

"Hey! I might've wanted that back, Jack!" whined Donny indignantly.

"Do you?" asked Jack, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Not really."

"That's what I thought." Noticing Donny's empty beer mug, he added, "You want another beer?"

"Nah, better get me one of them colas of yours." Donny replied scratching his head thoughtfully. "You see, I've heard of a dance club I haven't been to yet, and the ladies there won't get a good impression of The Don if he wraps his car around a lamppost on the other side of the city."

"I don't think they'll get a good impression either way, but that's probably just my sobriety talking," quipped Jack.

Donny merely stuck his tongue out at the insult while Jack turned around and filled another mug with cola out of the barroom fridge.

"Thank you kindly," said Donny mockingly after Jack placed his drink in front of him. "I wonder if the Old Pain's going to stop by soon now that he's got the wind back in his sails."

"Not sure. I guess he could..." Jack trailed off as the sound of the door chime filled the room once again. Jack looked up to see not Winston Payne but a tall suited man with straggly dark hair maneuvering around the tables that stood between the door and the bar. He sat deftly on the barstool next to Donny, his normally stony-looking face distorted by a creepy smile.

"Evening, Mr. Hammond," said Jack. "I assume by your expression that you had a good day?"

"Indeed I did! I won another case today!" he announced in a low, gravelly voice.

"I see! That makes... 489, right?" Since Defense Attorney Robert Hammond always came to the Gavel after a victory, it was rather easy for Jack to keep track of his win total.

"Indeed it does, Keeper! Just another couple months and I'll make it to 500! Very few defense attorneys make it that far; it's a very honorable number."

"You going to tell about it?" asked Donny pointedly.

"Whiskey first... and then I'll tell you my story." he replied.

Jack obediently grabbed a shot glass out of a cupboard and pulled Hammond's favorite brand of single malt Irish whiskey off of the top liquor shelf. He filled the glass to the appropriate level and sat it before Hammond, the glass clinking softly upon impact. Hammond grabbed the little glass and downed the shot mechanically.

"Another, please," he commanded.

Jack frowned slightly but filled the glass anyway, setting it down more gently this time. Hammond downed the second shot just as quickly as the first.

"That really hits the spot, it does." He turned to Donny and said, "Now I guess you'll want me to tell you a tale?"

"If you can," said Donny. "Just be quick about it. I've got me a new club to go to later."

Hammond suddenly let out a loud, harsh laugh, causing both Jack and Donny to jump. "Sorry about that," he began. "It's just the fact that you used the word 'club' was a rather funny coincidence, considering the weapon in today's trial happened to be a golf club."

"So it was a murder trial, then?"

"No... But the victim was left in a coma. The doctors were fairly sure that he would never recover."

Jack shuddered. "Horrible."

"Indeed it was. Anyway, I was defending the victim's caddy. He was a shifty-eyed bloke, made me shudder every time I looked at him. The prosecuting attorney had a witness, the victim's friend, who supposedly saw the two argue before the caddy bashed the victim across the head with a pitching wedge. Nasty business, that."

Jack winced again while Donny asked, "How'd you turn the trial around, then?"

"It was actually quite simple. Upon investigating the crime I found several pieces of evidence that flew in the face of the witness's claims. The witness claimed to see the shocked look on the defendant's face immediately after he committed his crime, even though he earlier testified that the caddy had his back turned to him when he committed the act."

"Witnesses do tend to stretch the truth for dramatic effect every now and then," said Jack thoughtfully. "It's not a good thing to do, of course, but people often think a good story will make the judge pay more attention to them."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Keeper," said Hammond dryly. "But, then he corrected his mistake and talked in more detail about the weapon that had been used. He said the defendant pulled it out of the victim's golf bag and nailed him with it."

"I don't see a problem with that, Mr. H," said Donny.

"Let me finish, damn it!" yelled Hammond, pounding a fist against the bar. After making sure that Donny had shut up, he continued, "The problem with that testimony was also quite simple. You see, the assault weapon was a right-handed golf club. However, the victim was a left-handed golfer! So there'd be no good reason for the victim to have a right-handed golf club in his own bag! Then I asked the witness how he golfed, and he said right-handed!"

"So, was that all the evidence the judge needed?" asked Jack as he washed Hammond's empty shot glasses.

"Not quite. Damn murderer tried to stop me from winning with one more round of testimony. He said he'd been friends with the victim for years, and they were only playing for fun. He said he had absolutely no motive! That's when I showed him my trump card."

"Trump card?"

"Indeed, a trump card! I had gotten to look around the golf cart the two had driven before the trial, and I came across a crumpled piece of paper in the back compartment. It turns out there was a $1,000 bet riding on the game! I showed him this, and told the court that he obviously didn't want to lose that money! Once the witness saw that, he snapped like a twig! Turns out he'd just hit a ball into some thick weeds. He told the caddy to go find it for it for him, and then the victim said something snide and that witness grabbed his club and nailed him!"

Jack gasped slightly in surprise before asking, "Then how come the caddy got blamed for the crime and not the true assaulter?"

Hammond's lips curled into another creepy smile. "The other golfer was rather smart. The caddy didn't hear the scuffle and was still heading for the weeds that golf ball had landed in, so the nasty witness hopped in the cart and drove full speed to the club, where he called the police. When the police showed up later, the caddy had found the unconscious victim and was holding the weapon in a state of shock. At the time, that was enough for the dimwitted detectives to arrest him!"

"I see."

"Indeed. It doesn't matter, though. In the end, I got me my victory, and that's all the reward I really need."

"Of course that's all you need," muttered Jack dryly, noticing that Hammond didn't mention an innocent man going free as a part of his "reward".

"Sounds good," added Donny absently.

"Indeed, it is good! Now that I've had my whiskey and you've had your story, I have better places to celebrate my victory than this little hole in the ground! Put the drinks on my tab, Mr. Keeper."

"Okay, Mr. Hammond," said Jack sullenly. Hammond was one of several customers that charged his drinks to a tab; he typically paid the balance in full once a month so Jack had no good reason to complain.

"Thank you," muttered Hammond dryly. And with that, he stood up and walked towards the door on the other side of the room.

"Jeez, even when he wins, old Robbie's a grump," whispered Donny.

"Get out of my way, you creepy little gnome!" echoed Hammond's voice from beyond the bar door.

"You could say that," said Jack, smiling. He looked up to see Winston Payne entering the room, his normally glum visage replaced with an almost abnormal expression of elation.

He sat on the stool previously occupied by Hammond and squealed, "Good to see you, Jack!" He stuck out his hand expectantly.

Jack knew Payne would be happier than normal, but he hadn't really expected this. However, he forced his misgivings back and grabbed Payne's hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Payne," he droned stiffly.

Failing to notice the sarcasm, Payne merely spun around on his stool and extended the same hand towards Donny. "And the same goes for you, Mr. Docket!" he squeaked, the smile on his face widening.

"Always an Honor, Mr. P!" replied Donny, his voice filled with exaggerated vigor.

Payne sighed happily. "It's always nice to have friends that care about you..."

"It's what makes us people," said Jack slyly. "Now, can I get you anything? Your usual, perhaps?"

"Yes, please!" said Payne, nodding vigorously. "And put three cherries in it this time! This is a day for celebration!"

"Yes, sir!" barked Jack with a mocked salute. He pivoted on one foot and went to gather the cocktail ingredients.

Donny chuckled to himself at the sight of Payne's rare enthusiasm. "Jeez, you give a prosecutor one decent case, and it goes straight to their head!" he exclaimed, chuckling.

Payne merely gave a squeaky chuckle in return. "You can laugh at me all you want, Donny. This isn't about fame or luck. This is about payback!" He smacked the bar to emphasize his point.

"Payback? Exactly what you mean by that?" said Donny, puzzled.

"I'd like to know that myself," added Jack as he placed Payne's drink in front of him. "One Shirley Temple served cold, with three cherries instead of one and no orange. Is it to your liking?"

Payne picked up the cocktail glass with a grace he normally lacked and took a modest sip. "It's perfect, Jack. I don't think you could have made it better if your life depended on it!"

Jack chocked back a laugh after hearing Payne's over-the-top praising of his drink. Instead, he asked, "So... what exactly do you mean by payback?"

Payne sat up straighter and pushed the bridge of his glasses upward. "Did you read the front page article about me in the Examiner?" After hearing Jack and Donny's murmurs of accent he continued, "Well, then you should know what law firm has been pitted against me."

"Well, the paper said that the Fey and Co. law offices were handling the defense." Jack's eyes widened slightly as he remembered Payne's issues with Mia Fey. "Oh... you're still peeved about that?" he asked incredulously.

"Why shouldn't I be peeved? Ms. Fey was the one that turned me into... this!" He waved an arm up and down his body, indicating his current appearance.

Jack frowned a bit at Payne's accusation. "Well, her client was innocent. It's only fair that an innocent man go free, even if his defense attorney happened to be one of those rookies you like to crush so much."

"Yeah, there's no point in blaming yourself for landing on the wrong side of a case. It happens to everyone in here every now and then," added Donny.

"Yes... but, before that day... I'd been in my prime. I'd won practically every case that was put before me! But now... I barely win half my cases, and I'm only that successful because they make me handle lots of guilty pleas! It's enough to make me scream!" He started hyperventilating in his anger.

Donny leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of Payne's face. "Pull yourself together man! You're going to pass out on the floor, and you haven't even had a decent drink yet!"

Payne jumped slightly, but he managed to slow his breathing. "Sorry..." he muttered, "it's just... memories, you know? Every time I lose a case, I see Mia Fey and her whiny pink-shirted creep of a defendant. I'll never forget that man's face..."

"What was his name?" asked Donny.

"Oh, I don't remember. Nixon, Weenie, Nixxi-Ryu-Feenie, something stupid like that." squeaked Payne dryly, waving a hand.

"Hmmm," muttered Jack, rubbing his forehead in thought. "So you' think that beating Ms. Fey's new rookie will get you your... uh, groove back?"

"Hopefully," muttered Payne. Suddenly, the unusual smile returned to his face. "Of course, since they've finally given me some solid evidence and a decent witness, it'll be almost impossible for me to lose!"

"Sounds good," said Jack. Honestly, Jack had no qualms with Payne getting a lucky break every now and then; it was actually somewhat refreshing to deal with him when he wasn't stuck in his perpetual blue funk.

"Good? Of course it's good! Now, if you will excuse me," said Payne, tugging at his tie, "I have a court strategy to plan!" He paid Jack for the drink and matched out of the room, his head held high with confidence.

As soon as the barroom door swung shut behind him, Donny broke out into a loud fit of laughter. Jack merely glared at him as he started rocking back and forth and slapping his hand against the table, obviously in hysterics.

"Exactly what is so funny about the presence of one of my other half-decent customers?" he asked.

Donny placed a hand on his chest and took several deep breaths. After he got the worst of his laughter under wraps, he replied, "Sorry, I was just thinking about Mr. P and I realized he's a lot like a big helium balloon when in he's in a good mood." He sighed contentedly at the notion.

Jack only thought about Payne's head replaced by a large helium balloon for a few seconds before he too was consumed by vigorous laughter. He didn't like laughing at his customers, but with a funny mental image it was impossible for him to resist.

Regaining his self-control, Jack replied, "I guess you have a point there. I think I'll buy him a couple of celebration balloons before I open the Gavel up tomorrow afternoon."

"He'll probably think that's kind of odd."

"Well, that's why I'll be blaming you for coming up with that particular joke."

Donny locked eyes with Jack for just an instant before he burst out laughing once more.

Jack absently thought to himself, if anyone's in the old parking garage down the hall, they'll probably think we're going crazy, before succumbing to laughter once again.


A/N: Those of you who are reading this fiction for the first time are probably worried about the fact that OC's are currently dominating the dialogue. While I admit upfront that my story is told from the perspective of an original character and also contains several (as of the last time I checked, just under a dozen) more original characters, I also assure you that, in later chapters, more significant canon characters become more prominent within the storyline. Additionally, with the exception of Jack, nearly every OC I introduce has some sort of role within the canon that exists but is not explored within the game. The canon role of Donny Docket, for example, can as of this point be gleamed by readers with a working knowledge of GS1.

Next comes the last part of the Case 1 story-arc, where Edgeworth and Gumshoe make their first barroom appearance.