AN: I wanted to say thanks to everyone who has favorited, reviewed, followed, and read this story! It really motivates me to write and I really appreciate that people are into this. And if you have any comments, questions, or feedback don't be afraid to say something.
**The supermarket name is actually a real name of a popular convenience store. I thought it would be amusing to use; I didn't make it up unfortunately.**
I hope you guys enjoy!
I stood dumbfounded in the hallway. Where was my office? I couldn't go back into Edgeworth's office and ask; I mean, if he already saw I was acting strangely that certainly wouldn't help me. It would also make me look like a dumbass. How would I even play off the fact I didn't know my office number to begin with? Growing annoyed with myself and situation, I sighed.
(Maybe I should look around for a directory or something.)
With that thought in mind I decided to walk up and down the hallway in vain looking at door numbers, hoping that seeing that a number would jog my memory. It was probably a fruitless effort—
Without warning, a sharp stabbing sensation ran through my head. In pain, I shut my eyes tightly and I grabbed the sides of my head with both hands. It was as though someone had hammered a nail through my brain. Through the searing pain I saw an image forming in my mind. I saw doors in a hallway similar to this. It switched from one door to another to another door...Doors, doors, so many doors in an never ending hall. The number four crept into my mind and stood out. Fours were on every door in that hallway indefinitely, but the rest of the number was unfocused. I struggled to conjure the rest of the number; the image was blurry and my head was spinning. Four...Four...Four…four…zero…four. Four, zero, four! The number shone brightly in my mind's eye as clear as day. That was it! That was the door to my office.
The pain in my head was starting to die down. I sighed a grateful sigh of relief; It was a terrible feeling, one I hoped never to have again. I honestly, believed my head was going to explode. I opened my eyes, I had almost forgotten where I was. Out of my stupor, I found that I was now leaning against a wall sweating a great deal. Jesus Christ. Slowly, I managed to stand up and wipe the beads of sweat from my brow. It had happened so suddenly, the images popping up like a slideshow one by one. I had been so absorbed in finding that room to the point where the mental pictures I was graced with seemed so real- as though I were in that particular hallway past all of the doors, in front of my office. Was that perhaps a memory recall? I couldn't tell, but something was telling me that was where I should go.
After I pulled myself together, I decided to confirm my suspicions. Begrudgingly, I went down the hall to the elevator and hit the down button, hopped in the machine, and pressed the button for numero cuatro. I arrived on the fourth floor in record speeds bolting out of the elevator in search of the room I envisioned. I ran down the left side of the hallway, which was identical to the 12th floor hallway. The numbers were going up, so I turned around. I zoomed passed the doors.
(413…410…406…404!)
I stood looking at the gold plate, which read 404. This was the spot, or so I thought. I reached for the door knob and turned it. It was locked tight. Duh, why would I have thought it was unlocked? The realization struck me I needed the key, so I reached into my pants pockets and pulled out a set of keys. After testing out which keys fit into the hole, I found the right one, given away by the lovely sound of a click.
I pushed the door open gently and entered shutting the door behind me.
(Holy mackerel. Is this really my office?)
The sight of the office was interesting to say the least. The Lyn here was really fond of having rosy red furniture. Red desk, red chair, red sofa, red shelves, red coffee table, even the freakin' bookcase was red! In the middle of the office I had a wooden desk and a chair to match. My polished coffee table, sizeable sofa, and a couple of framed posters (Gavinners and Jammin' Ninja) were set towards the right side of the room, while the bookcase was positioned on the opposite side. There was also long wooden shelf in the back of the room by the windows. On it sat what appeared to be glass shoe figurines and a cute brown teddy bear. The floor was hardwood and the walls were of a light shade of green. I really must have dug green things. I was honestly reminded of Christmas while standing in here. While my room wasn't crazy like others, it was still fascinating to see how you could decorate. I guessed being a prosecutor meant you had the privilege.
I did my best to absorb the atmosphere of the room as I hesitantly took a seat behind my desk. The desk was not tidy; papers and notes were everywhere, as though someone vomited documents all over it. Good to know I was still messy at my workspace. A clean desk space would have terrified me. However, the annoying part was that I should probably look through the large amount of strewn about documents to give me a clue as to what the hell I should even be doing. Or even better, I should look through them to give me a better sense of who I was as a prosecutor. Unenthusiastically, I picked up some papers and started reading through them.
"TL-5...? What's this?" I leafed through a few papers and picked them up. It seemed everything on the desk currently was revolving around this case, upon closer inspection. I found one summary page:
-Incident No. TL- 5-
Case Status: Closed
January 13th, 2016
Victim: John Bunke
Cause of Death: Motor vehicle collision
Trial Data:
Head Prosecutor: Lyn Doom
Head Investigator: Dick Gumshoe
Suspect: Slim Chance
Witnesses: Marsha Collins, Zip Carrey
Verdict: Not Guilty
It seemed I was in charge of this case a couple of years ago, but lost it. I leafed through some more papers on the desk. From the looks of it, I was trying to convict Chance. I didn't think I would try to prosecute someone who was clearly innocent, I hoped. It was strange that I had these files out though; this case had happened two years ago. What was I doing with this out? I couldn't conjure any image of this in my head, unfortunately. Annoyed, I lifted up a manilla folder I noticed and started shoving the pages in there. Most sheets of paper I returned to the folder until one caught my interest. It was a bright yellow piece of lined paper, not appearing to be a part of the official files. I examined the scrawl:
The evidence is unnatural, forced somehow. Investigate further.
Well, that was uncomfortable. It seemed that other me was dwelling on this recently. What the did that mean? Unnatural and forced evidence? Did other me think that something was forged ? I couldn't be 100 percent sure, but none the less it made me all the more curious. Hazarding a guess, that wouldn't be too far of a stretch that the verdict wasn't something I had been happy with. Perhaps, I could ask Detective Gumshoe about it later considering he was the lead investigator at the time. I made futile attempts to skim through some other papers about the incident, but I couldn't focus. There wasn't any information I could use to figure out who exactly I was or how I prosecuted, so it wasn't what I would consider too helpful currently. The documents were filled with boring lawyer stuff I didn't understand or want to deal with at the moment. Therefore, I figured it'd be in my best interest to quit looking through the case files for now. With a slight frown, I picked up the papers and place them in a neat stack atop of my desk. Some prosecutor I was. I awkwardly sat at the desk, drumming my fingers upon it in a rhythmic motion.
(Now, what? What do prosecutors even do when they don't have trials?)
With little to no ideas coming to mind, I sat at my desk attempting to clear my mind for the next 10 minutes. That was until I heard...
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK.
The loud bangs on my door brought me back from lala land and interrupted my meditation.
"SIR! Permission to enter, sir!"
I jumped and winced at the loud, over zealous voice from the other side of the door. I had a bad feeling about who it was, waiting for me to respond. I didn't want to respond. I really didn't. I kept thinking that maybe if I didn't answer, if I pretended not to be here, he'd just leave and go bother someone else. But that knocking and banging wouldn't stop. It just got louder and louder and faster and faster-
"SIR! ARE YOU THERE, SIR?! I HAVE SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION FOR YOU, SIR!"
"Y-y-yes! Come in!" I replied reaching my breaking point.
Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with this guy? I ran my fingers through my hair in dread. His voice is enough to make someone wet their pants out of shock! And the megaphone didn't help either. The door flew open, and my worst fears were confirmed. Into my office walked a lean male of just below average height, clad in a dark blue patrolmen uniform holding a stupid megaphone saluting me. I groaned.
"...What is it, Meekins?" I ask already annoyed with him and my life.
"I have news, sir!" he exclaimed smashing his fist into his other hand.
"Which is?"
His face looked suddenly more determined as he raised the mouth piece to the megaphone and yelled into it. "YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED TO A CASE, SIR! IT'S BEST IF YOU GET TO THE CRIME SCENE NOW!"
(You're fucking kidding me. I've been assigned a case and I've only been here for a day, no, not even a full day. I also have the pleasure of the fabulous news being bestowed upon me by the one and only Mike Meekins. Surely, my day can't get any better.)
I rubbed my temples and shut my eyes. Great. Fucking great.
"Where is said crime scene? And stop yelling into that damned thing," I paused. "Before I consider your salary this month." Oh, yeah, baby. The power to raise and cut salaries is one of the fun parts of this job. I smirked slightly.
Meekins lowered the megaphone, holding it under his arm now frowning like a sad panda. He twiddled with some red attachment on his uniform tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
"Sorry, sir. I just wanted to make myself loud and clear. The crime scene is at Come and Go."
"Come and Go? What is that?"
(I hope it's not what I think it is...)
"It's a supermarket, sir! They sell a variety of goods there, I especially like their special store brand of rice chips and-"
I decided to cut him off before he rambled further. He meant well, but for the love of all that is heavenly and holy, was he annoying as hell. And with the stress of my day being intolerable enough, I didn't need his screeching to contribute to it. With the news delivered I promptly kicked him out of my office. I took a great sigh of relief. I had seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I had to find the way to this so called supermarket. I couldn't even believe that I was being assigned a case as soon as I arrived here. I couldn't back out of it, could I ? It would probably be suspicious to the higher ups...or if not them it'd probably make Edgeworth suspect something. It seems like the only way to get out of something in this universe was to fall off a bridge or get shot in the shoulder. Ugh. I really just wanted a break without being dragged into something. The day thus far had me high strung enough as it was. I sat at the desk for a few more minutes contemplating if I should try to escape my fate, before finally resigning to it, deciding to walk down the stairs to the parking garage.
(Let's get this over with...)
April 14th, 1:10 PM
Kum and Go, Employee Break room
(Why the hell is there a supermarket named Kum and Go?)
Upon arrival, I realized with shock and horror the correct spelling of the establishment; what possessed them? Kum and Go? The green lettering behind the white backdrop made the title of the place pop out. I giggled like a school girl. After I was done making awful jokes that only I myself would ever laugh at, I went inside and was directed by an officer to head downstairs to meet the detective in charge.
Thus, I made it to the dingy break room. The break room was nothing special. There were a few boards hanging from the walls with schedules posted for this week, some lockers, a fridge, a vending machine, a sink, microwave, trashcans and an average sized TV all for employee usage. There were a couple of gray tables and metal folding chairs nearby the lockers. The space was limited, and nothing to be impressed by.
A few officers were in the room investigating locker contents and trashcans. They noticed my presence, stopped what they were attending to, and stood upright.
"Prosecutor Doom," one officer saluted.
I nodded, feeling a bit weird that more people besides Meekins were saluting me seriously and using respectful titles. It was really weird. "How's the investigation going?"
"Well, we do have a suspect in custody."
"Already?"
"I think the evidence is pretty clear-"
"Uh, well isn't that a bit hasty? I don't we should make any big assumptions like that. Not yet, anyway," I said. "Oh, by the way, who's the detective in charge?"
As if on cue, doors from the other side of this room swung open, revealing a man of a massive stature. He was around 6'1, brown hair spiked up, scruff and bandaid on his face, plus a pencil behind his ear. I let out a slight gasp. It couldn't be. He scuttled in, green slightly soiled trench coat billowing behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw me. Holy shit. It was him.
"Detective Gumshoe, funny meeting you here," I said as casually as I could muster.
(Oh, I'm done. I'm done for.)
"Prosecutor Doom!" he managed to breathe out. His voice sounded a little deeper than I would have expected, but a little scratchy and gruff, like a cheesy film noir detective. "You're prosecuting this case?"
"I guess so," I muttered unenthused.
Gumshoe towered over me making me feel incredibly small in his presence. Gumshoe was one of my favorite characters, but it wasn't a good thing he was on the scene. It was bad news for a number of reasons: 1) Whenever he was on cases, it was always involved with Phoenix; 2) The prosecutors would think they had a solid case, but be terribly surprised later on; 3) Gumshoe is Gumshoe and thus is prone to error. If I had to face Wright in my first trial entering this universe- I didn't want to imagine how terribly that would play out. It'd probably be better to take poison, since I'd have a better chance against him.
The detective scratched his head raising his eyebrows in confusion.
"You don't sound very excited..."
"Is that a problem?"
"Well, you are normally more than happy to take on a case, to prove your skills and to impress Mr. Edgeworth."
(W-w-what was that?)
I felt my entire body heat up, especially my cheeks.
"Yeah, sir, I can't blame you, Mr. Edgeworth would be a nice catch! I always do my best to impress him too!"
On reflex, I smacked him in the arm very hard.
"Yeoow!" he recoiled.
"That is ridiculous! I view Mr. Edgeworth as... a mentor and nothing more," I growled. It seemed my fangirlyness had leaked over into this world. Or maybe, it was Gumshoe being Gumshoe, always misinterpreting everything. Still, it was embarrassing none the less.
"R-right," he said I think somewhat doubtfully, but with caution. "Sorry, Ms. Doom, sir. Anyway, the crime scene is through those doors over there."
With that said, the detective walked ahead of me, leading the way through the big swinging doors. What was revealed behind them was a huge gray storage area with crates, carriages and boxes full of food products. There was an elevator at the end of the hall next to the stairs and towards the left were three doors leading into rooms for vegetables, baked goods, and meat labeled by signs on the outside. Detective Gumshoe walked into the meat room holding the door open for me to enter. I would have thanked him, but I was too appalled by the scene laid out in front of me.
In a meat room, your eyes are normally drawn to the gross bloody animals hanging up on hooks. This time it was a man dangling from a pointy hook protruding out oh his chest, the crimson stains soiling his white chef outfit. The blood was dripping on the floor underneath him forming a puddle. It was disgusting.
"Are you alright, sir? I know it's pretty messy," Gumshoe frowned sadly.
"Y-yes, I'll be fine. We need to investigate the scene no matter how gross," I said taking a deep breath. I needed to maintain my composure. I had seen a dead man sprawled out in front of me before in shooting once before. So seeing a lifeless body was nothing new for me. This, however, was making my stomach churn. It's not every day you see a guy hanging limp and lifeless like a puppet on some strings. Ugh.
I supposed I had to be investigating the crime scene, but where would I even begin? In the games I normally played as Phoenix or Edgeworth, generally people who knew how to investigate crime scenes. I wasn't one of those. Along with me being clueless, Detective Gumshoe would probably be just as clueless as me, if not worse. And God forbid Phoenix showed up to investigate and saw us bumbling around like morons...No, I wouldn't let that happen. He would be banned from the room until I found the best evidence. That would be the game plan.
I surveyed the room briefly. Besides us two, there were a few police officers in the room photographing and dusting for prints. Next to the mess of a man hanging from a hook, there were plenty of meat products like pork and beef sitting on rolling carts next to long cutting boards with knives on top. There were a couple of trash cans and roller bins, though I was unsure of what those were for. My eyes were drawn back to the dead man perched on the pole and I shuddered. Before I started to poke around that ickyness, I decided it would be best to ask Gumshoe about what the hell was this case was even about.
"So, what's the story here?" I asked.
He did that really goofy looking thing with his eyebrows moving them up and down like a seesaw. And despite my current squicky feeling, I had to repress my urge not to giggle at it.
"Well, the victim Reed Booke, age 45, was a deli employee. He's worked here for 10 years, said to be a good worker, though not the nicest."
"I take it he wasn't liked?"
Gumshoe frowned slightly bowing his head. "Word has it, he didn't have many fans. Booke had no friends amongst his coworkers, in fact the only real friend he had was the store manager."
(That sounds pretty sad. I mean, most people hate their bosses.)
"If he wasn't a well liked man, there must be many suspects to consider," I said shoving my hands into my pockets.
Gumshoe shot me a wide grin. Oh, no. He was clearly excited. "That's all settled, Ms. Doom! We have one suspect in custody!"
(Ah, that's right. I almost forgot.)
"Who is that? And on what grounds?"
"Charlie Mann, age 30, butcher. He's been here for three years and for those three years he's had a lot of disputes with Booke. He works in this room and was found fleeing the crime scene agitated, covered in the blood. "
"Hm, it's suspicious, but is this a strong enough case to prosecute? I'll probably need more solid proof," I said thinking aloud.
"That's not our only proof, sir!"
"Oh?"
(I might want to take notes on this, while I'm at it.)
Not being sure of what the court record actual was (and since I never saw any floating button), it would be best to do this is the old fashioned way for now. I had found a little notepad in the back of my car in the back seat with pen before I entered the building. Pulling them out of my vest pocket, I determined it was about to put the items to use. Guess my note taking skills in school would be in handy for right now. I listened to Gumshoe and started jotting down some facts.
Gumshoe began happy as ever. "Well, the first person who discovered the crime scene was the store manager, Woody Johnson. He discovered it around 11:15 and phoned the police."
"Hold up. Why was he in here? I would think a store manager would have better things to do than hang out in a meat room."
"Well, being store manager he tends to check up on the progress of the employees since this isn't a particularly large store. There's a bunch of work that needs to be done and it's important the workers aren't slacking off."
"Alright, sounds legit." I was just going to hope I used terrible slang, like I did in my regular life.
"And he came to check on the puncher machine."
"The what?" I asked in confusion.
"You see that device in the back of the room?" he turned around and pointed at the device attached to the wall nearby the door. "That's where employees clock in and clock out for the start and ends of their shifts. So, it marks the time you check in and out! All you gotta do is slide your name tag and press either one of your index fingers on the scanner. No one can check in for you since the prints have to be yours. Pretty neat, huh?"
"Hm, so I'm guessing everyone came in here to clock in and out this morning?"
"Actually, it's been broken since late last night. Mr. Johnson came to see if it had been repaired yet. Because of the malfunction, employees have had to sign in on a sheet with what times they started work and left. Here's the sign in sheet for today," he said pulling out a sheet and passing it to me.
I examined the sheet.
April 14th
Pat McGood; 2:00 AM
Jo Jo Inkos; 2:45 AM
Woody Johnson; 3:00 AM
Reed Booke; 5:40 AM
Wendy Oldbag; 6:00 AM
Charlie Mann; 7:30 AM
I continued to stare at the sheet, but in utter horror and dismay. The fifth name listed. That name. I was ready to puke. I needed to drop this case immediately, drop it like it was hot and get the hell out of town-
"Um, is everything alright, sir? You're shaking a lot..." Gumshoe said scratching his head looking concerned.
"Everything. Is. Peachy," I grunted out fuming. Wendy Oldbag, worked at Kum and Go ?! If she was here it might mean she saw something, meaning she would be a witness, meaning I would have to question her. UGH.
"What else is there, detective? I want to finish up quickly." I was going to try to escape before I ran into Oldbag. I swore my life on it.
"Uhhhh, oh! Even though that machine isn't working, we checked it anyway. There was blood on the sides, and two sets of prints found on it."
"Do you have the results back yet?"
"No, we're waiting for the boys at the lab to come back with the results, but the blood on the machine is most likely the victim's."
(Damn, this means more waiting. Ugh. The longer I wait...)
I groaned. It didn't sound like Gumshoe had any more facts so far, so I figured we should investigate more. Wow. I was about to investigate with Gumshoe! It was a mix of exciting and horrible. However, if I wanted to escape this place sooner rather than later, we'd have to move.
"Let's see what else we can find in the mean time, yeah?" I suggest pressing my glasses up closer to my eyes.
"More investigating? I'm ready to go, Ms. Doom, sir!" he saluted with fervor.
In my head, I saw the big wording that said BEGIN INVESTIGATION appear in front of the whole crime scene. Unfortunately, I had to remind myself that this was no longer a game. This was the real thing. The real kitten kaboodle. The real deal. Whenever, I played Ace Attorney games I always went for the logical choice by checking the body first. I determined the police, being in the room, would tell me if I was touching something I shouldn't be. Hesitantly, I headed toward the man dangling from a meat hook.
"Disgusting. What type of person does this?" I said aloud, careful not to step in the blood on the grimy tiled floor nearby.
"A hungry one? Maybe they wanted to skin him alive and eat for dinner!"
"I think you've been watching to many horror movies..." I tried my hardest not to laugh at the ridiculousness that was Gumshoe. I started to step back, until I noticed something standing up in the swimming pool of blood.
"Now, what is this?" I carefully lifted it up. "Looks like a card..."
"Ah! That's a name tag!"
Under some of the blood, the green lettering could be seen as 'harlie'.
"That's definitely, the suspect's, sir! There are no other Charlie's listed working here!"
"I see." I sat it back where it belonged. That would certainly help our case.
"Do you have any idea what the cause of death is, detective?"
"Uh, if I had to guess, the piercing through the chest. But the autopsy report isn't here yet, so I'm not sure."
I looked at the limp body hanging on the hook. Ugh. I didn't want to, but it would help to check if he had anything on his possession. Better yet...
"Hey, detective, would you mind checking the victims pockets?"
"Yes, sir!" The detective bounced over besides me like a child, sticking his hands in both pockets of the victim. He pulled out a small mahogany colored book. He flipped through it's contents.
"Hm, looks like a to do list of sorts."
I took it from him and observed it myself. It appeared that our victim was a lover of plans and keeping to do lists. There were mundane tasks written in a fine, neat hand writing detailing Booke's day to day activities. For today's all the that was listed was: Wake up. Go to work. Talk to Inkos. I wonder what he had to talk to Inkos about? I supposed I'd ask around after we were done in this room. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary with the book, but I kept note of it anyway. After skimming through the contents, I passed it into the hands of Gumshoe who returned the book to the pockets of the victim.
I couldn't think of anything else to examine on the body. Nothing else was in his pockets and I was no expert on causes of death. I didn't think anything else could be done here, plus I didn't want to get close or disturb anything more than necessary. I also, just didn't want to get any more close to that hook and body than possible.
I walked away and Gumshoe followed suit. A police officer was searching the rolling bins against the wall on the right side of the room, quite vivaciously.
"Nothing can stop me! I'm gonna find the best evidence in this bin or I'm not the master dumpster diving cop!" he said to himself digging through the bins.
(I think those bins are covered...I won't get in his way.)
The police in the room looked like they were doing a thorough job of investigating their designated locations, so besides the bins, the trash cans and the meat carts looked like they were in good hands. As we walked around a little bit, I heard a swooshing sound and a grunt. I turned to look behind me and see Gumshoe recovering from a stumble.
"What's the matter?"
He scratched the back of his looking down. "Hm, oh, don't mind me. I just kinda tripped. But that's nothing new! Don't worry about me, sir! I've become pretty durable."
I face palmed. "You should be more careful. We don't need you to hurt yourself from tripping on your own feet."
"But, I didn't do that this time! I stepped on some weird yellow gook," he said looking down at the floor attempting to scuff his shoe to get the yellow matter off.
I saw the strange substance. What was that stuff? It was a light yellow color, a material that looked like something had clumped together, but was somewhat melted and now sticky. It was really gross looking. I could only hope it was part of some animal's intestines and not what I had thought it was considering the name of the place we were in...
I gave the room one last cursory scan. It didn't seem like there was much else to do here. I took a couple more notes and shoved the pad and pen in my pocket.
(Well, I think it's time to investigate else where. This room has nothing else to give.)
Just as I was going to voice our next course of action to Detective Gumshoe, the doors to the room were pushed open with a big burst of energy. Everyone in the room turned their attention to source of the sound of the swooshing doors. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was surprised, and as far as I could tell so was Detective Gumshoe at the presence of this unexpected visitor. He just waltzed in, in a laid back, nonchalant manner on to the crime scene. Our crime scene. Just who did he think he was? And just why the hell was this guy even here?
Profiles:
Maya Fey: Age 19. It looks like we're good friends based on what I know.
Miles Edgeworth: Age 26. My mentor? Likes giving me lectures. It seems we're on good terms.
Detective Gumshoe: Age 33. Lead detective on this case. Help me.
Reed Booke: Age 45. The victim in this case. Deli employee. Sounds like a jerk.
Charlie Mann: Age 30. Butcher. Suspect in this case. Found fleeing the crime scene.
Woody Johnson: Age 51. Store manager. First one to discover the body.
Evidence:
Broken fingerprint time clock: Broken since sometime early this morning.
Sign in sheet: List of names and times people came in/out for work.
Bloody name tag: Suspect's name is on it.
Planner: List of Booke's day to day chores.