Chapter 6. I didn't think I'd make it this far into the story. :D There are a few scenes in here that I was really looking forward to writing, and this whole 'writing to the game music' thing is working really nicely. The story is taking shape now, things are working themselves out in my head and I quite like that. If I'm writing late into the night, then go to sleep, chances are the next morning the first thing I'll think of is 'no, that won't work.' This is taking up more and more of my time, but it's worth it to write. Even if no-one else likes this story (which is quite possible, let's face it) I love writing it. So, without further rambling, chapter 6! Reviews and criticisms would be massively loved!

Chapter 6

Checking out his reflection in the doors and making sure that his hair was sticking up suitably, Apollo entered the Detention Center and asked to meet his client for the first time. He was shown through to the familiar grey room with the glass screen cutting it in half, the unchanging guard and the ever-watching camera. He tried to plan his verbal assault while he waited for the bellboy to show up. After a few minutes, the bellboy walked in, holding his hand up in a strange way, fingers splayed. Obviously he was used to walking while holding a tray, and even in its absence that muscle memory was there. He took his seat.

"Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?" He flashed the pleasant smile that Apollo had come to expect from hotel staff. It creeped him out slightly.

"Uh, yes. I'm your attorney, I wanted to ask a few questions."

"Very well, sir. I'm afraid room service is delayed for the time being, but I do have the capacity for answering questions." Apollo had to admire him, even if he didn't want to admit it. People didn't usually hold themselves together this well after stumbling upon a murder victim – unless they were the killer. He put the thought out of his head and began with light conversation.

"I thought Gatewater had a theme park, not hotels. Where do you come into it?"

"The Gatewater Hotel branched out a number of years ago, sir. There is a thriving theme park in the area, though my one and only priority is the hotel. I tried working in the park, sir, but it didn't have the same atmosphere." Apollo cut him off as politely as he could, and got to the real question.

"Can you tell me what happened that night?"

"Which night?"

"The night of the murder at the hotel." For some reason he had been expecting the question, and wasn't shocked in the least when it came.

"Ah, I remember it well. I went up to the roof at 11pm, and discovered the corpse of the unfortunate victim. Naturally, I looked closer – I do so enjoy detective stories, you know – and saw the murderous pistol lying by the victim. I picked it up in my… right hand, I believe, and pointed it forward. I had never held a gun before, you see, I was… taken by the moment, you could say."

"… go on. What next?"

"That is all I can remember with clarity, sir. My next memory after that is hazy, but I remember the labcoat-clad detective telling me to calm everyone down in the hotel lobby while she investigated."

"Why can't you remember?"

"I can't remember," the bellboy said simply. Again, Apollo was somewhat expecting it. Not much to go on there.

"So why did you go up there in the first place?"

"That, sir, is another detail I don't quite recall. I was serving at the party, and, the next thing I knew, I was on the roof." Apollo repressed his comment about teleportation being a strictly sci-fi thing.

"You don't 'quite' recall? So, you remember something, even if only slightly?"

"There was… a note, sir. Though its exact contents, its source or its current location, I cannot be sure. But I remember being sent to the roof via note." This changed things up.

"A note, huh…" Apollo thought for a few seconds. "No idea who sent it at all?"

"Not a one, sir."

"Or the reason why you were sent there?"

"None." This guy wasn't helping much. This first talk with his client hadn't exactly been as enlightening as he had planned.

"One last question. Mr… ah, well, uh… did you do it? Did you shoot the victim?"

"No, sir. I happened across her lifeless corpse, but that was all." No reaction from his bracelet, and Apollo assumed that to mean he was telling the truth.

"Right, well, I think I'll be going. I have to build your case, after all." Apollo stood up, and turned to leave.

"Wright… that name is familiar to me."

Apollo turned back. "What? Oh, I didn't mean –wait, Wright? You mean you know him?"

"I met him, in court. Yes, that spiky-haired attorney in the blue suit. I knew him well. Oh, to be cross-examined so! It was a dream come true, I tell you!"

Apollo left the bellboy to his reminiscence and left the Detention Center. His next order of business was to follow this lead, and confront a demon that had been following him since day one of the game – talking to Phoenix.

A while later, he was at the door of the Anything Agency. He stepped inside, gave Charley another prod and spotted the note he had left. It was still lying on Trucy's hat, and he went over and re-read it. He was still holding it when Phoenix came in.

"Thought I heard someone. Greetings, Apollo. What can I do you for? I thought you had a case," he asked amiably.

"I do, I just wanted to ask some… uh, advice." He looked back down at the letter he had forged.

"That came through the door yesterday. She's staying with a friend." Apollo had a last-minute moral debate about telling him the truth. In the end, he decided not to. De Killer was watching, after all.

"Oh, good. I'll fill her in on the case when she gets back." Every word pained him, but it was for the best.

"So what advice did you want? My defense powers have weakened over time, I'm afraid."

"It's my client. He says he knows you well, Mr Wright, that he's met you in court!"

Phoenix looked up sharply. "Who is it?"

"A bellboy in the hotel opposite."

"Oh." Phoenix looked downhearted.

"Can you tell me anything? He's not being very forthcoming."

Phoenix began to explain. "He was a witness in a case, a long time ago. His testimony was, what's the word, interesting to say the least. Be wary of cross-examining him, he has a habit of holding back on vital details."

"He won't be testifying tomorrow, I don't think."

"Oh, that's right, you and Gavin are working this together, aren't you? How's that working out? More to the point, how many fights to the death have you had yet?"

Apollo laughed. "It's working out fine, actually. It's nice to be semi-prepared for once."

"Working together with a prosecutor is tough. Good luck, Apollo." Phoenix was completely sincere. "Any more of my, ahem, expert advice I can give you?"

Apollo decided to ask about Gumshoe. Phoenix had been an attorney once, maybe he knew the guy. "There was this detective called Gumshoe-"

"Oh, he was a laugh a minute. Always cheerful, even if the evidence was completely against him. You've met him, have you?"

"I'm not sure we're talking about the same guy, here. He looked like he was going to cry any second while he was on the stand today."

"Really? Then it must be serious. Any idea why?"

"He seemed to react the most when I asked him about the victim."

"There's that Gramarye power coming into play. Who was it?"

"Some kid called Pearl Fey. Went up to the roof of the hotel, got shot and killed…." Apollo trailed off. Phoenix was staring at him forcefully, his breathing shallow.

"Say that again. The victim's name." He couldn't look Apollo in the eye.

"…Pearl Fey? Did you know her, Mr Wright?"

Phoenix turned around, and leaned on the table. This seemed familiar. He reached out and picked up a photo frame from the table with a now shaking hand. Apollo caught a quick glance at it. It seemed to be of Mr Wright in his attorney days, with a girl of about eighteen and a little girl of about nine. They were all smiling at the camera; it looked like the photo had been taken in the defendant lobby, and they'd just won a case. From the apparent age of the photo, Apollo guessed the little girl, now grown up, was the victim. Phoenix stared down at it in silence, speaking after what felt, to him, like an eternity.

"She was… a friend. How old would she be now? Fifteen, sixteen? And she was killed?" Phoenix faced Apollo again, and either didn't notice or didn't care that there were tears forming in his eyes. "Find the guy that did it. I don't care if it's your own client, find the guy and take him down." He was speaking fiercely now, even though his voice was shaking.

"We plan to, Mr Wright."

Phoenix nodded, then turned and left the room without another word, still holding the photo frame. Apollo left the agency, and headed for Klavier's office, deciding to keep the end of the conversation to himself.

Klavier had been busy. Once the trial had finished for the day, he headed to Criminal Affairs to ask around about the 'second bullet' issue. He heard more than a few detectives cursing Apollo's name as he walked by them. It seemed they thought they already had the case in the bag before he proved them wrong. Klavier couldn't help smiling to himself. Defense attorneys thought they had no power at all over the police; turned out, the right evidence in the right place seriously messed up their investigations. He found Gumshoe, and called him aside into an empty questioning room.

"How goes the investigation, detective?" Being as vague as possible, experience told him, gave the other guy the chance to answer the next question before you asked it.

"We've got a grand total of one new piece of evidence, sir. The Chief didn't think it was important, but I've got the details here." Gumshoe handed Klavier a teatray with a chipped cup on it.

"…thank you, detective." Not the most decisive thing, but maybe it could be useful somehow.

"It was found at the scene during the investigation. The bellboy dropped it when he saw the body, we think." Gumshoe scratched his head.

"Anything else you found out about the murder weapon?" Gumshoe didn't need any further prompting.

"Mr Gavin, sir, we have no idea where this other bullet could be. We're trying to figure out whose gun it was right now."

"Any ideas?"

"None. The little ID number got scratched off the side. We can't trace it."

"Hmm. Do you know when the other shot was fired? If it was some time after the murder, Justice doesn't stand a chance tomorrow." Klavier hoped he wasn't damaging the case too much. He had faith in Apollo to find every last flaw in any testimony he could put up, but even he couldn't argue with cold evidence.

"Good point, pal. But there's no way we can figure it out. No-one's really taking this seriously, anyway. They-" Gumshoe indicated the detectives in the other room, busy sat around a table throwing dice –"-they think you'll just rip apart anything that Justice kid can throw at you."

"Ach, they need to stop underestimating him. I did that once or twice. Never again. He could be as good as Wright was, given more time of course."

Gumshoe didn't look convinced. "Can't deny he's good, but I don't think anyone could ever be that good. He's passionate though, I'll give him that." He has to be, thought Klavier. He always acts like everything's on the line, this time it actually is.

"Speaking of passionate, your testimony was a little… strange today."

"Sorry, sir. It's just, I knew the victim, see. She was a friend of Wright's way back when. Wonder if he knows by now. She was just a k-kid…" Gumshoe quietened. Klavier nodded, and patted his arm as he made to leave the room.

"I'm leaving for the hotel, detective. Try to, uh, inspire them a little, ja?"

Klavier pulled up to the hotel on his bike. Riding around like he owned the place never got old. Kristoph used to tell him off for going too fast, and he never listened. He tried not to think too much about Kristoph. The worry constantly gnawed at the back of his mind, but he knew Apollo was more likely to be affected by it than he would be. If he couldn't hold himself together, Apollo wouldn't stand a chance. He walked in to the hotel, not exactly relishing the task ahead.

Normally he hated doing the investigative legwork, but he'd agreed to do it and he stayed true to his word. Apollo had told him before about his trip to the roof and the kitchens, so he could skip on those. He decided to check out two rooms – the bellboy's, and Ema's. Bellboy's first, and that took him down into the little corridor that led to the kitchen. He found the right room, and went in.

Klavier, the Rockin' Prosecutor, had never seen such a tidy room in his entire life, and he'd lived with Kristoph for over half of it. Not a single thing was out of place. Bed perfectly made, tables perfectly arranged, and a neat little bookshelf in one corner that was organised into alphabetical order. Klavier set to work, trashing the place to see if he could find anything relating to his case. He looked under the bed, inside the closet (at least five identical uniforms in there) and even in his little refrigerator. It was only when he got to the filing cabinet that he found something interesting.

There were guest files arranged in order of surname. A to F, G to L, M to R and S to Z. Four drawers. The fifth, at the bottom and almost empty, read 'Unknown.' Klavier looked in, and saw a crumpled piece of paper. He took it out, smoothed it a little against his knee and read it.

"Bellboy,

Get to the roof at 11pm after the party, I will require your services."

The note was unsigned, and written in a precise but fancy hand. Klavier noted the time and date as that of the discovery of the body. He had wondered why the bellboy had even gone up there, but didn't point it out in court because he assumed (correctly) that Apollo would have no real counter for it. He would hand it to the police later for a handwriting analysis, but for the time being he moved on to Ema's room, attempting to tidy up a little before he left for the first time in years.

Klavier took the lift to the top floor, below the roof, and came out in a fancy, old-fashioned corridor with four doors either side. Ema's room was 404, and he opened the door, not knowing what to expect from it.

Ema's room didn't look exactly homely. She hadn't brought much with her to the hotel, then again she was only here for security. Her suitcase had been thrown on the bed and opened. Her spare coat was hanging out of it, and there were a few scientific-looking things in there. Klavier poked around in there, and almost spilled her fingerprint powder over her bed. He carefully put everything back as it was – he knew she would notice if the slightest thing was different in her room - and paced around the bed, eventually stopping by her window. He rubbed some of the condensation off with the curtain, and looked out.

It was six o'clock, and night was just beginning to fall over the city. Lights from the nearby buildings and streets were turning on, one by one, and the normal night-time city view was forming. He craned his neck and looked up as far as he could. The neon 'Gatewater Hotel' was slowly brightening, and it clashed violently with the interior of the hotel. There was no-one else on this floor the night of the murder, save for the victim herself. Ema was the only person that night who could have heard a sound from the roof. Klavier knew there wasn't a whole lot more to the room than this, and he left, closing the door gently behind him. He rode back to the precinct, handed in the note for analysis (he didn't feel it necessary to mention that he had copied it for himself) and made his way back to his office to rendezvous with Apollo.

The two met again at 6:30pm, in the Prosecutor's Office. Klavier got there first, and was strumming idly on his guitar when Apollo knocked the door. Klavier let him in, and they sat on the floor again, comparing notes. Apollo spoke of what the bellboy and Phoenix had told him about the victim. When he mentioned the note the bellboy had found, Klavier took out the note he had found and copied. He explained what he had found – the note, and the teatray the bellboy had dropped in shock. Once they were on equal ground, Apollo asked a question he almost didn't dare to ask.

"So, what verdict do we go for?"

"Justice, you say your… bracelet didn't react? So that means he's innocent." Apollo had never been convinced that Klavier believed in his 'power', but apparently he did.

"That means we go for a guilty tomorrow."

"Indeed. Considering the current state of your case, that shouldn't be a problem."

"I hate the fact that I have to agree. Did you get anything about the other bullet?"

"Nein, nothing. We'll have to improvise tomorrow."

"Testimony?"

"That Atmey guy. Should be an interesting character."

Klavier knowingly raised one eyebrow, then picked up his guitar. Apollo made to leave, but when Klavier played the 'Guitar's Serenade', ever so softly, he stayed to listen. The song reminded him of so much. Reuniting with his mother, even if he didn't know at the time, and being told the entire truth about Trucy… He closed his eyes, bowed his head slightly and listened in silence, not noticing that he was playing with his bracelet. It was the only physical link he had to his past – it had always been there, safely on his wrist. He ran his fingers over the familiar patterns, eyes still closed. Klavier finished the song, then played it again. Even though he'd vowed never to play it again, now seemed an appropriate time. He was staring at Apollo, the notes still so ingrained in his memory that he didn't need to look. The song finished again, and Klavier stopped playing. Apollo realised what he was doing, and rubbed his eyes. The last sleepless night caught up to him, and fatigue hit him like a wave. He fell backward, asleep before he hit the floor.

Klavier grabbed a spare coat, and threw it over Apollo. He realised he had literally played a lullaby for the guy, and had to stifle a laugh. He picked up all the evidence files from the floor, dropped it on the table and began writing. He and Apollo were supposed to work the court papers together, but Klavier didn't have the heart to wake him up. He had to file the papers that would give them their places in court tomorrow. For the first time, he believed completely that, if all went to plan, they had this game won.

If all went to plan, he thought. That was the thing, with someone like de Killer pulling the strings, how could they guarantee that?