A/N: *hiding from projectiles*Hey guys! Er… here's the next chapter! It has a big reveal that I'm sure some of you've already figured out… you don't count, Wolfie, since you knew from the beginning, heh.
I decided to make this T again, but each chapter with a warning is technically rated M. I did this because with an M rating, this story won't show up in normal searches or the archive, and I think more than the one person who's reading and reviewing would enjoy this.
Miles Edgeworth's height is found on his wikia page. And I had decided on Agent Brooks's height before I knew Edgeworth's, so that was pure coincidence.
Robin Trio is from my other story Yatagarasu's New Beginning. He's the second member of the Yatagarasu, and will be important in the sequel to this. His outfit here is different from his heist outfit, and he's 22.
WARNING: This chapter contains images of violence. It is rated M. Read at your own risk.
Alright now, ONWARD!
…
Chapter Six: Alive
Edgeworth, Blackquill, Gumshoe, and Phoenix quickly made it to the space station. At this point it was surrounded by not only news trucks and vans (complete with a few helicopters buzzing around it) but hostage and riot police as well. The riot police were focused on the crowed of concerned loved ones, trying to keep frantic parents a safe distance away from the building.
"Mr. Edgeworth!" someone suddenly yelled, walking swiftly over to the four men. The Chief Prosecutor turned to find himself face to face with a tall blonde woman, the badge of a US Marshal swinging wildly from her neck as she jogged over to them. Usually dressed in faded jeans, a tee-shirt, and a leather jacket with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, the Marshal was dressed in business attire today. This clearly interrupted something important.
"Agent Brooks. How can I be of service?" Edgeworth asked. Brooks stopped in front of the man, standing up to her full height of an impressive 5'10", the same exact height as the Chief Prosecutor himself.
"I know you, of all people, know what's going on in there," Brooks spat. "And one of my witnesses is stuck in there. He, more than anyone else, is in the most danger."
Color seemed to drain from Edgeworth's face, worrying the others that were with him even more.
"No… you don't mean-? But what is he doing here, of all places?" Edgeworth demanded.
"His job, unfortunately," Brooks growled, turning back to look at the building. "Of course they didn't know about his past. That was classified. But… of all the odds…"
"Excuse me, pal, but who are you talking about?" Gumshoe asked. Brooks looked back at him and the group, before letting vent a small sigh.
"His current name… is Kaolin Loam. But Prosecutor Edgeworth here knows his true identity," the woman explained. Phoenix turned to look at his old friend.
"Edgeworth?" he asked.
…
Kaolin tried to keep his head down. He could feel his entire body trembling, and nausea rolled through his stomach every few minutes as he watched the men with guns move back and forth.
This is my fault. All of it… he thought to himself, before turning his eyes to Chelsea and the class. Sitting with them, rubbing one of the girl's backs, was Officer Skye. At least, he assumed she was an officer, from the way he has confronted the men, and how in control she seemed right now. As he watched, her eyes traveled to the doors, the same ones the men had dragged Apollo through after he fell unconscious.
Oh god… Apollo. What are they doing to him right now? Kao clamped a hand over his mouth at another surge of guilt and nausea. His fingers brushed the medical tape keeping his eyepatch in place, and his eyes wondered over to Ponco.
There… there's only one way to make this right… He slowly lowered his hand from his mouth and touched Chelsea's shoulder, causing her to look at him.
"Kao?" she breathed, alarmed by the expression on his face. The paralyzing fear was gone, replaced by determination.
"I'm sorry," he breathed, before standing up.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing! Sit back down!" one of the men barked, whirling and training a gun on the man. He raised his hands in a non-threatening way.
"I can't. You have the wrong man. Apollo… he doesn't know a thing."
Every eye in the room was on him at this point. His heart pounded in his ears, and everything in the room suddenly looked a lot sharper.
"Excuse me?" the man holding the gun asked. "How would you know something like that? I doubt you've ever met that attorney before today."
"Actually… Apollo and I go way back," Kaolin said with a small smile. He then took a deep breath, carefully pealing the eyepatch off of his face. He then turned and looked at the little robot.
"Ponco, run your facial recognition software on me again," he said. The robot stared at him for a few minutes before gasping.
"You…! You're Clay Terran! You are alive!" the little robot rejoiced, spinning around excitedly, her arms in the air. Kaolin – no, Clay – smiled sadly at her.
Before anyone else could react, there was a flash of white, and a resounding smack echoing across the boarding lounge. Ema Skye stood in front of the surprised man.
"Do you know how much pain Apollo was in? Is in!? Because of your 'death'?" she demanded. Clay blinked for a moment before turning to face the woman. A sad smile of recognition passed over his face.
"It's you. You're the moody detective he told me about…" his eyes flickered to her hand, spotting the small diamond ring on her left ring finger. "Congratulations… And… I'm sorry."
He turned back to the men, and stepped forward, keeping his hands above his head in surrender.
"I know there's no use in fighting or resisting," he said. "So… I'll come with you. Willingly."
The men looked at each other in surprise, before one smirked, grabbing Clay's arm.
"Well, well, who are we to look a gift horse in the mouth?" he said. "It seems Agent 369 was more incompetent then we thought. The rest of you, stay here," he snapped, before dragging Clay out of the boarding lounge.
…
Once Clay's captor reached the room where they were holding Apollo, the three men – Agents? Like spies? Clay wondered – held a quick, impromptu meeting.
Clay was then forced into a chair sitting across from Apollo and tied to it.
The former astronaut felt bile rise in his throat at the sight of his best friend. The man in red was handcuffed to his chair, but all of his weight was hunched forward, straining at his shoulders. Although Clay couldn't see Apollo's face, he could see blood dripping onto the man's white collar. His right leg was held at an odd angle from the knee down, and Clay could hear a faint rattle from his friend's chest with each pained, shallow breath.
"Well, well, Mr. Justice. Look who's here," the leader said as the bigger man stepped behind Apollo, grabbing his bangs and pulling his head up. Clay gasped. Apollo was sporting a black eye that was swollen almost entirely shut, and the blood on his collar was coming from a badly split lip. Somehow, miraculously, they had left his nose alone.
"C-Clay?" Apollo slurred, his good eye squinting slightly. He then closed his eyes. "No… no, this can't be right… you… you were dead. I worked your case that first day…" he muttered to himself, his words punctured by pained gasps.
"It seems you were played, Mr. Justice," the leader said. "As were we."
"I went into witness protection," Clay said softly, not taking his eyes off of Apollo's glazed brown ones. Apollo stared at him, struggling to comprehend what was right before him.
Clay couldn't blame him.
"Well then, Mr. Terran. It seems your friend here doesn't know any of that confidential information locked in this head of yours," the leader said, tapping on Clay's head. He moved his head away slightly. "But that's fine. Because now, we have you."
"Don't tell them anything!" Apollo suddenly yelled, gripped by passion. He struggled against the handcuffs, painful puffs escaping him as he jostled his injured leg and pulled at the man's grip on his hair. "They're terrorists! Who knows what they'll d—" The man let go of Apollo's hair and clamped a hand over the attorney's mouth, his fingers digging into Apollo's cheek. Clay watched with wide eyes as Apollo continued to struggle, his shouts muffled.
"Well, Mr. Terran?" the leader asked, watching Clay's face. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Apollo. Apollo finally stopped, his nostrils flaring with each breath. But it was his eyes that swayed Clay from his resolve of cooperating. They were urgent and pleading. The message was clear.
Don't tell them, no matter what.
"Hmph. It's a good thing we kept Mr. Justice, then," the leader said, nodding to the man who was holding Apollo. "Perhaps seeing him suffer will make you talk."
Apollo's eyes rolled up to look at the man standing behind him, his eyes narrowed. The man smirked, keeping a hand over Apollo's mouth, and grabbing his nose with his other hand.
The effect was instant. Apollo bucked against his hands, twisting his head this way and that in an attempt to dislodge the man's hands.
H-he's smothering him! Oh god! Clay thought in alarm. Apollo had already been weakened and short of breath. This was probably pure torture for the man.
Don't tell them, no matter what.
That thought flashed across his mind.
"He will last between thirty to a hundred and eighty seconds without oxygen before he passes out," the leader said, watching Clay closely. "At the one-minute mark, his brain cells will begin dying, and at three minutes, the chances of lasting brain damage become very likely. If he survives past five minutes without breathing… well. He'll fall into a coma," the man chuckled. Clay felt sick.
He knew all of that. He learned all about the importance of oxygen on the brain and body when he was training to go into space. Still, to hear this man say it so nonchalantly… Clay heaved, his stomach emptying its meager contents onto the floor.
Apollo's struggles were growing weaker as his face started to turn blue, his eyes beginning to roll upwards.
…
Agent Lang quietly slipped out of the Space Station, pocketing his notes on what he learned.
STARC, huh?
…
"Clay Terran didn't die the day the Phantom stabbed him," Edgeworth explained to Phoenix, Gumshoe, and Blackquill. "The blade was too short to do enough damage through the space suit, and the weight of the space suit was enough to keep the bleeding down. The weight was also enough to hide any weak pulse Mr. Terran might have had."
"But I thought you just said that the suit was too thick to cause any lasting damage, sir?" Gumshoe asked.
"He was still weak though," Phoenix realized before Edgeworth could answer. "He was oxygen deprived thanks to the ruptured tank on his suit, and exhausted after carrying Mr. Starbuck all the way back to the boarding lounge." He looked up at Edgeworth. "What happened after that?"
"The Phantom didn't notice that Mr. Terran wasn't dead, but forensic did. He found that odd, and called me straight away. That's why I had put a rush on getting him to the 'morgue.' That's also what aroused my suspicions of 'Detective Fulbright'," Edgeworth explained. Blackquill ground his teeth together. "Mr. Terran's lung had been pierced slightly, and his brain was beginning to react to the limited supply of oxygen, so the doctors put him in a medically induced coma for three days. During that time, I called the US Marshal's office, and got him immediately enrolled in the Witness Protection program."
"From there, Mr. Loam has been a high school astrology teacher," Agent Brooks said. "He called me last night, explaining about this field trip. I told him to call out, and he did. However, something changed his mind this morning, and since he's arrived, I haven't been able to contact him.
"That's because something is jamming the signals in and out. A nasty virus in the network, if I had to guess."
The group turned to the sound of a new voice, only to spot a tall, young man – college age – standing next to the newly arrived Kay. He was tapping away at an AceTablet, his eyes hidden by the brim of his fedora. He wore a black tee-shirt shirt with the universal stand-by/power symbol in dark green on it under a dark denim jacket, a pair of faded, blue jeans, and black sneakers. A dark green bandana with a cloud print was tied loosely around his neck.
"Robin?" Edgeworth gasped. "Aren't you supposed to be at school?"
Robin looked up from his tablet with a grin, the sun flashing off of a gold, three legged raven badge pinned to his fedora.
"It's Saturday, Mr. Edgeworth," he reminded the man. "Besides, Kay said you guys might need some help."
The prosecutor turned to look at his assistant.
"What? Obviously no one has gotten a visual on what's going on inside yet. And we need all the information we can get if we're to save the hostages, right?" she demanded.
Edgeworth sighed. She was right, of course. And he didn't know a hacker more skilled then the boy standing in front of him.
"Er, who's this?" Phoenix asked. Kay grinned, slinging an arm around the focused boy's shoulders.
"Robin Trio. He's a bit like my nephew or something," Kay said. Robin's lips quirked.
"Well, you did adopt me… mom," he said teasingly, not once looking up.
"Hey! I thought we agreed that you would never call me that!" Kay complained dropping her arm. Robin chuckled at that, then nodded.
"I'm in," he said, turning the tablet to face the others. There was about a hundred little thumbnails, all in color.
"There's the hostages," Edgeworth said, raising his glasses away from his squinting eyes to focus on the little images. "Any way to make it bigger?"
Robin simply tapped on the thumbnail indicated, and it took up the entire screen. The group watched the scene carefully. Phoenix felt sick when noticing Apollo was nowhere to be found in the group, although Ema was in the middle of the class with one of the teachers, trying to keep them calm.
"There's Loam," Brooks said, pointing to the man who had just stood up. He talked to one of the armed men for a moment, before pulling off his eyepatch and turning to Ponco. They watched as Ponco reacted happily, Ema slapped him, and he was dragged out of the room by one of the men. Working fast, Robin minimized that window and watched the thumbnails, tracking the two, until they went into a different room. Robin pulled this window up, and his stomach dropped.
The others crowded around him, soft gasps erupting from them. They had a clear view of Apollo, and the condition he was in.
"Jesus…" Edgeworth gasped. Phoenix quickly turned, stumbling a few steps away. Apollo was like a son to him, despite everything. To see him like that… Oh god. Thalassa… Zeus… Trucy. Phoenix sat and put his head between his knees, trying to calm his stomach.
They watched as Clay was tied to a chair, and a muscle bound man grabbed Apollo's hair, forcing his head up. There was a lot of talking between this.
"Any chance of getting audio?" Edgeworth asked Robin. Robin shook his head.
"Not here, no. No microphones," he said.
"What about in the boarding lounge?" Blackquill asked. Robin looked thoughtful.
"Perhaps. That robot… the Psychological Observation and Navigation Companion—" he began. Blackquill cleared his throat slightly.
"Just call her Ponco."
"Er… right. Ponco's not too different from Widget. Maybe I could—" he cut off as he looked back at the screen.
The man behind Apollo now had his hand clamped over the man's mouth and was holding his nose. Horror rolled through the group as his face turned blue, and his eyes began to roll upwards.
"Pretty boy," a voice suddenly barked from behind the group. They turned to see Agent Shi-Long Lang standing behind them, looking none the worse for wear.
"Agent Lang! How'd you get out?" Edgeworth asked, surprised. Lang pulled a scroll from his pocket, opening it and reading a few lines of script off of it.
"Lang Zi says: a large beast has more exits then one," he said, before allowing the scroll to snap closed.
"Er, excuse me?" Phoenix asked, quirking an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Edgeworth pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
"There's an emergency exit," Lang said with a smirk, his sharp canines flashing.
"Then that's our way in," Blackquill said, stepping forward.
…
A/N: I am sorry if Lang seems OOC. I haven't played either investigations game in…. years.