Grab everything of value and head to the fallout shelters, I'm updating on time which can only be a sign of the impending apocalypse. Don't forget to bring the computer though, so you can at least read this while you wait for whatever's trying to get us this time to subside.

Also I'm not sure why I censor Tony like that when I don't censor any of the other characters that curse. Idk.

Enjoy.

March 17, 1:50 PM. Alfred's House.

Alfred's Key
Key to Alfred's house. Allows us to obtain legal access to his premises.

"Nick, I'm hungry. Why are we here again?"

"Alfred wanted us to 'check up on things and make sure nothing had blown up yet,' but I don't know why he couldn't just have Arthur do it or something."

"Arthur's busy getting the bullet out of the wall, remember?"

(I don't think Alfred knows that.)

Several crashes, some explosions, a laser, and a very loud "Ve" sounded from the side of the house, so, like the logical investigators we were, we went to check it out.

Just outside the fence that separated Alfred's house from the rest of the world, we found Feliciano sprawled out on top of Ludwig, clutching tight at his shirt and muttering something that sounded like "America's house is scary" under his breath like a mantra.

"Hello!" Maya greeted with glee in her voice. Feliciano looked up and beamed at her. Ludwig turned red and pushed him off, but Feliciano took no notice as he sprung to Maya and embraced her.

"Ve, it's the lawyer's cute assistant!" he said before he turned and noticed me, "Oh, and the lawyer too, ciao! What brings you to Alfred's house?"

"He asked us to check up on some things," I replied, "why are you trying to break in?"

"Ve?" he started sweating and gesturing about wildly, "Ludwig needed something but only Arthur and Matthew and Kiku have keys to get in and Arthur and Kiku are busy and nobody can find Matt and don't arrest us!" he finished with a final shriek, "It was Gilbert's idea!"

"Feliciano," Ludwig barked, "lawyers don't have the power to arrest people!"

"S-sorry Ludwig, I'm just really hungry. I want pasta."

"I'm hungry too," Maya sympathized, "Oh that reminds me! Gilbert said that Lovino said he was looking for you."

"Ve? Fratello was looking for me? He must be treating me to a special birthday lunch!"

"It's your birthday?" I asked.

"Why, yes it is! How did you know?"

(…You just told me it was.) "Well, happy birthday."

"Thanks for remembering! Ve, come on cute-assistant-Maya, Fratello's going to treat us to lunch! Or maybe he won't, since it is his birthday too. Oh, but you're so pretty I'm sure he'd treat you anyway."

"That's okay, Nick can treat us all!"

(W-what!?)

"Really? Is that okay Mr. Lawyer?"

"I have his wallet, it'll be fine!" she grabbed his wrist and ran off, "See ya later Nick!"

(When did she take my wallet?! Wait, get back here with that I need it!)

"Bye Ludwig! Let me know what happens with Gilbert's night later!"

Ludwig sighed, then cleared this throat and blushed when he realized he was still on the ground. He quickly stood up and dusted himself off.

"Uh, it's my belief, and most of the others agree with me, that the vaguely threatening letter were not written by Alfred. I, um, needed a sample of his hand writing to do an analysis. That is all."

(I'm not judging.) "Why did Feliciano mention Gilbert's night?"

His blush, if possible, deepened further. "Well, my brother is, not very good at remember things in general, and adding alcohol to the equation doesn't help. For example, he never sold Feliciano; that was Roderich. Elizaveta and I were upset at him, Lovino found it hilarious."

"So you're, what, investigating what he did that night?"

"Well, yes, you could put it that way."

(This could work to my benefit.) "As it so happens, I need to figure that out too. I guess we'll be teaming up for a bit."

"Who said anything about a team up? Don't get me wrong, I do want Alfred out of prison, but some of the things my brother gets into when drunk, well, they may not exactly help his situation. At all. Some of his shenanigans could be labeled as International Incidents and I would rather not have them appearing in a court record."

(I could really use Ludwig's help, especially with his brother and international meeting gang. Maybe there's another way I can swing this?) "You need to get into Alfred's house right? He gave me a key. I help you get in, and you help me figure out what your brother did on the night of the murder."

Ludwig bit the inside of his cheek and looked away for a moment. Eventually he sighed and said, "It seems I have no choice."

A quick handshake confirmed out agreement, and we walked to the front door. It unlocked and opened easily with the key, only to laser gun to be pointed at our heads.

At the other end of the gun was a grey alien. At least, it looked exactly like all the sci-fi movies I've seen depicted creatures from outer space.

"Uh," was all my brain could come up with as it tried to process this

The alien to glare at me, "Who the f*!# are you, bu? Why are you invading with this Kraut?"

"A-Alfred asked me to check up on things, I'm his lawyer." (Am I really talking to an alien? If it's a costume, it's one of the best I've seen.)

"Ah, that's right. I recognized you from the f*!#ing TV," he said after giving me a careful look over, "Are you with him?" He asked Ludwig, who gave a cautious nod, "Then you may come in. My f*#!ing name is Tony. When Alfred's out, I'm in charge."

Tony
Age: ?
Gender: Probably male.
Alfred's housemate. An alien of unknown origin. Hates the English and is very profane.

"What did you want Lawyer?" Tony asked, lowering the gun as we stepping inside, "As you can f*!#ing see, Alfred's house is still intact for now."

"We need a sample of Alfred's handwriting."

"What for?"

"There was a vaguely threatening letter found in the victim's office. The police claim it was written by Alfred."

Tony chucked his laser gun at the wall. It hit with a thud and fired, creating a very nice hole in the ceiling.

Tony was visibly shaking, "Alfred wouldn't f*!#ing threaten a Congressman! Alfred didn't f*!#ing do anything wrong!" he began punching the wall, causing dents and strange marks to appear with each hit, until he ran out of energy and leaned his head against it instead, "This is so f*#!ing messed up," he practically whispered, "He doesn't f*!#ing belong in jail!"

"I know that," I said, approaching him slowly, as if he were a startled animal I needed to calm down, "I'm trying everything I can to get him out, so if you can help us out, please. Anyway you can."

"Right, yeah, fine," he took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall, "Alfred's office is upstairs on the right. You can f#!*ing find something he wrote in there."

As we were walking up the stairs I felt something attach itself to my leg. I looked down and discovered that it was a white blob with bright blue eyes and markings around those eyes that looked just like glasses. It reminded me of Alfred.

"Uh," I tried to shake it off, but that made it latch on tighter and start to crawl up my leg.

Ludwig noticed my predicament and stopped to observe, "I think that means he likes you."

"What is it?" I asked as it made its way to my torso.

"Mochimerica," he said, as if that answered my question, "Kiku made it for Alfred's birthday last year. It eats lettuce."

"Okay," Mochimerica had made its way to my shoulder and was now nuzzling my face, "How do I get it off?"

"I don't really know that much about him. Usually I can keep up with the things that Alfred and Kiku make, but sometimes they make something too complicated and farfetched."

"So how do I get it off?"

"Kiku says he's completely harmless, and Alfred's still alive." He shrugged, "you could probably ignore him and he'll go away on his own."

(This is the same Alfred that lives with an alien! I don't think his little Mochi-thing will just go away!)

"Mochi," Tony called from the bottom of the stairs, "leave the f*!#ing lawyer alone and go play with the whale."

Mochimerica gave me what I'm pretty sure was a peck on the cheek before hopping off of me and around a corner to do I can only assume was what Tony said.

After he finished showing us to Alfred's office, Tony wandered off after him, muttering something about "f#!*ing Japanese pets" before he vanished from sight.

Alfred's office was a mess, which, considering his circumstances wasn't all that surprising. Ludwig let out a puff of air before he started picking things up around the office and placing them in what I assumed was their correct positions.

"Are you actually-"

"I can't understand how anyone can live like this."

(I can, I mean, he's in jail and on trial for murder.)

"Besides, we won't find anything in this mess anyway," he glanced up from the papers he had gathered off the floor, "Are you going to help?"

(I guess there's no reason not to. I could find something helpful to the case, like this, the… the Declaration of Independence?! What's this doing here?!)

"Why does he leave his important documents on the floor?" Ludwig frowned as he took it from me, rolled it carefully up, and placed it as gentle as he could on the top of the bookshelf.

"The cops came in and f#!*ed everything up," Tony commented from the doorway. "Alfred usually keeps his Declaration in the bottom drawer."

"That's not a much better place!"

(That's the real Declaration? I wonder if-)

"There isn't a f#!*ing map on the back. Alfred already checked."

(Still, Alfred's important enough to have an original copy of the Declaration in his office? How high up in command is he anyway? And at only nineteen? Although if Gilbert lied about his age, it's possible Alfred has as well.)

"Hey Ludwig," I said while he was sorting through the papers on Alfred's desk, "you know the Von Karmas, right?"

"Yes, I know most of the prosecutors in Germany, and the von Karma's are quite exceptional at that."

"Does that mean you know Edgeworth as well?"

"Miles Edgeworth? I've heard of him, but we've never met. Why?"

"He's a friend of mine and he said he knew your brother is all. He was adopted by the Von Karmas and apparently he met Gilbert through them."

"Yes, Gilbert still likes to know the Vons, even if the title has lost all meaning. If he lived with them then it's no surprise they know each other."

"I guess so. But it's weird, because Edgeworth said that he met your brother when he was twenty-five, but that's how old he is now isn't it?"

The papers Ludwig was holding slipped from his fingers. He cleared his throat several times and bent over to pick them up.

"To be honest, I'm not sure how old Gilbert actually is. I suffered some sort of head trauma when I was younger, and I don't remember most of my childhood. Gilbert says he's twenty-five, but he could very well be thirty-five. There are numerous reasons to lie about your age, and Gilbert is a trickster, among other things. Most likely he is just messing with your friend. Pay it no mind."

(Even if that's true, he doesn't look much older than twenty-five.) "Do you remember how old you are?"

He frowned and placed the papers on the desk, "Twenty. Can you prove any different?"

"No, I'm just wondering. I mean, if you can't remember how old your own brother really is-"

"From what I could piece together, my childhood was very complicated, Herr Wright," his eyes narrowed as he fixed me with an icy stare, "This path you are going down, this line of questioning, I can guarantee you it has nothing to do with Alfred's case and will not help you in the slightest."

(Is, is he threatening me? I can't tell.) "Alright." I let the matter drop, for now.

We cleaned the rest of Alfred's office in an uneasy silence that was only interrupted by a few bangs from the basement and Tony at one point frantically looking through one of the drawers for some duct tape and a pocket screwdriver.

Eventually we did finish though, but came across another problem.

"He hasn't written anything?" Ludwig looked around the room in disbelief, "No memos or reminders?"

"Doesn't look like it. It's possible the police confiscated most of them."

"But now we have nothing to compare the handwriting to!"

"Alfred didn't write those f#!*ing threatening letters," Tony said from the doorway, "If you do your job you can prove that."

(I still need proof to do my job. It's one of those lawyer paradoxes.)

"If you just need something to test for his signature, you can always use this," Tony pulled out a piece of paper from somewhere, I really didn't want to question where, and handed it to me.

Alfred's Grocery List
Last week's grocery list, written by Alfred. Mostly just hamburgers and coffee.

"Well, can you compare handwriting with this?"

Ludwig glanced at it, "I should be able to when we get back to the hotel."

"Is that all you f#!*ers need?"

"Yeah, that's it for now. Thanks, Tony."

"Feel free to stop by again if you need to, Mr. Wright. Kraut, stay the f#!*away."

We left in a hurry after that.

March 17, 2:30 PM. 10th Street.

"Is that all my brother told you about where he was last night?"

"Yeah," I sighed as I glanced up and down the street, "You didn't happen to get anything out of him, did you?"

"I am the sole reason he hasn't created an international incident in the past few years. Why would he make my job easy by telling me things?"

"There are several bars here," I noticed about five just on that stretch of road, "maybe he went to all of them? He did say he was bar hopping."

"Might as well start with this one," Ludwig walked into the closest one, and I quickly followed his lead.

"Excuse me," Ludwig asked the bartender, "Did you notice an albino and a Frenchman in here on March 10th?"

(He can't possibly expect him to remember exactly who's in the bar on any given day!)

"Yeah, I remember those two," the bartender nodded towards an empty spot in the middle of the room, "they owe me a new pool table."

"What did they do to the old one?"

"Do you really wanna know Spikey?"

(Considering its Gilbert and Francis, no, not really.)

"Were they with anyone else?"

"What's with all the questions, kid?" he asked, shooting me a fierce glare, "S'not like they killed anyone."

(That we know of.)

"The albino is my brother," Ludwig reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge of some kind and showed it to the bartender, who went stiff and turned pale, "and I'd really like to know what he did that night."

"They showed up with this really angry guy, started cursing out the whole bar as soon as he walked in the door."

(That's got to be Lovino.)

"He got fed up with them after about an hour and stormed out."

"Did they leave with anyone else?" Ludwig pressed on, "Or was it just the two of them?"

"Now that you mention it, they got pretty chummy with this third trouble maker who kept chasing all the skirts. I think he ended up paying their tab and the three of them left together."

"Do you remember who he was?"

"He wasn't a regular, I know that much. They kept calling him 'Antonio,' but he didn't look Mexican and I that wasn't the name he first gave me. Harry something, Foot maybe? It was a weird name."

(…No, it can't be, can it? Here of all places? No, definitely not.)

"Thank you for your assistance," Ludwig said as we left the bar.

"Are you alright?" he asked once we were back out on the street, "You seem a bit out of it."

"No, I was just thinking. It's not important. So, should we try the next bar?"

"We don't seem to have another option. It's not like this Mystery Man is just going to show up and introduce himself to us."

"Nick? Nick, is that you?" A familiar voice shouted from the other side of the street.

(Of course it is.)

"A friend of yours?" Ludwig asked.

"Unfortunately, yeah. Ludwig, I believe we just found our mysterious not-Antonio."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," I muttered as he made his way across the street.

(After all, when something smells it's usually the Butz.)