Striving For Perfection
Chapter 11:
Murderous Perfection
Author's note: Okay…you know the drill. I don't own Phoenix Wright games or characters…and if I did, I'd be swimming in my own pool of money (which would be shaped like a dollar bill!) However! I DO own Marty Cruss, Herr Volker, Guido and Anya Trin (who are, like old movie mobsters used to say: "swimmin' wit da fishes!"). For all of you just joining in on this story...you might want to go read Limits of Perfection first...it might get confusing otherwise.
This chapter is happily dedicated to my boyfriend, who helped me get into the psychotic mindset of Marty Cruss and helped me to explain just who Marty is, and why his black glasses that I mentioned so many times in the last story were so important...because after all...every villain has to have a freakin' awesome back story.
And now you can tell for sure that I have played the third game. This chapter takes the theme that finished off the spirit of Dahlia Hawthorne.
TO MY REVIEWERS!
Tilea: I like the idea of an evil Manfred von Karma as well. It seems so much more realistic and it adds to the character.
Vaxl: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm glad to be back too!
LazyCatfish27: Thanks! And I agree. Manfred DOES equal evil! And I'm glad you appreciate the touches of humor.
XFireFistAceX: I loved the third game! Godot was really a complex character! I still
don't know about the fourth game...but...maybe my mind will change!
AND NOW TO THE STORY!
He sat there in bleak and dreary darkness, surrounded by fog and mist. His legs dangled off of a dock, and he could feel the chill of the cold come from the water. Every siren, every footstep, every sound made was carefully listened for. While it was only around five in the evening, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Perhaps the addition of two bodies to the river caused such a change. The stupidity of the thought made him laugh bitterly. They were of no use any way...just a sniveling pair of incompetent lackeys.
Especially Anya.
Anya, the one who tried to destroy Marty Cruss. She had grabbed his glasses in a previous struggle they had, before he was put in the defendant's seat, and had broken them. Those black sunglasses...they were the blinders to his soul. With the glasses, he was Marty Cruss...the greatest hit man the world had ever seen and the proclaimed madman in the von Karma kidnapping. He felt as though his was a household name; spoken by many and received with a shudder. But without the glasses? Without them, he was Matthew Crosse, the witness murderer, despised by all and betrayed by his peers.
He picked up a small stray tree branch that had been blown next to him by the wind and lazily made circles in the water with it.
How long has it been?
As the thought permeated his brain, he snarled slightly and threw the stick furiously into the water, savoring its splash. He stared blankly at the scene before him, before standing up abruptly and letting out a scoffing laugh. "How long HAS it been?" he whispered in a growling voice. "How long has it been since I was tricked, hmm? How long has it been since you did this to me, Manfred? Four years? No...much longer than that. Ten? Ten years? Can't be...perhaps double than that? Yes...my imprisonment has been just about as long as your daughter is old. And you know the old saying. You can't punish the dead! So why not punish the living?! Isn't this a fine predicament? Me, the dreaded "witness murderer" out on the streets again? Let out and deemed reformed by the very faulty judicial system that you adored! It would just kill you all over again, to find your wretched daughter, burning in the same hell you're in. To know I took her life and discontinued the legacy of the "perfect von Karmas"...that's what will satisfy me...even if I AM caught. The deed will have already been done...and no one can stop a bullet after it's been fired...or a dagger after it's been plunged in your back!"
With a maniacal laugh, Marty Cruss walked away from the dock, narrowly avoiding the police that were combing the area for evidence, and searching the water for the two bodies that were floating somewhere within it's depths.
The prosecutor's office was an absolute graveyard. Franziska had thought that perhaps someone would have been working, considering that it was a weekday. But the entire building had been locked up tighter than a fist, and if it hadn't been for the fact that she had a key, perhaps she would have already been on her way back to the apartment. No one had been at the precinct either, and that had been her original destination. It surprised her that the entire police force and every prosecutor that had been working today was out on a manhunt or a body search. But then again, considering the severity of the case...and the madness of the killer...somehow, it suddenly didn't seem so surprising any more. She walked up the several flights of stairs to her office, amidst the eerie silence that enveloped the building, save for the sounds of light pounding that the new falling rain was making. Franziska unlocked the door to her office faster than she had ever done before, due to the darkness of the building. The dark corridor that she could see out of the corner of her eye was making her jumpy. A flash of lightning and a roll of thunder made the blue-haired woman shudder and she practically ran into her office; slamming the door shut behind her. Franziska flipped on the light which flickered on as she walked to her desk and attempted to turn on her computer. A frown etched deep in her face as the screen stayed black. She pressed the on button several times more and a chill ran up her spine as she saw the cord that ran to the outlet was sliced in half longways...like someone wanted her to get electrocuted...She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest and her throat felt as though it was as dry as the Sahara.
His apartment seemed to be so much quieter when she was gone.. There was no sound to be heard, other than that of his breathing, which was getting heavier and heavier by the second. His head was spinning from the loss of blood, and his eyelids were getting heavier. In fact, Miles felt as though he was about...to...fall...asleep...
SMACK!
Miles recoiled in absolute horror as he walked down the stairs to find Manfred von Karma smacking his daughter around with his wooden walking stick. Franziska was huddled in a ball against a corner in the dining room; with hope that the chairs and table that were in her father's way would hinder him. Miles knew it wouldn't. If that man wanted to badly hurt his daughter, he would find a way. With an unforgettable amount of courage that sprang up inside of him, Miles rushed forward and planted himself between Manfred von Karma, and Franziska. With his feet spread apart, his arms stretched out, and his hands spread out in a threatening "don't cross" position, Miles gritted his teeth and glared at the graying-haired man. This made the veteran prosecutor take a step back in surprise, before laughing heartily. Miles could barely hear it, though, over the sound of Franziska crying, and Miles' heart breaking due to it.
"You're even stupider than I thought, boy." Manfred von Karma stated with a smirk as he leaned against the very cane that he had just hit his daughter with. "You think that your tiny, little frame is going to stop me from hitting you, or that pathetic child behind you? Step out of my way, boy, or you'll be hurting as well."
"She doesn't deserve this!" Miles challenged. "If you're the real man you claim to be then hit me, and not her!"
"A chauvinist to the end, huh, boy? There's still a streak of your father left in you I see."
At the mentioning of his father, Miles froze up. His knees began to tremble and then his whole body began to shake. His eyes widened to epic proportions Like always, Manfred von Karma had managed to find his weak point and strike him down in one fatal, and crushing blow. Even if it was only mentally, now Miles felt as limp as a rag doll and about as strong as one too.
"...miles..."
The young boy turned slightly to see Franziska barely holding on to his pant leg. She had several gashes, cuts, and bruises on her face and one of her eyes was blackened rather well. Miles knew that the mingling of her wounds with her tears could only cause her even more pain. She looked as though she was ready to pass out any minute.
"...miles..."
Now she was gripping tightly on to his pant leg with a pleading look in her eyes, and Miles could see that she was using every ounce of strength in her tiny little body to do so. And then Miles Edgeworth understood perfectly. He understood the need in the von Karma household to be perfect. Now he realized why Franziska would suddenly shut herself up in her room for days at a time, at any given moment, The bruises and cuts Franziska had received that she claimed were from being so foolishly clumsy...now Miles understood. And it pained him to realize this. Franziska had been, not acting snobbishly and flaunting around her hell-bent desire to become her father's heir, but trying to protect Miles from the hellish and abusive life that she was living. She didn't tell him...or ask for his help, simply because she didn't want him to get mixed in with the mess she had been born into.
"I'm sorry Franziska...I'm sorry...but I...I won't do what you want me to do...I won't run."
The gasp that was emitted from the child made a part of Miles celebrate for realizing that his deductions had been correct...until a heavy blow was forced upon the back of his head, and he crumpled to the ground. Miles clenched his teeth and realized that while he had been pondering to himself, Manfred von Karma had moved the chairs away to put himself in excellent striking distance. Slowly, Miles got back to his feet, and stood exactly how he had at the very beginning of this; with his feet and arms outstretched, and a challenging fire blazing in his eyes as he looked at the graying man in front of him.
Manfred von Karma laughed heartily at the scene. Oh this was rich all right. He had never believed, in his wildest dreams, that the Edgeworth boy would have guts enough to protect his sniveling daughter. Or that he would even want to, for that matter. A smirk drew across his lips before he hit Miles again with the cane and watched as the boy slid back a few feet, crumpled in a heap on the floor. As the prosecutor start to raise the cane again to hit Franziska, he saw the boy stand up again, and stagger to where he was standing...again.
Now he was furious. How dare this child have such a strong-willed streak that he would be willing to protect the imperfect child behind him until the bitter end. The loyalty was so sickening, that it made Manfred von Karma enraged.
"How DARE you challenge me, BOY! I am the master of this household and you will NOT disobey me! GET OUT OF THE WAY, BOY!"
Miles could feel his soul quavering as the deep and menacing voice penetrated every inch of his being. But, fear or not, Miles was not going to give in.
"No." he replied firmly, before smirking and adding to his defiant remark.
"I mean...no...sir."
This was the final straw. Miles wasn't sure how many times he was hit, but each and every time, he staggered back to the place where he had been and feebly tried to defend Franziska, who was lying limp on the floor, praying that she would black out soon so she wouldn't have to watch this horrific scene. Finally, his hands tired and his anger draining out of him to the point where he would need to sit in his armchair for a while by the fire and regain it, Manfred von Karma stuck Miles with such force for one last blow, that it sent the child into the wall, where he cried out and then fell to the floor. Satisfied, the elder man walked away to wash the blood off his cane, and both children could hear his sinister laughter fading with his leaving of the room.
Miles opened his eyes slowly and could feel the blood running down the side of his face...but that wasn't his main priority. He reached out and grabbed Franziska's outstretched hand, holding it as tightly as he could.
"Franziska...big...sister...everything's going to be okay..."
He called her big sister because...not only did he hope it would lift her spirits a little due to her pride at knowing more than he did...but because she had earned the name from him. He had more respect for her now than he ever had for any one in his life...expect for maybe his father. Miles' trust and devotion to protecting the child was overwhelming in the sense that he had never trusted any one so much as to lend them a dollar on the oath that they would pay him back. And yet here was Franziska von Karma...the girl he had despised with his entire being since he had been here...until now.
"I...I promise. I'll always be here...when you need me. So...so don't give up Franziska! You and I...we'll become the perfect prosecutors together! Big sister...and her little brother."
And his words seemed to strike a chord into Franziska's heart, as she turned lifted her head slightly and a wan smile appeared on her lips. Weakly, she squeezed Miles' hand back.
"...miles...edgeworth...you are...foolish..."
"I know."
Miles opened his eyes and looked around in his room. The last words of the memory were still floating around in his head, and he sighed softly. Now a little guilt-ridden, he realized that he had been rather cold to Franziska earlier. When she returned home, Miles vowed to apologize...
Home...
It was at this moment that Miles' eyes shot open and he looked at the clock. Though it read 5:30 PM, the sky was as dark as pitch, and a sense of urgency filled him. Franziska was out there...all alone...at night...with a killer out on the loose looking for her! Miles rushed to dress and flew out of the house faster than you could say "objection!". He had let her run out of the house once, due to his being preoccupied with Phoenix and Maya...and he remembered exactly where that got him. It got him the nice wound that he was constantly having to take care of, and it got Franziska kidnapped. He swore on his life that one day that he would always be there for Franziska...and he meant it.
The tiny bell that rang as Marty Cruss opened the door to an eyeglasses and sunglasses store, alerted the young woman behind the counter ti her customer's presence. But by the deadly look that he wore made the sales clerk back off and merely greet him with a "hello" and a "if you need any thing, please ask.". The man simply walked to a sunglasses rack and browsed through for a moment, before he picked up a pair of glasses and put them on, looking at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. Yes...these were perfect. Now he was Marty Cruss again...not Matthew Crosse. These glasses were dark enough to hide his eyes and the soul he longed to protect. Putting the glasses in his shirt pocket, he walked to the counter, paid with a twenty and a ten, much more than the glasses were worth, and told the woman to keep the change. Thinking he was some sort of eccentric millionaire, the woman merely nodded, and didn't even bother with her usual "have a nice day!".
Now feeling more like he could taken on the world and even more so, that he could take on Franziska von Karma and that annoyingly loyal Miles Edgeworth. The rain pelting on his back made him growl slightly as he finally realized that it had been raining for several minutes now. He looked up towards the sky and noticed a light on in the prosecutor's office. It flickered and then went out suddenly, making a large smile light up the twisted face of the madman. He counted the office windows to himself and then his smile widened.
"That's her office..."
Running a hand through his hair, Marty Cruss walked to the building and opened the unlocked door. With the lightning flashing and thunder rumbling in the background, he took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and placed them on.
"Ready or not. Here I come..."
