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Chapter 14
Ares sat propped up against his pillows on the side of the bed closest to the center table, upon which sat a lamp that was current alight. In his hands he had a tiny camera, which was hooked to a laptop that sat on his knees. Earlier that day, he had sent their cat out to Phoenix upon her request and it had returned with a small leather pouch containing this microcam and a few other items Tilea had collected as evidence. He now found himself scrolling through pictures that might as well have been screenshots from a gruesome horror movie featuring one of the last people he'd want to see in one.
Oreo sat beside him, watching the slideshow with unblinking eyes. Her attentiveness was purely out of curiosity, to see what exactly she had brought back to her owner, and she did not share his discomfort. However, animals tend to have a keen sensitivity to those around them, especially to the humans with whom they spend the most time, so she did indeed sense the heavy tension and kept glancing up at Ares as a result of this.
After a few minutes, the sound of voices drifted into the room, and the cat's ears perked up. Ares, however, didn't even react until Franziska entered the room, soft drink in one hand and cardkey in the other. Wright and Gumshoe had insisted that she accompany them to go find a place to eat dinner, mainly because they had noticed how little Ares had wanted her to see what he had received from Tilea. Now, she placed the room key on the dresser and came to sit on the other bed and face him.
She sat silently for a while observing his mood before speaking. "I suppose it's not good news," she muttered, noting that he looked a bit troubled. She knew that he was hiding most of the physical manifestations of this emotion, but she could still see it in his dull gray eyes.
"Just… pictures of the inside of the building," he lied, not even looking over at her. Yes, there were indeed these types of pictures, but he had left out the part she would be most interested in.
To his dismay, she wasn't so easily fooled. "Then why do you refuse to let me take a look?"
Ares sighed heavily and closed his laptop, pushing it off of him onto the bed where Oreo began to sniff and rub against it as cats usually do. "Believe me when I tell you that these are not pictures you want to see."
She scowled at him. "How many times do I have t--"
"It's not just you!" He stopped, having spoken much louder than he had intended to. He was stressed and upset, and having to explain this to her was only going to make it worse. "I won't be showing these pictures to Mr. Wright or Detective Gumshoe either. If it had been my choice, I wouldn't have looked at them either, and I don't think Phoenix would have taken them. The only reason they exist is to prove our case to the FBI when this is all over. Please just trust me on this; you don't want to see him like this…"
Franziska stared at him, shocked that he had shouted at her. Still, it was plain to see how upset those images had made him, and considering the things he would normally see in his line of work, this had obviously been much more unpleasant then most sights. "Miles… was in those pictures?" she asked timidly, recalling his last few words.
Ares took in a deep breath, not looking at her as he answered. "Yeah… He is… But you would barely recognize him."
Franziska lowered her head and her body began to jerk with sobs after a moment. "Oh God…" She dreaded to imagine what he must look like if Ares seemed so upset about those pictures and refused to let anyone else see. The thought of his suffering was more than she could bear. "I just… can't help feeling like this is my fault," she whispered, covering her face with her hands.
"We've told you before," Ares said firmly. "None of this is your doing. There's only one person to blame, and that's your father."
"I just wish he was here…" She leaned sideways and lay down on the pillows.
"It's only a matter of time," Ares assured her, placing his laptop and anything else on the bed down on the floor and lying back down with a sigh. "We just have to finish planning this out and we'll have him out of there."
"I… I hope you're right. We were… just starting to get our lives straightened out… He had even… really decided to stop drinking and… things were going to be okay." Had they not been the only two present in the room with no other noise save for the quiet hum of the heater, he would have lost track of her voice as it got softer and softer. "A-and then this happens. I'm… so afraid…"
"Just don't lose hope," Ares said, reaching up to turn off the lamp between their beds, for it was nearly midnight now and they were both pretty much settled in. "We can't give up until it's all over; even if it seems hopeless, you have to search for a way out."
Franziska's only response was a sob, and in the dark he couldn't tell if she was even looking at him or not.
"It's just like Phoenix always used to tell me: There's always a light at the end of every tunnel. Just hope it's not a train."
There was a pause, and then he heard a snigger from across the space between the beds. "She's such a smartass."
"I know."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Miles cried out and coughed simultaneously upon the impact of that cane against his broken ribs. Another dark bruise began to form to join the others, and more were to come. As usual, a steady stream of blood ran from his lips, its flow interrupted every time he was stricken, at which point the fluid would spray or get caught momentarily in his throat.
Von Karma was in a particularly bad mood today, and this was his favorite way of relieving anger and stress. Sure, he would eventually get to his regular means of inflicting agony on his helpless prisoner, but first he needed a release for his powerful urge to hit something. Of course most people used a punching bag, but there is no closure in that, no sick satisfaction of watching the result of actions and hearing an anguished cry. A punching bag just simply comes back, as if challenging its attacker to try again. This would only succeed in making him angrier, defeating the purpose of using one in the first place.
After a few more strikes, the cane clattered to the floor as its owner stood still for a moment to slow his heart rate, taking deep angry breaths. His victim—far from feeling relief—lay on his side, shaking at the older man's feet. His own breathing was ragged and forced, no longer an involuntary process but a laborious and painful task. "Please, M…Master…" he choked out as he exhaled, unable to hold any amount of air in his burning lungs while he spoke. "Please… N-no more…"
Pleasantly surprised, von Karma looked down on his captive with a smirk. This was the first time in a couple of weeks that the boy had actually pleaded with him at all; the lost effect had somewhat taken a bit of the enjoyment out of making him suffer. He had attributed this lack of verbal response to his nearly dead state of mind, but now—for some unknown reason—he appeared to be more awake, aware enough to string words together on his own.
"Now, Miles," Manfred said, as a parent lightly reprimanding a child. "You know that I can't stop until you've paid for what you did to me." From a pocket of his jacket he drew a small metal box, within which was a needle and a small container.
"I-I'm sorry!" the younger man sobbed, desperate to avoid what he knew was coming next. "W-whatever I did… I'm… I-I'm sorry…"
Upon hearing this, von Karma frowned. Of course! He didn't even remember what this pain was for. A bit angry with himself for not considering this, von Karma opened the box and drew out its contents, deciding that it really didn't matter in the long run. Sure, he was making Miles pay for destroying him, but overall this was for his own benefit; he could deal with the boy no longer understanding what he was being punished for.
As he filled the needle and crouched down, that desperate voice reached him again.
"No, please!" He was now covering his face so he wouldn't have to watch the poison dagger coming. "Phoenix, help me!"
Von Karma's arm froze, and so did Miles. A menacing silence settled around them as the young man waited in pure dread for the consequences of what he had just done.
"What… did you just say?" von Karma asked, his voice low and dangerous, though there was an obvious note of confusion within it. That confusion quickly turned to fury, however, when the other did not answer him. "What did you just say, Boy!?" With a thrust of his hand, the needle broke skin and a terrible scream followed it. "ANSWER ME!"
"Ph-Phoenix!" he cried out as an answer and a plea. Some of the invisible knives piercing every part of his being were beginning to recede by the time he was able to speak, but his body still writhed and he knew the needle would come again for sure if he didn't obey.
"And who is Phoenix!" The name had immediately brought the face of Phoenix Wright before his mind's eye, one of the only two defense lawyers Manfred had bothered to remember. This was the man that Miles had hidden behind during that trial, the man who had defeated him—not once—but twice and gotten him sent to prison. Then, this man had gone on tarnishing the von Karma name by sabotaging the perfect record of his daughter as well. Before that case, he had been the only lawyer to best Miles Edgeworth, and when that case arose, he had been the only one to stand up for him.
So, could this be the Phoenix the boy was calling for? Even in light of the relationship between the two of them, it was highly unlikely. He was sure Miles couldn't remember anything outside of this basement at all, and there was no possible way he could have seen that man recently. "Who is Phoenix!?" he repeated, the needle gleaming malevolently between his thumb and index finger.
"I… I don't know…" Miles had seriously considered his reply, but this was the truth. He had no idea who that girl was; she had just seemed to… appear to him. He could never even hear her come in; only when she was approaching him from a few feet away was he made aware of her presence. In reality, this was because she walked so lightly, stealth training teaching her how to make as little noise as possibly while walking without really having to think about it. However, to Miles it seemed that she just materialized out of thin air when she came to see him, like a spirit or a figment of his imagination. He really had no idea who she was.
"Don't lie to me, Boy?!" Fury surged through him and he brought the needle down again, eliciting another anguished scream.
"I'm not lying!" Miles cried when he could speak again. "M-Master, please… I… I don't know… who she is…" He expected to be stabbed again, but it didn't come.
"She?" Now this was something he hadn't expected. "It's a woman?" he demanded, leaning forward and taking a handful of the blood-stained, gray hair and drawing the young man's head back roughly. He placed the point of the needle against his throat, daring him to try and lie.
Miles couldn't reply, so paralyzed with pain and fear that he couldn't find his voice to answer.
With a fierce growl, Manfred released his hold and stood up, striding purposefully away. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was sure he knew where to look. He wrenched the door open at the top of the stairs, causing it to bang into the wall behind it when he removed his hand. This startled the man standing guard, but von Karma did not stop to explain his rage. He marched all the way up to the second floor, and without even stopping to warn her of his entry, threw open the door to his maid's room, leaving a mark on this wall as well.
The black-haired girl within jumped about three feet and only just stopped herself from falling, nearly going into cardiac arrest. "M-Master von Karma!" she exclaimed, her back now against the far wall of the room. However, he gave her no explanation either, he simply strode forward and took hold of her arm in a vice grip, dragging her back toward the door.
Phoenix found herself having to trot to keep up with the enormous steps he was taking, being quite a bit shorter than he was. Though the look of pure horror on her face was fake, she couldn't pretend she wasn't nervous. She knew that his anger was very easily provoked, but an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that this time he might not be overreacting.
He pulled her all the way back through the door to the basement and she nearly fell trying to keep his pace on the stairs. When they came within a few feet of Miles, he threw her to the floor with enough force for the impact to actually hurt. "Who is this!?" he demanded of his prisoner.
"M-Miss Aria," Miles answered immediately, his voice still tremulous and issued in between sobs.
With a growl, Manfred stepped forward and swiftly kicked the other man in the side, causing him to cry out. "WHO IS SHE!?"
"Miss Aria!" he repeated desperately, wishing this man would understand that he was telling the truth. The black-haired girl was Miss Aria, and the red-haired girl was Phoenix; he wasn't lying!
Now, Manfred turned on her, drawing her up by the collar of her sweater and slamming her against the support beam nearby. "What is your name!?" he demanded, his tone threatening pain.
"A-Aria!" she choked, making a show of trying to catch her breath.
"Don't--" His free hand came across to slap her hard on the right side of her jaw. "--LIE to me!"
"I'm not lying!" Tears were now spilling down her cheeks. "M-My name is Aria! I'm not hiding anything from you!"
"Is that so!?" He threw her to the ground once again and reached for the needle he had discarded a few minutes prior. "Because I think you are!" He brought the point downward, ready to get his answers by any means possible. Phoenix closed her eyes and braced herself for what was coming, but she was confident she would not be broken; she was a professional agent, and he was just a child with a dangerously violent temper.
"STOP!"
Phoenix opened her eyes to see the needle hovering just above her, but Manfred's attention was now on the poor man lying just a couple feet away. Miles was facing them, but his head was held low as he continued to sob.
"Ph-Phoenix… isn't a… a person…" came his strained and barely audible voice, a drastic change from the shout he had just given.
There was a pause during which Manfred attempted to register what this phrase meant. At the same time, Phoenix was very grateful that von Karma was no longer looking at her, for she hadn't been able to hide the shock at what this was all about. "Not a person?" Manfred repeated. "Explain yourself!"
"I-I can't," Miles sobbed. "I… I don't know… what she is…"
"What is this nonsense!?" von Karma snarled, standing to move back over to Miles. "I swear to you that I will cause you more pain than you have ever dreamed possible if you don't start telling me the truth!" That tiny needle continued to threaten its deadly sting, and Miles cowered before it.
"I… I am telling the truth," he pleaded. "I… d-don't know… who she is or… wh-where she comes from…"
"That's not good enough, Boy! Do you mean to tell me you are calling for help from some kind of apparition!?"
'Calling for help?' Phoenix smiled inwardly despite the situation. He might not remember her from before, but she was getting through to him. He had come to trust her, which was a sign that he was still clinging to himself in some small way.
"A-a what?" Miles stared at von Karma in confusing, not having understood the word.
"Think!" he demanded, and Phoenix smirked at the irony of this command. By this point, the German man had accepted that Miles wasn't lying; he was either oblivious or insane, and both were highly likely. "What is Phoenix and where does she come from?!"
Desperate for an answer to give, Miles began to look around the room. Every time he and Phoenix sat together, it was near one particular flame. So maybe… "The fire…" he replied, hoping this man would believe him.
"I beg your pardon." Manfred looked indignant, following Miles' gaze to one of the torches on the far wall.
"She… She comes from the fire," he said. "I-I think…"
Phoenix had to suppress a small laugh as von Karma turned on her again. "What sort of ridiculous stories have you been planting in his head, Girl?!"
"Me?!" She stared up at him with the fear still apparent in her black eyes. "I don't know anything about phoenixes except that it's a bird that's on fire."
"Then where did he get such an idea?! This didn't start happening until I let you in here!" He looked ready to attack her again, and she had to think up something quick.
"W-well…" She looked around as Miles had, although she actually already had a response together. "…I've just been nice to him unlike everyone else here. Maybe whatever Phoenix is… is like an imaginary friend or something, and it's a woman because the only person who doesn't hurt him is a woman."
"An imaginary… what?" Tilea savored the genuine lost look on von Karma's face; it was the funniest thing she had seen since coming here.
"An imaginary friend," she repeated. "Or like… I don't know. I've heard that when people get lonely, depressed, or scared for long enough, their mind starts… making up things for them to feel safe. I had something like that happen to me when I was little."
"And what would such a figment of his imagine be based off of?" von Karma demanded, finding the whole concept to be complete ludicrous.
"I don't know," she replied, blinking at him, no longer looking quite as afraid. "Maybe if I knew what she looked like I'd--"
"Then find out!" he ordered, and she was a bit surprised to see that he cared to know. "Let's see how you deal with him." He stood and folded his arms, moving back to watch her.
"Um… O-okay…" Phoenix moved forward and sat down next to her friend. "Hey, Miles," she said, speaking kindly and softly. "Can you tell me… what Phoenix looks like?"
Miles looked up at her curiously, and it reminded her of a small child. "But… h-haven't you… seen her, Miss Aria?" he asked, and Phoenix saw von Karma glare at her.
She shook her head. "No, I haven't," she replied. "Can you describe her? Just a little bit will do."
"U-um…"
"Listen to her, Boy," came von Karma's impatient growl. Phoenix repressed the urge to glare at him for interrupting.
Miles was now looking up at the other man as he began to speak. "Uh… Sh-she--"
"Not him," Phoenix corrected him, drawing his attention back to her. "Tell me."
"Well… She… She has really long red hair," he began, his struggle to remember showing through on his face. "And she's strong, and… her eyes… look like they have fires in them…"
"What the hell does that mean?" It was obvious that he wasn't understanding this at all. That description didn't sound anything like anyone he had ever seen before.
"Maybe it's someone he knew before," she said, looking back up at him. "It sounds to me like most of it is from the torches in here. It's really cold, after all. He probably likes the fires because they're warm." It was odd, coming up with a way that someone could simply imagine herself, and then trying to dumb it down to speech befitting of the child she was pretending to be.
Von Karma spat on the floor before him. "Pathetic!"
"Well, what do you expect?!" She decided to start acting brave, at least until she got hit or something. "You took him away from everything he knew and stuck him down here to torture him all the time! Did you think he'd stay completely sane through the whole thing?!"
In a quick motion, von Karma stooped to pick his cane up from the floor and crack it over her head, laying her out. "Watch your tone, Girl!" He turned away from them after this, looking livid. "This has been a colossal waste of my time!"
Phoenix waited until he had stormed up the stairs and slammed the door shut before she sat up to see Miles' concerned eyes upon her.
"Are you… okay, Miss Aria?" he asked.
"I'm the last thing you need to be worried about," she replied with a smile before getting to her feet and walking a few paces away. She drew off the wig and came back. Carefully, she lifted Miles from the floor and carried him over to the place they usually sat. He didn't look up at her until they sat down, at which point the flames of the torch were reflected in her black eyes, making them appear alight with flames of their own.
"I'm… sorry, Phoenix," he said, exhausted and still in immense pain. "I wasn't supposed to…"
"You did great," she smiled, tucking his bangs back behind his ears. "You made him think I'm not real."
"I-I did?" Miles looked amazed, but then that turned to apprehension. "But… you are real… aren't you?"
She couldn't help but laugh a little. "Of course I am. How else do you think you could've gotten over here?"
He didn't quite understand why she had laughed, but he did as well just in case he was supposed to. "You said… we would be leaving soon," he said after a moment. "I… really want to go. I'm tired of… being hurt…"
"I know," she replied, taking a cloth from one of her shirt pockets and wiping the moisture from his face as she always did. "It'll be soon. In fact…" She paused, placing the cloth on her lap and reaching up to press the small button on her earpiece. "…I'm going to call them right now to see when they'll be coming."
"Who?" He looked up at her with that child-like curiosity again.
"Our friends," she replied.
"Yello?"
"Ares, what's going on over there?"
"Well, right now we're trying to get Mr. Wright to look… not… lawyery…"
"So does that mean things are pretty much set?"
"Sort of… I need to know what's going on over there."
Phoenix looked down at Miles, who was still watching her. "Well, we had a bit of a problem just a few minutes ago, but Manfred pretty much screwed himself out of valuable information, so I think we're okay for now. Still, this needs to happen pretty quickly here."
"…We can do it tomorrow if you can get things in order there. Detective! Stop it! It's not funny!"
Tilea laughed aloud, and Miles followed suit even though he wasn't sure why. "Tell him Mr. Edgeworth said to behave himself."
"Huh?" Miles blinked. Did she just refer to him as 'Mr. Edgeworth', or was she talking about another person with the same last name?
There was a pause from the other end, and then Ares' voice reached her again. "Great idea! It worked… sort of…"
"What do you mean 'sort of'?""Well… Franziska is in the room and… she wants to talk to Miles."
"Oh…" She paused. "Um… tell her that I was only kidding around. He's not really… communicating very well right now."
"I'm trying…"
"I know," she whispered quickly to him. "It's not your fault."
"She says she doesn't care."
"Damn it… Hang on a second." Tilea looked down at Edgeworth. "Miles, do you know who Franziska is?"
He blinked at her again. "Um… He says that… she's his daughter…"
"That's right," Phoenix replied. "But… she's not like him at all. She wants to help you, probably more than any of us."
"More than you?" This seemed an unfathomable concept for him. "But--"
"She couldn't come here; he would never allow it. But, she wants to talk to you right now."
"But… I don't know her," he said, looking nervous. "A-am I… supposed to?"
Tilea hesitated. "She knows… that you're hurt. It'll be okay."
"O-okay… I don't know how though."
"I'll show you." She turned back to speak into her microphone. "Just make sure Franziska knows not to have any expectations."
"She says she doesn't care if he talks much or not; she just wants to talk to him."
Tilea sighed. "Hang on." She removed her earpiece and placed it against Miles' ear, and then removed her microphone and held it near his mouth. She then leaned forward a bit. "Okay, put her on."
There was another pause, and then the voice of a young German woman reached his ear, sounding just as nervous as he felt.
"Miles?"
He looked up at Tilea questioningly.
"Just talk," she said. "She'll be able to hear you."