August 5, 2024
Police Station
9:30 AM

"This is absolutely absurd. You cannot hold my client like this!"

The chief prosecutor stood back on the perimeter of the police bullpen, letting Lana Skye rail against the powers that be with all her powers of legal persuasion. He gripped his arms tightly, feeling infuriatingly helpless, his gaze pensive as he thought about next steps.

Friedrich von Karma had arrived and he'd taken over, as severe and as omnipresent as a blizzard over the countryside. In turn, Miles had been stripped of any advantages that could have helped Phoenix in his plight. Meanwhile, his own office slowly turned against him as the alleged accomplice in what was apparently a string of murders. It was like living under Manfred all over again. A shudder went through him.

"Skye-san, Wright-dono is characterized as a flight risk," Blackquill spoke, ever patiently. "He was using a false identity for years in a foreign country. Or the way Friedrich von Karma is telling it, he's using a false one now to get out of a murder rap. In any case, he is not going to be let out of jail. The only reason why Edgeworth-dono is out is because he's established in the community." Catching Miles' eye, he said, "Speaking of. Shochou, if I could have a word?"

Miles frowned at this. "Ms. Skye is Phoenix's defense attorney. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her."

The felon considered this, then shrugged, "Fine." He led the pair into an empty interrogation room, for a bit of privacy. After a moment of hesitation, he declared, "Friedrich has been visiting Wright-dono in jail."

Alarm swept through the pair of them. "What do you mean 'visiting'?" Miles demanded, "Wright has the ri- Phoenix has the right to refuse any visitors without his attorneys present. What exactly has been happening under your watch? Or do you actually believe this rubbish that Phoenix stole the Phoenix Wright identity?"

"Give me some credit," Blackquill snarked back. "Why do you think I've been delaying the Josephine trial so that he doesn't get extradited back to Germany?"

It turned out that the felon was more reasonable than they expected, once they presented their evidence. With another solid suspect, he was quick to accept that the alibi was a legitimate one. However, Friedrich had already shown up and done his damage.

"Wright-dono has not exercised his right to refusal," Blackquill remarked. "You need to go see him. Who knows what Friedrich might be triggering in him."

That was all the urging that Miles needed. He looked to Lana. "I'll stay here," she assured him firmly. "You go." With a nod, he left, briskly walking out into the parking lot (one did not run in a police station) to his car.

~o~

August 5, 2024
Gatewater Penitentiary
11:00 AM

Phoenix did not look well. Even though he had been put into isolation for his own safety, he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Whatever trick Blackquill had mastered to survive here, it looked like Phoenix still hadn't gotten the hang of it. In the private visiting room, Miles ached to reach across the table, to touch him, but he could feel the guards watching at their back. Chief Prosecutor or not, touching was verboten. For a moment, he debated speaking in German for some privacy, but he didn't dare for fear of exacerbating whatever Friedrich had already been doing to him.

"Phoenix," he spoke softly, cautiously. "How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected, Herr Edgeworth," Phoenix replied. The honorific sent a chill of dread down Miles' back. "Thank you for visiting. It's nice to see a friendly face."

"Just... Miles. Just call me Miles, like you normally do," the fair-haired man insisted.

"I... right. Right," Phoenix said with a shake of his head, as if to clear it. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just... sorry."

Some of the clarity came back to those blue eyes, which was a relief. "Phoenix, I heard that you were letting Friedrich visit you. ...Why?"

"Would you believe that I was trying to press him for info?" the former defender replied with a wry half-smile. "Might be backfiring a little bit. Whenever he comes in here, he keeps demanding why I killed his daughter. Showing me pictures from the case. It... it's hard not to get taken in. He's just so... hurt." That haunted look came back to Phoenix's face and all Miles wanted to do was to slap it off. "Makes a guy feel guilty even though he didn't even do anything," Phoenix muttered softly. His eyes returned up to meet Miles'. "God, it's so good to see you. I thought I might be going a little crazy in here. Solitary is no fun."

For a mentally traumatized mind that was in the middle of an identity crisis, likely not. Miles was half tempted to get arrested himself, just so he wouldn't leave Phoenix alone in here. That wouldn't do anyone any good, however. "Phoenix, you have to stop letting him see you. At least after the trial. Blackquill is doing all that he can to delay it while we try to track down the real killer-"

"Wait, hold on. You're delaying it?" Phoenix demanded, suddenly spry as a keen awareness flashed in his eyes. "Why?"

"So you don't get shipped back to Deutschland, obviously!" Miles cried, exasperated. "If you go, we will likely never see you again once you are fully under Friedrich's power."

However, Phoenix wasn't listening. Instead, he was lost in thought, mind whirring at a thousand miles a second. The chief prosecutor knew the look well. There was a plan forming, like the winds stirring the breath of an unstoppable hurricane. And Phoenix Wright was unstoppable. "I'd like to exercise my right to a speedy trial," the raven-haired man said suddenly. "Get my lawyer here, please. I need to talk to her."

"I'm your co-defendant!" Miles cried, appalled.

"You are a conflict of interest, Herr Edgeworth," Phoenix said primly, suddenly using that damned honorific again. He interlaced his fingers on top of the table, his posture suddenly ramrod straight. He looked calm, composed. ...Like a perfect German gentleman.

What is happening?

"Would you be so kind as to get my suit, my proper one, when I show up at court?" the younger prosecutor said politely. "Danke für Ihren Besuch. I will see you soon." With that perfunctory statement, he stood and gestured for the guards to take him away, leaving Miles to stare after him in numb horror. Phoenix paused, glancing over his shoulder back at him. Then he gave him a wink and a grin before he was escorted back to solitary.

The sight left Miles stunned.

Then viscerally annoyed. His eye twitched as he fought to keep his rising fury in check.

Alright. Fine, Wright. You have a plan. If this is anything like the last times, you're still half-mad.

~o~

August 7
Courthouse 4
9:00 AM

Phoenix von Karma examined himself in one of the mirrors in the hallway, only half listening as Lana doled out the game plan for the trial. Nearly all his supporters were there, including Maya and Pearl who had come especially for the occasion. All of them kept looking over their shoulder with uneasy expressions at his attire. Dressed in his formal navy blue military-esque suit and his hair styled back as tightly as it could possibly be, Phoenix reached into his pocket to pull out his real secret weapon. The magatama glowed softly in his hand, fully charged and ready to rumble.

Just like in so many cases past, he didn't have all the facts, he was way, way out of his depth, his plan was half-cocked at best, and the stakes were higher than Everest. Wouldn't be a turnabout any other way. Anticipation thrummed through him, eager to get this started.

He felt a presence beside him and looked up to see Edgeworth next to him, looking grim. Miles wasn't one for being underprepared. It just wasn't his style. So he was still in a rather foul mood from Phoenix's utter silence about his plan. The raven-haired prosecutor expected it, but he couldn't let Edgeworth know what he was doing and risk getting in the way of recklessly endangering himself.

Unfortunately, this was the only way.

Tentatively, he reached out, taking Miles' hand in his for a quick squeeze. Soon, after this whirlwind was over, they were finally going to be able to talk. To sort out this tangible thing between them that kept getting pushed to the side by the barrage of obstacles.

"Change of plan," Phoenix called out suddenly. "I want to represent myself. With Herr Edgeworth as my second-chair."

Lana blinked at that, but gave him a knowing smile. "I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner," she said, before passing off a stack of case notes to Miles. The chief prosecutor looked positively green. "We'll be in the gallery." With that, she began to shuffle the rest of the gang over to the open doors.

"Wright!" Miles nearly shrieked, "How many times do I- I'm not a defense attorney!"

"Herr von Karma," Phoenix corrected mildly. "And you don't have to do anything. Just sit there and look pretty. I'll do the heavy lifting." If anything, Edgeworth only looked more apoplectic.

Just then, the doors opened and a shadow cast itself across the length of the waiting area. Friedrich von Karma stood with a small army of aides and second-chairs, faces grim as they strode towards the small party. Miles sucked in a sharp breath, imperceptibly edging closer to Phoenix. That fire was back in his eyes, the ugly hatred of the demon prosecutor burning in his gaze. Phoenix held himself more calmly. He'd prepared himself for this encounter and quite frankly he'd been dealing with Friedrich for years now. He knew what to expect.

"Onkel Friedrich," he said with a polite nod in greeting. He put a hand casually into his pocket, feeling for the magatama.

"Niko," the hulking man growled, his black eyebrows furrowing with righteous fury. "I look forward to getting this farce over with," he said, waving a hand over the room as though he were a king showing off his subjects, "and taking you back to Deutschland where you belong."

Nothing. Not a thing. Either the magatama wasn't working or...

"Onkel," Phoenix spoke, ducking his head deferentially, "all due respect, but you know me. Why do you think I have anything to do with Benedikta's murder?" In all his visits to the prison, Friedrich had only asked why he'd done it. Showing pictures, trying to wrangle a confession out of him, guilting him with the weight of the family mantle. Phoenix had simply assumed that Friedrich pulled this stunt now that he was in the States and out of his control, but if there was something else going on...

The way he asked, the righteousness, the betrayal... As if I owe him something.

Friedrich's brow furrowed deeper. For the first time, a flicker of doubt flecked the fresh outrage over his daughter's murder. "Niko," he said slowly, "du hast es mir selbst gesagt."

~o~

Miles went still, all the breath escaping from his lungs. Someone, posing as Phoenix... No, posing as PVK had... confessed? To Friedrich von Karma? With a sudden burst of clarity, he realized the truth. Friedrich wasn't pulling any strings. He was the puppet. The dupe. The fool.

And Wright didn't react. He simply nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting all along...

However, before Miles could take him aside and demand what he was thinking, Blackquill arrived with his own retinue of guards, creating a wide berth in the crowd as he strode up to the group. Taka perched upon his shoulder, talons curled into the thin material of the prisoner's stripes. Blackquill looked Friedrich and his entourage up and down, not in the least bit impressed. "Von Karma-san, I would appreciate it if you and yours would head up to the gallery. For the moment, this is still my case." The two indomitable wills glared each other down, a tension making the air thick and warm. The chief prosecutor had seen many a battle of egos in his line of work, little scuffles here and there from his underlings. It usually never escalated to the level that you were grateful there were no weapons present.

If he wasn't so uneasy, Miles would have been amused to see Friedrich eventually and unwillingly cow to a shackled felon's demands. "You will be mine soon," the german patriarch said in dark promise to Phoenix, as he nodded for his goons to head over to the courtroom gallery.

Breathing just a little easier, Blackquill turned to Miles and Phoenix. He cocked an eyebrow, looking up and down at the von Karma trappings. He glanced to Miles, who could only shrug helplessly in reply. He didn't know what was going on either.

"Wright-dono?" Blackquill asked.

"Herr von Karma, please," Phoenix replied, all stiff politeness, a smattering of hostility in his words - as it always emerged whenever the felon came near him. "I would appreciate it if you could play along."

Blackquill regarded him for a moment, before rolling his eyes. "It's not any of my business if you want to hang yourself," he replied, before making his own way into the courtroom. Miles wasn't fooled for a moment. He witnessed for himself how hard the felon fought to keep Phoenix out of Friedrich von Karma's hands. No, Blackquill was as curious as the rest of them to see just what Phoenix Wright was going to do.

~o~

Phoenix's eyes kept searching the gallery as everyone in the court settled into their places, the din of chatter and speculation echoing off the high ceilings. He wasn't finding what he needed and anxious dread began to pull at the calm front he projected for the crowd, threatening to make him sweat like he did during his very first trial. If this didn't work, he was completely, totally, irrevocably screwed.

The chatter began to hush as Judge Baldy entered the courtroom (of course it was him) and the bailiff called out, "All Rise!" The Judge waved them all back to their seats, before taking his own place. "Docket number 4:24MD2467. State versus... Phoenix von Karma and Miles Edgeworth." The bailiff frowned at that before continuing. "Defendant von Karma is charged with first degree murder of Josephine von Karma. Defendant Edgeworth is charged as an accessory."

The Judge looked over in his direction. Hard to tell if the man recognized him or not. "How do the defendants plead?"

A cold sweat broke out over Phoenix as he cast one last helpless look over the gallery. Friedrich smirked darkly at him, misinterpreting his look of dread. Slowly, he stood, feeling as though he were walking himself up to the gallows. However, he took a long breath, fingertips on the table keeping him steady, as he composed himself. Then he spoke:

"I plead guilty, your Honor."

Quiet shock rippled throughout the courtroom.

"...I'm sorry... What?" Blackquill said slowly, tuning into the collective thought of the courtroom. Clearly, if he was expecting something, it wasn't this.

"What?!" Miles echoed, chair skidding as he spun to stare at him. Phoenix refused to meet his eyes, mentally apologizing for what he was about to do.

"I, Phoenix von Karma, killed Josephine von Karma. I did it by myself. Edgeworth had nothing to do with it," Phoenix replied, forcing the tremble out of his voice. All at once, the gallery cried out, the cacophony of shock and amazement drowning out the gavel the Judge slammed repeatedly. Not in the least of which was Friedrich, who shoved himself up to his feet to bellow at him:

"Explain yourself Niko!" he demanded. "After she saved you, how could you repay her like this!"

Saved me, huh?

Feeling more nervous about this part than any other, Phoenix took Miles' hand in his, holding it up for the world to see. "Josephine was planning on taking me away from my lover," he declared, letting the inference be known. "I'm sorry, Onkel Friedrich, I'm in love with Miles Edgeworth."

Phoenix chanced the tiniest glance at Miles out of the corner of his eye. The man looked utterly catatonic, frozen in silent horror. Edgeworth was not a man who publicly broadcasted that he even possessed feelings and much less in his hallowed Halls of Justice.

I'm so sorry Miles, he cringed, wondering when the man would figure out this is why he wanted him as second-chair. Probably as soon as his brain rebooted itself. He had to keep going before the very real possibility of Edgeworth killing him where he stood.

Letting Miles go, he stepped closer to Friedrich, speaking quickly, his words urgent and pleading, addressing the patriarch who stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. "I'm sorry, Onkel Friedrich. I cannot give him up. But I know that I have betrayed you. I'll pay penance for Josephine's death." He put his hands together, begging for forgiveness. "I'll come back with you to Deutschland and do everything you say. If you just let me have this one thing, I vow to be the perfect son that you always wanted."

The words somehow were having an effect on the man, who watched Phoenix throw himself at his mercy. He struggled to say something, seemingly conflicted. Then he finally asked, "What of Benedikta?"

"I never harmed a hair on her head," Phoenix swore fervently, with all the sincerity that the truth could provide. "You know I wouldn't. You were tricked, Onkel. Do you really think that I could have done such a thing?"

"You killed Josie."

"An accident," Phoenix replied quickly. "Why would I willingly jeopardize everything I've ever worked for? You taught me better." He could see the man waver. The need to have his perfect heir was a double-edged sword. For once, he would use it against the man that wielded it. "Haven't I made you proud, Onkel? I came back from the dead for you. Surely we can overcome a little thing like having a boyfriend." Once again, he heard Edgeworth choke, but he ignored it.

Through sheer force of will, he took Friedrich's large, rough hand and placed it on his own shoulder. A paternal gesture, an offering. "Onkel Friedrich, take me back and I will make you prouder than you ever thought possible."

That harden steel face began to fracture, Friedrich's composure threatened by the self-same emotional wreckage that Phoenix had witnessed so many times. The man had lost so much. He was vulnerable, swayed as Josephine must have swayed him, by the promise of having his family whole. This was why he was brought in as a replacement. What Josephine must have meant to accomplish. This was why he had been molded into a replica before he even met the patriarch. If the man could have nothing else, he would have his heir.

Friedrich's fingers tensed, hesitated, then gripped his shoulder tightly. Almost painfully. "Niko," he spoke in a strained shudder and for a panicked microsecond, Phoenix felt the familiar tug of filial affection. If this carried on, he was doomed. Doomed to head back under his Onkel's wing. To be shackled to the von Karma family. Doomed to lose himself forever.

"LIES!" a voice suddenly screamed out from the gallery, "Betrüger! Fake!"

All eyes turned to see a young man intermingled in the public gallery, decked in black and navy street clothes. He ripped off his hat and glasses, revealing jet black hair and sharp blue eyes. His expression twisted into a snarl, almost feral as his eyes glowed in outrage. He could have been Franziska's brother.

Phoenix looked to the outcrier. The real Phoenix von Karma. And he nearly fell to his knees in sheer relief.

Oh thank God. It worked.