Case Two

The petal drips. The boy wakes.

Hunter becomes hunted. The world quakes.

Darkness glows crimson

in spilled blood. Winds blow a dandelion

apart.

Shadows grin and play

Sunlight glinted off the jagged ends of broken glass.

An early morning breeze tickled the pot plant's glassy leaves. Quiet.

Deafening quiet.

With shaking hands, Pearl tugged her luggage carrier over the shards spilled on the floor. The agency entrance missed a circle of glass near the handle and without thinking much; she pushed the door aside and entered. A bustle came from Mr. Wright's office and excited to finally meet everyone again, she pulled her carrier through the hallways and halted abruptly as a figure clad in black, jumped out the window.

Box files tumbled to the carpet, plastic sleeves ripped from the insides. The wide wooden shelf behind Mr. Wright's desk missed books and files. Pages fluttered, a rope dangled out of the window, its middle frayed.

A swell of voices reverberated through the corridors; she recognized Mr. Wright and his daughter. Their footsteps grew closer and feeling guilty for no reason, Pearl waited; hands folded in front of her kimono.

A trickle of juice ran across the table and plopped on the carpet. The voices in the corridor faded into urgent whispers as the situation slowly dawned on them.

Phoenix rounded the corner, fingers tightly gripping the door. The heady aroma of grapes hung heavily in the air and he paled as the ransacked office came to view. He smiled shakily to Pearl, the young woman trembled, tears in her eyes.

"Daddy?" Trucy joined him. "Oh..." She broke off, a hand to her mouth.

Picking the shell of a file, Phoenix tossed it on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes..." Carefully avoiding the mess on the floor, he sunk heavily in his chair. "Daddy got robbed," Wright added with a sardonic smile and sighed.

08:00 a.m.

Wright and Co. Law offices

Lounge

He sipped coffee and shrunk in a corner, avoiding the policemen entering and leaving the offices. Detective Skye munched on her ever present bag of snackoos and her teeth grinded like a machine as she irritably barked orders to preserve the scene. Trucy passed, balancing a tray crammed with sandwiches and cupcakes and Sora grabbed one, relishing the fluffy buttercream melting on his tongue.

No matter how much breakfast the attorneys ate, they always crumbled when it came to Trucy's pastries.

The mug burned his sands and he wrapped it with his scarf. Sora dreaded the day the KBWA called him in for training and Vanitas vowed to keep the Association as far from him as possible. Grateful and worried at the offer, Sora hoped his twin keep within limits.

This was Vanitas, who didn't know the meaning of limits. He stretched the proverbial lines endlessly.

"Please move from there," Ema ordered and tossed a snackoo, the chocolate snack landed in Sora's coffee mug and bobbed.

He shuffled out of the corner and searched for another people free environment to inhabit. Police and forensics combed the offices methodically, starting with Phoenix's office and working outwards. They talked to a distraught Mr. Wright and the boss replied in grave tones.

When Sora first arrived, his head swam from the noise and the sheer amount of people in the agency. Police led a young woman away in a pair of handcuffs. Tear tracks traced wet lines on her cheeks and her shoulders collapsed inwards. Wright tried to talk to the suspect, but an officer marched her past curious onlookers and an excited crowd snapping photos on their cellphones. Sora entered the office and immediately hugged the wall, trying to be invisible. He pieced the situation from snippets of conversation floating through the air.

Apparently a burglar burgled the agency, the cafe on the previous floor heard the crash of breaking glass and informed the police and they found Ms. Fey, Fey? at the scene of the crime, surrounded by an pallid Phoenix and a confused Trucy.

They promptly arrested Pearl Fey as the prime suspect.

"If you are searching for an empty office, try Apollo's," Wright said and smiled tiredly. "Although, I think it's better if you follow the investigation," he shrugged, "I want you to defend Pearls."

The soggy snackoo in Sora's mug sunk to the bottom and he regarded his half-drunk coffee in revulsion. Following the forensics team sounded exactly like the kind of work he wanted to avoid.

"Is Ms. Fey... Pearls, related to Maya?" he asked and Wright nodded. The boss abruptly grabbed the mug from his hands and slurped the rest of the coffee. "There is a snackoo in there," Sora anxiously informed. "Detective Skye threw it in, she's got good aim," he mused. "I think the culprit was still here when Pearls entered the office?" Wright nodded again and handed the empty cup back to Sora, a dark lump formed at the bottom. "He escaped as soon as she got into the room, drawn by the noise... the thief could be-"

"What's going on in here?" A yell reverberated through the corridors. "Mr. Wright, what happened?" Apollo shouted.

"Let's see," Phoenix calmly retorted. "Someone broke into my office around dawn and stole a lot of confidential information though none of my legal books were touched, I suppose the thief isn't a lawyer," he laughed. "Polly, I want you to help Sora, he'll be defending Pearls," saying this, Phoenix dove back into the stream of policemen and questions.

Apollo rubbed the bracelet biting into his wrist and with Sora in a tow, weaved to his office. Athena greeted him cheerfully on the way and searched for clues alongside the forensics team, taking care to avoid Ema's choleric stare.

"Is there any coffee left?" Justice asked, nodding to Sora's hands, "I need something to eat."

"There... there's only a mucky snackoo in my mug." Sora reddened in understanding when Trucy walked in and placed sandwiches and coffee on the table. Her smile was strained as she snatched Sora's empty mug and whisked out. "...I'll get statements from the investigators," Sora played with the ends of his scarf, "you um...finish breakfast." He shuffled out of the office as Apollo wolfed down his food.

Outside, Sora nearly bumped into Maya.

A storm gripped her normally serene gaze. "I want to help you with the investigation," she decided and Sora rubbed his eyes, the golden magatama around her neck diffused a half-transparent, orange trail. "Pearly is my family, she wanted to visit me and right away she is accused of theft." Maya seethed and clenched her robe. "I didn't get to see her; we are going to the detention center this very moment." She whirled to the entrance, her hair cascading like an ebony waterfall down her back.

Wait...

Grabbing his blazer from the lounge, Sora hurriedly followed her as she regally swept down the stairs and hailed a taxi cab. Outside, the sun baked the pavement and barely did the put the seatbelt on, and the taxi shot off, tires squealing. Fisting a notepad out of his pocket, Sora formulated a questionnaire.

He had a lot to ask Pearls.

The drab, beige walls of the training complex transformed into an industrial warehouse. Shipping containers stacked against one wall and the floor reflected fluorescent tube lights situated high in the ceiling. The synthesized imagery scattered for a brief second when a box hit the floor. Leaning against the wall, Vanitas eyed the cargo, sealed with four electronic locks. The man delivering straightened from his crouched position and exaggeratedly rubbed his back.

"This is the latest delivery, the boss asked you to inspect it," he said.

An Organization XIII logo looped endlessly around the tape winding the box. The vice-chief and Fair held their respective keycards to the lock and two of the lights changed from a warning red to cyan. The personnel from Organization XIII held their cards to the last two slots and with a pneumatic hiss, the locks disengaged and the box folded apart.

Grey styrofoam sponge cradled a stack of new weaponry, the tang of metal rose in the air. Zack picked an arrow gun and the sleek, venom purple casing lit under his touch. An arrowhead soared out of the gun and fireworks sparked against the training complex's indestructible walls. Fair fiddled with the weapon, an intense frown on his face; the gun automatically reloaded, a crosshair synched with his mako infused eyeball and several targets appeared around the room.

One painted Vanitas' forehead yellow and he scowled as his mentor pretended to fire at him.

"Pew," Zack laughed and cautiously replaced the weapon. "Sakuraba," he called and a bored teen, the game lounge guy, stepped out of the shadows. "Check the weapons."

"What do you think?" The older of the two Organization XIII couriers asked Tifa. "Xaldin pulled all-nighters on these," he drawled. "This crop of weapons are our best yet."

Xaldin laced his hands behind his back and breathed uncomfortably next to Neku.

"They are advanced," Lockhart agreed, gloved hands clenched warily. "From a preliminary investigation, I can see they auto reload and target anything moving," she gestured to a camera swiveling across the room, "when the targets appeared, the camera had one."

The man raised his hands apologetically. "When I tested them, I tried to streamline the automated target processing software, but it turned out to be a bigger hassle than I thought." He smiled at Vanitas and the scar stitched across his right cheek wrinkled. "At this stage, it should be more than enough for the government, they aren't using these to hunt heartless or nobodies; and Saix, the software developer, didn't assist," he continued. "He told me he's busy writing a program for a new range of laptops." The man scoffed, "Youth these days."

Another smile lifted the corner of his mouth as Tifa turned her attention to Neku; Vanitas glowered at the eye-patched man.

"You are new." The courier slung his arm around Vanitas' shoulder. "Did I introduce myself?" he theatrically questioned, "of course not, how rude of me! Xigbar, Level 2 at Organization XIII," he jerked his chin at the crate, "your humble weapons developer."

Xaldin deplorably eyed his partner and shifted his scrutiny to Zack balancing a weapon in his hands as Neku passed a hand over it. A pin on the teenager's jacket glowed lilac and he nodded. Fair placed the weapon in another crate and the duo repeated the process.

"When did you join the KBWA?" Xigbar questioned. "Organization XIII doesn't look like the type to produce weapons does it?" he smirked, "the public views us as a company designed to deliver the best customer service with top of the range products and clothing."

Stiffening, Vanitas zipped his jacket, normally he enjoyed exhibiting his designer clothing; however, the way the man stared interestedly, made him ill at ease.

"Axel sketched those designs not long ago." Xigbar, oblivious to Vanitas' squirming, pointed to the fur lined coat. "Organization XIII has become a household name, what with smartphones and tablets and cosmetics flooding the market; too many people forget we started as a weapon manufacturing company. Do you have a Keyblade?" Xigbar abruptly demanded as Vanitas shoved his hands irritably in his pockets.

He broke away from the old man. "You ask too many questions," he scathed, skin crawling when the weapons tester leered. "And yes, I have a keyblade," Vanitas haughtily stated and blinked when Zack shot him an inscrutable glance. "What's it to you?"

Xigbar hefted a sword hilt from the crate. "This was inspired by the Keyblade," he explained and a blade materialized from the hilt. "Long have I tried to emulate a weapon which could be completely dismissed and summoned in an instant. I mean," he smoothly unclipped the Buster sword from Zack's harness and Vanitas bristled on behalf of his mentor, "isn't carrying this around cumbersome?" Xigbar swung the giant sword in an arc across the air.

The Buster sword slipped from his grasp and clanged to the ground in a loud shriek of metal.

"Oops," Xigbar grinned. "My old hands can't bear such weight." The wide blade reflected his scarred face. "It's simply laying there, if this was a Keyblade, it'd dissolve and return to its owner's hands the next time it was needed." He crouched to the floor, one hand on his chin, long ponytail swinging over his shoulder as he inspected the sword. "It's very old," he concluded.

Dumping the next weapon in Vanitas' arms, Zack picked his fallen sword reverently. "This sword is precious to me," he wiped the blade with a microfiber cloth, "it's a relic from my teacher who used it before me. He passed it on after he left." Fair raised the blade, its pointed edge deliberately hung at Xigbar's forehead. "Be careful with it," Zack growled and with a smooth motion, clipped it back on his harness.

The taxi screeched to a stop as a blonde jaywalked; Sora's heart demanded a way out of his chest and the driver rolled down the window and unleashed a slew of swear words on the teenager. The boy stopped half-way across the road, utterly bewildered and smiled apologetically.

Isn't he the Organization delivery boy? Sora speculated as the child merrily continued, stopping cars and dashing confusedly, arms raised in the air. He hopped on the pavement and regarded the high rise buildings perplexedly. The delivery guy normally rode a scooter and sported a crisp, company uniform. Too young, must be someone else, Sora resumed reviewing his questionnaire.

The taxi turned a corner and Maya's gaze lingered at the place the boy last vanished.

11:10 a.m.

Police precinct

Detention center.

"Mystic Maya!" Pearl exclaimed from behind the thick pane of glass. "I'm... I'm so sorry!" she apologized and bowed, the bauble attached to her fringe bobbing. "I wanted to surprise you and Mr. Wright but instead I made trouble for everyone, I should've written a letter to you before I came," she sobbed, glistening tears dripping off the end of her chin.

Maya sat on the opposite chair and smiled soothingly as Pearl calmed and took her seat. "I'm happy to see you," the head of the Fey clan warmly stated, "and don't worry about trouble, the newbie needs a lot of experience." Maya pointed a thumb at Sora who buried his face in his scarf.

I don't want to earn experience like this.

"I'm Clavius," he introduced himself timidly. "Mr. Wright asked me to defend you." Sora politely declined when Maya vacated the chair and gestured him to sit. She impatiently yanked him down and Pearl giggled lightly. "I...I have questions for you," Sora checked his notepad and involuntarily gasped when Maya tugged it out of his hand. "...My notes?" he feebly asked. "I have a list of questions I need to ask Ms. Pe-"

"Look at her first," Maya instructed, a hand on her hip, the golden magatama dangling in Sora's face. "Look at Pearly and tell me she is innocent."

Panicking, he glanced at the guard; he thought the man smirked amusedly; and at the camera, recording the entire fiasco for those control room people to laugh over. Behind the bulletproof screen of glass, Pearl waited patiently, another magatama diffusing a cyan glow on top of her chest. After scrutinizing everything in the sparsely furnished detention center and with Maya's smile stretching on the verge of threatening, Sora finally piloted his eyes at Pearl.

A strong presence hung behind the girl, the ghostly whispers of the dead. She wore the same aura as Maya, but it coiled more intensely. The presence tasted strange, like ancient dirt and the musty air of a crypt. Sora flushed when his stare continued for a beat too long and opted to drill holes in his shoes.

"What do you think?" Maya prompted and the guard coughed, they were running out of time.

Of course she is innocent. "Ms. Pearls happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time," Sora droned in a barely audible tone and remembered to speak up. "She is innocent." A fleeting smile crossed his face when the defendant sighed in relief and leaned back in her spindly chair. "I have questions-"

Again, the spirit medium interrupted him.

"Yes she is innocent but do you believe in her? When you are defending a client, you must believe in their innocence with your heart and soul!" Maya passionately declared, the serenity in her eyes taking a sudden, tempestuous turn.

Yeah, Trucy already told me. I believe in my client. Sora sagged resignedly.

This is taking far too long.

"Simple belief won't be enough." Maya crouched to Sora's level and he hurriedly shuffled back, chair scraping the tiles. "Nick chose you because he believes you have a latent talent." Sora shook his head. "The trials his firm takes on are one of the toughest!" she warned. "I remember Nick and I once cross-examined a parrot." Maya's expression slackened as her mind wandered through the embellished avenues of memory.

"I watched the case on television!" Sora squeaked excitedly, cobalt irises animatedly gleaming. "It was for the trial of prosecutor Miles Edgeworth," he tucked his muffler under his chin. "You and Mr. Wright were amazi-"

"I'm sorry," the guard interjected and yawned. "Time is up. Visitors are asked to leave the detention area." Sora deflated. "Please return tomorrow."

Pearl and Maya bade each other goodbye, the warden escorted the defendant back to her cell and she followed, her gait elegantly solemn.

Outside, the leader of the Fey clan sat on a bench and unwrapped a burger, Sora glumly tapped his phone and inwardly lamented on a day wasted. Maya offered him a burger and despite his growling stomach, he refused.

"When you are defending a client," chewing punctuated Maya's words, "you must try to be confident in front of them." Sora self-consciously hid behind his woolen muffler. "Even if you feel like nothing makes sense, even if the case is absolutely hopeless, even if you want to cry, you should always be strong for your client. It's not important just to believe in them and go the extra mile," she patted her lips on a napkin and with frightening speed, unwrapped a second burger and bit into it, "being confident in front of them is the highest trust you can show your client. And when a bond between an attorney and a client is created, that's when you can make miracles."

She pointed to the sky, where an evening star winked.

"You will get all sorts of clients Sora, some of them are more trouble than they are worth, there were several times Nick almost broke down, but he always believed in his clients...mostly." Maya tore a hefty chunk of her burger and offered her last one to Sora.

He reluctantly accepted it, unwrapping the greasy paper and inhaling the aroma of meat and cheese.

"I know you can do it," Maya declared and licked her lips. "Tomorrow, you're going to show Pearly you are a lawyer who can be depended on.

Despite his churning stomach, Sora smiled.

The computer beeped shut and Xemnas rose from his easy chair, a sorcerer nobody presented him a tablet and he waved it away impatiently. His office provided a sweeping view of the commercial district, beyond the floor to ceiling windows, Los Angeles unfolded in a patchwork of color, grey streets, shiny cars and pools of mellow light.

At the far end of his room, the door opened to admit Roxas. The delivery boy respectfully marched across the carpet, footfalls muffled. He greeted and placed his latest report on the oak wood desk, barely a minute ago, Marluxia delivered his, apparently, the latest rose tinted blushed flew off the shelves at record speed.

A message popped on his phone. Meeting with the Amano Group.

Screens covered half of his office, playing a myriad of news channels. Reporters, immaculate in subtle make up, spoke, their lips moving but making no sound. A group of stained coffee mugs clustered around a pen holder on the CEO's table, like they conducted a coup-d'état.

Fixing his tie in the reflection of a window, Xemnas turned when Roxas skulked towards the door.

"Roxas," Xemnas called. He gathered his long, silver hair in a silk ribbon and tied it in a high ponytail. "You will accompany me to the Gatewater Hotel for a meeting," he announced and the delivery boy's face lit in the afterglow of praise. "Get the car," the CEO hoarsely commanded and with a file tucked under his arm, brushed past Roxas, resting his hand briefly on the blonde's head.

"Can Xion tag along?" Roxas brazenly asked and stood taller when his boss stopped. A sorcerer held the door apart. "She'll be delighted to-"

"Don't," Xemnas gnarled huskily, "mention the puppet's name in my presence." Roxas swallowed but maintained eye contact. "Get the car." Xemnas tucked a stylus in his pocket, the fabric of his shirt stretched tightly across broad shoulders. "I'll be late for my meeting." His irises flashed bright gold in the half shadow of the corridor and the door banged shut.

"Xion isn't a puppet," Roxas dejectedly muttered under his breath. The sorcerer nobody ignored him and organized the desk.

The crate remained empty on the floor, its contents piled in three neat bundles. Headphones clamped permanently on his head, Sakuraba pinned another badge on his lapel and inspected the weapons again.

Xigbar followed the teen's every move.

"There are three grades," Neku stated as Tifa typed a report on a tablet. "The most advanced are the projectile weapons," he selected a gun from the pile, "although the targeting software is off." Xigbar gritted his teeth. "The second grade weapons are the sword types, you have an axe in there too…" Neku addressed Xaldin. "Have you seen anyone use an axe in this day and age?" The teen picked a lance. "What is this? You aren't making weapons for the KBWA." He dropped the lance and the floor pixelated. "The government needs standard weapons, you should've installed a manual option in there."

He moved to the last pile, mostly a heap of hilts.

"What the hell are these?" Neku kicked one of the hilts and a light blade flashed outward. "This isn't a proper weapon. No targeting software," another pin on his graphic t-shirt pulsed, "its energy source is tiny, the weapon won't last in prolonged combat." He picked the sword. "It cuts like a laser, good if you want to assassinate someone."

The teen finished his investigation and released the hilt to the floor.

"These weapons are still in the experimental stage. I can't say any more than that," he finished and pulled off his headphones as Tifa thanked him. An mp3 player hung like a lanyard around Neku's neck and he retreated to the edge of the warehouse, a pop tune blaring from the device.

Picking a hilt from the floor, Xigbar crushed it in his hands. Gears, a silicon chip and tiny circuits rained to the ground. "I need more time," he calmly drew his weapon, an arrow gun. "They weren't up to my standards either."

The vice-chief lifted an eyebrow. "We don't need the weapons to meet your ridiculously perfectionist standards." She closed her eyes when a blast from the gun demolished the stack of hilts. "The KBWA gave you a list of specifications," a puddle of metal ran along the ground, "you were supposed to construct the weapons according to them." Another shot bounced off the floor and a grin split Xigbar's face in half. "Stop." she commanded and he aptly complied. "We want another shipment as soon as possible," Tifa said, "Auron will handle the management."

"I'll miss my buddy Zack," Xigbar drawled, slyly glancing at Vanitas who ignored him.

"Fair has other things to do," Lockhart informed. "Thank you for your time, we will handle the discarding of the weapons."

The couriers sloppily saluted and with a curt nod, Tifa exited the training complex.

A low hum reverberated in the chamber and the warehouse faded, a string of electric green digits ran along the walls and changed to beige. Zack packed the remainder of the weapons back into the crate under Xaldin's hawk eyed watch and Vanitas crouched to help, huffing angrily when the eye patched man smiled.

What did he find so damn funny?

"We'll be taking our leave," Xigbar announced and Xaldin fell behind him, his expression as blank as the training complex walls. "Guess we will see each other again," he said and Zack grunted in affirmative. "Drop by when you have time." Xigbar winked at Vanitas and the rookie hissed irritably under his breath.

"Xiggy is pretty irritating, but he's on a level few can hope to emulate," Fair disclosed when Organization XIII's members left, chattering all the way to the elevator. "Don't let his mannerisms get to you."

Vanitas tossed an elaborate gun into the crate. "He makes my skin crawl," he grouched. "I hate him; maybe I should poke his other eye out."

Zack grinned ruefully. "Don't pick a fight with people you can't handle," he cryptically advised and hefted the crate. "By the way Puppy, don't you have lessons to attend to?"

Solitary

Dusk

Solitary Cell 13

A bottle of Ariadonny nail polish sparkled under the harsh lights. A dictionary occupied the small round table and Kristoph snapped his book shut when footsteps stopped at the doors of his cell.

"What do you want, Wright?" he asked, glasses glinting.

As usual, Phoenix's eyes raked across the solitary cell, taking in the plush chair, the book case lined against the wall, overflowing with letters and leather bound volumes. Cold air seeped from the cell as if the occupant were a block of never melting ice.

"My confidential files are missing." Wright gripped a column, knuckles tightening around steel.

The corner of Kristoph's mouth lifted into a mocking grin. "And you think I have something to do with it?" Phoenix's fierce glare answered his question. "Hmph, I have better things to do than ask some brainless heathen to pilfer your files." Gavin checked his spotless nails. "Now if you don't mind, I have reading to do."

"Kristoph-"

"I have nothing to do with the theft," Gavin cut in. "Stop wasting my time." He angrily glowered at the camera Phoenix took to wearing every time they met. "Leave, you are an eyesore."

The former attorney gritted his teeth when Phoenix Wright peeled off the bars and left.

A/N: Ah Gavin, to think I thought of him as a decent lawyer. Well thanks to him, we got hobo Phoenix. I have a feeling Hobo Phoenix's god-like perception and knowledge only lasted for that one game.

Read and review, virtual cookies to everyone. Your support is always appreciated.