Name: Dahlia Hawthorne
Vehicle: The Rose (A red Portia that was kindly given to Dahlia by an admirer who was brought to the yard by her milkshakes.)
Vehicle Speed: 5/5 (You know the old saying: Fire on the head means fire in the bed- or for those who mess with Dahlia, their deathbed after she runs them down at breakneck speeds.)
Vehicle Armor: 1/5 (Like mother, like daughter.)
Vehicle Handling: 5/5 (Once Dahlia sets out to get revenge, she will not stop until that person is dead- so knowing that her most despised enemies, Phoenix and Mia, are competing, she has gained complete control over her vehicle.)
Special Weapon: 1/5 (Puppy Dog Eyes- Dahlia uses her cute, innocent façade to guilt/distract pathetic male drivers into crashing their cars. Unfortunately, it's only effective on three of the drivers, making it where this weapon is as much a failure as its user.)
Bio: Hello, my name is Dahlia Hawthorne; and I just want to say… that it's an honor for me to be here in your noble presence. Whether or not I win this competition, I will appreciate having been given the opportunity to compete and… and… Screw this! I am sick and tired of having to act like my pathetic prude of a sister whenever I meet new people! You probably know all about my true nature, so I'm going to cut to the chase: I want revenge and I want it now! Revenge on my selfish, bitter crone of a mother; revenge on that worthless idiot, Phoenix Wright; and most of all, I want my revenge on stupid bimbo slut Mia Fey, who effectively tied the noose around my neck! If it wasn't for her, that whiny moron Phoenix would be dead and I'd still be alive and well! That's why when I win this contest, Gavin's going to help me make up for lost time…
Dahlia exits her vehicle at the designated spot, and with a warm smile on her face, elegantly walks up to Kristoph, who is glaring daggers at the red-headed woman as he lets out a low, guttural growl through clenched teeth- a stark contrast to the collected grin that he normally flashes when talking with others.
"Hello, Krissie. I'm honored that you allowed little old me to participate in your competition and even more enthralled at having won." Dahlia says in a sickeningly sweet voice which only succeeds in making the ex-attorney growl even louder as he bears his teeth and clenches his fists.
"I'm sure you are." Kristoph hisses with venom in his voice.
Crocodile tears start welling up in Dahlia's eyes, her body slightly trembling. "K-Krissie… Why are you acting so hostile? Don't you remember me? I thought… I thought that we had a connection…"
"Like I could ever forget what YOU did to ME, you sick little harpy!" Kristoph huffs. "And stop with the cute, innocent girl act! You and I both know that it is utter crap and that underneath it all you are a complete bitch."
Dahlia's face contorts into a scowl that matches Kristoph's.
"Well excuse me for trying to make things less awkward between us!" Dahlia snaps.
"That ship already sailed when you brought your strumpet self before me and ruined my day! Let me guess what your wish is… All the men in the tristate area have heard of your reputation and refuse to be seen with you, so you wish for them to fall madly in love with you…? Your 'hair' is actually a wig and you want me to make it real…? You've recently contracted an incurable STD that is killing you in a slow, painful manner and want me to make it go away…? I do so hope that it's the lattermost one…" Kristoph sneers with a wry smirk.
Dahlia growls at the host of Debauched Steel. "It's none of those! And as for the incident that caused this, it was my twin sister- not me!- So if you want to call anyone a slut, then please direct those comments to my stupid sister!"
"I don't have time for your sick games, you twisted succubus." Kristoph groans. "Just tell me your wish so that I never have to see your two-timing face ever again!"
"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Dahlia sarcastically responds, making sure to give Kristoph the warmest grin that she can muster. "I want to live out my life like it would have been had that insufferable bitch Mia Fey not incarcerated me!"
A sinister grin spreads across Kristoph's face. "Granted…"
Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Dahlia finds herself in a college classroom, where the professor, an old man with frizzled white hair and who's wearing coke-bottle glasses and trousers that are up to his shoulders, discusses literary elements from the 19th century.
I'm back… Dahlia thinks to herself as she looks around the room. I'm really back…
Dahlia's thoughts are interrupted when her professor gazes over at her and points the piece of chalk that he's holding in her general direction.
"Quickly, Ms. Hawthorne. Describe the differences between the works of Wordsworth and Whitman." The professor demands in an unenthusiastic, monotone voice.
Dahlia cringes and starts to sweat. It's not easy to remember the distinctions between poets after you've been absent from a class for over a decade- an absence which includes being arrested and executed.
"Well, um… Y-You see… In- in retrospect…" Dahlia struggles to get her answer, or lack thereof, out as the professor gives her an impatient glare and adjusts his coke-bottle glasses.
"We're waiting, Ms. Hawthorne…" The professor groans.
What is the answer to this stupid question!? Dahlia internally screams as she starts to fidget in her seat.
"I know the answer…" A familiar voice arrogantly states.
Dahlia looks over to her right and, much to her shock and horror, sees Mia, looking as she did before Redd White killed her, with a smug grin on her face sitting in the seat next to her.
Dahlia's eyes widen before morphing into a glare. "Mia Fey!? You're not in this class!"
"Regardless, I know the answer to the question."
"Then what is it?" Dahlia growls.
"I'm not telling." Mia sneers.
"Then why tell me that you know, you stupid slut!?" Dahlia screams at the top of her lungs, earning her strange looks from her classmates.
"Ms. Hawthorne!" The professor snaps. "I will not tolerate those kinds of outbursts in my classroom. If you don't know the answer to the question, then just say so."
"B-but it wasn't my fault! Mia Fey started it!" Dahlia points to Mia, but all the professor and the other students can see is an empty seat.
The professor slowly shakes his head. "Ms. Hawthorne, there is no student by that name in this class. Now, I have no issues if your sanity is slipping away- Poe was like that and he became a cornerstone of Romanticism; but I will not tolerate this sort of behavior in my classroom. Understood?"
"What are you talking about? She's sitting right there! You'd have to be blind not to notice her flashing her breasts like some floozy!"
"Riiight, Ms. Hawthorne, whatever you say…" Disbelievingly states with a roll of his eyes, believing that the quickest way to resolve this issue is to just play along with the red-headed girl's delusions.
"But I'm telling you the truth! Mia Fey is sitting next to me and is taunting me with the answer to the question!" Dahlia states with exasperation in her voice.
Mia shrugs her shoulders. "Hey, it's not my fault that you're too much of a failure to know the answer."
"I'm not a failure, you stupid bitch!" Dahlia screams as she picks up a book on her desk and chucks it at Mia, only to see it fly right through her before it hits the mousy girl two seats to her right, causing her to yelp in pain as she grips her bleeding nose.
"I've had enough of this, Ms. Hawthorne! Get out of my classroom!" The professor orders, pointing his piece of chalk at the door.
"But-" Dahlia tries to plead.
"OUT!"
Dahlia gets out of her seat and storms out of the classroom and, much to her disdain, is followed by Mia.
"Were you always like this in your classes?" The busty attorney asks, grinning in delight at her cousin's misery.
"Only when you're trying to pick a fight with me, Madam Fey!" Dahlia starts to walk towards the buildings exit and notices that Mia's still following her. "Okay, what gives? Why do you keep following me around? This is supposed to be world where you never uncovered my crimes."
"Remember what you said when you were possessing my sister? 'Even when the body dies, the spirit, the ego, it lives on… forever.'"
"So?"
"It's just that. Even though you may have killed me in Gavin's competition, my spirit still lives on; and just because Gavin sent you to a world where you're an innocent bystander, I will never forget, nor forgive, your crimes and will make it my afterlife's work to make your life a living hell- just like I did in that classroom."
"You're going to ruin my life by pestering me?" Dahlia flips her hair with a huff of derision. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, I may bluff, Dahlia, but I'm as serious as you are a failure." Mia sneers.
"I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to your rather large derriere." Dahlia sweetly retorts, cocking her head as she flashes Mia a warm grin.
True to her word, Mia begins to relentlessly pester Dahlia no matter where she goes or what she does. Whether she's eating…
In a café, Dahlia is about to start eating a garden salad that's loaded with thousand island dressing, when suddenly-
Mia appears in the chair in front of Dahlia. "You're seriously eating a salad with such an unhealthy dressing? Are you trying to get as fat as your testimonies are flawed?"
"Are you trying to be as bitchy as you are dense?" Dahlia growls before taking a bite of her salad.
Or stuck in traffic…
Dahlia is sitting in her car behind rush-hour traffic that is barely moving.
"Come on! Why isn't anyone moving!?" The red-head snarls as she repeatedly honks her horn.
Mia appears in the passenger's seat. "Maybe a song will calm your nerves…"
Dahlia slowly turns her head to glower at her cousin. "Don't. Even. Think. About. It." Dahlia warns through clenched teeth.
Unfortunately for her, Mia just ignores her and proceeds to sing the most irritating car song that she can think of.
"99 bottles of milk on the wall, 99 bottles of miiilk, take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of milk on the wall. 98 bottles of milk on the wall, 98 bottles of miiilk-"
Dahlia pounds her fist against the steering wheel. "I get the point, Madame Fey. You're being veeery irritating. Now can you please stop so that I can get through this traffic in peace?"
Once again, Mia ignores her cousin and continues singing as if no objections were made and starts verse three with 97 bottles of milk.
"What the hell is causing this traffic!?" Dahlia blares full-blast on the horn. "MOVE!"
Meanwhile at the front of the long line of cars, Grossberg's vehicle is parked in the middle of the road as he lays in the back seat, his pants removed and his legs above his head, like an infant being changed, while Robert Hammond kneels next to him holding a tube of ointment.
"Hurry, Robert! There's no time! I can't hold out any longer! Grossberg screams in pain.
"Mr. Grossberg, I may have worked with you for over 20 years, but this is absurd!" Hammond protests.
"But Robert! My hemorrhoids are a'boilin and I need you to apply my ointment in my buttock before they erupt like Mt. Vesuvius!" Grossberg begs, which causes Hammond to understandably cringe.
"If that's the case, then why don't you apply your own ointment?"
"Because I can never quite reach them and the ointment makes my fingers smelly. Now quit your dawdling before I turn this car into Willy Wonka's chocolate river!"
"Fine…!" Hammond reluctantly admits with a look of disgust before squirting a small glob of ointment on his finger and, with a shaky wrist and light whimpering, applies it to Grossberg's afflicted area.
"YES!" Grossberg loudly moans, much to Hammond's further horror. "Oh, yes! Cortizone 10, take me AWAAAYYYY!"
Or laying out her outfit for the next day…
Dahlia is in her apartment, looking through her closet, which contains about 20 of the same dress that she wears every day, when suddenly Mia appears next to her.
"Guess you're a failure in the fashion department as well. What? Was Costco's having a sale on tacky summer dresses?"
"Really?" Dahlia huffs in disdain. "YOU'RE giving ME fashion advice? The woman who owns a single outfit that wouldn't be out of place in a bad porno movie is criticizing my ensemble?"
"I guess that I shouldn't be surprised that you wouldn't be a stranger to the elements found in bad pornography." Mia flashes Dahlia a wry smile, causing the latter to flash the former a scowl.
"And just what is that supposed to mean, Madame Fey?" The red-headed woman slightly raises her voice.
"You know what I mean… Fuzzy Wonderland…"
"Whatever, I don't have time for this." Dahlia grunts as she makes her way to her bathroom.
Or even when she's showering…
As Dahlia is washing herself in her shower while humming the tune of Distant Traces of Beauty, Mia appears right behind her and whispers "Mine are bigger…"
"That's it!" Dahlia screams at the top of her lungs before storming out of the shower, slipping on the dress that she planned to wear the next day, and rushing out of the apartment- but not before stopping in the kitchen and taking a steak knife with her.
After driving like a bat out of Hell in the dead of night, Dahlia arrives at her destination: the Grossberg Law Offices.
Inside Grossberg's office, Mia- the one native to this universe and not the Mia ghost that has been busy haunting Dahlia- is busy dusting her boss' precious fisherman painting.
"Stupid Grossberg!" Mia grumbles to herself. "Making me stay late to dust his ugly fisherman painting. I swear, I have half a mind to take that painting and shove it right up his-"
Mia's rant is interrupted by the sound of the office's door being forcibly flung open by Dahlia, who glares at the female attorney with a gaze as fiery as her hair color and breathes slow, angry snorts through flared nostrils as she brandishes her knife.
Mia turns to face her demented cousin and lets out a shriek of terror. "Dahlia! What are you doing here!?"
"DIE!" The red-headed almost-serial killer screeches at the top of her lungs before lunging at Mia with blinding speed.
Without even having time to realize what is happening, Mia is unable to react as Dahlia stabs the young attorney in the jugular, causing a stream of blood to poor out of her neck like a busted water bottle as her body slams against the wall before slowly sliding to the floor.
Seeing her handiwork in the form of Mia's lifeless corpse, Dahlia can't help but utter her first genuine laugh in years- a laugh that starts off as a small chuckle before quickly evolving into a loud, shrill, unnerving cackle.
At this point, any relatively sane killer would have just walked away from the scene and taken satisfaction in a job well-done- but since when has Dahlia ever been close to sane?
With her laugh remaining strong and her eyes widening, Dahlia takes her knife and proceeds to quickly and repeatedly stab Mia's limp corpse in rapid succession, constantly yelling "Who's the failure NOW, Madame Fey!?", almost as if she's a child in a moon bounce that wants to savor every last moment before their parents tear them away from their fun kicking and screaming- which is exactly what happens ten minutes later when a trembling Grossberg directs four armed police officers into the room and, by some miracle, they manage to disarm Dahlia and slap a pair of handcuffs on her wrists as they drag her out with her laughing and constantly yelling Mia's name for all to hear.
Given the mental state that she was arrested in, which has not improved in the week leading up to her trial, Dahlia's insanity, as well as her crime of murdering Mia, is shown as clear as day to the Court; which declares that she will be sentenced to a mental asylum, where she will spend the rest of her days in a dark, dank, rat-infested padded room where the sounds of her deranged laughter fills the air as she repeatedly yells Mia's name.
Outside the asylum, Kristoph stands outside the main entrance and snickers to himself before flashing a cold look at the camera.
"For any other person in this situation, I would say a witty comment about how the struggles we face give us purpose and a will to strive for greater things, but after what that slut did to me back when I went to Ivy University, she doesn't deserve it…"
Suddenly, as if someone flicked a switch in Kristoph's head, his cool, collected smile returns. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching Debauched Steel."
A/N: I would like to thank The Scollard for submitting the idea for this chapter.
In regards to why I was being so vague about Kristoph's anger towards Dahlia, I plan to go into detail about that in a future fanfic revolving around Kristoph; but to give you a hint as to what happened, it involved seeing his arch nemesis in a hideous pink sweater.
