Name: Wendy Oldbag

Vehicle: Battle Axe (Like its driver, this rust bucket is loud, very active despite its age, and spews only hot air thanks to a broken air conditioner that Oldbag hasn't gotten around to fixing.)

Vehicle Armor: 2/5 (Oldbag insists that her vehicle isn't sturdy because it's a flower as beautiful, delicate, and refined as her. Of course, we didn't believe that for even a second, but when we told Oldbag that she has all the beauty and refinement of a dried grapefruit, she went on an hour-long rant about how our generation couldn't appreciate beauty because our faces are glued to computers.)

Vehicle Speed: 4/5 (Oldbag wanted a higher speed rating, but those whippersnappers down at the DMV threatened to take her license away if she drove anything faster after what happened the last time. So what if she swerved off the road and fatally wounded three people because she caught a glimpse of her Edgey-poo outside of the Prosecutor's Office? The man was bending over to pick up a file that he accidentally dropped. You'd have to be crazy not to look over at him. But then again, with how inefficient those whippersnappers at the DMV are, Oldbag has her doubts.)

Vehicle Handling: Very Tight (When you spend as many years stalking people as Oldbag, you learn that one of the most important keys to success is always keeping up with your target. If they zig, you zig; if they zag, you zag; and if they drive a car with top-of-the-line handling, then you upgrade your vehicle to do the same.)

Special Weapon: 3/5 (Stalker's Fury- Never provoke a person who has dedicated their existence to stalking people that they have feelings for, especially someone who has a car full of merchandise based off of said people. Otherwise, they may just give your vehicle a little surprise. Maybe your view will be obstructed thanks to some Juan Corrida hair gel splattering on your windshield; or perhaps your hood will be dented in by a Jack Hammer bowling ball. But no matter what Oldbag throws out her window, it won't be a pleasant experience.)

Bio: The youth of today are the worst! They're selfish, ungrateful brats who don't listen to a single word their elders have to say. Back in my day, if an adult told us to do something, we did it because we were taught respect. Nowadays, whippersnappers are raised to believe that each and every one of them is a special little snowflake. That's why they never want to work! Back in my day, if we wanted something, we worked for it- we got paper routes, started lemonade stands, and worked our fingers to the bone doing chores! But do you see that kind of work ethic in whippersnappers? No! They just sit on their keisters begging for money because God forbid they have to spend even a minute of their lives working! And don't get me started on their outfits! If I had a dollar for every miniskirt or pair of pants so loose and baggy that they're practically falling off, I'd be a billionaire! I swear, kids these days make me so angry!

Ok, not all youths make me angry. My Edgey-poo is the main reason for that. Why, that man brings a sense of much-needed class to his generation. He's polite, he speaks with respect to his elders, and he looks quite dashing in that suit of his. Sure, Edgey-poo hasn't been very open to the idea of starting a relationship with me, but that's only because he's a gentleman and likes to take things slow. However, while I can respect that kind of restraint in a man, I'm a woman with needs and would like him to speed things up just a bit.


Kristoph has never believed in divine retribution or karma or any of that other kind of nonsense that people use to scare children into behaving. If people were punished for doing bad deeds, then why have people throughout time been able to amass great deals of fortune and power through wrongdoings? And for that matter, why were people who had done nothing wrong in their life punished with sickness, injuries, and death? Plus, if some deity was actually interested in establishing justice, why wouldn't they just prevent horrible deeds from being performed in the first place? Sure, many people would state that such intervention would go against the notion of free will, but Kristoph doesn't buy any of that. For if a person is punished after doing a horrible deed, it creates the same outcome of discouragement that would be established if they had been stopped before it even happened. Actually, no. There would be differences: justice would be delivered more efficiently and less people would have to suffer.

However, while Kristoph personally doesn't agree with the notion of divine retribution, he never feels disdain towards those who believe in it so long as they keep their opinions to themselves. But when those opinions are vocalized- particularly by the people who were present in the courthouse before and after his trial, telling him that he would burn in Hell for his sins- he can't help but feel furious. Who are these mouth breathers to judge him, Kristoph Gavin, while ignoring the crimes of Phoenix Wright? Sure, the former attorney may have murdered a man, but Shadi Enigmar was a monster who deserved to be put down; a monster who left a trail of treason and tragedy in his wake as he fled from justice. And what of Wright? What was his excuse for his actions? It's one thing to fight for justice, but when you go as far to forge evidence that flies in the face of everything that you claim to stand for, it becomes something else- something darker and more hypocritical.

But at this moment, standing face-to-face with Wendy Oldbag, the infamous Wicked Witch of the Witness Stand, the host of Debauched Steel can't help but start to believe that perhaps all that stuff about divine retribution isn't entirely poppycock.

"Congratulations on your victory, Ms. Oldbag." Kristoph states with a warm grin. "As the winner of Debauched Steel, you-"

"My, my, I never expected you to be so handsome!" Oldbag exclaims as her cheeks start to redden, causing the demented host to reel back out of shock.

"M-Ms. Oldbag, I hardly feel that this is appropriate for-" Kristoph tries to reply in a disturbed tone, his hand covering his face as he pushes up his glasses in order to hide just how distraught he's feeling, only to be immediately interrupted by the outspoken elder.

"Don't be so modest, dearie!" Oldbag chirps with a wave of her hand. "You're a stud! You don't know how many television hosts have that sleazy Hollywood appearance- like they're trying to look like some frat boy that wandered off the street. But you actually look so refined with that flowing hair that's neatly styled, your wonderful posture, and that well-pressed suit of yours. Why, you remind me a lot of my late husband, Cyrus Renseless, bless his soul. He was a man of few words just like you, and also looked very stunning in glasses. Why, when we first met…"

First that one creepy checker at the grocery store, and now this? What is it with me and attracting abrasive older women?! Curse Mother for making me style my hair like this every day since I was ten! Klavier had the right idea in leaving the country by studying abroad to cut his hair. But then again, it wasn't like I didn't try. I would have been able to take that semester in London had Mother not tried to stow away in my suitcase and got me detained by airport security. And it didn't help one bit that she wouldn't stop hugging and crying all over me during the entire investigation like some delirious tick! Now thanks to her, I'm indefinitely barred from international travel. Then again, it's not like Klavier got off any easier, what with Mother angrily confronting him on the matter every day until his hair grew back, whether by phone or in person.

Oh my god, is she seriously still talking? How can any normal human speak for that long without taking a breath? Wait, why don't I just interrupt her and move things- On second thought, I've studied enough of Wright's trials to know that once Windbag goes on one of these rants, only a miracle can stop her. If only I could use my powers and snap her out of existence… But alas, if I did that, I'd receive a lot of flak from the audience. Hopefully, she'll wish for Edgeworth to fall head-over-heels for her so that way I can have him fumble off a cliff. Maybe that would shut her up for at least a few seconds. Or perhaps-

"Yoo-hoo! Khrissy-poo, are you listening?" Oldbag sweetly asks, prompting the host of Debauched Steel to briskly shake his head so as to help him return to reality.

"Sorry about that, Ms. Oldbag. My mind was merely occupied with other matters."

"Oh, don't worry about it, dearie. Oh, and by the way, you don't have to be so formal with me. You can just call me Grandma!" The geriatric stalker squeals, causing the former defense attorney's body to shudder.

"Thank you for the offer, but I would like to keep our relationship as professional as possible. Though while on that topic, if you don't mind, could you please make your wish? I have other obligations that I have to attend to." Such as banging my head against a wall until I forget this encounter.

"My, how polite!" Oldbag exclaims. "It's so refreshing it is to find a youth who actually knows how to use the word 'please'. You don't know how many snot-nosed whippersnappers bark out orders to their elders like they're drill sergeants. Why, back in my day, if we so much as looked at our elders funny, we were given five across the eyes. I swear, the old saying is true, if you spare the rod, the child is spoiled rotten like moldy cheese! That's why kids these days think that their invincible- taking drugs and engaging in all kinds of shenanigans. How do you expect to get a good job when you're living your life out like those Hollywood types? But it's not like it matters to these kids who spend all their times on their phone, sipping their coffees and getting all worked up over their face-pages and slabs and all that other electronic nonsense! I swear, why can't more kids be like my Edgey-poo? Not only does he dress to the nines, but he speaks just as eloquently. I have never once heard him say even a single curse word. He's not like kids these nowadays who swear in every sentence like they're sailors on a garbage barge! If half of whippersnappers these days were even remotely similar to Edgey-poo, the world would be a much better place! And don't even get me started on his chiseled physique, silky hair, and buns of steel…" The geriatric stalker longingly sighs as she thinks about her unfortunate victim. "I just wish that Edgey-poo would return my feelings of love and-"

"Granted!" Kristoph hastily interjects.

The host of Debauched Steel raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Oldbag finds herself standing in the middle of the Prosecutor's Office's parking garage.

"Whippersnapper!" Oldbag roars, her face red with anger as her nostrils flare. "I want to be intimate Edgey-poo, not the place he works! Where's my Edgey-poo!?"

"Right here, my love." Edgeworth seductively purrs into his stalker's ear as he gently wraps his arms around her torso from behind.

"E-Edgey-poo?" Oldbag asks with a tone of utter disbelief, her eyes the size of saucers at the prospect of her beloved crimson knight actually embracing her.

"That's right, Wendy-poo." Edgeworth replies as he walks around so that he is now face-to-face with his geriatric stalker. "I'm so sorry about my tardiness. I was stuck filling out files for an upcoming trial. I know that I'm chief prosecutor, but don't these whippersnappers realize that while murder is terrible, leaving my darling Wendy-poo waiting is even worse?!" The maroon-cladder prosecutor seethes with clenched fists. "I swear, the youth of today-"

"Forget about those whippersnappers, Edgey-poo." Oldbag calmly responds, wrapping her arms around her beloved as she brings him in for a hug, resting her head against his chest as if it's the most comfortable pillow ever made. "What matters is that you and I are finally together and can enjoy each other's company."

"You're right, Wendy-poo. But let me ask you something. Do you love me?"

"Like you need to ask, Edgey-poo? I love you with every fiber of my being!" Oldbag proclaims as she looks up into her beloved's sparkling grey eyes with a grin of pure happiness and red cheeks.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Wend-poo, and my feelings are identical to yours. Why, I love you so much that I can't help but-"

Edgeworth cuts himself off midsentence as he slams his head into his geriatric stalker's, sending the elderly woman tumbling to the ground.

"Edgey-poo, what's wrong with you?!" Oldbag screeches as she scrambles to her feet. "Have you lost your mind?!"

Edgeworth slowly shakes his head. "Oh, no, Wendy-poo, I'm quite sane. You see, love hurts, and I love you a whole lot." The prosecutor states with a sinister grin as he pulls a pistol out of his suitcoat and aims it at his beloved.

"Edgey-poo, don't-" Oldbag tries to exclaim with a look of sheer terror, only to be interrupted by the man of her dreams firing a shot at her head that just barely misses its mark.

"Curse your beauty and how it makes my knees shake like jelly…!" Edgeworth growls. "Hopefully this next shot shall pierce your soul just as Cupid's arrow has pierced mine…" The maroon-cladded prosecutor longingly sighs with a goofy grin on his face, his cheeks reddening as he more carefully aims his weapon.

"Noooo!" Oldbag screams as she dashes away from the deranged prosecutor, running serpentine in order to dodge his bullets, wasting no time in jumping in her vehicle and locking the doors.

Though good thing Oldbag did lock her doors, because barely a second after she did, Edgeworth starts trying to open the driver's door with every ounce of his strength. And when that strategy proves to be fruitless, the famed prosecutor proceeds to vigorously kiss the window, almost as if he's trying to drill his way in like some love-struck woodpecker.

But unfortunately for Edgeworth, he doesn't get a chance to see if this new plan could succeed due to Oldbag starting up her vehicle with a powerful roar before backing out of the parking spot and speeding towards the parking garage's exit like a bat out of Hell.

"I don't know what's gotten into Edgey-poo. Is he overworked?" Oldbag ponders for a bit before a sultry grin spreads across her face. "Maybe I can help relieve some of the pressure by giving him a massage, putting on some Berry White, and treating him to a night of-"

As if on cue, the elderly woman is interrupted by her right side-view mirror being shattered by one of Edgeworth's bullets as the prosecutor races up next to her vehicle in his red Boxster.

"Be still my beating heart…" Edgeworth sighs with delight as he stares longingly at his beloved from his lowered window, one hand on the gun that he is aiming at her vehicle and the other firmly gripping his steering wheel. "I shall forever savor this moment of delight; this moment where the life shall fade from your body, your last thoughts devoted to me and only me. Oh, I can just picture you dying with such elegant grace, just like the tender lily upon the first frost of-"

Suddenly, Edgeworth is stopped, both in terms of movement and his soliloquy, when his car crashes into the wall separating the parking garage from the outside world with a loud crash, thus allowing Oldbag to speed up the ramp and into the streets of L.A.

Upon exiting his vehicle to inspect the damages, the Chief Prosecutor can't help but slam his fist on the damaged hood which has been dented in like a discarded soda can and spewing smoke like a toaster that's been cooking a piece of toast for too long.

"Damn it!" Edgeworth snarls. "Now what am I supposed to do?!"

"Guten tag, Herr Edgeworth." Klavier calls out as he stops his motorcycle next to his superior's devastated car. "What happened to your car? Do you need my help?" The rock star prosecutor asks with a tone of genuine concern, only to be pushed off his bike by his boss, who wastes no time in claiming it for himself.

"Not cool, Herr Edgeworth! What was that for!?" Klavier yells, glaring daggers at the maroon-cladded man who doesn't even bother to give him eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Prosecutor Gavin, but when you truly love a person, you're willing to go to any lengths to express those feelings…as if you could ever understand." Edgeworth sneers before speeding off on the purple motorcycle.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Klavier roars, only for his question to be left unanswered as his boss races forth out onto the streets of L.A. to chase down his beloved.


"Whew…" Oldbag sighs in relief as she drives down the street away from the Prosecutor's Office. "I think I got away from Edgey-poo. But I still can't believe that he's gone off the deep end like this. Maybe I've been a bit too forceful with my attempts to woo him… Yes, that's probably it. Maybe the best thing for me to do would be to give Edgey-poo a bit of space so that he can-"

"WEEEEEEEENNNNNNDDDDYYYYYYYYYY!" Edgeworth screams at the top of his lungs in a shrill, desperate tone, cutting off the elderly woman's thoughts as he weaves in and out of traffic in his mad pursuit of her, prompting her to increase her own vehicle's speed to escape.

"Edgey-poo, I never thought I'd say this, but I think maybe we should take a break from each other- see other people, you know?" Oldbag pleads after rolling down her window in a desperate attempt to reason with one of the men that she loves.

"Never!" Edgeworth snarls, a look of madness filling his now saucer-sized eyes. "The only way I'll ever leave your lovely presence will be when Death's icy grip tears me away!" The Chief Prosecutor proclaims as he whips out his pistol and fires several more rounds at his love interest's car- all of which fail horribly at hitting their mark, instead merely hitting the taillights, back bumper, side mirrors, or nothing at all.

"Oh, if only there was some way for me to stop that dashing maniac in his tracks! But what can I do when- Wait, that's it!" Oldbag exclaims, a look of inspiration flashing across her face as she immediately slams on her breaks, causing her car to come to an abrupt stop.

While this strategy may seem suicidal, it works just as Oldbag planned when the motorcycle slams against her back bumper, launching Edgeworth off of the bike and onto her windshield back-first with a thud. Taking advantage of her deranged pursuer's momentary pause, the infamous geriatric stalker slams on the gas as speeds forward, sending the Chief Prosecutor flying back like a discarded newspaper and on top the stolen purple motorcycle which is lying on its side.

"Ah, Wendy, you're intelligence is only matched by your beauty…" Edgeworth longingly states as he dusts himself and gets back onto his feet. "But this was but a mere setback." The maroon-cladded prosecutor says with a tone of optimism as he returns the motorcycle to its upright position. "Yes, you'll see, Wendy, that it will take more than mere quick wit to get rid of-"

Edgeworth's hope-filled words are cut short when he hears a loud horn, followed by the sight of the blaring headlights of an 18-wheeler barreling towards him, giving him only enough time to stare into the bright lights like a frightened deer before the large truck runs both him and the motorcycle down.

Of course, the impact is noticed by the truck's driver, Gumshoe, in the form of a bump, prompting the scruffy man to immediately stop the truck and leap out.

"Oh boy!" Gumshoe exclaims with childlike joy and an excited grin on his face. "Did I hit a opossum, or a hawk…! Oh, maybe I hit one of those big vultures! Well, whatever it is, if it's edible, I'm fine with it. I mean, it's not like I can be picky with what I eat thanks to my pay always being cut by- !" The scruffy detective screams as he rushes over to his superior's battered and bruised body, holding him in his arms like one would a wounded child. "Mr. Edgeworth, I'm so sorry! I was in a hurry because I was behind schedule! I didn't mean to hurt you, sir! Honest! I may have been a little angry at you for always cutting my pay and making me have to work a bunch of extra jobs just to survive, but I never wanted anything like this to happen! Please, sir, speak to me! The world can't live without you and your logic!"

Gumshoe, with tears streaming down his cheeks, proceeds to vigorously shake his boss' body in a desperate attempt to revive him… an effort that's actually successful when the Chief Prosecutor weakly opens his eyes.

"G-Gumshoe…" Edgeworth weakly states, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you're alive!" Gumshoe jovially bellows at the top of his lungs, his gaze pointed towards the heavens before returning to his superior.

"Gumshoe… Please, help your friend… Redeem yourself in my eyes… by helping me with a task."

"Anything, Mr. Edgeworth! You name it, I'll help you!"

"I must show Wendy-poo the extent of my love!" Edgeworth yells, his left eye starting to twitch as an eerily large toothy grin spreads across his face.


Oldbag may have not seen hide or hair of Edgeworth ever since she escaped him with that sudden stop, but she's not taking any chances. She's seen the disturbing extents to which a person is willing to go to when they're madly in love with someone thanks to her own efforts. That's why the infamous geriatric stalker is currently speeding through the winding roads leading up through the mountains on the outskirts of L.A.

But despite Oldbag's best attempt to escape, her breathing becomes shallow when she sees a massive 18-wheeler racing towards her with Edgeworth- his upper half sticking out of the passenger's side window- chuckling maniacally as he stares at his target with large unblinking eyes.

"Come on, come on, come on, let's go love truckin'!" Edgeworth cackles as he pulls out two pistols and begins to unleash a barrage of rapid-fire bullets at Oldbag's car like some kind of deranged Yosemite Sam. But just like all of the previous times, the Chief Prosecutor's shots all miss horribly.

"Uh, Mr. Edgeworth, I'm not judging you, but isn't this a bit… I don't know, excessive?" Gumshoe asks with a look of concern, earning a death glare from his superior.

"I don't underpay you to have opinions, Gumshoe! Now drive faster or I'll shower what little remains of your salary with my love!" Edgeworth snarls before returning to firing off his guns as the scruffy detective slams his foot on the gas, causing the truck to get dangerously close to Oldbag's vehicle.

"I didn't want to have to have to resort to this, Edgey-poo…" Oldbag reluctantly states as she rolls down her window. "But you've left me no choice. Protect me, my handsome lovelies! Protect your darling Wendy in the form of your merchandise!"

Oldbag proceeds to throw one of her Jack Hammer bowling balls at the truck which merely dents the front grill; immediately followed by a several Evil Magistrate bobble heads which just bounce off the front like rain off a duck's back; which is then quickly followed up by the elderly woman weaponizing an item that she bought when Jack Hammer was really cashing in on his popularity: a wooden life-sized replica of him that sings Ol Man River when its left arm is tapped. However, despite the replica's size, all it does is cause the truck to swerve left upon impact before quickly straightening out.

Oldbag then decides to go for a different angle- if she can't stop the truck with brute force, maybe she could obstruct their view and cause it to crash. So without wasting any time, the infamous stalker pulls out a bottle of Juan Corrida hair gel and tosses it up towards the windshield, and sure enough, it explodes upon impact with its target, coating the window with a thick green gel.

Though unfortunately for Oldbag, her victory is very short-lived when Gumshoe merely wipes away the gel with the truck's windshield wipers.

"Hair gel will not save you from my love, Wendy." Edgeworth nonchalantly states with a sinister smirk.

Looking around her car for anything that could possibly help her, Oldbag sees a few gel packs of Matt Engarde spring breeze-scented toilet cleaner that she received as a bonus for working security for the Hero of Heroes Grand Prix back in 2018. Sure, the geriatric stalker despised that whippersnapper Engarde with a passion, especially after what he did to her poor Juan, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

So with only the slightest bit of hesitation, Oldbag throws the gel packs at the truck, desperately hoping that they would do something, anything to help her. But while the packs miss the windshield entirely, they fly through the gaps of the dented grill that were created by the bowling ball, where upon contact with the truck's hot engine, their highly combustible contents explode. This, in turn, triggers a chain reaction which results in the truck being engulfed in flames, becoming a literal fireball, before being wiped off the face of the earth in one final deafening explosion.

Though while the truck and Gumshoe are no more, Edgeworth has never been one to give up so easily. Leaping forth from the burning wreckage like a lion pouncing on its prey, the Chief Prosecutor lands on top of Oldbag's car and does everything in his power to try to break through her rear window, using every ounce of his being to resist the pain of his entire body being set ablaze… either that, or the maroon-cladded prosecutor has been driven so mad by his feelings that he is completely oblivious to the state of his being.

Of course, upon seeing the sight of the once-sane man that she loves surviving a massive explosion and trying to break into her car so that he can kill her, like something out of a horror film, Oldbag panics, speeding through a safety rail and off of a cliff.

The car rolls down the mountain, the body being dented in on all sides by the rocks as the side view mirrors break off and fly back, unable to withstand the punishment. But despite all of this, Edgeworth hangs onto the back of car like a barnacle to the hull of a ship, unwilling to let go no matter what. Even when the car finally hits the ground, throwing Oldbag through the windshield before exploding, the Chief Prosecutor refuses to let go.

After picking herself up off of the ground, relived that she only suffered a few scratches and bruises, Oldbag looks at the flaming wreck that was once her car and is washed over with an immense feeling sadness. Sure, Edgeworth tried to kill her, but he was finally showing an interest in her. Not to mention, it doesn't help one's self-esteem when three of one's admirers face brutal, untimely deaths.

"Oh, Edgey-poo…" Oldbag sniffles, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Why did it have to be this way?

"Don't worry, Wendy-poo. I don't blame you at all…"

"E-Edgey-poo?" Oldbag nervously asks, her complexion becoming pale upon seeing Edgeworth limp out from the burning wreckage, his outfit reduced to mere patches of charred fabric, his flesh burnt off in numerous places on his body leaving only muscle, or worse yet, just bone. Though arguably the most grotesque part of the Chief Prosecutor's body is his head, the left half of which is just his skull with the grey eye- the sclera now a blood-red- dangling out of its socket like a pendulum, rocking back and forth with each step.

"I don't blame you because I love you… and I love you till death do us part." Edgeworth maniacally laughs as he pulls a sharp piece of scrap metal out of his torso and lunges at his geriatric stalker, her screams of terror ringing out and echoing thanks to the mountainous area.

However, despite how loud Oldbag screams for help are, the only person around to hear them is Kristoph, who has been observing the scene unfold from atop a lofty peak.

"Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the single person you thought would never hurt you… except of course, when that person actually kills you." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching Debauched Steel."


A/N: I would like to thank IamMelapples for submitting the idea for this chapter. Though speaking of reviews, since this one was written by a guest, I'll reply to it here.

DJJ680: I'm glad you liked how I handled your Zak suggestion. But while on that topic, I want to apologize to you and several other people who have submitted reviews in the past containing suggestions that I have not replied to. Y'see, when I see a suggestion, I enter a brainstorming period that can be as short as a few weeks or as long as a few years. So with that in mind, I don't want to set anything in stone by replying, nor do I want to risk giving away too much details about my plans with how enthusiastic I can get, so I choose to simply stay quiet. Once again, I apologize to you and any other readers who have been given the impression that I have been ignoring them due to my lack of responses or lack of idea use. I've been feeling bad about this for quite some time and wish to make things right with all of the fans who I may have wronged with my silence, starting with this reply.