Obligatory legal note: "Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney," and all of its affiliated properties are the property of CAPCOM Co, Ltd. and creator Shu Takumi. Wild Kratts is the property of Kratt Brothers Company, 9 Story Media Group, PBS, and is distributed by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. All rights are reserved to their respective owners; I only own the words on the page.


Fresno Superior Court of the Eastern District of California
Defendant's Lobby, Room 401-D
July 14, 9:38 AM

At this point, I was finally beginning to realize just how much of a total shit-show this trial would be. First off, the police were so obviously corrupt that it was almost giving me a migraine. Second, two crucial pieces of evidence for the case were nowhere to be found. Third, I was going to be facing off against Everett Hamilton, and though he may have been a newbie at this point, I wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating his oratory prowess.

Everett was a speaker, with a bachelor's degree in speech communications alongside his Juris Doctorate. He aced the bar examination, almost receiving a perfect score, at only 26 years old. At the time, he was one of the hot topic prosecutors in the world of law and everyone knew not to cross him the wrong way. If it wasn't for me being Martin's defense, he would have had this case in the bag easy as a cakewalk in the park. Too bad I wasn't going to let him win this time.

Martin was sitting on a chair in the lobby, chained up like a dog on a leash. I could feel the pure humiliation oozing out of his physical being; he was in agony that grew by the second. I could feel his every breath, a struggle between a man and the chains that bind him to the devil. He was powerless to break his cuffs: the hardened steel was an iron barricade, one which he could not overcome—Chris was arguing with a bailiff to have him unlocked, to spare him a moment of comfort if not simply to save a single sliver of his brother's dignity.

Unfortunately, Chris' arguments were swiftly truncated by a throwing knife flying directly between the two; this, as it would any person without the steadiness of Saint Luke the Evangelist, caused Chris to jump back in surprise, confusion, and panic. He and the bailiff turn their heads to investigate the situation, and there stands Everett Hamilton, donning a classic ebony bespoke suit and wheat-colored woolen necktie, his lengthy hair confidently tied back into a bun and his face clean-shaven. His appearance conveyed confidence, respect, and dignity: the latter two things being seldom-seen in a courtroom for the last several years.

"I do apologize," he began, walking to pick up his blade, then turning to face them, "for my uncouth intrusion into your conversation. I just wanted to wish Mr. Kratt good luck in his case today."

Chris turned to face the prosecutor, looking at him as if he were the Grim Reaper coming to take his senior kinsman to the gates of the underworld. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from a prosecutor."

"Respect of the law is too poorly seen in our society today. I, of course, will do all I can to win this case, but I promise you this: I will play fair." He outstretched his hand, extending his hand as an olive branch.

Chris took his hand.


Fresno Superior Court of the Eastern District of California
Courtroom 401
July 14, 10:00 AM

The gallery was a capacity crowd as Prosecutor Hamilton and his team walked in, taking their places and facing the defendant's table. They looked professional, conservative, and dignified: each one had a fitted suit and tie complete with freshly polished shoes; they were well-groomed and clean-shaven, and their carriages spoke of respectable confidence. For the first time in years, the courtroom's visuals had a shred of respect to them.

Then entered the defense team. Leading the pack was Phoenix, his newly-earned badge of honor pinned upon his suit jacket glistening in the light of the courtroom. His confidence seemed to ooze out of his every pore, knowing well that this would be a case to remember for generations to come. Next was Apollo, prepared to prove his worth to Phoenix and cement himself as a legal force to be reckoned with. Then came Athena, ready to put her criminal psychology skills to the test and show the world what she is made of. Bringing up the rear was Chris, who was granted permission to be on the floor during the trial. He was going to win this for his brother, even if it was the last thing he would ever do in his life. He was there to defend his brother as he did his country: without question, hesitation, or failure.

Finally, Martin was escorted in by two police officers. He was finally unchained (which would give him some more freedom), but he was still cuffed, and quite clearly under police custody. Of course, it was only protocol; they have to ensure that everyone is safe and secure, especially when someone much, much worse than Martin was sitting at the accused's stand. He looked happier, stronger out of his chains and binds. He knew that trying anything stupid would just get him in trouble, and that was quickly made clear to everyone in the courtroom.

The bailiff shut the doors. He took his spot beside the judge's seat, and waited for the signal to begin. The stenographer sat at her desk, prepared to take down every word spoken in this court. The signer was stationed at her place, prepared to sign for any in the gallery who would be hearing-impaired. The signal was given. The time had come.

"All rise."


It's finally here. I thoroughly apologize for the wait and for the shortness of it, but I have been insanely busy with personal matters. Please review and comment. Seriously, I need more reviews. Thank you for reading, and I will see you in Chapter 7!