Hickfield Clinic
September 6 10:00 a.m.
Edgeworth entered the rummaged hospital through the slide doors. The place really needed renovations, at least in the front sections. The rugs were dirty and homeless gathered outside waiting areas in order to get charity care for an emergency surgery. Lobby chairs were bombarded with people who had unappointed visits for family members or in need of medical assistance. There was a whole section contributed just for women on the verge of exploding babies left and right towards the labor department. The clinic had definitely seen better days.
The prosecutor traveled towards the receptionist who was creating a generic garage band music worth of smacks and slaps with the worn gum in her mouth. The snaps and pops somehow pitched over the audience of pain, sickened, and impatient visitors.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I contacted you earlier to visit a patient. A Michael Powell?" Edgeworth calmly asked.
The woman just eyeballed Edgeworth, still annoyingly smacking the gum in her mouth and blowing a bubble that popped subsequently against her lips. Edgeworth paid the woman no mind as she slowly typed in the name of the patient. "And you are related to this guy?" Her voice contained the impudent attitude of a telemarketer.
"No. However, I request that I see Mr. Powell immediately. He is vital to an investigation at hand." Edgeworth bluntly asserted himself. The receptionist took a dreadfully long time to even look at him when the file popped into the computer screen. "Mr. Powell. uhhhh… Here. ICU Room 302." She swiveled in her seat before arching forward. "It's on the third floor… make a right once you step out…" She signalled with her hands in a slouchy voice.
"Thank you, ma'am." Edgeworth managed to blurt the words without giving any hints of how annoyed he was towards the sloth woman.
His destination towards the elevator was stopped by a jittering ruffled buffoon in a white director coat. Edgeworth flinched backward, his teeth gritted, recognizing that ridiculous pink hair anywhere. "Not him!'
The so called 'director' was stumbling out an office near the elevator door by a slender busty woman. She kicked him forward, causing him to fly backwards, probably losing another tooth in the process. Her groan was the epitome of disgust as she slammed the office door shut, a gust of wind blowing back what little hair and dignity he had left. He was giggling and squirming on the floor. Edgeworth figured either from pain or from humiliation. Nah. Probably pain, but he seemed to be enjoying the negative impulses the lady bestowed on him.
'You would have thought they would have gotten rid of this imbecile years ago… It really demonstrates the work ethics of this place.'
Edgeworth exercised his potential to glide against the wall to pass the shameless 'director.' His efforts managed to get him close enough near the elevator buttons. The prosecutor stretched his arm long enough to push the third floor button, preventing himself from getting caught by the pervert's peripheral view. The elevator was on the fifth floor. 'Oh why?! Of all days does this confounded contraption have to be at the top floor!'
The spasmodic 'director' squirmed to his feet when he heard the ring of the elevator approaching. The ridiculous gaping toothy smile finally caught Edgeworth. Edgeworth frantically pushed the third floor button, hoping that the elevator would arrive faster. The perverted director Hotti hobbled quickly over the baffled prosecutor.
"Hmm. I've seen you before! Yes! Yes!" The spit traveled between the gaps of his teeth as his back arched forward, giving him a humpback appearance.
"Too long! Way too long! MMMMM!" Hotti wiped his mouth of the nasty drool that trickled from that sewage system called a mouth. "You saw that chick over there! Hehe! Totally digs meh!"
Edgeworth leaned against the wall, fearing the revolting director would come any closer than how he already was. The man kept scratching himself eerily everytime he finished a sentence.
"It's been years, but I… I still got it with the ladies…mmmhmmm…" The jittery words were somehow coherent against his slurred speech. The nasty Hotti was clenching his hands, as if wishing what would be in his grasp was the soft fleshy lump of the woman he was eye-raping who kicked him out of her office.
The prosecutor peered towards the numbers above the elevator; third floor. 'Hurry up you metal wreck!'
"Speaking of ladies… where's that blue haired woman? The one with the whip! Oh! I haven't felt that juicy crack in a long time! MMM! Yes!"
Miles almost threw up in his mouth when he realized that repulsive perv was speaking about Franziska. The last thing he wanted to see was his step-sister giving the sadomasochistic fool a whipping of a lifetime, which the sick man would find pleasurable. The elevator finally made it to the first floor. The metal doors opened, a group consisting of patients and several doctors managed segregate the prosecutor from the perv. He continuously pressed the third floor button until the doors closed, allowing him to bask in freedom, away from the crazed hunchback.
'That was close… mmmmm..' Edgeworth froze. "NGHOOOOOOH!"
The yell echoed inside the metal container, down the shafts. Patients from the fifth floor heard the yelp from the prosecutor as they stood up in their beds. That nasty director somehow got that odd vibe rubbed on Edgeworth. 'Wine would replace the tea for tonight...'
The elevator doors opened on the third floor, as the stressed prosecutor shook his head in disbelief. Regaining his focus, Miles finally headed right, towards the ICU corridor. The walls were white, but remained darkened by the windowless hallway. The doors were arranged almost evenly, separated apart by duplicates of thick framed doors.
Door 302, the bold white letters against the blackened board near the top half of the door. Edgeworth pulled down the metal lever and pushed open the door. The scene was something out of a mad science lab. An IV in the arm pumping nutrients in the malnourished frail man, breathing tubes in his nose and a large cotton swab in his mouth, preventing salvia from draining down his lacerated throat. Edgeworth eyed the terrible state of the poor man. The bone practically visible through his skin. The man was supposed to be middle aged, but whatever had gotten to him added decades onto the man's appearance. Ghost form, practically a mist of his former self. The room hummed with the vacuum pump and beeps of the monitor the figure was attached to.
A waft came from the silent doors. Edgeworth spotted over his shoulders a man covered from top to bottom in a doctor's gown, white elastic gloves, a mask above his snout, and a thin cap over his head. The only visible flesh on the doctor was his ears which were holding onto the elastic of the dim goggles on his face. There was an earsplitting silence between the two professionals. Edgeworth finally turned to see the doctor properly.
The doctor spoke in a proper tone, eyeing him with curiosity, "Who might you be?"
"I am Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. Please to meet you doctor." Edgeworth addressed the doctor in the same fashion.
"Dr. Sullivan." The man shook Edgeworth's hand. "A prosecutor? What is your business here?"
"The man before you, doctor, is a victim. He is the sole witness to an investigation, ergo, I require him to recover in order to gain any evidence towards his attacker."
The doctor peered over Edgeworth's shoulder, eyeing the patient. His focus returned on the magenta suited man. "Do you want the news forward, prosecutor?"
The presence of peace eluded the room, replacing it with suspicion and dread. Edgeworth's brows furrowed lower, a serious expression etched on his face, preparing himself for the news he will receive.
The doctor kept a stern expression through his thick goggles at the prosecutor. "The patient suffered lacerations in the esophagus. We tried the best we can to somehow recover his ability to speak, but his vocal chords are torn. It would take months for them to fully recover. As of right now, in his present state, he can't even swallow."
Edgeworth kept his turmoil internally . 'Months… that's too long...'
"When will he awake from his condition? Will he have any recollection of what happened to him?" Edgeworth kept his chest high.
The doctor shook his head, "Apologies, prosecutor. He has similar symptoms of asphyxiation and blood drainage. As much as I hate to admit it, he as of right now is comatose. His body was extremely deprived for a period of time."
The stoic expression of the prosecutor remained unphased as the doctor headed towards the patient, his gaze still towards the door. Edgeworth had empty leads. The only witness was hanging onto life by a string and that string was the last thread before Edgeworth would have to pull desperate actions. As much as the chief prosecutor hated it, he only had one remaining option, Mrs. Gumshoe. A shuffling could be heard in the background. The doctor dug into the patient's clothing pail, took out a document, folded it and placed it in his scrubs.
"Thank you for your assistance, doctor. It is quite melancholy for such news to be presented." Edgeworth gritted his teeth. 'But I promise that whoever is behind these attacks will be brought to justice.'
The doctor walked towards the door and held onto the metal lever. "It is… such a tragedy…"
Edgeworth eyes widened slowly. The way how the doctor spoke was evilly sarcastic.
"Good day, prosecutor..." He left the room. There was a minor silence as the chief prosecutor looked over his shoulder to the patient one last time. 'He was silenced for a reason.'
Edgeworth clenched his fist tightly before handling the door. He ran out, peering left and right, but the doctor was gone. He left out a hefty sigh before heading towards the stairs. There was no way in hell he was going to face the narcissistic perv Hotti again. Edgeworth made it out of the cumbersome building and out into the warm streets. A click of the key button, lit the prosecutor's sports car's lights. He entered the fancy on wheels before speeding off.
The doctor stepped out from the exit along the side of the building, watching the red car enter the main road. He leaned against the wall, laughing quietly to himself. "Poor Prosecutor. Have you gone through all your options yet?"
