For the superstitious, again, there is a line of dialogue in here that is not meant to be read aloud or you'll take responsibility for your actions - tragedy.
September 7th
Department of Criminal Justice - Forensics
11:43 a.m.
"I should have this digitally adjustable thermostat installed into my limousine," Franziska commented, her black gloved digits watching the integrated touchpad below the dashboard.
"That'd mean you'd have to do it yourself and not your driver," Toss pulled into the parking lot of her side of the Forensics building.
"Exactly." She pointed, delving deeper into seat cushion settings and heights along with adjustable internal temperatures. "My driver will still drive, it's just that I get to adjust my preferential settings instead of letting someone dictate it for me."
They pulled into the designated parking for the lead branches. Dr. Toss's name was painted between the yellow lines. Another form of identity was placed into the wall in a bronze plaque along with other heads of forensics. Yet, Toss's still had a bolder outline to the borders and print of her name on said totem.
"Before we go in," Toss turned to the backseat, "what you said was true?"
Ema unwound her seatbelt and shimmied between the two front seats, not feeling too great about letting in on some of the shameful news, "yeah…"
The two women in the front looked at each other splenetic, but determined.
"I'll take on Scruffy."
"I'll beat up the Chief."
Their seatbelts unhooked and car doors were firmly shut upon touching the outside. Ema could feel the car interior close in on her. She was cornered on the ride earlier by a whip-happy lady and an expert mortician to speak up on any leftover details Edgeworth forgot to mention on how their masked friend got away with the goods.
'This is not good… I hope this doesn't come back to haunt me…' She shuddered before promptly leaving the car.
The forensics building Ema became fond of working in had the false appearance of a hospital. Tall gray landmarks and the scale of justice in the front coalesced with the caduceus begged to differ. This building did not entirely help the people of L.A. with sickness and disease, but determined the evidence and facts of crime towards those who are sick and diseased of a different degree. Chemicals in this place of science did not treat the those who were alive, but preserved the dead and examined the non-living to imprison the guilty living.
Ema watched a detective Gumshoe and Edgeworth withdraw from their ride, unaware that the two women beating them ahead in the race would be on the receiving end of their form of unusual. Ema trailed slightly slower behind them all. Entering the building was about as tight as an airport with TSA staff being informed that a suspicious character was carrying a bomb. Each air tight sealed doors leading to other buildings and important labs had guards on site. One of the guards noticed the Chief Prosecutor and scooted out of place.
"Mr. Edgeworth, I hope you're ok."
"I am… thank you...," he answered away from the guard's concerned eye, too engulfed in shame to know that he was one of the first to help out detective Gumshoe after finding an unconscious Ema Skye and the Chief in a fetal position. The retelling from Gumshoe was watered down like cheap tea that the guard quickly scrambled over, believing the Chief had sustained some form of injury during the snafu. Thank goodness the good ol' detective decided to vamoose out his fear and the part that the only injury truly damaging was his pride.
Roundabout to the same center area was now solely accessible only to the Chief's of the district and security per Toss's executive orders. As soon as she the Chief medical examiner became visible, all strings that held the guards together tightly wound and chins up at attention.
"Nobody has passed us, Ma'am!"
"Good…" She pointed behind her, "only these four can have access besides me and anyone under that tiny list."
'I'm still iffy on Franziska's suggested help…'
"5?" The other guard asked precariously.
"That doesn't include me…" She groaned.
"We know, ma'am," they both pointed.
They all turned. Ema tilted her head confused, they were staring at her.
'No. That can't be right. I'm on the case.'
Their eyes were above her head. She twirled in place and found that brimming conniving toothy grin permanently wedged on Human Resources's face. Ema nearly jumped out her spot, almost knocking into his chin, which she's pretty sure would smash her head open than knock him a centimeter out of place. He watched in amusement as his little dormouse vainless scurry behind her mentor.
"Nooo! Definitely not! Especially not him!" Toss bawled vindictively, "you let that breach happen."
"Can't blame that all on me," like a prideful ghoul in his graveyard, he took no offense to his solitary ban. "Nobody knew any better than I did."
Toss grinded her teeth before turning back to the guards, "no entry for him."
They saluted and moved aside for Toss to scan her badge. The door opened, nearly sucking the air from the tight seal. They all entered, leaving behind their unwanted guest. Ema peeked around her shoulder, watching that fiendish smirk now covered by his hat. The guards turned to close the door and securely lock it, sealing the outside world with a giant gust throwing back her hair as it shut.
The long hallway stretched where numerous knocked out forensics and scientists were out cold littered the floor and rooms. Ema was spared as her office was just outside this miasma of anesthesia on the polar opposite of the very same building. The echoing of clattering shoes on those chemically cleaned floors rumbled towards where Toss's personal cases and specimens were upheld in the strictest of her own security.
"I just got word that you two were present when this man was in the building? Edgeworth…? Gumshoe...?" Toss spoke without breaking her travel. "How could you have let this person get away!?"
Edgeworth knew this fate would come, knowing very well that the chief examiner was one who was fast to anger and slow to forgive if forgiveness was a privileged option. How she came to this information was either rambled by security or the only witnesses that were with that birdman at the time. That narrowed down the search, but he couldn't entirely blame Toss for having her own sanctuary, the city's best forensics, be desecrated to an outsider thief.
"Our plunderer was more knowledgeable than we let on," Edgeworth openly stated, but lost its tenacity. "We were left in a… fragile state…"
"What? You were caught with your pants down?" Her statement landed blandly like dried saltless crackers.
"Edgeworth's pants were up, he was just down," Gumshoe corrected.
'Smooth, detective… What could I ever do without you?'
"Most of my employees were unconscious at the time. I could understand that, but this is a shame…" Toss digressed more disappointed than raged.
"Fool! As Chief you have the responsibility to maintain some sort of honor!" Franziska scolded, landing at her next victim. "Years of departing from me does not mean you get to act as foolish as my brother, either!"
Gumshoe flinched. Edgeworth despondently gritted his teeth. An excuse of his little earth shattering phobia was not going cut it for those two.
'This is worse than being scolded by Franziska's father…' Edgeworth mulled over the requiem of an enjoyable childhood.
"My arm would be worn to the perfectly white bone by time I have finished a well respected punishment to two foolishly foolish fools for allowing this fool to escape so foolishly!" The whip smacked itself against its length.
'Sorry!' Ema winced like a third child ratting out her older siblings then later watching them receive a beating.
"This is such a sad excuse of a constitution." Toss simmered down her boil a few ticks, "how can we ever get our main criminal if you can't take care of one in our own home?"
"But! But, sir! It was for a great cause!" Gumshoe stammered, fist balled with a beg.
"I hope it had better be a good reason, Scruffy." Franziska threatened, steely eyes still ready to pay his dues.
"Maggey!" He bellowed, nearly broken. "She was in trouble!"
"What kind of trouble?" Her brow broke the perfect formation on her face.
"Maggey was being held hostage!" The war of desperation and fury waged for dominance. "He said he'd hurt her if we didn't let him go!"
"Is this true?" Toss peered more credulous to the Chief prosecutor rather the detective about to have a meltdown.
"Unfortunately, yes. That is where part of my investigation is." Edgeworth remarked, slightly more sturdier than his first counter.
'The detective actually managed to remove us from the pit…'
"When has this occurred?" Franziska's step did not waver when they accumulated outside the forensics meeting room. Toss opened the door, directing each one to enter quickly. She scoped left and right across each hallway, waiting to see if any other unceremonious visitors decided to join their assembly. When the coast appeared secure enough, she shut it.
"One night prior, the night of the fifth, near Gatewater Imperial Hotel." Edgeworth answered factually as he took a spot at the long black top table.
The windowless room stretched down to a large built in projector wall at the very end. To the sides were small sections of light boards meant for decrypting x-rays. The other side was tacked with papers and various magnets to compile small pieces of evidence.
"That sounds close to your spot." Toss marched dominantly to the front. Her booklets and heavy files were flumped to her very end.
"Then there is probably some connection," Franziska reached unlightly.
"Surprisingly, we're here for an even bigger issue." Toss spoke more towards her opening files, fetching for the correct ones to begin.
'There's an even bigger one?!'
"Miles Edgeworth," she leaned, grabbing her 'little' brother's attention, met uncouth from her own reluctant news. "We will indeed be working together under the circumstances."
"What has drawn you into that conclusion?" He tapped his bicep impatiently, wondering when her sister or the other Chief was willing to let him on and cease the mystery lingering about what they uncovered.
"I'll be responsible for that. You need to see something, Edgeworth." She leaned on her hands, death-gripping critically, "no hidden truths. Jokes aside. This is beyond serious and the only way to prove it to you is to show what I have found."
'Can you quit the plot drag worse than season seven episode fifteen of the Steel Samurai that allowed the Evil Magistrate to get away despite the advantage the Steel Samurai had?!'
"So that's why you came to my office… taking cases without my knowledge in my city?" His grey eyes narrowed behind his lenses, knowing very well how proper his sister should commit to conduct.
"As if I had time to go to you and ask and return without wasting precious time, little brother." She wagged her finger, "take the situation at hand."
"Listen… My degrees are in forensics, epidemiology and medicine and a hint in cosmetology… I'm fresh out of family matters." Toss butted, "now if you want to catch criminals… I read the fine print on your bars. Then you both need to start ACTING LIKE PROSECUTORS!"
They both looked away from each other, crossing their arms in silent harrumphs. Ema glued onto Toss, starry eyed on her wonderful professions.
'Wow… One day! I will be up there, too!'
"You're supposed to be the most competent here and in order to catch this person, we need to step up. Well… you two need to step up." Toss fixed her lab coat, refocusing on the red wine prosecutor, "Edgeworth, did you not succeed in the assistance of taking down an international spy that was wanted in almost every major first world country and the underworld?"
"Yes… I did." The edges of his lip nearly cracked from the smolder.
"And ms. von Karma, do you not have a prestigious record and have access to the best of the best international criminal police organization - Interpol?"
"Of course." Unlike her brother, she opened widely into a bask to her audience.
"Now, let's improve on that," here hands rolled. "And you two."
Gumshoe and Ema erected in their seats.
"Yes, sir-!"
"Yes ma'a-"
They stared at each other, disoriented on proper titling.
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Yes, sir!"
Toss facepalmed, "...Chief is okay…"
"But, sir- ma'am," Gumshoe scratched at his roughage of strands. "Mr. Edgeworth goes by that, too."
"Okay okay…" She rubbed her temples irritated, but calm enough to know some headway was being made, "then go by Dr. Toss…"
She stopped on a dime before swiveling back to the sidekick detectives, "Chief is still applied in the name, it's just silent."
"In the middle, beginning, or end?" Gumshoe diced the air in equal fragments. The snap near the table had him recoil like the hiss of a measuring tape.
"In all parts, just like mine is 'perfect,' Franziska lectured. "Please continue, Dr. Thana Toss."
"Yes, please do," Edgeworth layered on top of her faultless cake.
"Now that we're all on the same page," she picked up a single manilla folder, curling at the spine like a pocket edition dictionary. The Chief examiner shooed the booklet over with enough friction for him to meet halfway on the table. "You're going to have to get caught up with our criminal. There's the psych file. Underneath is the charges."
Miles opened the booklet, figuring it wasn't a hornet's nest, but second guessed as the Chief of Forensics wouldn't drag him far for something insignificant. Toss pressed several buttons on her end of the table, dimming the lights until they were entirely off and bringing the projection to life.
"MD Clematis, Maritza. Mostly referred to as 'Ritza' by all." Toss began informatively.
Edgeworth saw the first mugshot, identical but larger on the screen, in his hand. The woman had blonde brown hair and a light bright face with calm brown to grey eyes. The serious facial expression required for any incoming inmate instructed by the officer's in the precinct didn't destroy the welcoming eluded visage.
"She had been charged with first degree murder by euthanizing a patient who had gone under for surgery."
"Would that technically have tried as a medical practice suit?" Edgeworth noted.
"Please don't spoil the movie by adding your own soundtrack," Toss patronized. "It was intentional, discovered later by evidence found."
"Miles Edgeworth please be quiet and pay attention." Franziska zipped her eye at him.
'Your silence would be golden, too, von Karma!'
"The victim, Mrs. Cecilia Benedict, had a rare neurological condition that made her rather mentally and somewhat physically fragile as the years progressed. Before the victim was murdered, another doctor who worked alongside Dr. Clematis, performed a risky and invasive brain surgery that had to be done in order to save Mrs. Benedict's life. There was a very small chance that she would make it out alive, about ten percent. The mere thought and inability to cure the victim was unacceptable to Dr. Clematis. She had grown this complex that had driven her to a dark path. Her record was one of the very best in the country. Clean and precise, but this one patient would destroy that honour if she died on the operating table. Within her journals, you can see on the second page, Mr. Edgeworth."
She signalled him to turn to the next page on evidence. He followed along, reading snippet copies of the Doctor's journal entries taken from the incriminating evidence.
"'A lost cause'," Dr. Toss finger quoted, "and saying how, 'hard it is to lose a friend this way,' which was further identified by a witness testifying against her. The doctor working in tandem with the surgery was Dr. Neo de Ranvier. Tension between the two doctors were known throughout the years and hospitals they had worked together, but their teamwork was described as 'miracle working.' However; Dr. Clematis did not agree to several of Dr. Ranvier's methods in his work. Another passage of evidence was discovered in the same journal as finding this new technological advancement 'unacceptable' and would not engage in the surgery if it was done. She took actions into her own hands and induced a lethal injection that stopped the patient's heart."
As soon as Toss clicked to the next slide, Gumshoe and Ema gasped harshly.
"Apparently she snapped, crackled, and popped after being sent to prison..." Her tone glum.
Her secondary mugshots looked nightmarish, chaotic and demonic. Parts of her face planted with a half grimace and half a bare gritted smile like the groveled victory of a fresh kill. Fierce enmity and volatile. A dark blank bloodthirsty stare carrying light munching dark hollowed eyes in a large screen jumped scared the detectives. Her hair lost all of the highlights, gaining an opaque and tinted version of what it once housed. Stripes of white and blue decorated the usual sentenced prison inmate attire peaked out the first defensive restraints. A broken shackled, disheveled half buckled white straitjacket hung over one arm and the other held helplessly on the cliff of her other shoulder. The palms of officers kept her still besides the thick black unforgiving cuffed forearm braces capable of committing several tens of thousands of volts holstered that failed to be contained in her sleeves.
Despite the willpower, Edgeworth could not muster the strength to make eye contact any longer. There was no life, no mercy, no empathy in those inhuman orbs inside her skull. Edgeworth's thumb crawled ever slowly to the corner of the small homogenous photo, afraid the illustration may come to life and chew on his thumb. It was day and night. If he had not been aware, he would've speculated the photos were of two different people.
Toss skipped to the next slide, to which was an alleviating blank screen. Gumshoe and Ema unlinked away after the mutual petrified embrace by the horror show. Edgeworth kept reading through the psychiatric file, which seemed incomplete.
"Sociopathic, unstable, psychotic, violent. Almost everything in the book," Toss explained. "The psychs and guards said they wouldn't be near her even with a bullet proof glass pane behind cushioned reinforced walls. That's why it looks like that - unfinished. Some guards called her by the name of what the inmates took her by, `The Witch Doctor'."
On queue, the door opened eerily slowly, allowing the scorching bright light to enter the dark room. They all turned to find not a single soul entering the slightly ajared.
"I thought I locked that... There is an ongoing meeting, if there is a notice, leave it in my office inbox." Toss raised dryly.
No response came. The Chief examiner sighed with all the distractions, "Ema, can you please check if anyone is there?"
"Okay…" Ema timorously lifted her weight from the seat and inspected the crack of the frame.
Grabbing the handle, she widely surveyed the area, nothing within but the long and quiet empty hallway.
"Nobody, Dr. Toss," her voice lightly reverberating off the walls.
"I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing," Toss dismissed, "come back in and lock it for me."
Just as Ema bent her arm, a horrid frigid air encapsulated her into a freezing shake. Teeth clattered audibly like china plates toppling over and shattering in a noisy restaurant kitchen. The iciness picked into the bones. She shriveled in place as she attempted to move her frozen limbs.
"Any day, Ema…"
"S-s-sorry, Dr. T-Tossss…" Her speech ripened in stutters.
The door finally shut and clicked into place. She wobbled like a solitary penguin, outcasted from the huddle and finally sat at her seat.
"You okay?" Gumshoe whispered over Ema's palpitating breaths that yielded no visible frigid breaths.
"I just got so cold all of a sudden…" Ema shook, "I hope I'm not coming down with something."
She rubbed into her arms garishly, embarking on creating the heat in her body and eliminating the permafrost that coated her lab coat.
"As I was saying," Toss picked up where she left off. "She was unpredictable and erratic. One moment she would be calm and silent, the next, who knew? They tried to 'rehabilitate' but apparently there's no treatment. She was originally placed with other inmates, but several suspicious huge breakouts and rallies were followed down to speculate her as the orchestrater."
One more flick from the remote buttons on the table gave a barely visible picture of a vacant three walled umbric cell. Just a single flat bed and cold metal toilet instead of the usual bunk bed shared by two prisoners to share.
"Why is she showing a picture of a cell?" Gumshoe mumbled less than whisper.
Ema replied low in volume, "I'm guessing it's that doctor's cel- EEeeEEeeek!"
"I guess you found her," Toss fumbled nonchalantly with her nails. "The guards said they always make a brick when they find it. I don't see anyone besides the twisted beyond repair."
Ema fixated on how the bleakest of the shadows that casted in the cubicle room held white empty moons in the void of space. The darkest parts of those lunar bodies gave birth to the sable sludge that permanently stained the foundation with its dark matter.
"They figured keeping her in the dark would keep her calmer."
Gumshoe felt the tug on his sandy coat under him. A rogue hand crawled decrepitly towards him.
"Ay!"
A broken strained voice crackled, "Gummy…"
"What do you want, you hungry hand?!" The detective pleaded, lip wriggling between his teeth.
"You're crushing me."
"I'm… what?" He whimpered to the ghostly limb with cut circulation.
"Scruffy! Get off Investigator Ema Skye before you commit involuntary manslaughter by maceration."
"Sorry!" The detective rolled his lump sum weight back into his chair.
A croaked wheeze crumbled out of Ema. The airbags in her chest regained the precious air it was cruelly deprived from the court record knows how many pounds this man unloaded. This did not include the force from his jump beginning with his chair and plummeting into hers.
'...I hope someone knows CPR just in case…'
"When questioned during her more calmer moods, apparently, she doesn't remember anything up to her charges. Some security said they witnessed a few cases of cannibalism after heavily injuring someone."
Toss saw the sick wave dribble across the table. Ema blanched. Gumshoe had done a remarkable impression of his old evergreen overcoat. The stone faced step siblings managed to flinch partially notwithstanding the previously informed silver haired prosecutor being aware of such gruesome acts.
"What? Don't look at me," she swayed towards the stack near her person after the silent qualmish rancor. "That's what the report says. The worst one of all was manipulation. Made several guards cry several times and some evaluators… made them do things that were borderline taboo."
Edgeworth swallowed the nausea building into a lump, delving into the pages of some necronomicon contrived of expletive pieces of corroboration and documented graphic reports. The first few pages were explaining the sudden degradation of behavior, which would appear reasonable from past forms of criminals when sentenced to confinement. The next catalogued skittish treeware by several guards, therapists and including a few inmate marble notebook sheets. Each described in detail the emotional and mentally inflicted pain of phobias, faults, and struggles they endured when any sort of interaction had occurred, accidental or intentional, when met with their sinister convict. A few therapist papers were wrapped in a protective plastic film. Questionable spills and splatters matching to coffee or black tea on the white lined sheets could be speculated to the untrained eye, but experienced recognized dried blood anywhere. Whether it was from the torturer or the tortured was another debate. This unholy chronicle continued spiraling into Hell when descriptions of humiliation, nudity, guilt, experimenting, bloodletting, worship, exposure, and the possibility of some form of witchcraft to the superstitious inhabitants of the penitentiary scrawled agonzingingly into the bindings of the file.
"It's why she was sentenced to solitary confinement. In a rabbit hole and they tried to throw away the hole…"
Edgeworth mercifully ripped his eyes away from the forbidden text. The mental images branded themselves unwillingly into his skull. He knew he had to pass the knowledge onto his colleagues, but a piece of him refused to let those cursed truth be passed like a permanent virus. The very notion that Franziska and chief examiner had to carry this bestial burden was nerve wracking. A moment of respect had him redact his earlier malice, but he would not openly admit it to them. They and the victims were dragged down into this madness along with the ringmaster of this underworld.
Edgeworth reluctantly slid some of the more censored and tamer transcripts over to the untainted detective and investigator. As he suspected, Gumshoe erratically grew more disgusted from the fluctuating contours of his rough edges. The stickability of Ema's earlier brunch caved in when a hiccup of a heave was detected by Dr. Toss.
"If you really need to use it, the wastebin is over there," Thana pointed over the to the corner. "I should bring a biohazard container here just in case next time…"
Ema excused herself just in case her favourite snack decided to revisit the outside world much more emulsified. She bent over to grab the edges of the freshly bagged bin.
"The uninformed must improve their deficit, or die."
The spectators bordered on breaking their necks to the voice. Their earlier outcast rudely introduced himself to the dark corner he leaned calmly against. Losing the sensation of hurling by the strongest gasp she choked on, Ema propelled right into Gumshoe's oblivious direction.
"How the fffffflip did you get in here?!" Toss roared.
"Undo the calamity that is your mammaries…" He snided, "I need to be here."
"Someone is soooo fired for this…"
"You're messing with a Nighthowler flower?" His soft pacing steps aligned the circumference of the table, examining the strewn papers like art. "This rabbit has gone savage!"
"I will savagely whip you if you do not focus!" Franziska threatened.
"Hit Hit! Without hitting!" He grinned on her empty promise, well aware he could wrap that whip around her twice and carry her around like an angry german backpack. "My blood will not be on the whip…"
"Ladies don't start fights, but they can finish them," she punctually checked her posture, unwilling to let her pest get under her skin.
"I beg to differ… under these eyes - you're all the same…," he prowled more directively. "But in a sense, you may be right."
The grey curtain of locks were disturbed by a small gust. The Chief felt the contrasting album snippets of their target snatched from his fingers. The fellow man in the hat fastened his prize.
"Give them back…" he duly requested to the back of their dandy man.
"Sharing is caring," he quipped shamelessly, returning to his perch.
"You're going to lose that!" Toss spat.
"I know the safest place." Their dandy man slipped one of the photos into his pocket. Leaning his back to the wall. He appreciated the one in his tips.
"You better be careful with those!" Toss warned in a grumble. "Those are the original copies."
"You couldn't have picked any better for the job," he spoke more to the photo.
"Since all are gathered, wanted or not," the Chief examiner frowned deeper, scrutinizing their party crasher. "Let's continue with some of the reports. Some of the no hands on professionals didn't entirely believe someone could cause so much destruction, like the geniuses they are… they decided to record a few instances instead of seeing for themselves."
It's fun during feeding time. Another happy go lucky routine is during therapy.
These guidelines were severely strict. Another one of the two times a day feeding. There was nothing solid. Strictly liquid with all the daily requirements of vitamins, minerals and other essential macronutrients cultivated in a single tasty concoction to keep their inmate sustained. It appeared their prisoner found this dish very very distasteful, unwilling to palette such vomit appearing mush. Under the rules of solitary confinement, the inmate must be force fed in order to prevent imminent death by starvation or deprivation. When an unconsenting volunteer was forced to make sure their prisoner was kept in top shape, she found herself looking at her captors with an undying famish like a Michelin Star delicately crafted steak.
Certain times, she would be calm, stuck in mind. This was a relief beyond, allowing them to insert the catheter into her mouth and allow their cooking to slither into her gullet while she meditated in some undecipherable mantra. Other diabolical moments required the hands of an all mighty power. Sadly, that was unavailable to the staff, substituting with raw manpower and extreme amounts of resilience.
"Put the tube in and hurry."
She sat in the middle of the room, legs folded, arms tucked in a straitjacket protecting the officer. She was stuck in a strange trance again, a divine giving miracle only sufficed to the privileged.
Her eyes would wriggle under the lids. White portions would escape the ridges of opened sections in minor moments, then return to unintelligible whispers. In the midst of her mumbles, the shaky tube slid through a nostril. The mutters halted. The officer threw his hand to his holster and unclipped it, throwing the powerful taser to its target. Her lips began to move again. The officer's labored breathing slowed as he put down the loaded stun gun. He continued to slide the transparent tubing until it would prevent aspiration. The syringe of liquid food sunk into the other end as he pushed the plunger. The liquid disappeared, passing into her nose. A few more plunges to go of this viscous goo. Someone must've been praying for his sanctity when he finally had one portion left.
"Thank you for this feast I'm about to receive."
The thumb on the plunger ceased. His head bobbed quickly finding satanic portals to an ungodly world bashfully fixed on him. His hand searched for the gun. Gone. Her knees held down his arm, dropping him to the ground. Her unorthodox free arms gripped him close. The other hand snaked to the tube, slipping it out her nose smoothly. Those very same nostrils scoured across his flesh, inspecting, sizing. Her digits felt like hundreds of centipede legs crawling past his uniform and slithered under his skin. Toes dug deep into his leg muscles, keeping them unable to bend away.
"Nnnnnnnhhhh… something is awry within." Her finger trailed down landing below the ribs. It finally prodded below, deeper into his stomach. "Perhaps I should… inspect it myself…"
"Please… no…!"
"So weak… so fragile…" She cooed mournfully. The crazed patient gripped his neck, inspecting the rest of him up and down. "Eyes, lungs, but oh! The other! The other is not doing so well…"
She held the man tightly, grappling his hair to pull back forcefully. Tears poured over at the edges of his eyes at the pressure of a few strands beginning to loosen. "Did you know… back in the early 1900s in Brazil and in the Philippines, a sort of 'psychic surgery' was done to… remove diseased organs without needing tools right through the skin…?"
A few strands of his hair trailed with her fingers back at his abdomen giggling, "such lies by these so called spiritualists and faith healers. There's no denying your riddled, but unlike those illusionists, I could perform the real thing…"
Her hand sheathed pointed like a pressured spring, "just, for you, child…"
"NO NO NO NO!"
The disturbing patient was tugged downward by the supporting infantry before she had the chance to rearrange his innards and redecorate her room with organic matter.
The video cut out as soon as they all bunched up in a dogpile.
"What happened?" Ema squeaked traumatized.
"He was diagnosed with pancreatitis afterwards." Toss answered, digging in the info on her desk. "Some of the gullible guards believed she gave it to him. I don't believe that hocus pocus. I bet he already had it before putting on the uniform."
"So she's the face of evil in the heart of darkness…" their dandy man's chest rumbled with the comment, more impressed than offended.
"The naive remain foolish with their ideals." Franziska pressed her hand on the true facts of the case. "It does not change the reality of the situation that we are dealing with someone dangerous and with murderous intent."
"Nurse Ratched flew over the cuckoo's nest?" Toss questioned expectantly.
"The context that she was once a doctor, then yes."
"He had it lucky…" She wiggled her lips uncomfortably. "During some therapy attempts to help her unstable mentality was not exactly for the faint of heart either, if you catch my meaning."
"There's more…?" Gumshoe cowered, unable to figure where to stop the shaking first.
Those green eyes glowered, "so much more…"
"Steady… now strap her down."
Several heavily strengthened and sturdy personnel held her down. Wrapping the tightest possibility those leather restraints can hold on the stretcher. Literally kicking and screaming, she upheld them from pushing her all the way down in an exorcist fashion. She literally bit the air, throwing sputum and claws in their direction. Her inhuman banshee screeches were wailed down as the rubber gauze was forcefully clamped into her mouth.
The phlebotomist gained a vein with heaven's good graces after attempting to jab the needle into her arm like a dart into a centimeter wide board in a rainstorm in the ocean. The first administration of anesthesia swam into the clear thin intravenous, disappearing inside her. The scrubbed orderlies awaited for the medication to kick in while their patient continued to do her own flailing.
"Why isn't it working…?"
"Do another one!"
"I...I can't! I've put enough in her to knock out two oversized people!"
"Do another one! NOW!" Another orderly growled as nails began digging into his forearm muscle.
The anesthesiologist added another dose contiguous to medically inducing a coma.
"Countdown to ten!" Their patient screamed in the muffling teeth guard, "it's all the time you'll have left!"
The force doubled over. One burly man crashed into the overhead light, falling over onto the floor as one of her limbs managed to spring free. The same bloodstained tips grappled on his lapels, removing the attention away from the other arm he held.
"Count down, child. Count!" She screeched the diktat.
"T-ten…" The man couldn't break away the webbed mania lapping at his sanity. "N-n-nine…"
"Good… good…" She whispered motherly, releasing him delicately, "keep going…"
"Eight… se-even…"
"You're almost there…" The blood of the fellow winded attendant smeared gingerly as she brushed his ruffled hair in commendation.
"Sixx… five… four… three…
The words became more coherent, but farther away as she began to drown in darkness.
"T-t-t…"
"Sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhhhh…" She held the neck of his scrub as his weight caved over his knees and dropped him, hauling the IV imbedded into his arm and metal stand with him.
A swelling hiss attained fresh targets to do as she pleased. The specialists scampered, tripping over one of the orderlies to the emergency button. A leg begged to be swung over the rung it was held, but halted in its spot.
"Give me a second," she immediately darted in removing the leather. "I won't leave you lonely for long."
The locked doors busted wide open, colliding loudly against the opposing walls. Two more orderlies barreled like the running of the bulls to hunker her back into place. Taking no chances, they climbed over and held their weight down with their legs seizing the rebellion at once. The buzzing shock of the ECT cracked the atmosphere.
"Give her the shock!"
"She has to be asleep first."
"Just do it!"
The technician began warming the headpiece connected to several wires linking to the ECT inlets.
"Ready… everyone away."
"We can't! She's not held down at the waist yet." The demand broke through the cacophony of screaming.
"The first shock should cease her movement."
They all simultaneously released once the headset was placed right on her recalcitrant head. The lever pressed down in a flash, sending several bolts into her. She convulsed into heavy episodes, fighting the electricity holding her locked muscles. The workers waited until the machine finished its job before it was switched off. The spasms and shaking halted once the current was blocked. She slumped back on the gurney. Quiet. Unreactive.
Many of the workers craned their head over to see her episode quenched. Shuddery breaths echoed, shattering the only silence gained after the altercation. One worker walked dubiously ahead to strap the remaining leather belt over her waist. His gloved hand grappled the other end over her near catatonic body. He was rudely stopped as the leather pieces snapped from the stretcher. Her nails dug deeply into the interns shoulders before feeling an immense pain followed through his body. He shrieked in agony as he felt his scrubs drenched in sweat, saliva and his own blood. The other interns came in urgent assistance. She threw this large man towards his colleagues, toppling them over like bowling pins. Her back arched and contorted unnaturally, as the technician near the machine gazed at the horror. Blood of another dribbled towards her eyes, into those hateful and chaotic pits in her sockets upside down, crying upwards to her forehead. Her hair dangled like a mysterious veil of swamp weeds that fermented in a bog. If it was not for the restraints on her ankles, he was well aware that the punishment the other man had endured was but a peck on the cheek.
In a violent death roll of a crocodile, the suplexed stretcher tumbled along with another restraint. The tooth guard propelled from her mouth. She sibilated and gurgled towards her oppressors, ready to maim anyone who came near with a bloodthirsty rampage. They all panicked, watching as the only thing saving them all was that very last cufflink on her ankle. She knelt down into an offensive position, claws ready to pounce. The small splatters of blood from her victim that touched her toes caught her intrigue. One hand came down onto the sleek tile. Her finger dragged curiously, almost playfully against the red blotches in fingerpaint. She connected them like stars into a much bigger constellation.
"The currency… of the soul…" the sick words squeezed through clenched jaws, ambivalent on it caused by the shock or ire. "Despite renewing itself every 120 days… it keeps all of your past sins at a much deeper level…"
She stood up straight, red tainted fingers pointing panoramically in all directions, "something mere mortals don't understand… but," the last link was severed. All of them bare witness to the relinquished insanity.
"With my blood…" Her arms spread with a bloodied wingspan, "all of you can be so much more. Delicate purity for the body and soul, My Children…"
The sirens blared when one managed to finally stamp the emergency button. She groaned at their ignorance and misunderstandings of their only possible salvation. The lacrimal red returned below the eyes for the pitied. Yet, like all sequestered truths and harsh realities, it takes a while for the world to sync in and accept change and embrace such gifts.
"Not now…. Not soon, but… later..." She slumped into the red puddle, letting the guards take her back in cuffs to her home of tenebrosity, unraveling the trail soak of the feasted.
"Those are just a couple of instances. I don't feel like playing the rest," the table remote switched off the screen. "You do your homework."
Toss predicted that's the most their mostly experienced helpers could stomach for now. Had he not been briefed on the case files, Edgeworth would've figured Toss showed a few snippets of a snuff film starring the same dedicated actor. Franziska closed her eyes, keeping her well placed composure together. Ema crushed her ears with more compression than Gumshoe did with his weight. The begging screams and manic panic from each of those poor morsels that scratched eerily from the surround speakers of the room had her pant soundlessly into the sleek table. Those people were just trying to do their work, especially the health professionals whose main goal is to help people in the ilk, not endure suffering whether it be physical or not. It may not be registered as a possibility, but maiming shouldn't ever be an event to occur to the helpful. Gumshoe yearned to comfort the near weeping investigator but was afraid for himself and placing a pat on her may cause her to jump out of her own skin. He figured, working around making her feel more comfortable would work, like when Maggey has her emotional turmoil from her not so kind luck.
"It's a good thing this person is in jail, right?" Gumshoe laughed.
He chuckled a great crescendo, bouncing around to lighten the mood. He held his stomach, aching with the cramps of a greatly required gut buster. He hollered a few more rolls and wiped a tear at the corner of his eye with his giant finger tip. When the realization of having a single laugh track in the room of patrons, he descended several decibels until his breath could be caught up.
"Right?" He cleared his throat from a leftover snicker, "am I right?"
Toss tapped, uncharacteristically patient for the detective to finish. "Your ignorance is a great bliss. I actually feel kind of bad to break it to you."
"Break what?" His signature smile lost its height.
"I do not do this out of cruelty, but the cold truth, Detective Gumshoe," Franziska brandished, "but this person is no longer confined to the walls they were onced housed in."
"You're telling me that-?"
"This person is on the loose."
The black swiveling chair rammed into the poster board, knocking a few magnets and gathered a mess of papers to fly around. Gumshoe's heavy expirations managed to outweigh Ema's when she turned to see that big goofball apprehensive.
"How did she get out?!"
"Steven J. Russell apparently had consulted his secrets," the man in the hat pinched in.
"As a death's row inmate, she was going to be transferred to the executioner's block. The guards reported that the witch doctor did some out of world anamoly. The two started fighting causing an accident to happen. The transport van tipped and Pandora's box broke open, letting her out. Or so they claim…" The explanation itself goaded Toss.
"How did they start fighting?" Edgeworth finally inquired.
"It's stupidity at its finest. Apparently about an affair." Toss's face scrunched miffed. "Franziska read their report. I'm not going to give myself another brain injury for their excuse. I might get an aneurysm this time."
"Something like this was extremely avoidable," she regained the file from Chief's possession, clattering the files promptly together.
Gull Bay State Prison - Solitary Confinement
April 15th 2026 - 4:30 a.m.
Like the galloping of horses to war, the march of officers and security strapped themselves and prepared for the worst that housed the bricks and concrete. The travel of dank cells and metallic bars held the condemned and the criminals of the district correctional facility. The roars of venomous hate and poisonous spit of the unclean and unlawful launched towards the authority, banging on their cages to gain the oppressors' attention. Descending into the deeper chasm led to the belly of the beast. The audience barely audible and died down as they met an esophageal door. A vault of forbidden secrets that rarely ever allowed even the most artificial light to enter its chamber. Thick as basement bank walls though it was not treasure that was bound within, metal and alloy unwelcomingly unfurrowed its dark habitat. The weather had changed seasons, advancing into the colder temperaments.
Procedures were expected to be beyond their excellence. Anything under than 110% was unacceptable and the utmost squad divided in doublets, armed to takedown any moment in case the worst is to come.
"This is ridiculous," one guard muttered under his breath.
"Then by all means," another man in black and blue uniform informed. "Be my guest."
The skeptic shook his head, "I mean… It's only one inmate. Why do we need four guys?"
"You're a cowboy, aren't you?"
The revealing luminescence pierced the veil of darkness and into another darker umbra. Black orbs absorbed every ray of thick light coming from the lamp source. Wide swallowing holes that barely visited the idea of light honored a collective gathering.
"!"
The guard yelped, landing backwards on his utility belt. The fluorescent lights completed the unfinished task. The rude disturbance of rioting light caused her eyes to clamp shut. Her groan was annoyed and confounded. The walls littered and graffitied with strange symbols and archaic drawings. Numbers, sketches, and words scrawled on the abused shelter walls. Many were of inhuman creatures claimed to be her future 'offspring.'
"Good morning, Witch Doctor." One of the guards announced through the loudspeaker. "How are you and the kids?"
Turns out the pits did have a rim each. Abyssal holes shrunk down into pins allowing tint colored orbs to greet the world and staff with adjusted perturbance.
"..."
"She's chatted out today." The loudspeaker lost the octaves.
"She's been chatted out." A guard approached more agreeably, but remained cautious. "This might be a good time."
The guards readied the inventory - the taser secured arm and ankle braces, an extra straight jacket, a muzzle, and sturdy cuffs.
"Hey hey!" One of the guards yelled partially frantic, "why aren't these the conductive cuffs?"
"Because physicist…." the man on the mic whispered with a threatening undertone, "no electricity is gonna pass through those jackets…"
Two prepared the new accessories they planned on adorning on their special person for their own false guarantee of safety.
"If she shifts or even gives you a look, she might bite. Shoot her with two tasers and then two of these." The guard handed over a box of prepared sedatives.
"Why two?" The rookie asked. "I heard two is enough to take down a horse, two more could be a killer whale."
"Oooh, trust me…." the guard at the speaker sounded. "She's resilient. She'll fight it off like over the counter cough medicine."
Two highly voltaged weapons aimed, a cuffed search in case she somehow magically gained a sort of utensil as a makeshift weapon other than the ones she was born with, and she was ready for the secure getup. It's definitely one of the only moments of contact squired in this place. Each one pat gestured by a small shiver and curious shake of her head as her eyes still remained tightened shut from the unending insufferable light. One perk and advantage of being in constant darkness and long enough for the guards to secure before those shutters opened all Hell to land on targets. Nothing considerably violent or notorious of a response happened to allow triggers to be pulled.
Reduced to a walking tank, the guards escorted their inmate through the opposite end of the building. They feared the riling uproars of the prison inmates may cause an unpleasant reaction from their metallically armored prisoner.
For the first time in a lifetime ago, this weird foreign sensation crept between the folds of clothing, metal, and hair. It touched her skin coldly but fresh. It did not feel like what she used to breathe. This was different, more new and crisp. Through the stainless girdle of the caged maw, the taste was definitely different from her domain. Lowly dimmed husks examined the atmosphere. The still dark dusky and murky purple clouds littered above a landscape so alien.
One of the guards engulfed and sighed with relief. "Feel that morning air? See the sky? See the clouds. Well the sun is coming pretty fast, but I'm sure you can still get the picture. Because it's the last time you'll ever see it."
The remaining security brought her over to the driver and active guard of transportation. "Here she is, be careful."
The ankle brace was removed, leaving only her feet from constraint. An upscale staircase allowed better access into the police vehicle. The travel van was meant for up to eight ball-and-chained detainees, but this joy ride of metal seats was solely for the convalescent. The preinstalled ankle chains below the seats clamped over the blue and white sturdy jumpsuit.
Finally standing, the designated driver unintentionally locked eyes with his prisoner. His neck hairs curled. Something felt eerily wrong. It felt like those dark hollow suckers stole something from him.
Sanity? Security?
Whatever it was, it seemed off, everything was dirty and exposed. His skin crawled. His clothes felt foreign against him. The heat of his body did not belong to him. It was wrong. Impelled by overactive nerves, the door slammed hard and was locked from the outside. The van door was pried open and he jumped quickly into his seat in a cold sweat.
"She strapped in?" Mr. Tarr tapped his friend's shoulder.
Sanctity, Mr. Tien turned. "…Yeah… yeah…"
The vehicle came to life at the turn of the key and rolled through the yellow lines into the street. The highway would be a very good route. Much faster, less lights, and to remove the baggage that was currently in the cargo bay would bring off this horrible feeling of dread still seeping into his blood. Besides the occasional bump in the road or swiveling along the large six laned early bird swerve, the journey was dead silent. The conversation on their lips were sewn shut, hoping to not have a sudden ruckus from their back passenger remain undisturbed as the disturbed can achieve before death.
"Our day. Our time."
"Oh snap!" Mr. Tarr gasped, watching behind the black bars separating the front of the van like a cage. Whether the purpose was to trap her or protect them was still up for debate. "She does talk."
Her voice was gravely and worn like she had scratched her very vocals from screaming for days non stop. They healed but recovered into a intertwine of two mingle hushes, rarely used as if awoken from years of slumber.
"You two seem like great friends. Appreciate it, savor it… I'll give you a moment."
"Didn't she kill hers?" Tarr whispered a little lower.
"It doesn't mean anything to her…" Mr. Tien rebuked, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
"Do you trust him?" She asked decrepit, intended for one.
"Yep, she talks a bit." Mr. Tarr self agreed.
"The eyes are a gateway to the soul. And such delectable wickedness. I know sin. Bathed in it. Molded by it. Consume it."
"I bet it's nice on a salad. Haha."
"Don't hide the uncertainty behind humor. It's so typical of humans. We are betting entities. And we can see such malice committed by your 'friend.'" The last word cradled with iniquity.
"Just don't listen to the crazy," Tien dissolved wary. "You might catch it."
"Only the truly mad or nearly dead could fathom the words of the almighty. Am I not the perfect arbiter to give the impartial truth? Let me share some words."
"You might as well let her. She's kinda right about the mad and nearly dead part at least."
"I don't think she'd be quiet anyway."
"Before I give you the mic," Tarr tested the relatively smoothest behaviour coming from this prisoner than what he's heard from incident cases he's ever surmised. "You get one more meal, something you get to pick as your last meal before you eat, customized to your liking. Almost whatever you want. So, what do you want?"
"Probably a nice prom sized bucket of pork blood…" Tien mumbled.
Her mad grin grew impossibly broad, "I am content with the sustenance I have already."
"That slop they already give you? EW!" He turned to his friend, "at least she knows what she likes. Not like my wife. I gotta name like twenty restaurants before she picks one and I already know which one she wants to go - the one that she likes. And you know what she says once I name it, 'I mean… if you're going…'"
"The steakhouse near the borough mall?" The driver tipped.
"Yeah!" Tarr praised. "How'd'ya know?"
"Lucky guess, I mean it is new." Tien cracked.
"Oooooh… that's nice." Her voice became hoarse.
"What? A steakhouse?" Tarr fully turned in his seat, "I mean, if you want something from there I can get it."
"You should," Tien butted more effortlessly with the end results. "Where she's going, there's not much time left."
"Couple more days. I'll get that promotion and we can move into an even better apartment for us and Sebas." Labored scratches became clear and pronounced as crystal water.
"I thought you moved into that apartment already?" Tien drew his face quickly away from the road, but threw it back when he entered a much clearer path on the highway.
"Th-that wasn't me…" His friend's face lost colour.
"... another night alone. It'll be worth the wait I guess." Another line erupted, sending shivers down one of the officer's spine.
The happy go lucky tone exterminated, replaced with a beating in his chest.
"Oh, how that room where you slept almost once every one or two weeks when you had the chance after a long day contained the essence of another. Mr. Tarr." Like a muscle, her vocals strengthened as theirs waned.
"... listen, I'm alone again…"
"I can come over."
"Please. I'm so alone."
"Is the kid going to be there?"
"I gave him to my mother tonight. Told her I'll be working the nightshift again."
"You sneaky sneaky vixen."
Perfect feminine and masculine escaped her maw simultaneously in a harmonious self conversation. A rough pounding evidently drummed into the driver's ear. A tiny trickle of sweat crawled behind the shell.
"It was quite... awkward, wasn't it, Mr. Tien? He thought you were his daddy. Hahahahaha." The hysteria submerged the interior of the vehicle. "Could you truly blame the child? Papa is rarely home."
"Why do you sound like her?!" Tarr banged on the wall fringing between them all, "why do you sound like my wife?"
Wriggling ungracefully like an elegant hydra, she nuzzled such riposte. "Remember that random sock under the bed? The must of another around her collar when you hugged her after work."
"You can't possibly know that?!"
"One of my favorites!" She shook excitedly, "the key under the sill of the mailbox was near the lampshade behind the alarm clock."
"I…! No!" Tarr stammered, "that was because she locked herself out by accident!"
"Yet, when she showed you the mangled credit card to open the door, the main key was just next to it in her pouch… you were just too happy to know that she was okay, but more than overjoyed after that heated argument on the phone before you left for work..."
"Married couples fight!" Tarr screamed, "it's not unusual we get over it."
"She got over you and on top of another alright." A diabolic giggle fractured the last ounce of patience.
Tarr stripped off his seatbelt, baring his teeth between the tiny holes for their captive. "My friend wouldn't do that! Unlike you!"
He seethed through the grates, "I would never hurt my friend. And he would never hurt me!"
"Hey! Hey! Ignore her!" Tien removed a hand from the wheel, to hold his friend back.
The chains sung their tune against the metallic cold floor, trudging decorously as far as they could stretch, her amusement only ignited the fury and troubling doubt seeded deeply inside him.
"Just like a good friend, he was there to keep your spot warm…" The embodiment of madness kept speaking. "I can keep going. Now, Mr. Tien. Please explain to Mr. Tarr such coincidences?"
"What are you talking about?" He looked into the dash-mirror, watching as her fingers melted through the sharp holes of the border.
"I can fill in the blanks for you. No such alibi for work exists. For those days of the week, you had off. And your phone calls? Oddly aligned with the 'nightshifts' between you and Mrs. Tarr."
Tarr swiveled back and forth between the insane to the one who claims to be his friend.
"Come on, you know," her finger twirled accusingly at the still challenging guard, "you went through her phone, messages did not match up even though they both claimed to be at 'work'."
"I wouldn't do that to him! Alright!" Tien shouted towards the dashboard, unwarranted to face the true warden.
"Why be just afraid of walking down the valley and shadow of death when such friends come along?" She hung her weight helplessly for a moment before climbing back up the metal webs. "But I can guide you through this one step at a time… for being so genuinely nice to me."
"H-how?" Wrath heated his skeptical brow.
"Don't do it!" His friend clamoured, compelled on pressing the gas pedal to their arriving exit. "Remember! She does this to everyone!"
"Tell me…!" The sudden velocity threw his friend right in front of the cage door to behold the beast on the other side. She threw her head back and weedled as close as the chains allowed.
"Right now… your wife should be returning from work from that lovely midnight shift. Mr. Tien is just about to clock out in several hours as well once he hits his destination, while you are just beginning. He told you to come in early knowing such a fruitful package that I am as he described. With my greatest intuition, he should receive a wonderful message… right… about… now!"
A single ding erupted from the front. The driver recoiled from his pocket, as if it burned him to the touch.
"Get it and experience the unadulterated truth of the adulterers!"
Tarr rigidly did as he sought, leaning over the shoulder of the seat.
"Let me see your phone." Tarr clenched his already white knuckles.
"No! It's my phone!" Tien focused on the road.
"Let me see your damn phone!"
"It's probably the job asking us if we made it yet!" He excused, sweat perforating visibly from the light blue uniform.
"Then they would have used the radio!" Tarr pointed at the integrated box inside the dashboard. "Let me see your phone!"
"You're letting her get to you, man!" Tien argued, hoping to calm his friend. "It was just a coincidence that I just got something! It's probably an email!"
Tarr dug through his friend's pocket, causing an immediate hand to slip from the wheel. The rumble strips bombarded the van like a tumble wash. He grabbed the wheel quickly, accidentally swerving a few cars out of their lanes after a sharp turn.
"What the hell man?!" Tian caught his breath.
"Why is my wife texting you?!" The evidence thrown back into his face with the resentment blurred in the background painted all over his friend's face.
"She's just checking up on us!" Tien spat, "I told her we would be dealing with someone dangerous."
"Oh yeah?" Tarr sat back in his seat, "what's the passcode?"
"I don't need to tell you! I don't have to tell you! I'm not doing anything behind your back!"
"These locks! These locks! They just keep on coming!" Another pleasure in the back of the van craved for more. "But they'll all break with what you seek."
"Why won't you show me?!"
"Because you're being irrational! Why would I do that to you?! I thought you knew better than that!"
"Don't forget your guide…" Her finger beckoned in the shackles, "it's closer than you think…"
The choler was ready to be unleashed and she knew just where to press for Tarr to explode.
"I know the code…" She hushed.
"BS!"
"He's not your friend anymore…" She lapped her lips. "Say it! And that code is all yours…"
Tarr looked his friend dead in the eye one more time, hoping for some leftover faithfulness from the man he worked and befriended for years. "What is the code?"
"Sit down, man. She's doing this to break us apart! To make us lose ourselves before we head to the other jail. Didn't you read all the reports? She breaks people, turns them against each other until they batter themselves." Tian begged, hands squeezing the steering wheel. "Remember all the years we've been together. High School, your wedding, when your sisters were sick, when we survived all those riots in the prison and I saved your life?! How can you accuse me of sleeping with YOUR wife?!"
Tarr could see the water entering his friend's eyes that have yet to spill. He was always there. For each other. The best man, best friends, through thick and thin, coworkers and more. Maybe he was right and he's just overreacting? He has yet to have his morning cup of joe and his life has gotten strained since he barely saw his family, especially his one and only son scantly over five. He was about to hand over his phone to his great friend, meeting him halfway for the job.
"I love those speeches, they are so empty, like your promises." Their prisoner spoke charmed, "so what are you waiting for?"
They both looked at her perturbed, phone still in possession of Mr. Tarr. "Yeah… I trust you, but I would like to see the text."
"I'll show you later, don't worry."
"Ahhh… still persistent on innocence…" She playfully sat on the floor, legs folded, "don't let it go, your window of opportunity will be gone… forever."
"You know what? Let's prove her wrong!" Tarr charged his friend eagerly, "then you'll see!"
"We don't have to prove anything to her."
"I'm waiting…"
"Come on, man," the driver's friend persisted, "I want to see her whole little mess collapse."
"I'll take it to my grave." She proudly craned her neck. "Whether it be injection, electrocution or hanging. Guillotine, too, if you're traditional."
"Heard her? Put them in, man!"
"Don't you understand what no means?!" Tian shook his head peeved, "she is so damn right about you…"
"Who…?"
"Nothing! Now can I drive in peace?!" His hand dove into his locks, aggravated.
"Who was right about me?"
"Drop it."
"I don't get what's got you so wound up."
"If you really want to know, your wife has been texting me how troubled she is about your marriage, okay?!"
"She never told me…"
"Because you wouldn't shut up and let her explain!"
"How long has this been going on?" Tarr's shoulders slumped.
"For a while…" The driver nasally huffed. "We can talk about it when we get there."
"I believe it is best for Mr. Tarr to 'fix' this problem by reviewing the evidence itself." She slithered her back like a viper.
"No he doesn't," he countered.
"I gotta call her…" Tarr scraped at his scalp, taking out his own cell to dial. "I have to see if she's okay."
"No! You don't!" He startled, "...have to do that. We can talk about this after work."
"I can't, man! I got to help her now!"
"Leave her alone, she's just coming out of work soon, and let her rest easy."
"How do you know her work schedule?" Tarr blinked his pink puffy eyes.
"I-I I mean she told me and it was a good time to talk to her."
"She doesn't even text me goodmorning…" He skimmed down his contacts, finding her name. "I need to-"
"Just leave it!" Tien was about ready to press the sirens to move the traffic to the side when another bleep came from his phone.
"Another one…" Tarr lost the will to hold his weight, "can I see the texts, please?"
"FOR THE LAST TIME - NO!" Tien stretched his arm furiously, "now give it back!"
Tarr incensed on being left out of the loop. The worst of it is that his marriage was possibly on the brink of collapse and his friend did not bother to enunciate the terrible news. Why would he deceive him like this?
"My offer still stands, Mr. Tarr…"
Wagering the bargain, his road split between two ends. Take the chances of his duplicitous friend or make a deal with the devil. Regardless of either path, his fate was to swim in despair.
"Make the choice… your chance will be lost for worse soon…"
He weighed the phone once more in his hand, his wife's name on the screen chiacked to uncover their secret.
"All I gotta do is say it…?"
She nodded peccably. "Verbatim."
"What are you two doing?" Tien lost his grip on the wheel, perspiration sleeking the black a nice coating of organic wax.
The device suffered a pascal death grip deciding on what she wanted, as per their agreement.
"He's not my friend anymore…"
She stood up, him following in tow. The stark mad eyes pierced beyond the holes. "I'll give you a hint… It's your son's birthday!"
Tien lost his phone on the opposite side, where his friend planted the numeric password near screen shatteringly hard.
"Don't look!"
The evidence shone brighter than midday. The foul flirting, the scandalous planning on the next sexual encounter, the lecherous confessions of infatuation, the worst of it all was the full bodied nude sent not just two minutes ago.
"You… it was you!" Tarr babbled incoherently, erupting hatefully, "I-I I knew it! How could-"
"I didn't touch her!" Tien shuffled between the road and his once known friend fulminate.
The rippling whines strained through Tarr's throat. Pieces of his hair were roughly caught between his fingertips as he continued scrolling through months and months of infidelity.
"Lying when the truth is out in the open?"
"Shut up!" Tien contemplated stopping in the middle of the road to settle his friend. "C'mon, man, I wouldn't do that to you!"
"Why my son's birthday?" He slumped, head in his hands as his world erupted like the city of Pompeii. "Is Sebas even… mine…?"
"He deceived you… Mrs. Tarr spoke of the possibility that your son may not even be yours…"
Angry vengeful tears stained his hands, the actuality that his family was a lie. "That means you've been doing this for…!"
"MORE THAN FIVE YEARS!"
The wet soul crushing caterwaul through spittle onto his lap. The world was enveloped in red. He watched as his betrayer now scared with hands still invested on the wheel grew stiff.
"Mr. Tien," she murmured softly. "He deserves punishment…"
Blind with rage, Tarr lunged bloodthirsty, squeezing his fingers around his now nemesis's throat.
"I'm driving! No! Stop! We're gonna die!" He choked, throwing the vehicle back and forth along the roads. The screeching of several tires swerving to avoid contact combined with the screams within the van escalated to a chaotic chorus of stridency.
"The truth shall set us free!"
"Why?! Why?! WHY!?" The line repeated over and over as his digits tightened, cutting off air and blood. If the chances of death were to happen. So be it!
Their inmate enjoyed their show, laughing deliriously at the show unfolding. She suddenly froze and stared at the interior metal dead wall of the van.
"...you're no friend, but we share a mutual understanding…"
The world swiveled and turned. The weightlessness of it all was surreal. The landscape swooping in view before the crash of glass and screech of sparking metal against tarmac. Pinches from glasses and abrasion of pavement were prominent. The world kept moving however. Crumbling shards underneath him, away from the embers, Tarr felt something crawl all over him. The metal chimed in the blurry world. The stewy mix of purples, greens, and blacks of diesel bursted. Black smoke contaminated the air with blazing hot red fires of Hell scorching the earth and tar. The wind was consumed from hungry flames. Tarr picked his strewn ragdoll neck up to find cuts and bruises along his arms. He could only imagine the condition of his face and body. Crumbling the glass into dust underneath, his forearms pressed upward to find it.
The silhouette adopting the cleansing fires. Its form darker than the polluting ashes and combustion. Broken chains dangled and burnt straight jacket mangled beyond repair on the metal harness, yet the perp remained tall and devious without a scratch.
"Ahhhh…" the exasperation made it through the crackling and roaring embers. "Free from the shackles at last."
She peeked down, finding his wariness sporting with the battered and bristled.
"I am grateful. And I'm sure the Nymph is, too." It spoke.
The fires continued to consume as the fuel spread. The barrier of flames isolated or perhaps protected him from this being. He wished with all the love and hate upon the world he didn't see that soul snaring grin and eyes. It pierced with malevolence that violated his skin with trembles. The blessed wall of flames grew immensely, hiding or perhaps burning away the image, but never from his mind.
'...You were in darkness. A darkness that not even I had endured…'
"They thought she died In the fire but leftovers proved that false," Toss chimed.
"What was the condition of the other guard?" Edgeworth said entranced.
"Oh, he died," She explained deft. "Yeah, skin is not easy to remove from the tarmac when it's crisped to a cinder. Kind of melds together like glue."
'Thanks for the mental image, Dr. Toss…'
"Now the directive is to find Dr. Clematis and put her back in her cell." Franziska pointed out.
Edgeworth was no stranger to the psychopathic and the sinister. He faced the ranks of assassins and serial murderers, but this person was unique. It was not quantity for this case, but the in depth quality of torment this killer had. The silent jubilation landing on his self made prayer, a forensic chief, and two prosecutors to help. All respectively threatening in their own way. Either by whip, quip or snip. He was going to acquire all the help he needed in order to not deal with this person face to face in the stripped raw persona the other personnel have met before him. He needed to collect the material Dr. Toss and his sister amassed and assist in any way he can, especially if this person is roaming around freely in the city he is meant to protect.
"May I have those mugshots back?" Edgeworth rotated in his seat to the seatless member.
He sighed, bowing a head down to search. "Pictures give off more than thousands of words… that includes the truth and the false. I've grown attached to this gallery. Take good care of it for me."
'… highly questionable…' Edgeworth cocked a brow when he received the terrorizing illustration. He sounded way somber for his hotheadedness. Then again, this case could also have affected him negatively. If Edgeworth were asked about his own condition, he'd be lying if he said he was unfazed. "And the other?"
"Hey, I'm on this case, too," Human Resources objected. "I need a reference for who I'm looking for."
'There's no phasing through him…'
Gumshoe and Ema arose, waiting for a plan of action.
"Uhm… where do you people think you're going?"
They all could see the chief forensic grow mildly annoyed. "That's not all, folks…"
"There's more?" Gumshoe and Ema quivered.
"Yes… and it gets so. Much. Worse."
Edgeworth bit back, 'what can get any worse than this?!'
