Why am I a monster?
Scarlet blossomed on the solitary cell floor and Vanitas rose from his bent position, head turning to the guard stopping at the bars.
Torchlight reflected off his smoky helmet. The warden, a pressed navy blue shirt doing little to hide his toned physique, squarely glared at Vanitas. "You sir are under arrest," the guard intoned, "for the murder of Kristoph Gavin." Fresh blood caked the convict's platinum blonde hair. He lay face down, a bottle of shattered nail polish near his hand. "Please put your weapon away."
Vanitas chuckled and moved to the bars. "Are you going to make me?" he taunted. A naked bulb in the dank corridor cast a sickly pool of orange light on the fearless warden. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll do it." Void Gear dematerialized in a puff of grey phosphenes and with it, the dark corridor swirling in the cell collapsed. "Let's be honest though, do you think these stupid bars is going to keep you safe?" Grabbing a steel column, Vanitas melted it, fira dancing in his gloved palm.
Unfazed, the guard dangled a pair of handcuffs. "Please put these on," he ordered.
"Huh?" Vanitas sneered, his helmet mirroring the warden's impassive expression. "Who the hell do you think I am?" he cussed.
"Mr. Clavius' twin brother," the warden evenly replied, "and he's a good man." Vanitas snatched the dangling cuffs and slapped them on his wrists. "Step this way, you will be relocated to another solitary cell." The man unlocked the door. "I presume you won't make trouble for me Mr. Clavius?" Wrapped in an eerie, black and ruby body suit, the suspect merely grunted in agreement. "Then, let's be on our way, mind your step."
09:30 a.m.
Detention Center
Solitary Cell 13
The corpse lay at an awkward angle. Forensics buzzed around it like flies, measuring, chalking an outline, passing theories back and forth. The lilac armchair sported faint blood stains and a red dictionary sat on an accompanying side table. Torn between the sickening anxiety bubbling in his chest and his concern for Apollo, Sora hovered near the gate, wanting to comfort his senior but lacking the courage to.
I refuse to believe it. Whoever did this, it's not him.
It's not Vanitas.
He glanced at Trucy for support. She stalled in the corridor and tugged her glove, bright blue eyes fixated on Justice. Fringe drooping, Apollo stared at his former mentor and backed out of the cell, face betraying nothing. He nodded to Sora. "You have to investigate the crime scene," he said, subdued.
"It's not..." Sora tripped over his words. "Vanitas can't-"
"I know." Apollo attempted a smile which did not reach his hazel eyes. Normally, his speaking volume bounced along the walls, now they barely carried above a whisper. "I'll head back to the office," he mumbled, "to check if Mr. Wright needs help." He fidgeted with his bangle. "You already know who the prosecution for this trial will be," Apollo sighed.
Klavier Gavin.
The senior attorney briskly marched down the corridor, illuminated with dim lights. For a moment, Sora waited for Trucy to follow but she simply touched the brim of her top hat and plastering on a cheery smile, bounded in the cell and began investigating, her voice high strung. Joining her at the shelves, Sora skimmed the titles, grudgingly impressed by the classical volumes. Law books filled one section and he touched the thick spines, head spinning. A goat figurine of marble and a polished violin took centerpiece. Above them, glinted exquisite pieces of fine china.
"We should take those plates and use them at the agency," Sora joked, the pit in his chest gaping wider when Trucy giggled halfheartedly. "The case... the case isn't good," he conceded, giving in to the matter at hand.
He received a call early this morning, while commuting to the KBWA for his daily training. Mr. Wright explained how the chief prosecutor informed the agency of a murder in Solitary Cell 13. The main suspect, Vanitas Clavius, was caught by the warden as he rose from the corpse, his Keyblade dripping blood.
Hysterical, Sora paid the driver double to let him off at the Detention center where Detective Ema and senior Apollo waited. Skye briefed him on the circumstances and whisked away to deal with the investigation. Justice led him to the cell. Unprepared for a corpse, Sora flinched at the lifeless eyes and the copper reek of blood.
Peeling away from the shelf, he gravitated towards the victim. Kristoph regarded him with glassy irises, a hint of surprise evident in his open mouth. How did Vanitas get in here? The cell is always locked. When did he come to Los Angeles?
Why didn't he contact me?
The investigative team maneuvered the corpse and snapped pictures. Ema came in, a whirlwind of white lab coat, chestnut brown hair and her ever present snackoos.
How does she eat those with a dead body next to her?
"The autopsy result," she announced without preamble." Gavin was killed by multiple slashes with an unconventional weapon," she said with a swift peek at Sora. "The perpetrator found a way inside the cell, but the locks are not tampered with." Ema gestured to the ruined bars. "We investigated, an adult man cannot squeeze through the melted bar," she informed curtly when a scientist opened his mouth to question. "Also, the camera stopped recording approximately half an hour before the victim's death." The knot of people in the cell collectively turned to the sparking camera. "We cannot be sure how the perpetrator entered the cell."
He used a dark corridor. But if he did, shouldn't the KBWA know?
Brooding, Sora checked the autopsy report, reading the details but uncomprehending. He laid the documents flat on a wooden chest, pushing away a delicate vase holding a few lush red roses. Who sends roses to an inmate straggling in a solitary cell?
Rubbing the velvet petals between her fingers, Trucy picked a rose, the cut stem dripped water. "Prosecutor Gavin brings them when he visits," she recalled. "They smell wonderful." She offered the rose to Sora who inhaled greedily, at least it masked the stench of drying blood. "Do you want to phone Aunt Maya?" she asked. "She's at the KBWA, maybe you can find out how Vanitas came here?" Trucy twiddled with the fringes of her colorful, diamond patterned cape. "Or why he came here out of all places?"
Yeah, why here? Why not at home, or the KBWA?
The autopsy reports confirmed the detective's statements. Victim died from a single, deep slash across his chest. Multiple shallow cuts crossed his body in parallel lines, bleeding through the tailored suit. It appeared to be Vanitas' handiwork. The precise, neat lines. The quick death. A framed photograph of a commemorative stamp distracted Sora and he picked it up.
"This is my Daddy." Trucy pointed to a man standing to the left of the magician lady in the center. The stamp showed a group of three magicians, troupe Gramarye. "My real Daddy," she clarified. "He left me when I was really young and Daddy adopted me. I'm not sure what happened to him."
Placing the frame back on the table, Sora searched for words of comfort, but they evaporated. He ambled towards the shelf again. "I'm sorry," he finally grit out, "my parents died in a car crash." Fuzzy scenes lurked at the edge of memory, refusing to sharpen no matter how much he tried. "And Vanitas and I have been alone ever since." Not really. "I understand how prosecutor Gavin feels. I'm not… I'm not blaming him," Sora blathered, "I understand he'll suspect Vanitas till the real culprit is found." Absentmindedly pulling the thick books from the shelf, Sora flipped through them, in an effort to appear busy. "When this trial is over, will you tell me more about your real Daddy?" he questioned, afraid of eye contact.
She beamed and he grinned appreciatively, unaware of a pale yellow envelope falling at his feet.
"Evidence!" Ema cheered and snatched the envelope. She dumped her bag of snackoos in Sora's arms and the three pored over the pages inside. "It's poetry." Bewildered, she read a few lines. "Sounds really good too." Skye turned more pages, each filled with elegant handwriting. "One of them is dated yesterday, the night of his murder."
Accepting the evidence and assuring Skye he will dust the envelope for fingerprints, Sora muttered the lines to himself. "A pond with two fishes," the first stanza read, "one of moonlight and the other a chasm. Swimming. The white one lost its way when the black one jumped. Swimming. Alone. Lost."
The blood in his veins crawled to a stop and he trembled.
Noticing his discomfort, Trucy read the second half of the page. "Buzzing hive. You ripped the queen bee's wings. The hive did not stop producing honey. The swarm swarms around a new queen." Confused with the way Sora acted, she guided him to the edge of the cell, away from the dank and dark. "Are you alright? Do you want to go outside for fresh air?"
He swallowed and bunched his scarf, tan complexion blanching to white. "He... he... Kristoph," Sora calmed when Trucy squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The victim is... he's been giving Organization XIII information, about me... about the KBWA... the agency too." His voice became guttural. "I'm sorry," Sora moaned. "Mr. Wright, you and everyone is in trouble because of me."
"It's just a bunch of poetry," Trucy soothed, the back of her neck prickling uneasily. "It could mean anything. I'm an art student remember?" She playfully stuck her tongue out. "I'm the one who should know if it contains hidden meanings or not."
If I remember correctly, you couldn't tell the difference between the painting styles of Rembrant and Picasso.
"I'm positive he's a spy." The orange outlines in the cell danced out of reach, lurking between the bookshelves and under the armchair. Boulders and the scent of earth. "The one with the fishes is about me and Vanitas, it's frighteningly accurate. And his beehive poem... a week ago, I was telling senior Apollo about the KBWA boss, Leon. He got into a paralyzing accident," it's always an accident, "despite this, the vice-chief... now chief, Tifa Lockhart, kept the KBWA in stride. It's busier than ever before," Sora asserted.
A team in white hospital scrubs carried Gavin away on a stretcher. A sheet draped over the corpse, shielding the world from its gruesome appearance.
Reluctantly dragging back to the crime scene, Sora stirred the glass fragments found near the victim's hand with a stick till Ema snapped at him to stop. Apparently Kristoph loved using Ariadoneynail polish, his favorite brand. How baroque, Sora sneered. Anxiety hardened into a brick in his chest. Examining the shards, Sora photographed the broken bottle and found himself before the shelf for the third time.
A smooth, leather-bound volume opened to the intricacies of law. Restlessly reading a passage, he skimmed through the book and squinted at the investigative team. No one paid any attention to him, they were too busy warning Trucy to stop unexpectedly touching things. Satisfied, Sora shook the book.
Nothing fell out.
He seized another one and subjected it to rough treatment. A sun bleached envelope, crammed with obscure poetry fell. A particularly thick law book contained several envelopes, all chronicling him and Vanitas.
Where on earth did Gavin get this information?
And Mr. Wright… clearly wouldn't visit Kristoph?
Maybe I'm reading too much into these. Surrounded by drafts, Sora wretchedly paged through another volume, mind refusing to stay on the investigation. The paltry pieces of evidence pointed to no concrete killer and the witness who found Vanitas crouching over the corpse, only repeated his findings accurately.
The accused refused to receive visitors and the mere fact his twin declined him, sent Sora's heart yammering like a jackhammer.
What should I do?
"I still think calling Aunt Maya will help you understand something about the case." Trucy helped Sora in sorting the papers back to their respective envelopes.
The distracted attorney followed the marbled designs impressed on the floor. Leaving Trucy to deal with his mess, he peered under the chair and lifted a single hair strand from the ground, holding it to the wintry sunlight slanting from a barred window high up in the cell. Stashing the evidence in his pocket, Sora dug out his phone and dialed Maya's number.
"Hey, how are you?" she greeted like she last saw him a year ago. "Tifa is finally acknowledging my suggestion of free burger samples," the medium chimed good-naturedly and he chuckled. "How is the investigation coming along?"
Making sure the hair did not magically teleport from his pocket, Sora lamely replied, "Okay. I guess." The strand could point him to the criminal, although... it could also belong to Kristoph. It's definitely Kristoph's, it's light in color and... "Uh... uh right. I called you to find out dark corridors, I'm positive Vanitas used one. Can you tell me when precisely the dark corridor was opened?"
Maya's heavy exhaled cackled like static. "Sora, I know the KBWA gives off the impression that we know whenever a dark corridor is opened in Los Angles, but it's not true." At the KBWA, she shared a helpless look with Tifa. "We can only tell when a dark corridor opens and closes at the portal room, either than this, we have no way of knowing who is coming in; or going out. Apart from dark corridors, there are a number of other devices which can transport you from one end of the universe to the other." Placing a palm on the receiver, Maya leaned to Tifa. "What's it called now again?" she asked, "the thingy his Majesty uses?
"Like a star shard," Maya informed. "We can't be sure Organization XIII did not make devices for transportation." She listened to the chief. "Is there dust on the floor?" Fey inquired. "If there is dust, sweep it up and bring it to the laboratory, the KBWA lab," she clarified. "They can confirm if it's Vanitas' Keyblades or not."
No dust. The floor gleamed in the light spilling from the corridor and Sora stowed his phone away, despair weighing his limbs.
He obsessively patted his pocket.
Please, he prayed. Please let it be decisive evidence.
A monster huh?
Half of his face dissolved, leaving nebulous darkness behind. When the warden placed him in a new cell, Vanitas made an odd request, for a mirror. Propping the looking glass in a corner, he removed his helmet.
The bewitching depths of a dark purple cosmos glinted back at him. He rotated his face, to better appreciate the swirling darkness and ran a gloved finger along his intact half. The cheek and jawbone remained firm, at least for now, and his golden iris glittered.
What did he see?
Resentment. Perhaps a little hope. The solitary cell contained anti-magic barriers, KBWA style. Turning the mirror towards the mildewed wall, Vanitas crouched on the floor, hanging his head between his knees. He pulled the fabric of his suit apart; the pain of breaking skin brought a tear to his eye and the material ripped to show more smoky darkness in place of flesh.
Did this count for a Special Assignment? Vanitas pondered, darkness bleeding from his ripped suit. Kristoph Gavin worked for Organization XIII and kept Xemnas abreast of all the happenings in Los Angeles. His extensive network of friends, stretched wide and he reaped the benefits while sitting in a cell. The wound on Vanitas' forearm healed and instead of a scab, the darkness hardened into the muscle-esque suit. He scratched the surface, it was all tingly like a real flesh wound. How much time passed in the real world? In Castle Oblivion, where time became meaningless, Vanitas laid awake for what he believed to be months, sorting through the maelstrom in his head.
How long did a typical Special Assignment last?
Should've pestered Riku on the finer details... he moped silently.
"You have a visitor," the warden announced.
Rearing like a caged animal, Vanitas spat, "I told you I don't want any visitors! Do you want another murder on your-"
"Vanitas?"
The raven haired twin quailed at once, the tension in his shoulders melting.
"I'm coming in." Without waiting for confirmation, Sora stepped inside the cell, nose wrinkling from the rank odor. "Uh... you couldn't get him a better room?" he timidly asked and the warden shook his head ruefully.
Self-conscious of his helmet, Vanitas dusted the bed and scuffed his boots along the floor in a vain attempt to remove a dubious stain. "This cell has barriers," he informed. The guard gravely shut the door after Sora and loitered. Irked, Vanitas glared at him, the effect lost due to the smoky glass obscuring his face. "How long has it been since I got kidnapped?"
Briefly wondering why his brother kept the cumbersome helm on, Sora sat on edge of the bed, it squeaked under his weight. "Around one and a half months." He checked his phone and in spite of the circumstances, a small smile cut his face. "Although I swear it felt longer."
One and a half months?
Suddenly numb, Vanitas crashed on the bed. "...Yeah," he mumbled. "It... I thought it might be longer. They took me to a place called Castle Oblivion and, "Vanitas stopped. "Are you hurt?" he brusquely questioned. "Did you feel an intense pain in your forehead," he fretted, "like someone cleaved it in half?" No visible injury showed on his twin. Zexion did say the Sora in Castle Oblivion was an illusion, but Vanitas wanted to make sure. Just in case. "Think back," he urged, "like a week or two after I got spirited away. Did you suffer from any headaches?"
Overwhelmed by the flurry of questions on his wellbeing, Sora touched his forehead. Did I feel any pain? I remember this sinking anxiety in my stomach. "N-no," he responded slowly. "I'm perfectly fine, no pain, no headache, unless you count the ones I get from overworking." Why is he sitting so far away? "Vanitas, you can take your helmet off you know."
Gloved hands protectively flying to his helmet, Vanitas twisted away. "I picked a fight with the higher nobodies and my face got mauled. One side is pitted with scars," he lied. "Guess I won't impress the ladies anymore." Vanitas chuckled, laughter high pitched and breathy. He petrified when Sora scooted closer. "It's disgusting," he protested, "I'm waiting for it to heal." His brother tried to peer beneath the smoky glass, breath fogging the helmet. "Haven't you had enough of my face already?" Vanitas sputtered.
A chorus of voices reverberated through the corridors and Sora wildly eyed the bars, as if he expected the hooting hooligans to burst through. Hoary mildew cemented the cracks between the bricks and great patches of sludge grey mold dotted the corners. A bulb cast orange light in the cell and it clashed with the tangerine outlines.
"It's only me," Sora said. "I don't really care if it's scarred or if you're missing half of your face." His twin jolted. "I missed you. It's like," he twirled his scarf, "half of me didn't exist anymore."
The ebony glass of the helmet reflected Sora's knitted eyebrows and Vanitas touched it. Cold. Funny how his breath did not cloud the inside.
"I'm sorry." Vanitas threaded his crown necklace, comforted by the glint of a similar, silver chain disappearing beneath Sora's collar. "I hate the way I look now." I don't have half a face. My blood is black. My body is a haze of darkness "I'm a... I'm not human." The words pierced his throat.
I don't know what I am.
"You are not human," Xehanort jeered, the cruel shine of amusement shadowing his gaunt expression. "Haven't you realized it Vanitas?" He paced in his spacious office, the wide windows offered glimpses of the barren land of Castle Oblivion. "You delude yourself and everyone into thinking you are human." Xemnas mocked.
Barely any sunlight filtered through the barricaded window and Sora shivered in the chill. Winter gripped Los Angeles in a frigid embrace and yet, his palms sweated. "Don't be ridiculous," he chided. "Sure you go overboard and I suppose a lot of people will agree you're crazy... but you're Vanitas," Sora reasoned. "I remember you telling... Grandpa... you wanted to be Frankenstein when you grew up."
You don't understand.
"Are you smiling?" Sora continued. "Because I can't tell with that stupid thing on your head."
Again, Vanitas stiffened. A part of him wanted Sora to pull the helmet off.
But knowing his brother...
Placing the court record on the bed, Sora retrieved a spiral notepad from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Vanitas," he began, "how did you get into the cell where Kristoph Gavin died?"
A simple question.
"I'll testify in court tomorrow," Vanitas evasively replied and checked the time on Sora's smartphone. "Shouldn't you leave? It's way past visiting hours." He launched Need for Speed and played it while his twin gaped. "You have a ton of work to do if you want to prove me innocent. I'm not unaware of the charges against me." Plowing through a shortcut, Vanitas maneuvered his car through the tricky terrain.
Fountain pen fisted tightly between his fingers, Sora smoothed a tiny crinkle on his notepad. "Yes, I have a lot of work," he replied in a clipped tone. "But what gave you the impression I'm going home?"
The wheelchair bound man and the golden haired child pushing him along garnered a fair share of inquisitive stares as they passed the gleaming, office lined corridors and into the bowels of the detention center. Scorned inmates hurled themselves at the gates, throwing suggestive jokes to the blonde boy and inviting him to their cells. Courteously ignoring them, Ventus wheeled the chair down twisting corridors and to a chamber removed from the rest.
"What do you mean you're not going home?" the Black Saint barked. "Where will you sleep?"
The reek of darkness, familiar and abhorrent, tickled Leon's nose.
Flippantly rearranging his paltry evidence, Sora did not dignify his brother with a response. His twin's frustration mounted, a volcano waiting to explode.
"This isn't a place for you," Vanitas tried the docile approach. If people believed he was stubborn, clearly they didn't know Sora. His twin boasted a cranium of steel which nothing, absolutely nothing got through once he made up his mind. "Don't be daft!" Vanitas hissed. "You need a good night of sleep, and a proper breakfast - are you eating properly?" he grabbed his brother's arm and fussed, "and taking your medications? Because you're getting thinner and you're hair is a mess. What about showering?" Did the reek of darkness never bother Sora? "Where are you going to bath? Do you see a showerhead in here? Do you?"
Vehemently pointing to the frankly revolting walls, Vanitas twitched angrily when his brother delicately picked his phone and continued the game.
"Say something!"
"Shut up!" Sora growled and instantly regretted his outburst. "Vani," he loosened his noose of a muffler, "you gave me a heart attack when Mr. Wright phoned me this morning and informed me about another murder with you as a suspect..."
The two delved into a squabble and Ventus grinned boyishly. He craned his neck for a glimpse when Sora's tone grew deeper and more difficult to discern while Vanitas defended himself like a panicked kitten. "Sora's scary," Ven laced his arms behind his head, "are you sure I can't say hello?" He tilted his head. "He's not going to be happy to meet me, but I'll be happy to see him. He's grown a lot too," the Wind Mage mused.
Privately wondering how on earth the air headed Wind Mage managed to survive the eons without getting killed off by some misplaced bear trap, Leon wheeled closer to the cell, taking great care to remain out of sight. Vanitas possessed battle honed instincts and the former chief did not want to be caught red-handed in the middle of eavesdropping.
"Confirmed," he rasped. Tifa forced him to take speech therapy, she's been forcing him into a lot of things lately. "Kristoph and Xehanort... are working together." Talking required herculean effort and he longed to give up but the efforts of Ariel kept him going. "He'll sense you," he warned the childish Wind Mage, whose feet kept on pulling towards the cell.
"... And you still won't tell me what happened at Castle Oblivion," Sora's impressive, one sided rant continued. "You got into a fight, yeah, tell me something I don't know!"
Waiting for his brother to wrap up his verbal warfare, Vanitas scratched a scar. "Xemnas took me to the Keyblade Graveyard and I met the bloke in the painting," he confessed.
In the shadows, Ventus' eyes pulsed a subtle shade of gold.
"His name is Terra."
A sharp intake of breath from the Wind Mage. Leaning out, Leon quickly grabbed hold of Ven's clothes and groaned in pain. The boy blinked slowly as if waking from a long, long dream.
"The Lingering Will is crazy strong!" Vanitas excitedly whispered, previous argument forgotten. "But you know, the KBWA said my darkness behaves in a fashion similar to light and the armor didn't attack me."
Unknown to the occupants of the cell, the two outside perked in interest.
His anger melting, Sora motioned for his brother to continue.
"After Xemnas stuck a piece of his darkness on me, the Lingering Will went insane!" The dust of the keyblade graveyard choked Vanitas. He scrabbled for his life and later decided death to be a merciful option to what Organization XIII planned for him. A spike of shame stabbed his chest. What about Sora? "He nearly split my head in half," Vanitas pointed to his crown. "and Xemnas rescued me."
Listening to the various generous gestures Organization XIII heaped on Vanitas, Leon worried. The fingers of his right hand twitched involuntarily, a sign of brewing nervousness. Clavius talked about Org XIII's goals freely, the silver haired superior did not hide anything from him.
One question remained; why is Vanitas here? And why didn't Xemnas try to get him back?
"I'm surprised you didn't make contact with him," Ventus chirped, shattering the uneasy silence. Squall grabbed a stressball and frantically worked it. "You're in this state because you tried to rescue him," the Wind Mage added. "...Oh, you're not allowed to go near Vanitas."
In the KBWA boardroom, its transparent glass walls darkened to obsidian, Lockhart sat opposite King Mickey and listened to him outlining a dictum on how to deal with the Black Saint. Clenching and unclenching his hands, Leon merely nodded, vowing not to take unnecessary action. Goofy and Donald declined to return to Disney Castle and Mickey seized them. Where did their strongest loyalties lie?
To their affiliated King?
Or to the fledgling Keyblade wielder who exasperated them on a daily basis?
"The Los Angeles KBWA," Squall gasped, "decided to keep their distance from the Black Saint." Ventus raised blonde, disbelieving eyebrows and snorted. "His majesty is-"
"Using him," the Wind Mage finished.
Scarred slash deepening with his frown, Leon mumbled in agreement. "Our current policy is to let Xemnas keep Vanitas close, we may learn more of Organization XIII's plans this way." The two brothers discussed work and the Wright and Co. agency. "We are to extract him after a certain lapse in time and arrange the best possible protection. Right now," Leon gulped air, "the King is our top priority. We cannot," he exhaled, "let the nobodies' attention stray to the brown haired Clavius."
Small hands grabbing the handlebars, Ventus pushed the chair into the raw brick corridors, fascinated by the recording device Squall used. "It's easier to manipulate Sora when Vanitas isn't around." Leon froze. "Also," Ven's grin grew wider, "you're really attached to Vanitas aren't you?"
Pale blue eyes downcast, Squall relaxed in his chair. The day tired him out, however, being personally escorted by the breezy founder of the KBWA certainly reduced the sting of his paralysis.
Family
Evening
Wright and Co. Law offices, Lounge
The television blared in the background, amidst sounds of chewing and slurping. Squashed between Trucy and Mr. Wright, Apollo nibbled on a bagel, appetite diminished. "I'm worried about Sora," he said, "and Vanitas popping up unexpectedly."
"With a murder case on top of it," Athena agreed and picked her pasta salad. "His noise levels are always high..."
Phoenix chewed thoughtfully. Subdued conversation floated around him. Worry tinged his daughter's smiles as the conversation delved deeper about Sora. The junior associate worked feverishly and kept mostly to himself. When he did join in, his attention wandered.
Extracting a condiment from her magic panties, Trucy squeezed it on her burger. "I'm sure he'll be fine," she placated Apollo. "Vanitas is back, you know."
True, the agency collectively nodded.
"He needs space." Wright finished his bowl of noodles and plunked it on the messy coffee table. "It must be difficult, having his twin taken away. I think he's coping rather fine," he added with a side glimpse at Apollo. "Polly, you should take a day off," Phoenix lazily suggested, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly. "Whatever happens," he picked the unfinished bagel and began eating it, "we will always be there for him." His daughter cheered and color returned to Justice's cheeks. "He's part of our agency.
"He's our family."
A/N: I remember Trucy's magic panties playing a distinctive role in the Apollo Justice game. They had Plum Kitaki's 'panties' too, stolen by this university bloke if I recall correctly. I hope the AA games never ceases to be ridiculous, it's part of their charm.
And Vanitas is back to being accused of another murder, read and review to find out what happens next.