AN: Note, that I'm using a character from Ace Attorney Investigations 2, Tateyuki Shigaraki, but I'm using the fan translated name of Raymond Shields. The most you need to know is that he's pretty sharp despite his laid back and sarcastic nature. He likes offering hugs and tends to hold grudges.

Next chapter will be the start of the epic court case! And again thank you all for reading, reviewing, faving, and following this story! It means a lot!

My eyes were wide, drawn to the peculiar, but fascinating man coolly entering the scene. He was a lean fellow dressed in a brown dress shirt, blue tie, white pants and what I thought was a black fedora with a bow. I was mostly distracted by his poofy afro-like black hair. I really just had a strong urge to poke it, but of course I had to remain professional.

Gumshoe expressed his surprise out loud. "I-It's you! What are you doing here, pal?"

"I obviously came for a tour," he replied with a big grin.

I blinked, taken a little aback. I was very surprised to hear such a fruity voice come out of his mouth- fruity not in a gay way, but a deep, resonant way. It was odd because his character was just so dorky to me, that I could only imagine him with a higher pitched quirky voice. But as I had expected, the sarcasm was present and thick.

I was well aware of who he was; Raymond Shields, a defense attorney and protégé to the late Gregory Edgeworth. However, he shouldn't be showing up, at least not now anyway. He appeared in Edgeworth's spin off series, which took place after the third game was over, maybe a few weeks afterwards. I was certain I had been transported before the events of the third game, so why was he entering now? It sounded like Gumshoe knew who he was… Did it mean that the investigations series happened already? Was something wrong with the timelines?

(Agh, forget trying to figure this out right now...it can wait.)

Despite my concerns, I couldn't deny that I was excited all the same. Ray was one of my all time favorite characters in the series; to see him standing in the flesh, no, rather to meet him in the flesh was awesome.

"Detective Gumshoe, it seems you are acquainted with this…male specimen. Mind introducing me?"

I figured I needed to play dumb here and pretend not to know who this guy was. It was better that way before I blurted out all the random facts I knew about his life. Scruffy was about to open his mouth, but the smaller man beat him to it.

"Male specimen? I've been called a lot of things, but I don't think I've been called that before," he remarked clearly confused.

I answered with a shrug. Despite the weirdness of my statement he removed his hat from his and placed it against his chest bowing towards me slightly for a moment. "Raymond Shields, ace attorney at your service!" The hat was gingerly placed back upon his head. It was just like the game, except better.

I had to be cool. I couldn't screw this up; first impressions were everything. I smirked folding my arms.

"Lyn Doom. You won't be at any service of mine, since I'm a prosecutor."

"Doom, huh?" within a moment anything expression of warmth was replaced with a harsh coldness. His mouth curled into a frown, the brown eyes were glaring at me. It was rare that this man would be serious, he would normally have some stupid, happy expression plastered all over his face. The disdain of my person was evident. The atmosphere, I felt had changed; it seemed tense, and I myself felt more rigid and uptight. I had a bad feeling now.

"I've heard some interesting things about you."

Uh oh.

"And what things are those?" I shifted the weight from my right foot to the other, hopping slightly. I folded my arms trying to maintain cool, but was most likely failing miserably. I had a feeling I wasn't gonna like what he said.

" 'The attorney breaker'," he smiled wryly as he raised his hands to do pretend quotation marks. "A ruthless and vicious prosecutor who won't stop until they receive the verdict they desire. The one who can win cases just by obliterating an attorney's faith in themselves and in their clients."

I felt my jaw drop and my eyes widen. Me? A so called "attorney breaker"? That couldn't be right. A person who would stop at nothing to crush my opponents to the point where I would break their spirits? That was wrong! I knew that the courts were about finding the truth... Then again, I wasn't the other Lyn. But surely, he was over exaggerating, right?

"Hey! Don't talk like that about Ms. Doom! Making her out to be some kind of she devil!" Gumshoe angrily yelled coming to my defense.

She devil? That brought me out of my stupor. That certainly didn't make me feel much better, but I understood his sentiment. It seemed he supported me, so I couldn't have been all that cruel at least not towards him. I regained my composure.

"I think you're wrong, I do what I think is right."

(I hope.)

"Right, meaning breaking anyone weaker than you to the point where they don't ever step in a court room again."

I clenched my fists. That wasn't me! I wouldn't do that! Even if she wasn't exactly me, she wouldn't be mean and cruel without at least a reason...right?

"It's not my fault they left the courts. I guess they just weren't strong enough to beat me."

"Yeah! That's not Ms. Doom's fault!" Detective Gumshoe stood next to me shaking with anger.

"Relax, detective. It's something he wouldn't understand, so don't waste your energy on it."

"You're right, I wouldn't," the attorney scoffed. "It sounds like something he would say."

"He?"

"von Karma," he shrugged. "Using his own dirty tactics to win and destroy attorneys as his truth he deemed absolute. You would have gotten along well I think."

I stared at the attorney blankly. Was he trying to provoke me? I was at a loss of words. Did he just seriously compare me to Manfred von Karma? My tactics, methods, and attitude were similar to von Karma's? I don't often get angry, but that upset me. I wasn't a total ass wipe like he was nor did I strive for perfection to the point of forgery of evidence. I thought it was best we end this conversation now before I might do something I'd come to regret later, such as punch him. However, I planned on getting the final say in the matter.

"GRRR! You listen here-"

"Detective!" I tugged at one the sleeve of his green overcoat before he did something rash. "Hmph. I'm assuming you came here as the suspect's lawyer?"

"You're sharp," Shields remarked tongue in cheek.

"Well, unfortunately the crime scene is off limits as the police need to continue investigating," I shook my head with a smirk on my face. "I'm sorry about this, but you can't enter. I mean, it's just not cool to have a noisy defense attorney soiling the crime scene with their impudence, right guys?"

The officers in the room saluted. "Yes, sir!"

(Haha! Fuck. You.)

"So, if you would be so kind as to get the hell off my crime scene, it would be nice."

"Hm," he clapped his hands together, his face, I saw as a mixture between amusement and scorn. "It looks like Uncle Ray has to do some snooping elsewhere. At least for now...Later Ms. Doomsday."

Shields stood around for a moment more as if he were deliberating something, viewing the crime scene as best he could. I said nothing, but glared at him with all of my might. After a couple of seconds, he pressed his fedora on his head down and sauntered out as casually as he sauntered in.

"The nerve of that guy!" huffed Detective Gumshoe stomping for a minute or two. Slowly, his feet stomped shaking the earth and remained planted on the ground. Stillness fell over him as he sighed quietly to himself.

"I thought after he and Mr. Edgeworth got along it would be okay...I think he just has a grudge against prosecutors."

(No shit, Sherlock. Well, we are off to a great start, aren't we? I mean, Doomsday? Really?)

"It seems like the case," I adjusted my glasses pushing them up closer to my eyes.

Well, that could have gone better. He was one of my all time favorite characters in the series and it felt lame to be met with such hostility. It's not like I ever had a real idea of how it would go if I ever were to end up in Ace Attorney and meet him, but for the love of gods I could have imagined that going far, far better than it did. I internally groaned. He was going to be my opponent for this case and a hostile one that; at this point I would rather face Phoenix than Ray. At least I could predict how Phoenix would act in court after playing through four games, whereas with Ray I had a very limited idea of how anything would pan out. Plus, I knew he was far more experienced, had a sharp wit, and could improvise when it was necessary. I wouldn't be looking forward to court tomorrow.

I still couldn't believe he had compared me to Manfred von Karma. How rude could you be? Tch. At least, he did give me some interesting information about who I was. If he didn't like me there was an obvious reason behind it, so as much as I didn't want to believe what he said it was most likely true, albeit if not exaggerated somewhat. Though, it would be nice to have a few more details about my reputation from another source.

"Detective Gumshoe, about my reputation, am I really such a horrible person?" I asked frowning a bit.

"Well," He started reluctantly, looking away from me for a moment.

It was clear Gumshoe didn't want to say anything; he seemed uncomfortable at the notion.

"I don't think any of those things, sir! But the media says some harsh things about your methods of getting convictions. They say the way you do things is cold and calculated, and um, callused? Like you're some sort of robot! But you're human, sir! I know you aren't a robot, I haven't found any buttons to push yet!"

(This makes me wonder if he thought I was a robot at some point. But does he really go around looking for my buttons to push?)

"What is it I do that's so harsh?"

He seemed surprised by my question. "Huh, I never thought you cared about what other people thought of you. You always say something like 'forget those swine! I do my job!' "

(Jeez. Hm...let me think of a good excuse.)

"I-It's not like I care or anything, I just wanted to know in order to better improve my courtroom tactics. Perhaps understanding that, I could avoid a situation like the one we just experienced."

"Oh! That's a good idea, I never thought of it like that," he said raising his eyebrows up and down in thought.

"You kinda have a tendency to make some witnesses and defense attorneys break down and give up. You throw a lot of evidence at them and take down their points one by one. It's like watching a boxing match where one guy just pounds the other guy's face in without stopping. Oh and sometimes they cry."

I began to sweat.

(That sounds awful. I can get why they say I haven't a heart.)

"And you always look so intense when you do it too! The bad guys don't stand a chance against you!" he beamed.

"Uh, thanks," I tried to shrug off the horror of what the other me did in court and change gears. Before Ray showed up I had planned on getting a full look at the place and maybe looking for potential witnesses.

"Let's leave this area to the police for now and try to find some witnesses."

"Good thinking, sir! Maybe one of the workers saw something we could use," he said getting his spirits up.

I turned around and proceeded to walk out of the crime scene through the magical swooshy doors. Detective Gumshoe bounded down behind me like a child whom had just received a brand new toy. We left and went down the hallway through another set of heavy swinging doors into the break room. Some officers were in there, examining things still, but the number of them in the room had dwindled down. We were going to continue on our merry way, until one officer stopped us.

"Detective Gumshoe! We've received the autopsy report, blood analysis, and fingerprint analysis from the lab!" he barked holding the documents.

The detective hastily snatched the envelopes with the documents from the officer, ripping them open and pulling them out like a child unwraps his gifts on Christmas.

(Aren't we an eager beaver?)

"Now let's see…" he said giving me the documents to look at as he read over my shoulder. I was glad for there was no way I would ever be able to read over the giant's shoulders if I wanted to. In my hands the autopsy report was on top so I viewed it first.

Much like the game it was pretty succinct. It read:

Autopsy Report:

Time of death estimated between the hours of 8:00 AM to 11: 00 AM.

Cause of death blunt force trauma to the head. Death was not immediate. Puncture wounds occurred after death.

That meant that the meat hook was a fabrication. I'm glad he didn't actually die like that. It would have been excruciatingly painful.

I passed the couple of papers to Gumshoe place back in its respective envelope and moved on to the next documents. Now, it was onto the fingerprint analysis and blood results.

On the first sheet was a compilation of prints and profile pictures belonging to those who came to work today. The next sheet confirmed our suspicions of the prints on the machine; they did belong to the suspect. However, the second set of prints was unidentifiable. To me, that was already a foreseeable problem with this case; the defense would most likely say those prints belonged to the real killer. I would need a way to resolve that hole… Behind the fingerprint charts were the blood results from that machine. As expected the blood belonged to the victim. I separated the papers and gave them to the detective.

"Well, we were right about it… but I wonder whose prints those are," Gumshoe mused putting away the important papers.

"Don't know, they could be unrelated to the case since they don't match anyone's prints on scene. However, you should look into it anyway."

"Yes, sir! I'm gonna track down the owner of those prints in no time!"

(Yeah, sure you will. It will take a bit considering no one else found anything…best be thinking of a plan in court.)

"Detective Gumshoe!"

Gumshoe whipped his head around to the direction of the voice.

"Y-yeah, what is it?"

"We just got this back from the lab, we think it's the murder weapon!"

The young officer marched over grasping a plastic bag with his right hand containing what appeared to be a bloody meat cleaver. Scruffy took it from him and observed it as best he could through the transparent bag. He stared at it for a long time head cocked to the side in confusion.

"That's strange. You'd think you'd kill someone with the actual blade of a knife."

"Huh?"

He scratched his head as he passed me bag. I looked at the contents and instantly understood. What I initially noticed was that the blood wasn't on the tip of the blade, rather all of the blood as at the bottom on the handle.

"I guess it would match up with the autopsy report, since the victim was struck with a blunt object," I commented.

"Yeah," Gumshoe had a far off distant look in his eyes. "Where did you find it?"

"It was the only item found in the suspect's locker, " the officer replied.

"Well, this probably is the murder weapon then…" His previously confused face changed to one a little more relaxed. "Good job, now uh, keep up the good work!"

"Yes, sir!" The officer went back to examining other lockers in the room.

"Hm, well let's continue on the search for witnesses," I said walking out of the break room into the hallway.

Gumshoe nodded and followed. Shut doors to what I assumed to be offices were closed. It was pretty quiet except for the sounds of someone's voice coming out of the door at the very end of hall. We approached the door, sound of the irrated voice getting louder.

"What do you mean? I'm doing the best I can with this place! Money will come soon enough, alright?"

(Guess he's on the phone. But not like that's gonna stop us.)

I turned toward Gumshoe. "Detective, if you would be so kind?"

"Oh! Right," he knocked on the door loudly.

"Uh, listen I'll talk to you later. Okay?" The phone was hung up on the receiver and a shuffling of feet was heard approaching the door.

The door opened slowly and not totally. The most I could see was how dim his office space was; the lights weren't on, but there was a light source coming from the right side of the room.

"Yes?"

The man who greeted us was short and shout, ruddy, beat up looking man. His white button down shirt was half tucked in his pants while the other half was hanging out showing his protruding belly. The gray pants he wore were baggy and only being held up by a belt and surprisingly not his waist line.

"We came to ask you a few questions about the store, Mr. . . " Gumshoe scratched his head.

"It's Mr. Johnson. Please, make this quick. The police have questioned me well enough and I have to make sure this store doesn't collapse from this bad press," he put his hands on his hips shaking his head, along with the tousled mess of stringy brown hair.

"Okay, you found the body first right?" I asked.

"Yes, horrible, quite a horrible sight it was! My best worker hung up on a meat hook was a hideous thing to see," he frowned shaking the bird's nest head of hair. "I never want to see anything like that again and to think that Charlie could do such a thing! I had such high hopes for him to get it together."

"Get it together?" Gumshoe chimed in.

"Oh, yes. Charlie boy hadn't had a steady job in a while, consistently inconsistent, always getting into fights with supervisors and coworkers. I decided to give him a chance here because I could see he wasn't a bad kid, but this..."

"I see," I stroked my chin in thought. "Did you see Mr. Mann after the incident?"

"Heavens no! And I'm grateful I didn't. I only called the police after I found the body. I think Wendy saw him though."

My left eye twitched.

"On the sign in sheet, there were a couple of people we haven't seen. Pat McGood and Jo Jo Inkos?"

"Ah, Pat works a 7 hour shift, so he left before the murder. And Jo Jo hadn't stayed very long, he had been called to another Kum & Go to meet with managers over there on some official business."

So, they didn't see a thing.

"Is that everything? I have some important business to get back to," he looked back into his dark office.

(What work are you even getting done in there? Looking at porn? It's ridiculously dark in there...)

"Yeah, thanks," nodded Gumshoe. "Oh, wait, where can we find Wendy?"

"Should be upstairs, I know the police were questioning her," he called shutting the door tightly behind him, leaving us outside in the empty hallway.

"Hmph. That was rude," I folded my arms. "For a store supervisor he should get some manners."

Gumshoe shrugged. I sighed. I knew what needed to be done, and I knew it was going to be a shit storm. The detective and I walked down the opposite end of the hallway up toward some stairs which led to the main part of the store. After the light jog upstairs, we looked around.

A couple of officers were in front of the store next to the service desk; it seems they were talking to a woman. An old woman, based off the gray hair I could see at a distance. I swallowed and we hesitantly shuffled to what I knew would be my undoing.

"Excuse me," I tapped one of the officers, clearly exasperated on the shoulder.

"Prosecutor Doom, sir!" he saluted.

"Is that Ms. Wendy?"

"You bet! Wendy Oldbag is here on the scene...I saw it all!"

Everyone visibly cringed. Here was the oldbag, with the funny cotton ball like gray hair with a red barrettes, a red short sleeve shirt, black pants, and a white and green apron. Her Kum & Go name tag clipped on the shirt read Wendy.

"We're going to have to ask a few questions, ma'am," sighed Gumshoe. I felt sorry for him. I wondered how often did he encounter this woman?

On that cue the two officers who had questioned her were getting the hell out of sight.

"Hm, who's this whippersnapper? Where's my Edgey-poo?"

"I'm Ms. Doom. Mr. Edgeworth has other matters to deal with so this case has been assigned to me."

She got very sparkly eyed and began to blush. It was kind of terrifying to observe.

"My Edgey-poo can't escape me forever..."

"Ahem," I cleared my throat getting visibly uncomfortable. "Questions. We came to ask you questions not to listen to your romantic day dreams."

"Hmph! Whippersnappers nowadays! I'll have you know in my time we had manners and respect for our elders, though I had my moments of youth I didn't disrespect my grandparents or any-"

"Ms. Oldbag! P-please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You said you saw everything, can you explain to us what exactly that was?"

She took a breath, probably trying to regain it after that start to a tirade. Still looked kinda pissed, like a bat out of hell.

"Fine, I saw that Mann kid, rambunctious fellow, running out of the meat room covered in blood with this crazed look in his eyes holding a giant knife in his hands! I always knew he was a devil."

Detective Gumshoe scratched his head. "Well, uh, that's not exactly everything. "

"What do you mean?!" she snapped. "If that's not everything then what is? I saw him bloodied carrying that massive knife looking like a creature out of the Steel Samurai!"

"Uh, around what time did you see that happening?" I felt myself slowly getting drained. Maybe that was her secret to living, sucking the life out others.

"I'm almost certain it was around 11 o'clock."

(ALMOST certain...*sigh*)

"What were you doing down there anyway?"

"I was going to the break room to freshen up, standing at a cash register all day gets tedious after all. I walked down there from the other entrance in the back of the store. As I was walking through, I saw that Mann kid running out of that room!"

"Hm, Detective do we have a building plan? It would be good to have."

"Oh! Yeah, good idea, sir! Here." he reached in his huge trench coat jacket and pulled out a folded up sheet of paper handing it over.

I gave it a quick glance over. Everything she was saying seemed to be alright so far if the building plan was anything to go by.

"And you saw nothing else?"

"No. Nothing else."

(Well, that was a bust. I guess her testimony would help collaborate the idea that the knife handle was the murder weapon. But otherwise, nothing else.)

"Very well-"

"But let me tell you something, dearie. That whippersnapper hated Booke with a passion! I heard rumors that Booke knew a secret about Mann and was using it as blackmail," she said lifting a hand up as though she were gossiping school girl.

Gumshoe and I jolted in surprise.

"Whaaaat?!"

"Why didn't you mention it sooner?!" I nearly yell annoyed.

"You never asked," she smirked.

"Well, what is the secret then?"

"I don't know a thing about it. Maybe you should ask Mann himself. I didn't like Booke myself and don't mind that he's gone to be honest...always a sticking his nose in someone else's business! Why in my day people like him would have gotten a beating from school children for tattletaling, I was never a tattletale myself as a little girl, Wendy Oldbag never snitched though she spoke when it was to her benefit-"

"Ahem! Did you talk to anyone else about what you saw?"

"No one besides the police. Some rambunctious whippersnapper tried to get facts from me, but I shooed him away. I don't want anyone's hugs so long as I have my Edgey-poo! He could never compare!"

"Poor Mr. Edgeworth," Gumshoe muttered.

(Agreed. I'm not sure how he can live with an oldbag haunting him. But the image of Ray trying to hug Oldbag, I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry.)

"Well, Ms. Oldbag we're going to call you to testify in court tomorrow, okay? So, please be ready."

"Hmph, you don't have to tell me that, whippersnapper! I'm used to witnessing crimes by now."

I couldn't take any more doses of Oldbag, so I walked away and Gumshoe quickly trotted behind me. I wasn't really sure what to do next; the officers were all in the crime scene investigating and cleaning it up by this point. And the only witness around was Oldbag; we didn't run into anyone else around here. Either they had clocked out before the murder happened or the police finished questioning them. I felt like I was doing a shitty job at this, but what's new? I just started, so I at least had an excuse.

"Uh, what now?" I turned to Gumshoe to ask for advice.

"Umm," his eye brows wiggled as he looked up. "Maybe you should question the suspect! We did earlier before we brought him in the station and I'm sure he's being questioned now. I'll have to go back later to do it myself again," he chuckled.

(So many questions, not many answers.)

"Alright, I guess we'll go to the detention center then," I said prepping myself for another adventure.

"Well, I have to stay on scene since I'm in charge, actually," he said awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Oh."

That made me feel a bit sad, with Gumshoe along I at least had the comfort of companionship. I felt slightly smarter when he was around and he was good comic relief.

"If we find anything else here, I'll report back to you!" he grinned.

"Right, well, see you later then...in court. I'm going to call you in to report the facts of the case, so please work on your testimony."

"Yes, sir! You won't find any holes in my testimony this time!"

I nodded and waved as I walked out of the store, knowing full well it wouldn't be the case tomorrow. His testimony was always swiss cheese and why would tomorrow be any different? Not like Maggey was on trial. I was willing to take the chance and have his testimony blown to bits since I needed someone who knew something about the case, since I wouldn't remember it all myself. Wendy Oldbag and Gumshoe, this was not going to be fun.

With a sigh, I found my car and was off on my next venture to the detention center.

April 14th, 4:54 PM

The Detention Center

Too bad for me that the venture to the detention center was riddled with multiple wrong turns and one way streets… It took me a while, but I finally made it to the damn spot. It had been at least 45 minutes after I left that badly named supermarket. I couldn't tell you how much driving in LA sucked balls. But, anyway I made it in one piece.

I had basically waltzed in, told the officers in charge what I wanted and was sent to the visitors room- you know, the one in the game you always see when your clients are in deep shit- that one. Everything in here was bleak, gray and reeked of melancholy. Holding cells, I supposed just weren't cheery places to be in.

I took my seat on the side of freedom, looking at the other side through the glass. No one was there besides the one security guard leaning against the wall staring off into oblivion. He was so still you would have thought he was a statue. Waiting for the police to finish questioning Mann left me pretty bored. Of course, I did have case files I could look over that I brought with me, but I thought to myself I would be doing that for the rest of the day anyway so, I didn't really bother with it. I decided on playing with the mic in the mean time, by bending and stretching the long metal part any way I pleased. I bet the people watching me on camera were confused and probably questioning if I was a really a law official.

In a matter of minutes, I saw the statue guard move as the door next to him creaked open. He was probably speaking to another guard as he was given the person I had wanted to see. The guard shoved the tall, muscular man into his seat directly across from on the other side and promptly left. He was pale, with a mohawk like hairstyle shaved at this sides with a heart shape in the middle. He was still wearing his bloodied work uniform.

"Mr. Mann, right?"

The brown slits for eyes stared back at me in anger. He stared at me and spoke not a word.

"Uh, Mr. Mann?"

BAM.

I jumped out of my seat. What the hell was this guy's problem? I stood far away from the glass, clutching my chest faced with the sight of Mann's fist set upon the table.

"It's C MANN! Why does nobody round here get that?!"

"E-excuse me?"

"I hate the sound of Mr. Mann! It's too corporate! Back in my day they called me C MANN! It fit a hell of a lot better!" he exclaimed raising one fist into the air head banging at the same time.

"Uh, okay, C Mann?"

"That's the spirit, bro!" he said happily.

(What the hell is wrong with this guy? I hope he knows C MANN sounds a lot like...whatever he'll live, I guess.)

It seemed safe to approach, so I slowly walked back to my seat and sat back down.

"Alright, I have some questions for you," I began. "What was your relationship with the victim?"

"Aww, but I'm tired of those mutts questionin' me! I told em' everythin'!"

"Unfortunately, you're gonna have to deal with it one more time. I'm the prosecutor in charge of tomorrow's case and it might be in your best interest to tell me everything," I said trying to be more bold.

"Prosecutor? Ah! You're that bad chick my lawyer told me about it!" he said throwing up his arms in surprise.

I twitched. Shields just loves smearing names into the ground it seemed.

"Whatever. Just answer the questions, alright? The quicker the better," I said tapping my foot.

"Fine, well, we had no relationship. I hated him as much as he hated me!" he slammed his fist into desk again. "He was no good!"

"I see," I smirked. His hate was clear.

"B-but! I wouldn't kill him, that just ain't cool, dude!" he tensed up and started mimicking the motions of slicing meat on a cutting board sadly.

(Everyone's mannerisms here are ridiculous...)

"Uh huh," I nodded. "What was the secret you had that Booke threatened to tell?"

At this notion Mr. Mann jumped back in his seat. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about! I ain't my bro's keeper!"

Um, that was the wrong phrase, but his reaction definitely meant he had something to hide. "Tell me the truth, C Mann! You're lying!"

"You got no proof!" He said banging the table yet again.

"Hmph! I suppose so, but your reaction was fishy...very well deny it all you like, but we have a lot of evidence and witness testimony against you. I don't know if you did it or not, but covering up the truth with lies isn't going to help you."

Mr. Mann quieted. "There is no secret, I swear."

"Sure and I'm Santa Claus," I adjusted my glasses. I might as well finish up. "One more thing. Tell me your story about what happened today."

"You won't believe it," he muttered. "The police don't..."

"Haven't heard it yet," I replied.

He sighed. "I went to the meat room to get started on chopping up the cows and pigs for the day. I felt something hit me over the head and I think a passed out. I woke up in a pool of blood, with a body hanging on a meat hook in front of me. I freaked and ran out of the room..."

(What? He was knocked out the entire time?)

"Okay, how long were you out for?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Who would you knock you out?"

"I don't know! Probably the real killer!"

"Hm, even if your story is true, we never came up with evidence to suggest that..."

"Well, I'm telling the truth here!" he yelled banging his fist repeatedly into the table.

"How do I know you didn't kill him and pass out from the shock?"

Mann growled. "I didn't do it! I didn't it! I could never kill anyone...! Not even a guy like that."

I rose from the chair and pushed it in. I had enough info for now I supposed. It'd be best to save my evidence for court tomorrow.

"See you in court, Mr. Mann."

"It's C MANN!"

(What a weirdo.)

Just as I was leaving, I bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" I looked up. Oh. It was him.

"Ms. Doomsday apologizing for something? This must be uncle Ray's lucky day!" he said clapping his hands like a retarded seal.

"I do have manners, unlike some people," I shot back.

"Did you come to harass my client?"

I rolled my eyes.

"If questioning is a form of harassment, sure. I just wanted my investigation to be thorough."

He pressed the fedora on his down on his head.

"Thorough, huh? Then I hope your prosecution tomorrow is just as thorough."

You know, in the games it was funny, but in real life it was not much fun to be on the receiving end of his sass.

"Yeah, hope your dick is just as thorough too."

He raised both of his hands up in shock. "Woah, I had no idea Ms. Doomsday was feisty like that!"

(Huh? Did he read my mind? …Oh. Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? Shit...)

I felt the heat in my cheeks rising.

"W-w-whatever! W-we'll finish this is in court tomorrow!" I said pushing past him and fleeing from the detention center.

I didn't stop running until I was seated in the driver's seat of my car. I sat there catching my breath face palming. I couldn't believe I had said that out loud. Now, I knew I was tired. But, I couldn't sleep, not when I had this stupid case I had no idea how to prepare for. I guessed I should probably head to my office next to strategize or try to anyway. After, sitting around for a few minutes annoyed with practically everything (especially Shields), I started my drive to the prosecutor's office.

April 14th, 11:26 PM

Prosecutor's Office, Room 404

My eyes were drooping as I stared at the pools of evidence and files and reports. I wiped them behind my glasses, yawning. Reviewing facts over and over, preparing arguments and counterarguments- it was too much. I liked debate and was fairly good at it, but like studying for exams I was beginning to lose focus. I didn't know how I'd be able to recall every detail about the case. Nor, did I know how I would somehow destroy the defense's case. I stretched out my arms before I stood up from my sturdy desk. I pushed in my chair, flinging my briefcase on my desk in a careless fluid motion, the case springing open by itself. I threw the evidence and the case related items inside, closed the lid, and snap the latches on the bad boy shut. I dragged my feet across the wood flooring, opened the door, walked out and continued to walk. I promptly returned after determining I needed to shut and lock the door. Afterwards, I proceeded to head to my ugly car in the garage and drive home (at least I was getting used to driving this way).

Today had seemed like more than a day, maybe two days, yes, I had felt like I had lived two days non-stop. I hadn't had time to breathe since I left with Maya this morning. At every turn and juncture there was some shit going down, that had to be dealt with. Now, all I could envision was a mattress, a nice fluffy cloud to lie down on, curl up into a ball on, and eventually drift off into a deep sleep on. All the while maintaining the mild hope that everything I experienced was a just a detailed dream.

April 15th, 12:01 AM

My Apartment

When I arrived at my apartment, I trudged between pieces of furniture, tripping and staggering as though drunk until I struck gold. I fell face forward onto my bed sighing. I clutched the comforter and sheets; it was a relief to know that the bed wasn't a lie.

(How I've missed you.)

I laid still for a moment, but then shot straight up. I realized I still had to do a couple of things before tomorrow morning. I reached into my pocket, grabbed my phone, throwing it on the nightstand next to me. The alarm on it was already set to 8:30 because of school, so I didn't bother changing it. The trial, I was told would begin at 10, so I figured getting up a bit early wouldn't hurt.

Next up, I needed to figure out my, uh poses. Every lawyer has some weird poses they do in court, when they object and break down and mock their opponent. If everyone else had one, darned tootin' I'd get some too since I was here living out any fan girls' dream of being a lawyer/prosecutor person. Pointing was something everyone did, so forget that. Fists were out too. It would be easier if I had shtick. Franziska had the whip thing going, Godot had the coffee, Klavier was a rock star and Edgeworth was just, well Edgeworth. I couldn't see anything I could use that hadn't been done. Wait. See. See! I wore glasses, I could make a bunch of terrible sight jokes and use my glasses as my object! Perfect. It was stupid to think about, but if I wanted to fit in here, I would need to be like the other prosecutors. I'd work out the details in the morning as I was cramming the facts of the trial down my throat before show time.

With that out the way, I laid still on the cushy the mattress. I was grateful to be alive; I hadn't realized how dark it was outside when I decided to leave the office. Driving in the dark disoriented me considering I had never had the experience of driving until today. I didn't crash or burn, though driving while drowsy is certainly something I wouldn't be doing again. There were way too many close calls. I shut my eyes, my consciousness slowly fading away.

Profiles:

Maya Fey: Age 19. It looks like we're good friends based on what I know.

Miles Edgeworth: Age 26. My mentor? Likes giving me lectures. It seems we're on good terms.

Detective Gumshoe: Age 33. Lead detective on this case. Help me.

Reed Booke: Age 45. The victim in this case. Deli employee. Sounds like a jerk.

Charlie Mann: Age 30. Butcher. Suspect in this case. Found fleeing the crime scene. Really strange.

Woody Johnson: Age 51. Store manager. First one to discover the body. Likes to sit in the dark...

Raymond Shields: Age 35. The sassy defense attorney I'll be facing in court. Yippee.

Wendy Oldbag: Age ?. Cashier. (Unfortunately) a witness.

Evidence:

Broken fingerprint time clock: Broken since sometime early this morning.

Sign in sheet: List of names and times people came in/out for work.

Bloody name tag: Suspect's name is on it.

Planner: List of Booke's day to day chores.

Autopsy report: Time of death estimated between the hours of 8:00 AM to 11: 00 AM. Cause of death blunt force trauma to the head. Death was not immediate. Puncture wounds occurred after death.

Fingerprint analysis: One set of prints belong to Mann, other prints are unidentifiable.

Blood results: Victim's blood found on the time clock.

Meat Cleaver: Blade is clean, but handle is covered in blood.

Kum & Go building plans: Map outline of the building.