AN: We're back! A bit sooner than usual because I had this chapter done! So, treat as a Thanksgiving update I guess haha. The next chapter is in progress and well, that one will be a real trip. In any case, today we see if Edgey survived...dun dun dun! As usual thanks for your support and encouragement and hope you enjoy what I had in store for this one!
Le Chasseur: Agreed...
bwburke94: The ladders and stepladders debate had to happen at least once haha.
Jack54311: I've been waiting for a good moment for it hehe. It was going to happen at one point or another. We're very close to figuring it out. Ha, well you never know...
sailor winx: That's the hope...Right? I feel like the canon prosecutors are normal badasses haha. You could be on to something there. Oh, it's coming...things will be a bit off hehe.
Nathen The Protector: Thanks! Well...I won't say. You'll have to read to see xD. Haha, that's an interesting thought. I feel like Franz is more of a dog person tbh.
Lt. Cmdr. Jonathan Miller: I'd say we're in for a ride. It might not be what's expected...or it could be.
Bowser Jr's Descendant: Haha, that's one way of thinking about it.
Ravenfeather2002: Thank you! Let's find out, shall we?
Comettail76: I've definitely thought of the same thing. Her presence could have a big impact maybe in the smallest of ways.
OBSERVER01: It's always the case haha!
Hero Of The Hazard: Hehe, we shall see... I'd never want to be stuck in a situation like that, it'd just be so creepy! It's fair, after her circumstances, though I think I wouldn't investigate the noise regardless haha. Edgeworth is just a bold person. Hahah, no killer mannequins for you.
NNinja: Haha, well cool. Thank you for the compliment! Well, let's find out as soon all things shall be revealed... And odds are, probably not, because I don't want to rehash what's already been written/seen in canon. But you never know.
JordanPhoenix: Hahaha yes, I got the desired results xD. The fart scene will forever be my crowning moment. Thanks so much, I'm glad you were cracked up...and if that did it, well the next chapters I have planned will kill you xD. We shall what happens to Miles hehe...he very well could be DOOMED...or maybe not. And soon the killer shall be revealed...heheheh.
Guest: Well, I hope you enjoy this one!
XPyromaniacX: Yes, others have said the same thing haha. It's funny since I didn't actually read the book until after I began writing this arc. I was really mainly thinking of one of my favorite movies (Clue) when I wrote.
Spacegoodra: Oh snap, indeed.
...No. I shouldn't give up so fast. Maybe not all hope was lost. Yes. That's it. He could just be unconscious. He could wake up. He'd be fine. It'd all be fine.
Time had passed as the men touched and moved his body like some type of inanimate object, just some thing, as they poked and prodded him around. I stared down at my feet, refusing to look.
Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. Everything would be-
"We found a huge gash in his right arm. I thought maybe he was unconscious from that, but…" Ackerman paused for a while. "...He's not breathing and there's no pulse."
That couldn't be right.
I looked up at the blond. "Check again."
This time Dawson who was next to him, spoke up, frowning. "Ms. Doom...There's nothing else to check."
"I told you to check it again!" I growled. "That can't be right! He can't be...can't be…"
"...He's dead." Ackerman said quietly. "I'm sorry."
No. That was wrong. He couldn't be… Mr. Edgeworth couldn't be...
Dead.
It was all so hazy. The room was like static...static from an old TV. The fuzzy, electric sound is all I heard. It grew louder and louder until it all came to an abrupt stop...replaced with the sound of long beep.
My anchor was gone. Gravity was no long present in my world. With nothing to hold me in my place, I floated on and on, drifting out aimlessly into the expanse of the cold space. My body would continue on, right until I reached the burning surface of the sun. The icy vessel once called my body, is licked by the fiery flames of the sun for consumption. And it leaves nothing left but ash.
"Lyn, darling." The woman said quietly. I clutched my chest as I gasped. I felt gentle grip on my shoulders. She had somehow gotten taller. The sharp pain shooting from my knees up would confirm this, as I realized I had dropped to the ground. The woman brought me to my feet.
"Let's go outside."
I took a step back. "Leave me alone."
She frowned. "I don't think it's good for you to be by yourself now-"
"I said leave me alone!" I garbled out. "I...I can't trust you. Or anyone here anymore...someone killed him...and I…"
The woman looked as though she were going to protest, but rethought. "I understand."
October 17th, 10:54 PM
Ballroom, Rothman Estate
Weak legs carried me out of the library and into the nicest room in the estate. I shut the door behind me and slumped down against it on the floor. I didn't know what to do anymore.
The only person I fully trusted was gone. The only person who had my back was gone. And the person who killed him was out there. It was one of those three. Now I was vulnerable. If they got him, would they come after me? What did he even do wrong anyway? What did Mr. Edgeworth ever do to deserve that...? Nothing. He was a good man and my …
Was this my fault? Was it because I was too cowardly? He promised to protect me...at his own expense. He promised and he kept his word. I bit down on my lip.
Did my presence here cause this? Because this definitely shouldn't have happened. If he was gone...what would happen to this world? What would happen to Bridge to Turnabout? What would happen once Phoenix, Gumshoe, Franziska and basically every single fucking person that meant something in his life found out?
If I could have stopped him from going into that room, this wouldn't have happened. Why didn't I stay with him? I shouldn't have ran...I shouldn't have left...I should have stayed...I should have been with him…I should have-
I buried myself into my lap, holding my knees.
Why? Why did I walk through the door? Why was I stupid enough to come in? Why didn't I just ignore the ring? I could have at least pretended from the outside the room. That it was someone else. If I didn't see his body then it wouldn't have been real. No, it wouldn't have been true. Not real. Not confirmed. He'd still be alive, snarking at me like always. I could have at least held on to some measly hope that he wasn't… It wasn't right. This wasn't right. Nothing was right. If I hadn't tried to reach him I...I could never reach him. He was so damn stubborn. That's how it always was… I could never get to him. He'd move mountains while I just barely scaled a hill. And now, I couldn't make it. I wouldn't be able to catch up. The distance wouldn't be closed. He'd left me behind.
How dare he just go like that? And leave me? We were supposed to have figured it all out. We were supposed to have left together! And now...
I wanted to get out of here. But what good would that do, if I just up and left? Especially, when I didn't finish the investigation like he asked me to. And... I needed to figure out who did that to him. Leaving before that would be wrong.
Yet, I didn't know how I was gonna figure it out. We were going in circles even when he was still... Mr. Edgeworth was the law genius, anyway. Not me. He was the grounded and more rational one, while I was opposite, head in the clouds, over imaginative one. I couldn't be him. I could only be me. And would that be enough?
Would I be enough? ...Every other time, I always had his support. He'd push me to keep going...even when I was ready to quit time and time again. Without a doubt, I knew he would want this finished. But how could I finish it, when there were so many parts? So much I didn't get?
After sitting for a lifetime, sluggishly, I stood up. I turned around to open the door, but paused. I looked at the baby grand in the room. I trudged over to the instrument and looked down at its keys.
I stretched my fingers out and began to play Moonlight Sonata. Yet, it was incredibly sloppy. My fingers struggled to hit the correct notes. What was supposed to be a cool dramatic piece sounded so muddled and dirty. I frowned as I stopped pressing keys. If he were here, he'd chastise me for not practicing. Just like before...
Date ? Time ?
Lobby, Monolith Hotel
"That was sloppy," the demon prosecutor began. "Did you drop some notes? And what happened to the rest of the song?"
"It's too hard. I can't reach it, alright? I don't have man hands like you do. See?" I raise my hands upwards above the piano in front of me.
He observes for a moment and then rolls his eyes. "This equates to nothing more than laziness on your part."
"Hey!"
"You have long fingers that many musicians would envy. Look at my hands, certainly larger than yours, but not very long. And I can still stretch."
I pout. "It hurts though."
"It's about practicing. Those muscles aren't in use. Use them more often and that wouldn't be an issue."
"Whatever...if you're so knowledgeable, why don't you play?" I fold my arms.
"Very well," he says sitting down. "Move aside."
"Rude," I mutter as I stand up from the bench.
(I bet he's one of those musician prodigy kids who knows all the mechanics and technical aspects and plays without an ounce of feeling.)
But as he plays, I'm surprised. It's slow. The melody is light, yet it's bass is on the heavier side, as though he's playing a light march. It comes together in a fashion that tastes indescribable. I watch the fingers effortlessly glide across the keys, as though his hands were doing acrobatics. I'm not sure if I'm happy. I'm not sure if I'm sad either when I hear it. It makes me feel as though I'm watching the rest of the world move by me.
It's an understatement to say it's beautiful.
And when he finishes, I'm sad there isn't more to it.
"How did you do that...?" I ask. "How did you play like that?"
"What do you mean?" He looks at me in confusion. "I simply practiced."
I laugh to myself. Why did I expect any other type of response? "So, if I practice stretching I'll be able to play like that?"
"...In the very least, be able to finish a full song."
"But it's the intro giving me trouble...it feels like I'll never get past it."
He stands up and folds his arms as he taps a finger upon them. "Then break the song into pieces. Find the measures that are doable for the moment and come back to the more difficult areas when you feel more confident."
I tilt my head. "Huh...I never really thought of that. I always thought it should be linear."
"Think of it like so: If you had to flee a burning building and one of two stairwells was blocked, what course of action would you take?"
"Obviously, I'd find that other stairwell to flee."
Edgeworth smirks as he taps a finger against his temple. "Precisely. You would need to move forward, no matter which direction you took, even if it wasn't the one you planned."
Move forward, no matter what direction…
I carefully lifted my fingers from the ivory keys. Before I would quit. Stop moving and play a different song. But I knew...I had to finish the song. Even if it didn't sound perfect. Even if I missed notes. Even if I thought I couldn't play the tune. Even if I didn't know how it would end...I'd reach the final destination and hit the final note.
I knew that's what he would have wanted. And it was all I could do. If I dared to stop...I knew he'd never forgive it. Even now, I couldn't disappoint him. I'd finish this.
I had to be strong. I'd solve it my way. Because I was me and there were some things I was good at. Like...improvising. Yes. I could do that. I knew right now, that there was too much to take in involving the clues overwhelming me, so I'd take a step back from that for the time being until I could make sense of them.
So, there were only four of us left. The killer was among one of the four. I was unsure of who was deemed good or bad, so I'd assume that any of us three would be up on the chopping block. Meaning, we'd have to be incredibly careful. Or...perhaps reckless. The killer's actions from what I had seen throughout the night were bold. So, what if they were challenged? They were expecting us to keep cowering in fear as we suspected one another, growing more and more paranoid by the second...but would they expect us to call them out directly? I didn't think so.
The letter Mrs. Rothman received earlier also indicated that the killer thought the idea of murdering these 'bad' people would serve as a form of entertainment for the rest of us. I could assume that they must be enjoying this...like some type of game. A game. That's all this really was to them. Taking this many lives must of meant little to them. And the boldness of the actions, made me think that they thought they wouldn't be stopped. They liked the panic and confusion it caused.
Yes...it was a bit clearer to me now. The killer was daring, twisted, and capable. It wasn't life or death for them, but simply a way to pass the time. They took amusement in suffering... I could see it. To beat a person like that, we'd have to win the game they played. And I believed that I might have an idea of how to win.
Inhaling, I moved away from the instrument, until I noticed something stuck on the inside of the piano's inner workings. I plunged my hand in, and pulled on the sliver object sticking out. With a few tugs, I grasped a spoon. A pretty dirty looking spoon at that. The only silver part of it was the handle. The section in which foods and liquids were to be handled was dark brown, as though it was tarnished or maybe burnt. It was peculiar to say the least.
(Wait...I wonder if this was the missing spoon from earlier?)
I hadn't thought much of it, before, but why the heck would it show up here now? I decided to keep the spoon on my person in case it became useful later. It was too weird to ignore.
Seeing no more of interest at the piano, I turned my back on it and pressed on towards the door. It was time to turn this around.
October 17th, 11:13 PM
Main hall, Rothman Estate
I emerged from the ballroom into the middle of the hall. Everyone else had moved from the inside of the library to outside of that room.
Stephen was fidgeting as he paced back and forth."What now? The killer is mowing us down like grass. When are the police showing up?"
"Well, they said an hour and thirty. But now, who knows ?" asked Dawson as he slumped his shoulders, defeated.
"I can't take this any longer," said the judge looking physically exhausted.
"Me neither," I said re-entering the conversation. "That's why I have a proposal."
"Lyn," blinked Mrs. Rothman. "You're…"
I adjusted my glasses, pressing them up by the side. "...fine. I realized there isn't anytime to hide and sit alone in a room."
"So, what's this proposal?" asked Stephen.
"Six people have been murdered and without a doubt the killer is standing before us. Therefore...I think it's time we reveal who the killer is, wouldn't you say?"
"So you know who the killer is?!" said Dawson. "Don't keep us waiting!"
"I never said I did. But if we can piece together everything we all have, we might be able to come to the right solution," I pressed my glasses up. "Therefore…"
I looked at the three people standing in front of me, scared, fatigued and unsure. I knew one of them was a fake. What I was about to do could be risky and might not even work. But I promised him, I would finish this investigation. I had to at least try. Even if it wasn't the most conventional way.
"I challenge you, the killer to one last fight," I pointed. "The entertainment tonight has sucked. So, I'm challenging you to a battle of... wits. If we can figure out who you are and how it was all done, then the killings stop and you turn yourself in. And if we lose, you can take my life."
"Lyn...I won't let you do that," said Mrs. Rothman sternly. "At least not alone. The killer may take my life as well."
"W-what? A-are you guys crazy?" sputtered Ackerman. "That's a hell of a bet! Why the hell would you stake your lives on that?"
"The killer seems to enjoy creating confusion, and acts as though this is all a game. So, I'm certain they'd go for this. An all or nothing bet. And besides...there aren't many of us left. The odds are we might be eliminated sooner rather than later," I said folding my arms.
"And I feel responsible for all the deaths that have taken place at my estate. Standing in fear, waiting for the police to arrive or simply waiting to be killed won't do anything, so I'm fine with this."
The blond's eyes widened. "That's absolutely insane-"
"Well...if it's a chance to end everything once and for all...I-I'll do it too!" Finn said fists clenched.
"You too...?" Ackerman looked at us all in hopes of wavering determination, but found nothing. He sighed a sigh of resignation. "This is ridiculous but...fine. I'm all in. But we aren't going to lose! I'm going back home to my brother after this is all said and done. So, I have no intention of dying tonight, you understand?"
"Trust me," I said. "I have no intention of losing."
(Because if we lose...all of our lives are at stake. And I won't leave without knowing who did this to him.)
"So, what is our next course of action?" asked Mrs. Rothman.
"Let's do one last investigation and come back to the hall in ten minutes. I think that's enough time to prepare, right?"
The other three nodded.
(And of course, the killer can use this time however they please...Let's see how smart you are.)
"Alright, then let's get to work," I said going to the only place I needed to investigate.
October 17th, time ?
Library, Rothman Estate
It had been some time, or at least that's what it had felt like to me, before someone re-entered the room. For how long I had been lying on the ground, was a mystery. Yet, what was more of a mystery was how I was recently announced dead. They had examined my body, as though I were a corpse, checked for pulse and breathing...and claimed I wasn't alive. How could that be…? I was alive. I was aware of what was happening (to a certain degree) around me.
But I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't open my eyes. I could do absolutely nothing. I was virtually imprisoned in my own body. I didn't know what happened. I didn't know or understand how was it that I was still conscious, while everything else appeared not to be functioning.
As far as I knew, this was the library. The others had said as much when they came in. Though, I wasn't entirely sure of how I got here. The last thing I remembered was being left alone in this dark space...against a wall? Or a door? Unable to move until someone dropped me here in this room. Before then...that masked person attacked and left me with this searing pain in my arm. That's where it got hazy...I was still trying to remember what exactly happened.
If I thought of that, I could distract myself from entrapment. I hadn't felt this helpless since… No. I didn't need to think of the elevator, especially now. But I was further reminded of the incident by how it was growing more and more difficult to breathe.
Footsteps drew near. Who was that? While I couldn't see, I could still hear, thankfully. But it would only be of use if this person spoke.
They took a breath. It sounded like they were standing over me. "...This is it. The last thing I have to do."
The tone was tired and the voice was low, but feminine. I heard a creaking of floorboards, as well as the feeling of ground shifting nearby.
"You know, I'm glad no one else is here since, they were treating you like some kind of a thing, when you're a person..." The sound of her voice grew closer. "You're not just something to be tossed around right, Mr. Edgeworth?"
It was Lyn. But why was she speaking to me like that? Everyone else believed me to be dead. Yet, it was very much like her to ignore reality. And for once I didn't mind.
"Well, anyway I came back because I...I didn't have the nerve to investigate earlier. And I have to do it. Even if, I don't want to," she paused. "So, um...pardon me."
I felt the right sleeve of my suit jacket being rolled up, the wound I had received from my attacker left exposed to the open air.
"Ugh, this is so gross," she said disgustedly. "But is this how they got you? With this gash? No, no. That wouldn't be right, right? This isn't enough blood...for you to bleed out so...it must be something else?"
Much to my chagrin, the woman examined my other arm, rolling up that sleeve and even went as far to move my head back and forth looking for, whatever clue she needed. Exasperated, she sighed.
"What did this to you? I don't get it..." I then felt the fabric of my sleeves being rolled down and then suddenly being rolled back up. Fingertips briefly stroked a small section of my arm. "H-huh? ...What is this white powdery stuff?"
(White powdery stuff?)
"I...don't suppose you keep a supply of sugar in your sleeve, right?" she awkwardly laughed.
Mentally, I groaned, wishing sincerely to be able to roll my eyes at the comment.
"...I don't know why I asked you. I'm pretty sure you'd be wondering why the hell I was talking to you like that anyway," she paused. "But, I don't think that gash killed you. It was whatever this white powdery stuff...put in the gash that did! Er, probably."
(I don't remember any powder, but I believe I was stabbed. So, that powder was probably on the weapon...and the reason why I'm paralyzed is because of it.)
She rolled down my sleeves once and for all. I then felt a digging through my pants pockets and jacket pockets. "Hm. Well, I guess I'm gonna borrow some of the evidence you had on you, since I'm here."
After she emptied some items from my pocket, Lyn took a breath.
"Well...I guess that's all I need," she said quietly. I felt the shifting of weight from the floorboards and then heard the sudden drop onto the ground. "Actually, before I go...I should tell you my plan."
(Plan?)
"You wanted me to finish the investigation if something happened to you. So, I am. I challenged the killer to a game. We figure out how the killings happened and who did it. If we're right, they turn themselves in. And if we lose...we give up our lives."
(What…? What kind of asinine idea is that!? If you lose, then you all...)
"...It's high stakes I know. And at first it was just me I was willing to bet on, but everyone else obliged. It's dangerous, but I feel like it's how I'll get the killer to bite. They did say they wanted to entertain, so this would probably amuse them. We'll start in a few minutes. So, what happens next is beyond me, but my main goal is just keeping everyone occupied until the police arrive. "
So, that was the true goal behind it. At least, that was somewhat more comforting to know it wasn't entirely reckless.
"I didn't know what else to do. Since...you, Noa, and Ms. Jamison died, I don't want to lose anyone else. Especially not like how they went."
(Noa and Ms. Jamison were killed as well? For this many killings to happen in one night...)
"I'm going to figure it out no matter what it takes. Besides, I know you'd be all like, 'Don't give up now! You're being lazy! Go seek the truth!' " she giggled. "That was my impersonation of you. Pretty good, right?"
(...I sound nothing like that.)
She stopped laughing and grew faint. "...But I really mean it. You always had my back. So, I'm going to repay it. Just wait and see. I'll find out who did this to you. And make them pay."
"But...just why the hell did you do that?" Lyn asked as her voice quivered. "I didn't want you to go into that stupid room... I didn't want to leave you there with that...thing! Why didn't you just listen to me? You and your damned heroics...you moron. I didn't want to be right. I kept hoping you were alright and...and...seeing you like this was the last thing I ever wanted to see..."
Once more, she stopped talking. If not for the steady rhythm of her breathing, I wouldn't have known she were present. In a few seconds, I felt something wet drip onto my face.
I felt the guilt within me rising. I hadn't even contemplated how it would effect Lyn in this manner. I didn't like being the cause of anyone's distress and I wasn't a fan of making girls cry. If I could move to speak, I would at least attempt some form of an apology. But I knew this was a fruitless effort. Nothing could be done, unless whatever I was drugged with wore off.
"No, keep it together, Lyn. There's still work to be done...you can always do that later," she muttered to herself.
I felt the light grazing of fingertips pressed against my cheek, wiping away the moisture. Though, once finished, the fingers pressed upon the side of my face stayed. And soon I felt the soft touch of a whole hand, with lingered for a minute.
"...I have to go," she said removing her hand. I could still feel the warmth upon my cheek where she touched, highlighting my body's growing coldness. "Goodbye, Mr. Edgeworth."
With that, I felt the boards move and the footsteps growing farther and farther away from me. I was alone, yet again. With Lyn gone, I had no more to distract myself with, other than my own racing thoughts. Thoughts that reminded me of how difficult it was to breathe with each passing moment. Thoughts that reminded me of the fickleness of life. Thoughts that reminded me of my own fading mortality.
Was this my end? Unable to communicate for any assistance, left alone in an empty room, with unanswered questions?
I didn't want that. No. There was too much left behind. Too many things left undone. Things I needed to complete...This couldn't end here. But what could be done in this condition?
It was then I heard footsteps, casually move through the room. Who could that be now? Lyn had left. I doubted it was her. And she would have spoken as well. The sound of the steps grew closer and closer. Damn my lack of sight. I had no idea who was approaching me. And I had this bad feeling…
Abruptly, the footsteps stopped. It was very close, if not by my arm. The pressure on the floorboards, told me that whoever it was, was sitting next to me. I heard nothing, but the light sound of their breathing.
Without warning, they put a rough hand on my face, lowering it to my chin. With much force, they yanked open my mouth and held it open. Just what were they doing to me? If only I could move to get away…
Soon, my mouth was greeted with cold water, mixed with something ground up that I couldn't discern the taste of. I was given quite a deal of it, before my head was raised and put back, with my mouth forced shut. I thought it was over, but the person, whoever they were didn't leave. In fact, I felt their presence hovering over me, as if waiting for something. Was this the killer? Were they pitying me? Or were they trying to speed up my slow death? It had to be the person who attacked me because who else would know that I was still, albeit somewhat alive?
But... what did it matter?
A warming feeling spread through my being. I didn't feel as heavy now. It felt light, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. My questions didn't mean anything. Even if they were left unanswered. Yes, nothing. I didn't need to know. If I were to die not knowing...that would be fine. It would be fine...and perhaps I could see father again…
A hand roused me up. I sat up and opened my eyes. I blinked. I was...in a library, right? Or had I been in one? This wasn't a library...I was...in Japan? I was sitting beneath a cherry blossom tree by what I thought was a temple gate. I didn't recall ever flying there. Before I knew it, there was a person standing in front of me, in a white mask and black cloak, extending their hand to me.
"It's time."
October 17th, 11:25 PM
Main hall, Rothman Estate
I only had a couple of minutes left. I had decided to head upstairs for one last quick check of the attic.
Ring. Ring. Ring…
(Huh?)
I paused. It was a phone ringing. I swallowed, remembering what it had meant last time for a phone to be ringing nonstop. But, I shook it off as best I could. I strained my ears, listening in attempt to figuring out the location of the phone. It was close by...I walked down the steps I had just climbed. It was farther down the hall, so past the dining hall and past the study... I stopped outside of the bathroom. The sound grew louder. It was coming from here. Meaning, this was coming from Hardwick's phone. I entered the bathroom and bent down next to the corpse. I did a quick pat down, until I found the noisy device in his right pants pocket. The screen said he had three missed calls. It was still ringing so I picked up.
"Hello?" I answered unsure of what to expect.
"Who is this?" The female voice on the other line was clear and harsh. "I demand to speak with the lecher."
I wondered if it was one of his girlfriends. "I'm sorry...but Mr. Hardwick is dead."
"Wh-what? What kind of sick joke is this?" the woman sputtered.
"I wish it were a joke," I said solemnly.
She didn't say anything for the longest. "I see. So, then tell me, Ms…"
"Doom."
"Ms. Doom. What are the current state of affairs at the Estate?" she asked regaining her composure.
"Six people are dead. There are only four of us left. We're trying to stay together to prevent any more killings. The police said they were coming, but it's been beyond an hour and-"
"Don't worry. The police will arrive in precisely thirty minutes."
"H-huh?! You're certain?" I paused. What if it was too good to be true? What if it was just some ruse? "H-how can I trust what you say? What if you're just playing around?"
"Do not be a fool," she replied sharply. "Help will arrive shortly. I swear, on my honor as a von Karma."
A...von Karma? There was only one person I could be talking to. Franziska. Franziska von Karma. The whip happy prosecuting daughter of the beast Manfred von Karma. If she was coming to the rescue, then we'd make it out of here alive.
"...Alright. I trust you."
"Do whatever it takes to hang on until then, but under any circumstances, do not give up. Is that understood?"
"Y-yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Until then."
Click.
With that she hung up. I put the phone back where it belonged. I was grateful that help really was on the way, but this left more unanswered questions. I had no doubt that Franziska and Hardwick were talking the whole night, but for what reason? Why was she in London now, anyway? Was he with Interpol? The police? And if he was...then it was highly possible that he was indeed the accomplice. That blackmail note did talk about an officer… And then how Edgeworth was… How would she take that? That her little brother was no longer with us? I shuddered at the thought. I'd hate to be the cause of yet another trauma...but I did my best to shake it off as I left the bathroom and walked back out into the main hall where the others were starting to arrive with their findings.
We had thirty minutes to survive. Thirty minutes to be saved. Thirty minutes to seek the truth. We had to make it count.
Evidence:
Prosecutor's badge: With this, I can prove I'm a prosecutor. Dunno why we don't wear them on our lapels like defense attorneys though.
Magatama: Magical sacred charm that should allow me to communicate with Mia.
Letter: Mysterious note sent to Mrs. Rothman the day of the dinner.
Pocket watch: Mr. Breckenridge's missing pocket watch which is set two hours behind schedule.
Photo: A picture of Mr. Breckenridge with Ms. Irving.
Hammer: Weapon used to murder Ms. Irving. For some reason it's handle is wet.
'Bad' Note: Lists those deemed bad, with their crimes noted. Paper comes from Hardwick's notebook.
Metal wire: Suspected real murder weapon of Mr. Breckenridge.
Assassin article: Discusses the mysterious assassin known as 'J'.
Blackmail note: Note that threatens to reveal the crimes of a former officer unless they follow through on a plan.
Corkscrew: Weapon used to murder Ms. Jamison.
Missing leg: Prosthetic leg taken from Ms. Jamison and used to kill Noa.
Remote control: Found on Noa's person. For what use it has, it's unclear.
Timer: Timer set to 10:20 PM around the same time the lights went out.
Burnt spoon: Most likely the missing spoon from the dining hall found in the ballroom piano.
White powder: Found within Edgeworth's sleeve...? Is this some kind of poison?
Profiles:
Maya Fey: Age 19. Probably my best friend at this point.
Miles Edgeworth: Age 26. My mentor. When he's not giving me a hard time, he's kind of nice.
Detective Gumshoe: Age 33. The guy who's saved my hide more times than I can count.
Larry Butz: Age 25. My favorite wannabe casanova.
Judge: Age ?. Old timer judge. No one know his real name.
Mia Fey: Deceased. My spirit guide who pops by occasionally to give advice.
Phoenix Wright: Age 26. The man I'm supposed to be saving. Pretty awesome dude.
Deidra Rothman: Age 45. A patient and kindhearted judge.
Noa Carter: Age 32. Mrs. Rothman's maid. Seems practically robotic.
Finn Dawson: Age 35. A self deprecating prosecutor.
Stephen Ackerman: Age 26. An irritable defense attorney.
William Breckenridge: Age 56. A high and mighty time obsessed judge.
Ingrid Jamison: Age 28. An energetic prosecutor who likes dancing.
Harriet Irving: Age 33. A shrinking violet defense attorney.
Andrew Hardwick: Age 30. A lecherous prosecutor.