To be honest, the idea of a middle school reunion was ridiculous. It has been about two decades since they've "graduated" from eighth grade. But John Doe's only incentive of going was the possibility of meeting up with a certain someone. Phoenix Wright, often nicknamed Phoe by her peers (Nick, for some strange reason by her best friend/boyfriend/whatever Larry Butz) was this cute girl at the school that had matured in all the right areas at an early age.
He had to admit, he did have a crush on the blue eyed beauty. Or were her eyes brown? Grey? Unfortunately, he had moved during the the second semester of their third year in middle school. John never got to tell her how he felt, despite the fact that everyone knew after her breakup with Butz that she no longer dated.
Either way, although he had checked that he was unsure of whether to attend or not, John was visiting the city of L.A. anyways, so might as well drop by, right? What the hell does one wear to a reunion for middle school anyways? It would be weird to show up as the only one wearing a suit, so probably somewhere in the in-between? He mentally prepared his outfit for the occasion in the shower, but it took a lot of willpower to actually step out of it as soon as the warm water washed against his skin. It was February, so pretty cold, but not too cold. California didn't get much change in weather all year round, as a result his closet doesn't change much anyways.
With a towel wrapped against his waist, John took out the clothes from his suitcase. A turtleneck, a jacket, and some casual pants. Underwear, an undershirt, and a pair of socks. Simple. He hummed a tuneless song, mentally wondering what type of woman Phoenix Wright grew up to be. Did she keep the long hair that she grew out during the two and a half years he knew her? Or did she cut it and kept it in a professional but short hairstyle? Does she have different bangs now? John remembered that she wanted to become an artist when she grew up, so he wondered if her fashion style had changed to fit her profession...How did a painter dress like?
Is she a mother? John wondered as he zipped up his jacket. They were nearing their mid-thirties, undoubtedly 70% of their class would have a family by now. But did Phoenix seemed like the type to settle down? It was unreasonable to compare her thirteen year old self with her adult self. People change, afterall. John mentally prepared himself for endless photos of babies being pushed into his face.
Is she single? He pondered while he hailed a cab from the sidewalk. He absentmindedly told the driver his destination before continuing to reminiscent about the past and present. After a few minutes of passing by trees and buildings, John was dropped off at his old middle school. Other than the full parking lot of cars, there was no evidence that there was even an event at the school at the time. He tried to meander his way to the auditorium, where the reunion was being held.
He managed to cross paths with another man, who most likely came in from a different entrance.
"Hey!" the man greeted him, extending his hand. John took it and shook it firmly. The other man commented something about John's grip, but the latter's attention was turned elsewhere. It was pathetic really, being held up on a person that he knew twenty years ago. She was probably happily married, and had no interest in getting coffee with him or anything. He just told himself it was morbid curiosity. The two men traveled together through the doors, and John found himself scanning the room.
John smiled to himself when he saw a man he could barely make out to be the captain of the football team. The man sure let himself go, John thought, eyeing the pudge of a beer belly and the patch of baldness on his head. Why did a middle school of a football team anyways?
The man he had walked with was mingling with others, must have been something very interesting as the woman next to him gasped really loudly. It was then the door burst open, and came in the most pathetic looking guy ever. It wasn't like he wasn't groomed, in fact his crazy straight hairdo was probably either natural or was a result of an excessive amount of hair gel. It was just that the newcomer just gave of the radiance of being a pain in the ass to deal with. He was wearing bright orange sports jacket, a long sleeve shirt with an obscure design, pants that looked too short for him and funky shoes. But that smile he could recognize anywhere.
It was Larry Butz. Larry, from what he could tell was really close to Phoenix Wright. Maybe he knew about her whereabouts.
"Niiiiiick, I told you to wait for me!" Larry immediately cried, actual tears streaming down his face. The effect came off as more comedic rather than tragic though and-wait, did he just say Nick? John's eyes followed the loud man across the floor as he ran towards a group of talking individuals. Of all people he expected to turn around to greet the man, the man he had met out on the campus was the last person on the list. It was then similarities were shone upon like a beacon and John couldn't help himself but let his jaw drop.
Phoenix Wright was now a man. Like shattering glass, the image of a slender woman broke into pieces, replaced by an image of a very broad, muscular-builded, spiky hairedmale. Okay, he didn't have a problem with spiky hair, he had a bit of a lawnhead himself. But this guy. this guy, had the most ridiculous set of spikes that protruded from the back of his head. It was like a porcupine's quills!
With shaken determination, John walked over to the group. Phoenix must have had made a comment about Larry's late arrival, as the group broke out into laughter. The cup's contents in the male's hand sloshed around a bit, getting some on his hand. Fortunately, a nearby woman had a few napkins available. By the time John got there, Larry was no longer crying. In fact he looks simply ecstatic, going so far to even having his tongue stick out the side of his mouth. When all eyes turned to his presence, John was not able to utter a single syllable as he was knocked away. After staggering a bit to regain his balance, John looked up to find whoever pushed him. What he didn't expect, was to see someone draping his arm over Phoenix.
"Wow, Phoe. I knew that the big shot lawyer on T.V. looked familiar, but I didn't expect it to actually be you," the newcomer purred his words.
"Nice to see you too, Benjamin," Phoenix said, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"And what's with that tone of voice? Everyone loves my company," Ben said, smirking. It sent a shiver through John's body. Of course it was Ben Dover, the biggest dick in school. Being held back a year didn't help his attitude, either. "So, you're a tranny, now."
Phoenix winced at Ben's words, shaking the unwelcomed hand off his shoulders. "Dude, this is suppose to be a fun night, if you're going to be a jerk, be a jerk somewhere else," Larry butted in.
"Ha," Ben said, taking a step back and raising his hands in a mock defensive way. "And what will you do if I don't? You really think a tranny and a wuss like you can take me on?"
"Hey-" the orange clad man started, but was held back by his friend.
"Don't, Larry. People like him aren't with our time. They just want attention because they can't go anywhere in life," Phoenix said smoothly. It was obvious the attorney was currently pissed, but he did his best to keep his cool. John felt his blood boiling. It was people like Ben in society that held the world back in its olden views.
"Hah. Good one, Phoe," Ben scoffed. "Oh man, seeing you like this is totally grossing me out. I bet you still have your vagina, right?" Some of the people in the group flinched, while others walked away. The atmosphere was incredibly stifling. John felt his hand curl up into a fist.
"My genitals are of no concern to you," Phoenix replied. This made Ben laugh. Not good.
"That is totally a yes. Can I see it? I heard the clit gets like super long and you can use it as a penis," Ben's hand was creeping slowly towards Phoenix's pants. The lawyer was able to grab it, but Ben started to advance his other hand. Dropping his drink, Phoenix now had to use both hands to fend off the assaulter. Larry was helping push the guy off, but Ben stomped on his foot. The Butz's first reaction was to fall back and yelp in pain. "Come on, you fucking tranny, just let me see it."
"Ben, stop," one of the women in the crowd cautioned.
"Get your fucking face out here, Eileen. I'll deal with you later," the man spat. Eileen in turn flinched but nervously complied, disappearing from sight.
John had had enough. With a forceful hand, he turned Ben around. With a solid fist, he swung it at the man's face. John felt something break. He was unsure of whether it was his bones or Ben's, but he felt better when the asshole fell over.
"Good one, man!" he heard Butz say, now being held up by Phoenix. Larry was no holding the foot that was injured slightly up, careful to not put any weight on it. John gave them a thumbs up, feeling his hand cry out. It was worth it.
"Are you okay, Phoe...nix?" John said, correcting the name immediately.
"I'm okay now, thanks," Phoenix said, smiling.
"That's goo-," John managed to say before all air left his lungs. He heard a few of the women scream as he was tackled to the ground. Ben was soon on top, straddling him, as one fist flew downwards. Instinctively, John held his hands up defensively. That was then the world went black.
No, it wasn't because he fainted. The whole gymnasium was literally plunged into darkness. Someone had turned the lights off. Ben...was heavy. John couldn't find himself to push the man off. Unlike most of the group today, Ben was fit. John was pretty fit himself, he was afterall, careful of his fat intake and exercised daily, but Ben was more muscular. More built. More of a sore-loser. More of a complete asshole.
"You fucking fairy sympathizer," Ben hissed as he rained down more blows onto John. Did Ben even had any idea what he was saying? Probably not. They never knew. People like Ben only used words they hear other people say, and they just throw the words around. Whatever fit and sounded good, no thought put into the context and the actual definitions of the words. A noise was then emitted somewhere above him.
It was then John felt the warm liquid drip on top of his face. Ben went limp on top of him, and so the smaller man was able to wiggle himself out. John then scrambled away, using his hands to search for something to defend himself with. His hand soon grasped around a pole of some kind, and he thankfully picked it up. One side of it was heavier than the other...some type of sledgehammer? His hand repositioned itself into the proper hold, preparing to use it to defend himself if Ben lunged for him again. But the attack never came. John's last thought was why a sledgehammer here in the first place as the lights came back on.
Ben's body was lifeless on the ground, a giant dent in his skull. The corpse was laid face down in his own pool of blood, a streaked trail was lead to John's own body. It wasn't a large trail, nor was it a long one. But it was subtle enough for anyone with half a brain to know that it led to him. He heard gasps around him as John finally realized what he was holding. The head of the sledgehammer was a bright red, the blood now dripping onto his hands. He let go of it before standing up with shaky legs.
"I...I didn't do it," he stated, voice quivering. With his red hands held before him, he turned around to see a few people step back with fears in their eyes. "I didn't do it!" John repeated.
No matter where he turned, the crowd slinked backwards, avoiding him and his bloodied hands. And so he ran. It was easy enough to get away, no one wanted to be near him anyways. They were all scared of him, scared of what he would do next. He ran into the men's bathroom, the one just outside of the gymnasium.
With quivering hands, John turned on the faucet to wash away the blood. He looked into the mirror to find tiny specks of red splattered across his face. There were tiny blotches of blood on his sweater, but it was already stained. The man tried to calm down, tried to level his breathing. But he couldn't.
John screamed an unearthly scream. He never knew he could make such a sound. As he clenched at his hair with his fists, John's body fell onto his knees. It was then he felt someone appeared next to him, touching his shoulder in a comforting way. He looked up. It was Phoenix.
"Phoenix, I didn't do it..." John muttered again, tears brimming at his eyes. "I mean, yeah Ben was a dick but no one deserved that."
"I know," Phoenix said. To which statement that Phoenix referring to was unsaid, but he had an inkling it was to both.
"I knew it was a mistake to go to this reunion," John hissed, the tears finally flowing.
"I'll defend you," Phoenix said.
"Huh?" John sniffled.
"I know you didn't do it, it just doesn't add up," Phoenix stated. The lawyer looked down to see the other man's confused face. "The evidence, I mean."
"...Thank you, thank you. Thank you, Phoenix," John said. Both of them kneeled there in silence for quite a while. The peace was soon broken however, when police officers barged in, handcuffs ready for John Doe.
After being questioned by the police, Phoenix was finally able to exit the bathroom. The moment he stepped outside, a woman shoved something in his face.
"Bwah?!" Phoenix said, before scrambling to regain his composure and took a look at the envelope that was thrusted into his possession. "Excuse me, ma'am, but what is this?"
"It's a letter of request. You're defending him, aren't you? Which means he's not guilty. So here's this so you can begin investigating," the woman said. The woman before him had fiery red hair with matching green eyes. The freckles spotting her face made her eyes popped out even more. Although there were more wrinkles when he had seen her last, there was no doubt that it was-
"Stella?!" Stella Constellation. Daughter of the principal.
"Oh man, I totally forgot that was my maiden's name. No, I'm Stella Ivory now. But I digress, you go get them Phoe!" The woman chirped. She then coughed, "I mean Phoenix."
"Thanks, Stella, you're a lifesaver! I'm sorry I couldn't find you during the...party, but I'll make it yup for you with coffee later!" Phoenix said.
She laughed at this, her ginger locks bouncing lightly, "You better."
After showing the police officer Stella's letter and his..ahem, badge, he was let into the scene behind the yellow tape. Hey, Phoenix for once wasn't wearing his badge on the lapel. So, that was new. Besides, he wasn't even wearing something with a lapel to pin his badge on.
Ben's body was already removed, in its place was the familiar white outline everyone knew and love. The murder weapon that had John's fingerprints on it was thrown carelessly near the outline of the deceased body. Phoenix couldn't blame John, afterall. The man was scared for his life. The one evidence that could prove John's innocence was the blood that was trailed from the main pool. John was under the body during the time of Ben's untimely death. There was no way someone could swing around a long tool like the sledgehammer in such a small range. Not one that was three feet, at least. The head was at least 20 pounds to boot. Good god, it must have been heavy. Someone must have had it in for the guy if they were to get a sledgehammer to this degree. There were dirt markings on the pole of the hammer. Interesting.
Phoenix then noticed a white piece of paper that was left on the floor by some careless person. Upon closer inspection, the attorney realizes that it was a receipt. Whoever this litterer was apparently wanted to do some remodeling or renovation of some sort. There was a light fragrance coming off of the receipt, an odor that Phoenix had definitely smelled during the duration of the night but couldn't place. On the receipt were items you would expect one to typically get from a hardware store, some 2x4's, some nails...and a 36 inch sledgehammer. Convenient, Phoenix thought, with a hint of deja vu.
It was then he heard a woman starting to sob. It was Eileen Down, on the other side of the yellow tape, make up smudged from all the crying and eye wiping. But according to the rumour mill, she had married Ben, which now made her Eileen Dover. Phoenix couldn't himself but walk over to the crying woman.
"That will be all, ma'am. Thank you for your cooperation. We're sorry for your loss," the policeman wrapped up the questioning as Phoenix approached. He closed the notepad he was writing the notes in before walking away. The petite brunette was wearing a long sweater dress, covering the length of her arms and ended just below her knees. Tied together with heels and a choker, it gave off the vibe of...informal formality? Elegant yet casual. Yeah, let's just stick with that.
"Oh, Phoenix...it's you," she sniffled. "I'm sorry about what my husband said to you...He can be crude at times. But please do not blame me if I really, really dislike John Doe right now, even though he stopped my husband from..."
"I don't think John did it." Conflict arose from Eileen's face. Her scowl was evident as she turned her head away from Phoenix's direction.
"He...didn't? Then who did-" she began, fidgeting with the cowl collar of her dress. It was then Phoenix noticed a dark bruise at the very edge of her clavicle. Phoenix doubted it was a simple love mark.
"Hey Eileen, are you hurt?" he asked, indicating to the area on his own body.
"What? Oh! You know me, Phoenix. I was never really graceful...And I'm still not. I fell and hit my collarbone on the corner of the coffee table. How clumsy is that?" she laughed nervously. It was then a loud clanking noise was mentally heard, and five red psyche-locks appeared. Phoenix sighed, already guessing the truth with a pained heart.
But he had no evidence, so the lawyer continued the conversation with another topic, "Did Ben have any...enemies? Anyone you could think of that wanted to do him in?"
Eileen surprisingly smirked, but quickly hid it. Don't think I didn't see that, Eileen. "Oh Phoenix, you know how Ben is. The list is endless, most likely. I bet he makes a new one everyday." Then why are you still with him?
"I'm afraid I don't know how Ben is. Unless tonight's display was the entirety of his personality, which I really hope it's not, I really don't know anything about Ben."
"Just imagine him in all his middle school glory except now it's inhabiting a giant man baby," she said, averting her gaze from Phoenix's direction. She tugged at the edge of her sleeve as if she was hiding something, but Phoenix could still see a glimpse of the dark purple mass that hid near her wrist.
"Sure..." Phoenix said. Eileen was being unnecessarily difficult, making Phoenix stroke his chin. "Has Ben...always been this violent?"
"You can say that," Eileen said cocking her head to one side as if in deep thought. "Although he vents it all out when he visits the gym." Even without the magatama, Phoenix could tell that that was a lie.
"Okay, let's try another approach. Mrs. Dover, do you have any idea who could have done this to your husband?" the lawyer asked. He was starting to get a headache.
"Suddenly all formal now, aren't you Mr. Lawyer...did I upset you?" she rhetorically asked him. "But I must confess, no one comes to mind. Sure, he was a bastard to a lot of people...but surely no one is crazy enough to kill him!"
"You'll be surprised at what little motivation it'll take for someone to commit murder," Phoenix told her slowly. Eileen nodded in understanding.
"Still, all the people that Ben bothers are very reasonable about it. Although everyone would rather him to stop being a dick about everything, I don't think there's anyone that would up and kill for it. I think he specifically picks on people like you, Phoenix. Too kind to resort to violence yet not too carefree to not get pissed. Like..a doormat with thorns?"
Is that suppose to be a compliment? Phoenix mentally shouted. He let out a loud sigh, there was nothing to benefit him here, he concluded.
"Thank you for answering my questions, Eileen," Phoenix told the widow. Even though I was able to get next to nothing from them.
"It'll be okay if you don't win, Phoenix. You'll still be invited to the funeral," Eileen said. She walked passed him as she exited the building. It was then that Phoenix Wright's nose picked up the familiar perfume fragrance yet again. Shit.