Into the Dawn - Chapter Nine
He would overlook it. Just this once, he had to forget he was a prosecutor.
"You are... certain this will not backfire on us...?" Miles kept his distance, peering suspiciously at what looked like nothing more than three batteries and some wires and other junk piled against the bars penning them in.
The woman who had claimed to be ex-military straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "As long as no one's stupid enough to just hang out around here to get caught in the blast. Can't guarantee it'll actually kill one of those fuckers, but some of this stuff has silver in it, so maybe we'll get lucky."
Miles forced himself to give a stiff nod. "Very well. I leave you in charge of this, then, Lt. Jones. If we can kill even one of them, it will improve our chances."
She shrugged. "Or, it'll just piss them off and they'll rip us all to shreds. Either way, I'd rather go out fighting."
"Indeed." To think he was sanctioning the use of a makeshift explosive... If they made it out, he fully expected to have to answer for this, but he couldn't worry about that yet. They couldn't arrest him if he was dead, after all. He turned to check up on the others, again grateful that some of those gathered had worked up the nerve to drag that dead body off somewhere until something could be done with it. The floor was still crusted with brown, dried blood, but at least they did not have to look at or smell the poor man that had left the stain.
"Mr. Edgeworth!" He turned to see the teenager coming toward him. At first, this boy had been one of those that did not stand to volunteer themselves for the fight, but apparently, he had simply needed a little time to find his courage and realize just what he could contribute. As it turned out, he was rather tech-savvy. "I got it! I figured out how to trick those sensors! We can get into any room we want now!" His eyes were shining with excitement over his triumph, and Miles graced him with one of his rare half-smiles and a nod of approval.
"Excellent work. Gather together some of the people who are not otherwise occupied and begin searching the rooms for anything else we might be able to use. Exclude rooms five, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two, as we have keys for those and no need to break into them." Ah, yet another technically criminal offense he was authorizing. The list would surely continue to pile up before the day was done, but given that this was the closest thing to war he hoped ever to experience, Miles felt no true guilt.
"Gotcha', Chief!" the younger man exclaimed with a grin before he dashed off to find accomplices. Miles glanced around again, his gaze traveling over two people with firearms. They had possession of specially made silver bullets, another thing Miles had never thought he would a) encounter or b) have any use for whatsoever. He only hoped the owners of the guns were as good a shot as they claimed to be. The third weapon that had been brought in was a long silver knife whose owner claimed she had already killed multiple vampires with it.
Miles was putting a lot more faith in strangers than he was comfortable with, but he had no other choice.
The owner of that knife had only recently disappeared back down below. Her task was to dispose of the three guards resting in the storeroom. If she succeeded, it could be possible to free their ally vampires, but they both knew her task could easily result in her death. She had been confident she would at least kill one of them, but what happened after that was uncertain. Miles kept watching the door, hoping it was she that emerged splattered with blood and ash.
He turned at the sound of footsteps to see the return of the Italian woman - Christina, he'd finally learned was her name - from further down the hall. "I have taken her to one of the available rooms, out of harm's way," she informed him, referring to the catatonic woman they had been unable to rouse.
He nodded. "We need to ensure everyone else stays out of the blast zone unless it is necessary to cross here. I would like to believe we are in the clear until nightfall, but such an assumption could prove dangerous."
It was as the two of them began to herd the remaining people away from the immediate area that the sound of an anguished feminine scream came up from below. Miles froze for a brief instant while other people gasped or wailed in fright, but the rush of adrenaline that followed gave him the push he needed. He wheeled around, flagging down the people with guns. "Both of you at the ready!" They came running and took up positions, ready to shoot anyone that came through the door, both with their eyes blown wide. "Everyone else, get back! Now! Go! Go!" His shouting seemed to jar most of the startled people who began running further down the hall at his urging, and he was not far behind them.
Miles swung around into one of the doorways and looked back around the edge of the wall just in time to see a figure dart out from the basement level. His heart stopped for an instant as one of the gunners was seized, and then came the all-too-familiar sound of a gunshot. Miles had no idea which had fired, but they had hit their mark, as within moments the new arrival was nothing more than a pile of ash and bloody clothing. He stayed motionless and tense, gripping the corner and watching for any more movement. He counted the seconds, and when ten had passed, he forced himself to move.
"We need to go below!" he called, passing by several petrified people. "The commotion won't go unnoticed! Lieutenant Jones, stay up here and man the door! Gunners, head down first and keep your weapons at the ready! Shoot anything that moves! The rest of you, follow me! We need to find a way to free the other captives!" He'd been hoping for more time, but that wasn't likely to be granted them. The sound of a gunshot would not be ignored by their captors.
By the time he reached the door, he had most of the others behind him, though a few had panicked and locked themselves in one of the rooms; he doubted they would be any safer there, and they would most certainly be alone. Oh well - he had no time to save people from their own foolishness, so just behind the gunners he began to descend. They halted at the bottom of the steps, scanning the near darkness for shapes or movement.
"...Looks all clear, Chief," the female gunner muttered as if afraid to speak too loudly. Miles wasn't entirely sure who had decided that was going to be his title, but he felt there was no point in disputing it.
"Both of you, remain here and watch for anyone coming down the stairs," he told them. "The rest of you, begin searching this room. Look for anything that might be used to free those chained." Orders given, he descended to the dusty storeroom floor and began scanning again. At this distance, he couldn't make out the vampires on the far side of the room, but he did see a curled figure lying somewhat nearby. Heart racing, he moved toward it, discovering the woman that had come down here wielding her dagger. She was still alive, but her ragged, irregular breathing told him even before he saw her that she did not have long.
Miles knelt beside her, caring nothing about the dust and grime that would stain his suit. The woman had her hands clutched over her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and trailing from her mouth in a thin stream. "...got... two of them..." she whispered. "...n-never... saw me coming..." A weak smile of self-satisfaction formed on her bloody lips, though her eyes were wide and hazy with pain.
"You did well," Miles murmured. "You can rest easy knowing that the one who did this to you met his end just after."
"Good..." She took in another rasping, halting breath. "Just... don't fuck this up, okay...? This... better be... for something..."
"Your sacrifice will not be in vain, nor forgotten." Miles had to keep all emotion down, to wear his mask of stone as he spoke to this dying woman that was giving her life for him and the others. He could not afford to let this affect him, not right now.
"T-take... m-my knife..." It was getting more and more difficult for her to speak. "I... don't... think its... had enough of... their blood y-yet..."
"It will be put to good use," he continued to assure her, spotting the bloody knife lying not far away. "Rest now. You have earned it."
Three more shuddering breaths and she stilled, all air and tension expelled. The light faded from her eyes, leaving them to stare blankly ahead, and with a gesture that felt more automatic than it should have, Miles reached up to draw her eyelids closed.
"Chief! We found some tools!"
Miles looked up and gave a stiff nod before grasping the ornate handle of the bloody knife. With his other hand, he unfastened its sheath from its owner's hip and slid the blade inside. He would have to find someone else that could wield it effectively if he got the chance, but in the meantime, he tucked it beneath his jacket, quickly tying the leather thong around his upper arm so that the weapon rested against his left shoulder. He then stood and turned to the group of people standing nearby. "Take what you think you can use. We must free the most powerful of those held here first, and I suggest those of you with such companions feed them quickly after they are freed." He felt a pang as he said this, knowing that Phoenix would be a low priority for the time being. He was likely one of the youngest - if not the youngest vampire present.
Speaking of Phoenix... As people grabbed what they needed, Miles headed off in the direction he remembered his lover being. Upon spotting him, he felt some of his resolve break apart and went quickly to his side, dropping back down to his knees. "Phoenix..." he whispered, trying not to be alarmed at the sight of the blank, dead-eyed stare. He had thought all of this activity would wake the captive vampires, even though it was still shortly before dusk, but Phoenix wasn't looking at him. "Phoenix, wake up."
No response.
Now, he started to worry. Miles swallowed thickly to try and get his heart back down in his chest where it belonged, lightly shaking his lover as the sounds of people hacking at chains nearby rang out in the vast, open, concrete room. "Ph-Phoenix, come on. Wake up. Phoenix!" He was starting to panic, even while telling himself over and over that Phoenix couldn't be dead or he'd be a pile of ash. Those assurances meant little, however, as he had no idea how his inability to rouse his lover could mean anything good. "Phoenix Wright! D-dammit, wake up! Y-you've got to-"
The unmistakable sound of an explosion made his blood run cold. Time was up, and as far as he could see, no one had managed to completely free any of the other vampires. The world slowed to a crawl for four heartbeats, and then shouts and screams and gunshots erupted all around him. He couldn't move, couldn't look behind himself to see the terror and the chaos, couldn't take his eyes off of what looked like nothing more than the lifeless corpse of the man he loved.
Powerful hands seized his waist from behind and swung him up off the floor as if he weighed no more than a helpless kitten. He was completely petrified, his mind refusing to process what it meant as he was thrown over someone's shoulders, and then it stopped processing anything at all. The dimly-lit storeroom and the tumult plunged quickly into total darkness and oppressive silence, and he knew no more.
The sound of quiet conversation was the first thing he heard when he came to consciousness. Perhaps it was what brought him there, but now that he was waking, nothing felt right.
Phoenix opened his eyes to find himself sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and his entire body feeling constricted. He looked around, blinking in utter confusion. Everything seemed blurry and dim, like someone had turned down the world a few notches, leaving him extremely disoriented. His mind was taking an annoyingly long time to catch up, but with a start, he suddenly recognized his surroundings.
He was in his old office, sitting on the floor in front of his desk. The television was on, and the soft glow of waning daylight cast long shadows over the familiar scene. Though he now knew where he was, that fact only raised more questions, and he found himself wondering if the past year had somehow all been a dream.
No. That just wasn't possible, was it? Sure, plenty of things had happened that he would be all too happy to erase from reality, but there were other things he so desperately wanted to be real.
He was becoming more and more aware of how constricted he felt, especially each time he inhaled - he was breathing?! Slowly, his gaze traveled downward to investigate, and he started at the sight.
He could not have mistaken the garments he was wearing for anything other than what they were: the robes of a spirit medium. The pieces all started falling into place inside his dazed head, and he felt feint. He was being channeled... He was dead - truly dead - and he was being channeled. Sickness caused him to sway even more, and he was so certain he was about to collapse.
He was dead. He had died and left Miles all alone...
...Miles!
Phoenix snapped back to awareness, driving back the darkness and struggling to get to his feet. He had absolutely no idea whether or not Miles was still alive, but if he was, Phoenix had to save him. He couldn't worry about his own predicament right now. He was on the outside of that accursed compound now, which meant he could get help!
First, though... he had to get out of these robes. He could hardly move in them.
Fortunately, he'd always kept some spare clothing at the office, as he'd often spent his nights here and hadn't wished to sleep in his suit. He wrestled with the purple robes and finally managed to remove them, pulling on the first garments he grabbed, which turned out to be a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He couldn't be bothered with trying to look presentable, though when he caught a glimpse of himself and his hair in the mirror on the back of the door, he decided he should at least try to conceal that.
After tucking the strange combination of his and Maya's hair into a plain blue beanie, he turned to scan the office. A piece of paper lying on the desk immediately drew his attention, and he took in a deep breath as he approached to peer down at it. He recognized Maya's handwriting and felt a pang in his chest.
"Nick,
If you're reading this, I guess that means you're dead and the channeling worked. I didn't want to even think it was possible, but I just couldn't wait around anymore without learning the truth. A lot of people are going to miss you, Nick. I just hope you didn't suffer.
Mr. Edgeworth has been looking for you all this time. We never gave up, but I guess now we finally know the truth. He would probably appreciate it if you left a note telling us what happened. Obviously, we couldn't use it in any official police stuff, but it would give us closure. I'd have Pearly channel you so we can talk face-to-face, but I don't want to ask that of her just yet. She's going to be devastated.
I'm not really sure what else to say, and writing this is making me cry, so I'm gonna stop. We're all going to miss you, Nick; I hope you know that.
With love,
Maya
P.S. Sorry. My clothes probably don't fit you very well, but channeling naked just seemed way too weird."
Phoenix let out a slow, trembling sigh as the weight of everything settled on him. Sure, he'd basically been dead for a year already, but no one had really accepted it yet, and Miles hadn't had to. He not only felt his own sense of loss, but that of everyone he cared for.
Strange... He'd always thought the dead were at peace, but all he felt was sorrow and worry.
"And now onto our top story: The search continues for the source of the mysterious and extremely disturbing videos that have been circulating around the World Wide Web. If you're just tuning in, recordings of what appear to be savage murders surfaced last night on obscure and illegal websites and have been making their way onto more mainstream message boards and social media. Police have thus far been unable to discern the authenticity of these videos or to identify the alleged victims depicted in them. They are offering a large reward for any information that might lead to the discovery of the proprietors of these films that are far too graphic for us to show you on public television."
Phoenix felt his heart begin to race, recalling the conversation with Councilman Mason back in the storeroom. God, he hoped Miles had not starred in any of the videos released so far, and he quickly grabbed the phone on his desk. When he put it to his ear, he instantly heard the obnoxious busy signal and realized there was no way his office phone was still connected after all this time. He was honestly surprised the power was still on and wondered if Miles had been paying that bill to help keep up his pretense.
Phoenix began to frantically search the room until he discovered Maya's cellphone. He probably should have dialed the emergency number, but instead he found Detective Gumshoe in her contacts list and called him, pacing anxiously as he waited for the other man to pick up.
"Hello? Ms. Fey?"
"No," Phoenix answered, but did not elaborate. "Detective, this is urgent. I know exactly where those snuff films are coming from. They're real and there are soon going to be more of them if we don't-"
"Who is this?" Gumshoe cut him off, sounding agitated. "Look, pal, I don't know what you're doing with Maya's phone, but you can't just call me directly like-"
"Detective!" The anger in his own voice might have surprised him had he not spent the past year as a blood-thirsty creature of the night who had trouble reining in his emotions. "This is Phoenix Wright, and don't ask me any fucking questions right now! They've got MIles and they're going to kill him if we don't do something NOW!"
Gumshoe sputtered. "M-M-Mr. Edgeworth?! They've got Mr. Edgeworth!? Where?! Tell me where! Right now!"
Phoenix rattled off the address as he strode briskly out of the office. "But listen, Detective, you can't just rush in there. There's something you need to know-"
"Got it, pal! I'm gonna' get Mr. Edgeworth outta' there, and then you're gonna' explain to me where the hell you've been for a year!"
"DETECTIVE!" Too late. The line went dead. "Fuck!" Phoenix swore aloud, struggling mightily to resist the urge to throw Maya's phone against the outer wall of the office building. Gumshoe was going to get himself and everyone else involved killed! He had to reach the precinct before the police deployed, but that was going to be exceedingly difficult without a vehicle of his own. All he could think to do was hail a cab and tell the driver they'd get paid extra for making good time. He'd give them Miles' name, hoping it would be recognized and spur the driver onward with the promise of good pay from a wealthy prosecutor.
He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, but he had to try and warn the police. Chances were they wouldn't even believe him, but making no attempt would guarantee failure. He had to try! For Miles' sake, he had to try!