Limits of Perfection

Chapter 9:

Imperfect Memories

Author's note: Okay…you know the drill. I don't own Phoenix Wright games or characters…and if I did, I'd be swimming in my own pool of money (which would be shaped like a dollar bill!)

AND NOW...TO THE STORY!

"Miles Edgeworth! Are you awake?! Answer the door!" Outside, he heard banging, but he was asleep peacefully under the warm covers of his new bed in his new home. Franziska was the one doing the shouting, as she banged Miles' bedroom door. When there was no answer, she flung the door open in a fury. The lights were still off, and Miles was still asleep in the large bed. Frustrated at his lack of understanding the perfect way in which this household was to be run, Franziska decided to take matters into her own hands. The first thing Franziska did, was open one of the large dresser drawers and pull out a pair of underwear, which she immediately rushed to put on top of the bathroom sink. She was silent as she crept back through the room to rummage through Miles' closet. She pulled out khaki trousers, a white shirt, and maroon blazer, and carried them all to his adjoining bathroom, where she let them hang neatly on their hangers from the towel rack. Franziska turned the shower on and let the freezing cold water run as she marched back into Miles' bedroom. He remembered that he had been dreaming...what it was, he didn't remember...but it didn't involve a slap to the face, which was provided so graciously by Franziska. "OW! What was that for?!" Miles yelped as he unraveled himself from the tangle of blankets he slept in. For some reason his nine-year-old brain couldn't comprehend exactly why this three-year-old child was disturbing him at a very early hour. Franziska scowled at this stranger to her house as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. "You didn't listen to Father, did you?" she asked irritably, which made Miles' eyes widen. When she had spoken to him that afternoon, she had only said his name...and hers. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that she could speak so...so...he almost hated to admit it...but it was...almost...perfect! "Father said that breakfast was to be served at 5:10 A.M. You, Miles Edgeworth, are to be up at 5:00 every single morning. That does not mean you get ten extra minutes of sleep! You are to be up, showered, dressed and coherent every single morning! If you are to live in my Father's house, then you are to live by the same standards and rules of perfection that we live by!" Throughout this whole little speech she gave, Miles had started to drift off to sleep again. Franziska narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, her lips curling into a snarl. Her little pudgy hand grabbed a fistful of Miles' hair, and yanked it, before reaching down to grab his hand while he yelped in pain. "I will wake you up one way or another!" Franziska stated as she pulled Miles towards the bathroom, and once in there, proceeded to force him towards the running shower. "All of your clothes are here. You have five minutes before it is 5:10. I would suggest you take the quickest shower of your life, Miles Edgeworth." Franziska advised before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. She waited for a moment, standing right by the door, with a look of impatience on her face. It wasn't but several seconds after, that she heard Miles yelp due to the temperature of the water. "AAH! THAT'S SO COLD!" Franziska let the smallest of smirks creep up her tiny face.

He was...such a fool...

"He's such a fool..." Franziska whispered to herself. The sounds of the subway train zooming on the tracks through the dark tunnel filled her ears. She didn't bother to look out of the window, knowing that there was only darkness with a few lights that flashed by her every once in a while. She wasn't sure where it was going...she had just hopped on, and figured she'd ride until the end destination. She had done this with the other subway trains for two days now... Opposite her was a man with thinning brown hair. He wore a rumpled business suit...and the dark circles underneath his eyes made it look as though he hadn't slept in months. She could understand why the woman who had originally been sitting across from him had pleaded with Franziska to trade seats with her. It wasn't the fact that the prosecutor pitied the woman...far from it. She merely felt as though the man was attempting intimidate this poor woman, and she was far from being easily intimidated. So she had agreed, and was now sitting across from this man, who was staring blankly at the window until he noticed she was looking at him. He turned, and she could've sworn that there was a flash of recognition in his eyes for the briefest second. "Y-you're Ms. von Karma...right?" he asked softly, and cautiously. No matter how low of a tone he made his voice out to be, Franziska didn't like it off the bat. It was...it sounded like it belonged in a badly done Godfather flick... Still, she complied with his question, respecting the fact that he was not trying to draw a scene. "Yes." she replied calmly. "Miss, if you don't mind me asking, would you let me conduct an interview with you for the Daily Starr? It's rather exciting to know that the world's most famous prosecutor is in America."

Ah, so he was a reporter.
That explained a lot.

It was surprising even to herself, but somehow, Franziska found herself agreeing to the proposition offered by the mysterious reporter. "Only as long as you promise not to publish anything faulty. I absolutely abhor it when your people do such." "Oh no, Miss." the reporter replied with a surprised look.

"I only report the absolute truth."

Franziska nodded in approval. It was an honorable, and practically unheard of policy by a reporter. Quite frankly, it surprised her.

"May I ask your name?"

"Oh! Of course! How rude of me, Miss! It's Cruss...Marty Cruss."

It was at that time that Franziska noticed Marty Cruss' dark sunglasses.