Tourniquet

Chapter 10

Franziska laughed with joy as Miles spun her around the dance floor to a very up-tempo song by some old band neither of them was familiar with. She was very surprised at his skill; it was as if he'd been dancing for years, and with other people as well. She had never seen him as much of a party-goer, but this was proof.

She gasped as she was lifted into the air and flipped over Miles' shoulder, only to land safely on her feet with him facing her again. Applause rang out from around them as people had taken to watching their little show.

"Miles," Franziska whispered so that only he could hear. "People are staring." She was feeling a bit uncomfortable, but she was still smiling.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, looking down at her with his own grin. "It's a compliment."

Suddenly, it was dark save for a few lights over the dance floor. A collective hush swept the room, the dull roar replaced by scattered muttering. Miles looked up at the remaining lights, wondering if this had been planned. It sort of appeared that way, but the confused silence didn't end. He was waiting for some sort of music to start or someone to take the DJ microphone, but it didn't happen.

"W-what's going on?" he heard Franziska ask from his shoulder, her voice shaking nervously.

"Not sure…" Miles started to look around again for any signs of a clue. "Maybe it's-"

"EVERYBODY DOWN!!!"

The sudden eruption of noise began with a deafening bang. People began screaming and running as more bangs sounded from different areas of the room. Edgeworth felt his body hit the hardwood floor and lay still, the commotion around him suddenly drowned out by his own breath. His brain had gone into panic mode and he had tried to run, but something heavy had hit him, knocking him to the ground.

However, a voice started to penetrate this partial daze. "Edgeworth! Edgeworth!" He felt someone grab his shoulders and start to pull him upward. His senses returned to him like a wave at that exact moment, and he saw Phoenix Wright's face before him.

"W-Wright?" Miles was trying to register everything that was happening around him and couldn't remember why he was lying there in the first place.

"Are you okay?! I thought… I thought you were the one who was shot for second there!" Phoenix pulled his friend into a sitting position, his relief that the other man was not hurt barely showing through his own panic. "Come on! You have to get up! We have to get out of here!"

Miles looked around to see all the people running toward the exits, screams still filling the room. "F-Franziska," he whispered suddenly, and it then turned into a panicked shout. "Where's Franziska?!" He tried to stand, but nearly fell over again. Phoenix grabbed his arm to keep him up.

"I… I don't see her!" Phoenix shouted back over the noise. "Maybe she-"

Before he could finish his speculation into her disappearance, a terrified and desperate scream overpowered the rest.

"LET GO OF ME! YOU SON OF A BITCH; LET GO! MILES! MILES!"

Wrenching his arm from Phoenix's grasp, Miles made a beeline toward the screams. He knew it was her; there was no mistaking that German accent. "Edgeworth!" he heard from behind him as Phoenix gave chase, but he didn't pay the other man any attention.

The crowd of people suddenly disappeared before him as the last group of them made their frantic way toward the doors, and he saw her. She was struggling against two men, both dressed entirely in black and wearing half masks to disguise their faces. He saw her kick one in the shin with her heel and elbow him hard in the sternum while trying to pry her wrist from the grasp of the other man.

"Get off her!" Miles roared, charging forward to her aid. His hands found one man's throat and he dragged the attacker to the ground, initiating a fierce wrestling match. Miles pinned the man down and drove his fist multiple times into his face in pure rage, but he quickly received a sharp knee to the groin and fell sideways. He forced himself to recover immediately and grabbed hold of the other's shirt before he could rise again.

As he fought, he got a brief glimpse of what was going on around him. He saw Phoenix Wright grappling with the other man that had grabbed Franziska, and Detective Gumshoe was struggling against still another. 'How many are there?!' he thought as he tried to remove a strong hand from around his neck.

Without warning, Miles heard another shot pierce the air and then screaming. Wait… It was HIM that was screaming. Blinding pain seared through the young prosecutor's body before everything around him faded out. His world became black, and they all saw his form go limp.

"MILES!" Franziska tried to run to him, but a hand closed tightly around her arm and wrenched her backward until an arm pinned her against someone's much larger frame.

"You're comin' with me, sweetheart," she heard a menacing male voice say in her ear.

"No! Get off me!" she shrieked as she fought to get free. "Miles! Miles! Wake up! Miles!"

"Drop your guns! Now!"

Franziska whipped her head to the side to see the young Agent Tilea aiming a gun of her own at the group of people around her. "I SAID DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" She looked fierce, not at all the calm and professional young woman they had spoken with earlier that evening.

Franziska heard the man holding her give a dark chuckle. "I think it's you who needs ta' lower your weapon, Little Miss," he stated, and Franziska then heard a gun cock very close to her head. She gave a terrified gasp and froze completely. "You wouldn't want another death on your hands."

"Is that so, Sanders?" This time it was Agent Taylor who had spoken, standing on the opposite side of the group as his partner with his own gun in hand. "You forget that as FBI agents, we both have a license to kill if necessary."

A dark laugh sounded from the red-haired woman. "What Ares means is that we stand to lose nothing by splattering your brains all over the wall, and it would be so much easier than trying to take you into custody again. Wouldn't you agree?"

The man who Franziska now recognized with a horrible jolt to be Brad Sanders, the escaped serial murderer, seemed completely unfazed by this. "You sound like you think I have anything to lose."

There was a disturbance from nearby and Franziska saw the man who had been fighting Miles now trying to lift the unconscious man from the floor and use him as a shield, but a shot rang out before he got too far and he fell back, blood and other fluids now oozing from a wound in the side of his head.

An involuntary moan sounded in the German prosecutor's throat at this gruesome sight and she looked from one agent to the next to see who had fired the shot. Neither of their expressions had changed in the slightest, but a small stream of smoke was rising from Tilea's gun. "Anyone else want to try us?" she hissed, glaring at each person in turn.

Yet another bang, and this time it was Tilea who fell. "Phoenix!" came her partner's terrified voice as a full-blown gunfight broke out. Franziska screamed again as she was dragged from the scene, unable to fight her way out of Sanders' grasp. The man was around six-foot-five and had the physique of a body-builder; he could hardly tell she was fighting him.

Soon, the other three surviving criminals joined their leader in the dash for the get-away car. They reached a black van that sat on the side of the building with no license plate to be found. One jumped into the passenger seat and Brad and the other two climbed into the back, forcing Franziska in with them. The side door was slammed shut and the tires screeched as the vehicle swerved out of the auditorium parking lot and onto the highway.

Franziska trembled visibly as she sat stiffly in Sanders' lap, his gun resting on her knees with his hand upon it. She had completely given up her attempts to escape, for she realized how futile they really were. She was trapped, and she could only dread what these sick bastards had in store for her.

"So nice to see you again, Miss von Karma," she heard that sinister voice from behind her say, its owner's free hand traveling the length of the French braid in her hair and then up to grasp her shoulder. "Surely, you remember who I am, don't you?"

"What do you want?" she nearly whispered, feeling as if an iron clamp was constricting her windpipe as sobs of fear caused her body to jerk.

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that already." Slowly, he lifted the gun upward until he forced the muzzle into her mouth. "Revenge is going to be so sweet, Miss von Karma," he said, soaking in the pure horror evident in his victim's features. "So sweet, in fact, that I plan to savor it as long as I possibly can." He removed the gun from her mouth and leaned forward, placing his lips on her ear.

"I hope you're in the mood for some fun, sweetheart. Tonight, you and me are gonna' have a hell of time!"