Act One
Blackquill's pet hawk stirred in its sleep, as if sensing their presence. Diego glanced from his cellmate to the angel and back again.
"The Highlander?"
"You know he's innocent," the angel murmured. "You've been trying to help him. Keep him safe."
Diego winced a little at that. When he'd first found out that Blackquill really was the noble hero Diego had wanted to be, the bitter dregs of his soul burned bright green with jealousy. His first instinct was to turn away from the latest cosmic joke at his expense. But Blackquill had been so young, so scared; easy prey for hardened criminals. And to Diego's consternation, he'd found that he cared whether Simon Peter sleeping in the bunk below him got hurt.
So Diego had taught him how to behave like he really had mercilessly butchered a woman in front of her child, how to hold his head up and brag about it, and how to hide his vulnerability behind a no-fucks-to-give smile. He did feel a little guilty, leaving the kid so soon. But Diego had taught him all he could. Whether Diego was there or not, Blackquill had to sink or swim on his own.
"It's not like he's all alone," Diego murmured, looking away. That too was a sore point; Blackquill had a sister, and friends in the Prosecutors' Office, judging by the way his execution date kept being pushed back. "Even if he was, there's nothing more I can do for him."
The angel nodded to the pantleg, still tied to the bunk. "Have you considered what you're going to do to him?"
Diego smirked.
"Wouldn't be the first dead body he's ever seen."
"That's not what I meant," the angel replied gently.
The cell, the bunks, Blackquill, and his pet hawk dissolved away, revealing the mess hall, crowded with prisoners. Diego's eye was drawn to Blackquill, sitting utterly alone at a nearby table.
"This is just a few weeks after your suicide," the angel explained. He moved towards one of the crowded tables. Diego remained where he was for a few minutes, gazing at Blackquill. There were no friends in prison, but the other prisoners had never visibly isolated the kid like this. In fact, it was a rare thing to happen, especially to a prisoner who wasn't a mob boss or someone else of major standing in the criminal underworld. He began to feel uneasy.
"Hey, Gabriel." He moved to catch up with the angel. "What's going on?"
The angel put a finger to his lips, gazing at the table full of prisoners next to him. "Listen."
Diego realised the other prisoners were sneaking dirty looks at Blackquill as they ate.
"Yeah, I heard he did something to Armando," one of them muttered. "Messed with his head. Talked him into killing himself."
"Dude was learning hypnosis and shit like that before he got here," said another.
"I thought he and Armando were boys," a third prisoner interrupted. "Don't make no sense that he made Armando kill himself."
"Don't make no sense that Armando killed himself either," the first prisoner retorted. "Besides, the guy sliced up a woman right in front of her little girl. Psycho like that could do anything."
"I heard whispering that night," a fourth prisoner joined in. "I swear on my kidses lives. Whispering, and Armando crying."
Diego shot the prisoner an offended look as the rest of the prisoners murmured in awe.
"Well that settles it," the second prisoner remarked. He cracked his knuckles and shot Blackquill a look that chilled Diego to the bone. "Dude won't get the chance to do it to anybody else."
It hit Diego suddenly - Blackquill was alone because he was marked for death. Diego turned around sharply to look at Blackquill, still calmly eating his lunch. And he's got no idea.
The room began to dissolve.
"Wait –"
He heard the splatter of running water before the tiles of the shower swam into view. As the steam cleared he saw Blackquill face-up on the wet floor. Blood ran from his head into the nearby drain. Outside a guard yelled for a medic into his walkie-talkie, but Diego knew it was already too late. Diego ran a hand over his mouth and goatee, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Unpleasant, isn't it."
Diego nearly lost his footing on the wet floor.
"Ha…!" Struggling to regain his composure, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "How about that. I can see red again." He looked at the angel. "That your doing?"
"This is the world after your suicide," the angel replied. "So technically, it's your doing."
Diego flinched at the angel's words. He looked back at the body as the doctors tried in vain to resuscitate him. It hadn't occurred to him that the other prisoners might decide that he'd killed himself because of Blackquill playing headgames. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
"Okay, amigo," he replied. "I see what you're saying." He deliberately turned his back on the scene. Gabriel didn't need to know that he actually cared about the kid. "So maybe I don't slip away in the dead of night." He plastered on a smirk. "Maybe I wrestle a tiger instead."
The angel gave him a long, sombre look. The showers, doctors and the body dissolved to the mess hall. Diego stepped back in shock – his own corpse was on the floor, rapidly bleeding out. Tigre stood over him. One huge orange fist was buried in Blackquill's stomach. The younger man was bent around Tigre's fist, thick wet gurgles accompanying the blood streaming out of his mouth. As Diego watched, Tigre pulled his fist back, his knuckles – and the shiv between them – wet with blood. Blackquill collapsed on Diego's body, gasping his last.
Diego stared at the gory tableau, clenching his fists. The stupid kid had tried to save him. Damn it, how many times did he have to tell Blackquill that there was no reward for saintly behaviour?
"There's more," the angel murmured. Diego barely heard him. The guards were swarming on Tigre, and without warning, a medic appeared in front of him. It took Diego a few seconds to realise the man had just run straight through him.
"Diego." The angel tugged at his arm. Diego managed to tear his gaze away from the awful scene to look at him. "How much has Simon told you about his crime?"
Diego swallowed, still unnerved by the proof that he really was a ghost.
"Everything."
The angel nodded as the medics worked on the two lifeless bodies. "Then you know he has a sister. And his victim had a daughter."
Diego nodded. He tried in vain to muster a smirk. "Too bad for them, huh?"
The angel looked away, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Worse than you know."
The world around them faded to black. In the darkness, Diego heard a young girl cry out.
"No! No, Aura, please –"
A new location gradually came into focus around them. A teenage girl with long, red hair lay strapped to a table in the middle of the room. Half-finished machinery lurked in the corners of what looked to be some kind of lab. A dark-haired woman in a white coat loomed over the girl.
"What is this?" Diego hissed.
"Blackquill's sister," the angel murmured. "And the girl he went to prison to protect."
The girl struggled as the woman stepped over to a control panel.
"Save it, princess," the woman snarled. "My baby brother's dead because of you."
"Aura, please, I'm sorry – I'm so sorry about Simon –" The air was filled with clicks and whirring as a collection of nasty-looking instruments descended from the ceiling towards the struggling girl. "I – I wanted to save him – "
She screamed as the first instrument penetrated her flesh. Diego tried to move to stop it, but the angel placed a hand on his arm.
"You had your chance to do something," the angel remarked coldly as the woman moved, blocking the girl and the ensuing carnage from view. "It's too late now."
Diego turned away, struggling to ignore the girl's dying screams. "Don't lay this on me, Gabriel," he growled. "Blackquill told me the kid did it. She didn't know what she was doing, that's why he took the fall for her. But that's what happened."
The angel glared at him as the wet sounds of metal cutting through flesh and the girl's last moans faded away.
"Or maybe it isn't," he said tightly. "Maybe the real killer is still out there. Maybe he kills again."
Diego took a small step back, unsettled by the angel's reaction. Something about the scene had hit a nerve, and the nagging feeling that he should know the angel's identity resurfaced. But before he could think about it further, the laboratory around them gave way to a brightly-lit, extremely cluttered office. Paperwork, discarded clothes and magician's props were strewn across every available surface.
"Where are we?" Diego murmured. He smirked. "Or should that be, when are we?"
"The Wright Anything Agency, four years from now," the angel replied.
Diego looked around at the mess.
"So I die, and Trite starts hoarding?" he asked.
Before the angel could reply, a young man in a red suit and a blue jacket strode into the room. Diego took a moment to get over the surprise of seeing the colour red again. He didn't recognise the kid, who was clutching some files in his heavily bandaged arms. The man following him, dressed in a well-tailored blue suit, was unmistakeable.
"Apollo, wait –" Diego instinctively stepped out of the way as Apollo crossed to the heavily cluttered desk and dumped the files on top of the computer keyboard. Phoenix Wright followed him, running a hand through his spiky hair. " – just listen to me for a second –"
Apollo paused, leaning on the desk.
"Sorry, Mr. Wright." He turned, a bitter, half-smile on his face. "I can't let this go. I can't let Clay's murder go unsolved. And I don't trust the police to find the real killer."
He started to walk to the door, and Wright caught his arm.
"Just…" Diego's blood ran cold at the stricken look on Wright's face. "…don't go digging around on your own, okay?"
Apollo smirked. "Sure thing, Boss. You'd never do that, right?"
"This isn't a game!" Wright snapped. Apollo hissed in pain and yanked his arm out of Wright's grip. "If you don't keep someone in the loop, bad things can happen!" He took a deep breath and let it out slow. "Believe me, I know."
Diego suddenly had a horrible feeling about where this was going. He turned away from the scene, missing Apollo's parting shot as the younger attorney left the office, and glared at the angel.
"Don't."
" 'Don't' what?" the angel replied coldly. "This is out of my hands now."
The room darkened, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window. Apollo entered the office. The light switch clicked impotently a few times and he swore quietly.
"Where's the ladder…"
He passed in front of the window.
There was a crack, and he staggered backwards, collapsing on his rear. In the moonlight, Diego could see Apollo's hands clutching at his throat, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. A shadowy figure moved out of the darkness, quickly sweeping up the documents Apollo had dropped, before disappearing out of the office. The young attorney gurgled on the floor, fumbling clumsily in one pocket. Looking for his cellphone, Diego realised suddenly. But it was too late. Apollo stilled, and the office was silent again.
Diego ran a hand through his hair and tried to compose himself.
"So…whoever shot the kid," he said shakily, "is the same person who murdered Blackquill's mentor?"
The angel nodded. "Precisely. If Blackquill dies before uncovering the truth about his mentor's murder, it isn't just her daughter who will pay the price. That young man there will die too." The angel laid a hand on Diego's shoulder. "Don't you see? You can't die yet."
Diego swallowed. He didn't want to be responsible for any more suffering. But did he really have to push on in a body that was falling apart, never seeing a friendly face, for four more years?
…Four more years.
If Blackquill dies…
"Wait." He looked at the angel. "All this happens…if Blackquill dies."
The angel looked slightly exasperated, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "That's what I said, yes."
"If Blackquill dies," Diego repeated, a smirk creeping over his face. "Not me. Didn't they tell you upstairs? Blackquill's got a death sentence." He pointed at the angel, the gesture feeling empty without the familiar weight of a coffee mug in his hand. "So what difference does it make if he dies now, or four years from now?"
"It makes a difference," the angel answered defensively.
"Then show me some proof," Diego retorted. "Or I'm not buying it."
"Look - I can't tell you everything," the angel huffed, a flustered look on his face. "You just have to trust me."
"Ha…!" Diego shook his head. "I still haven't decided whether or not you're a figment of my imagination, Gabriel." He gestured to the darkened office. "And it's going to take more than all this to convince me to stick around."
"Fine," the angel said in annoyance. "Because I've got plenty to show you."