So, here it is. After nearly two flipping years, Whiteouts.
First, I have some things to explain.
Why did this take so long? Multiple reasons. Motivation, College, and personal problems that I will not get into.
Why did I continue it/finish Whiteouts? Because of a recent encounter that left me stunned. (I'll get more into it later.)
Will I be continuing TS? Yes, Recently I found myself with pretty much the equivalent of 'too much' free time. Most of which will be spent writing. :D (Again, I will explain this after the chapter.)
It should be obvious, but I do not own any of the Phoenix Wright characters nor am I associated with any of the known affiliates of Capcom. :D
The first thing Franziska noticed was her head was pounding, a deep throbbing sensation in her temples worsened by the light shining through her eyelids. She opened her eyes slowly, to help ease the pain. Her vision slowly cleared and she got a small grip on her bearings. She was tied to something, her wrists bound to some large bench behind her.
Her toes barely reached the floor telling her the bench must be quite taller than she, and the sense of pain in her wrists told her that they were the only thing holding her there. As she looked around she took note that she must be in a courtroom. A flashlight sat facing upwards in the middle of the room, giving soft light to the area around her. She could see where the defense and prosecution would be seated, along with the defendant and any witnesses. From this she was able to discern that she was bound to the judge's stand.
Her mouth had been gagged with a soft cloth, her hands tied with rope and her feet were bound by a zip tie. She struggled slightly, hoping not to draw attention from anyone who may have been nearby. An agitated growl tore from her throat when none of her prospects of escape had worked.
"It looks like sleeping beauty is awake at last." The voice that leapt from the shadows was slick, soft and overly mocking, a chill raced up Franziska's spine as a man stepped into the dull lighting. He spoke again much more gently than before, "I certainly hope I didn't hurt your leg too badly in dragging you from that room. Then again, I guess it won't matter soon enough."
He seemed in a daze, his eyes had a far off look to them. An air of unnatural evil emanated from him. He spoke again, this time with authority, "Perhaps I should untie your mouth? I daresay you look as though you have a question." He reached up behind her to untie the gag, but he paused halfway through. "I must emphasize this however, if you choose to scream instead of asking your question or holding a simple conversation with me, I will lose my temper. Trust me, you would not like me to lose my temper as I can be quite efficient with a blade, my dear."
Franziska shook her head; the man didn't look like he was one to joke about such a matter. "Good girl." He teased as he untied the rest of the gag. Franziska took a deep breath as the man backed away from her. Judging by the demeanor this man was a professional. It was with this revelation that another gruesome thought presented itself.
"You're Shelley De Killer." She gasped.
"Very observant, my dear." He said as he backed down from the judge's podium. Franziska noticed a small butterfly knife tucked up his sleeve. He chuckled bitterly as he turned to face her. "Perhaps you may take a guess as you why I am here?"
Franziska put the puzzle together quickly enough. This man was an assassin after all, and she and Phoenix were the only ones in the courthouse besides him. She spoke quietly, unable to prevent her voice from cracking.
"You're here to kill either me or Phoenix Wright." De Killer laughed. A sound Franziska prayed she'd never have to hear again. She thought that some actors had talent in capturing an evil laugh, but De Killers laugh was outright demonic.
"Very good!" He exclaimed, "Now, because Phoenix Wright is the man who revealed to me my old client's intentions towards me, he wouldn't make a good victim. I make a point to not kill anyone who's helped me in the past." As the words left his lips, Franziska felt the color leave her face. "This of course, leaves you, my dear."
"Why? Who?!" Franziska felt sick, she tried her hardest not to think of the many ways this man in front of her could end her. She tried not to allow such dark thoughts to plague her, in vain. She felt a chill when De Killer sighed.
"First of all, I'll answer why. Frankly, dear, I never turn down a client unless I am sure that their case is of no merit. This client not only gave me very explicit instructions, which I found well within my normal agreement, but he also pre-paid for the whole thing. Second question, who… Well, that's between me and my client, my dear." He spat 'my dear' with such venom that Franziska flinched. De killer, unfazed by her fear, continued. "Finally, I was given very specific orders. You see…" He gestured towards the far end of the room, where Franziska found herself staring at a timer, battery operated. "That timer, counts how long you have left. My Client was extraordinarily specific about this. Your life ends when it reaches zero." The timer read 8 hours, pure and simple. 8 hours until the world would go completely black, and God only knew what happened after.
"Involving the why, you never did specify why I was your target." She stated, trying to keep her voice from shaking. De killer's response was a laugh that put his previous one to shame.
"Why are you a target…" De killer repeated matter-of-factly. He paced the room quietly, as though mulling over his words. "Well, my dear. I received a letter, as I have stated to you before, intending you as a target. However, if I must elaborate." He sighed and shook his head. "It is because of your failure."
"Failure?! To do what, exactly?!" Franziska snapped, horrified, what could she have possibly failed at to earn a hit on her?
"Failure to ruin a certain defense attorney in court." de Killer's response left Franziska speechless, she went practically limp from shock and horror. When she finally could speak, her voice shook almost uncontrollably.
"Failure, to defeat Phoenix Wright in court has earned a hit on my head? How on earth would that make any sense?" A benign smirk adorned the assassin's face as he slowly faced her.
"Last I heard, a von Karma NEVER loses." He spoke softly, his voice stable and slick. "In all honesty, I would normally agree with you, why should a hit be placed on you, when all that was revealed was the truth? But, I digress. My client has offered me an untold amount of money. Not only this, but he told me that you had been somewhat of a burden to him."
"Burden?" Franziska could hardly think, her head spun sporadically and the room tilted as vertigo took in. Trying to think of someone who could hate her with such passion was inconceivable. The mere thought of anyone wishing for her death was hard to wrap her head around. True, she had earned many an enemy in her line of work but none had seemed desperate enough to hire an assassin, or even to attack her themselves!
"Yes, A burden. They deemed you unfit of carrying the von Karma heritage, labelling you a mistake and a horrible inconvenience." De Killers' voice remained level, however the inflection in his voice drew closure to the matter. Franziska knew that any further attempts to glean the name of de Killers client would be foolhardy.
"Another question seems to linger on the edge of your thoughts, my dear." Startled by de Killers' words, Franziska tried not to let the thought take over, but the timer across the room betrayed her and her thoughts were overwhelmed with one question.
"How am I to be killed?" her voice cracked bitterly, her throat seared with pain at the mere thought, but the answer that de Killer gave caused her to whimper as she finally recognized a thin rope lingering in her peripheral vision.
"Hanging." His smile was devilish and gave room for pause to anyone who would think he was a friendly individual.
Franziska did her best not to scream, fear ebbed through the entirety of her frame, her fingertips tingled and her throat contracted. Tears wove their way down her face and dripped from her chin as de Killer chuckled perversely.
"You said, I had never defeated Phoenix Wright. I recall an old case, your old client in fact. I had beaten him there. That was my case." Her voice cracked and she became painfully aware of how tightly her throat had closed.
"Matt Engarde…" de Killer pondered the name and a thoughtful expression passed his features as he paced the room slowly, toying absentmindedly with the butterfly knife from his sleeve. "Indeed, that case was assigned to you. However, a dear friend revealed that it was Miles Edgeworth, not you, who was present at the prosecution stand."
"It was still my case!" She argued, but as the words left her lips she felt her argument fall on deaf ears.
"Your case… No, you needed to be present for the entirety of the trial for that to be true. You were not." He stated simply.
"Whose fault was that?!" Franziska snapped, rage leaking into every fiber of her being. With every logical argument she presented he had a counter. Did nothing matter to this monster?
"Heh. The fault was mine." De Killer shrugged and chuckled, not quite as sobering as his laugh but spine chilling none-the-less. "However, for that little escapade I was paid for by Matt Engarde. He wanted me to ensure his innocence in the trial… Even if it meant disposing of the prosecution."
Disposing, he was using this choice of words to dig beneath her skin, but even with this knowledge, Franziska was having no luck in keeping her temper from flaring.
"Go to hell." She whispered weakly, her strength and rage leaving her as quickly as it had arrived, a quick glance at the timer told her that nearly two hours had passed during their exchange and left her feeling drawn and tired.
Whatever cheerful demeanor had occupied de Killer's face left instantly. His eyes turned cold and malicious and a fearsome snarl curled his lips. Slowly he stepped toward Franziska, until only a few inches lay between them. She suddenly became aware of the butterfly knife laying pointed towards her, pressing into the fabric of the blouse over her stomach.
"Normally Ms. von Karma, I am quite a placid man, willing to allow a few questions or rare fits of rage to escape my prey. What I will not tolerate by any means is the language that has just passed your tongue. However, I will honor your foulness with but one phrase, 'Ladies First.'" As quickly as he had approached her, he turned on his heel and was suddenly halfway across the room. Franziska became quickly aware that during de Killer's rant she has been holding her breath. She inhaled weakly but fear limited her breathing capabilities.
The sheer feeling of hopelessness as Franziska watched the clock tick down washed over her. Her emotions became blank and little to no thought was left in her head. The only thought that whisked its way through her head was the timer ticking. Every other thought was quickly overpowered by the incessant noise of the timer.
Franziska inhaled sharply, as much as the fear overwhelmed her, one thought suddenly washed over her. Escape. She had to escape. She needed to get out of there. Better to risk the snow and cold than wait for that blasted timer. Slowly she fuddled with the ropes binding her wrists. The rope rubbed harshly against her skin, drawing a gasp.
"Trying to go somewhere?" De Killer questioned mockingly. "I'm afraid, that will do you no good. All you have to face is a storm that would still be fatal to you."
"Fatal or not, I'd rather take my chances out in that storm than in here with that timer." Franziska snapped back. De killer looked thoughtful.
"Very well then, how about a bet?" He sighed lazily, as if toying with a particularly nasty idea. "If you can break free of your bonds within twenty minutes, I will allow you to leave and brave the storm. However, if you are unable to break your bonds, I will reward you. I will tell you who my client is who ordered the hit on you."
Franziska froze in her position, still hanging loosely from the banister of the judge's stand. As good of a deal as that was, the sheer morbid curiosity was beginning to eat at her stomach. Who ordered the hit? As badly as Franziska wanted the answer to that question, she felt her life was far more important.
"Do we have a deal, Ms. Von Karma?" The soft mocking tone in de Killer's voice was rage inducing, as though daring her to try to leave. Franziska didn't give it a second thought, she needed to get out of here.
"Deal." She spat, feeling as though she were signing her life away on a dotted line.
De Killer pulled back his sleeve revealing a wristwatch, he pressed a few buttons and smirked evilly at Franziska.
"Very well… Start" He said shortly, pressing a button on the watch which engaged a small timer.
Franziska wasted no time. She struggled weakly against the tight ropes, wincing painfully as they struck across her skin leaving grisly rope burns. As each second passed, she felt the ropes give and finally the ropes loosened enough for her to slip free. With a resounding thud, she fell to her knees. She turned and quickly began messing with the tie around her ankles, with a sharp snap the bind came loose and she immediately got to her feet. In her haste she noticed a small piece of paper lining the inner edge of de Killers coat. With a snarl she ran into him, pushing him up against the wall and knocking the wind from his lungs, she grabbed the paper and bolted for the door. De Killer's voice echoed down the hall after her.
"Good job, Ms. Von Karma, but remember, I can still get to you through Phoenix Wright!" His voice bounced off the walls and rang in Franziska's ears. Sheer dread pulsed through her. Phoenix… She had to get to him before de Killer. Regardless if she could survive the storm, she couldn't leave him here with that psychopath.
As she made her way down the hall she paused, a stitch in her side became overwhelming and she leaned on the wall for support. As she sat down, back to the wall, she looked to her clenched fist still holding onto the paper for dear life. Slowly and shakily, she opened the paper and read to herself.
"Shelley de Killer, I hear from some of my closest contacts within these walls that you are efficient at your job as an assassin. I must admit that I am in urgent need of these skills, as I am dealing with the most unfortunate burden." Franziska recognized the style of writing, slowly horror seeped into her brain as the truth began to dawn on her.
As much as she wanted to stop reading, her eyes refused to close. "You see; I have three children. Two of whom are my flesh and blood, the other was obtained via an adoption program. However, it is not the adopted child that is the problem. I am a man of perfection; I refuse to settle for anything less than such. One of my children, my youngest daughter, has been nothing but a failure from the day she came into this world."
Franziska choked, trying to swallow the pain as her fathers' letter went into excruciating detail regarding her failures. The worst however, lay with the letter's ending. "I know your standards for taking on a hit are particular. Thus, I give you this incentive, should you have my daughter taken care of, I shall be sure to have one Phoenix Wright prosecuted for her death. With this level of ingenuity, I will also assure that you and your associates shall be set for life, thus never needing to take part in another hit, should you do this for me. Sincerely, and with best regards, Manfred von Karma."
Franziska's heart tanked into her stomach. She moaned weakly as her stomach lurched heavily. She felt her heart grow weak and heavy, as though it were suddenly made of lead. Her father, the man she'd sold her life away to impress, wanted her dead. Even with the horrible reality of it all weaving its way through her mind, she began to laugh. A bitter, cold and shocking burst of laughter that leapt from her lungs. She clutched her arm to her chest and the paper fluttered from her hands as she was overcome with the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
As the stupidity and recklessness of her laughter jumped and bounced down the halls of the courthouse, only one word slipped between the pain and agony of having realized how much she hated her father. "Free", this was a word Franziska could never truly understand. When she first came to America, she thought the concept silly, slowly learning to accept the ridiculousness of the people who cherished it, but now… Now she could see. No longer was her heart laden with the fear of being persecuted for all her woes. Now, she could breathe.
As her laughter slowed and faded, she pushed herself off the wall. The seriousness of the situation still worrying to her. She slowly made her way down the hall, the pain from her injuries was all but lost. She worked her way slowly and quietly down the hall, noticing all too late that her laughter might've alerted de Killer to her location. Just as she regained her bearings and began to make her way back to her office, a cloth suddenly closed over her mouth and chloroform filled her lungs as the world faded.
Her eyes opened blearily, the bright flashlight still pointed towards the ceiling. Franziska took notice that her arms and legs were bound, but her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Slowly, as she slid out of her drug induced stupor, she saw her arms bound to the armrest of a chair. Her ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. Her eyes immediately jumped up to where the timer was, only for her to see that it had disappeared. A voice leapt from behind her.
"I can't help but wonder, what made you laugh as loudly as you did?" de Killer seemed genuinely confused. His expression denoted alarm and even fear. "Did the reality of it send you into the dizzying realms of insanity?" Franziska couldn't help but smile at his fear.
"No, just reveling in the idea that I finally understand freedom." De Killer stared, his eyes wide. "I understand now why American's cherished it like a child cherishes life. What you don't realize Mr. de Killer, is how much I hated my father. He was a spiteful, cruel, mean son of a bitch. That note, as damning as it was, freed me." Her voice was wrought with venom.
"I guess even a von Karma is unable to keep their emotions in check." De Killer spat. He slowly walked away from her as he continued to speak," You know, I had sincerely prayed you would fight more than you did. Finding you so easy to capture was rather disappointing. "
As he finished speaking, an almighty crunching noise echoed through the chamber. The sound of splintering wood and crunching metal rang loudly in the room, drowning out the last of De Killer's speech. He turned lazily toward the door which showed minimal amounts of damage.
"I know you're there Mr. Wright! Enter slowly through the door and I promise, you will enjoy the show." Franziska could hear the malice dripping from his voice. Sheer bloodlust could be read from the last of his words.
Another loud report dented the silence and the door showed signs of cracking. De killer pulled a gun from his belt and aimed at the door carefully.
"Wright, this is your last warning. Drop whatever weapon you think will save you in this farce and enter quietly!" De killer shouted. His voice echoed off the walls and silence followed. Sure that Phoenix Wright would not attack, he lowered his gun.
A final shattering screech of splintering wood and a sharp gust of wind blew past De killer, He glanced behind him to see a fire axe embedded partway into the wall. Bedlam followed. Phoenix ran in as De Killer recovered from the axe narrowly missing him and aimed. He dove behind the defense bench as a gunshot pierced the silence. Franziska heard a distinct cry of pain as Phoenix fell behind the bench.
Franziska glared at De Killer and felt her heart leap into her throat as he fired the gun towards Phoenix. As he took aim again, she felt a sudden rush, a need, to stop him. She pushed herself forward, the bounds on her ankles snapping, leaving deep welts. Paying no attention to the pain that now shot up her legs, she shoved forward and slammed full force into De killer, knocking him to the ground and splintering the chair.
De Killer roared and pushed Franziska away, causing her to knock her head against the banister beneath the judge's podium. She collapsed and could only stare as de Killer aimed the gun between her eyes. De Killer however, was not focused on her, but on the defense bench. His voice rang out as a challenge, mirth and insanity echoing with his call.
"Come out, Phoenix Wright! Come out and bear witness to the murder that you yourself will take the blame for. Come out and watch the light leave her eyes!" de Killer nearly screamed the last of his words, "Come out and watch your girlfriend die!"
The silence that followed allowed Franziska to process these words. Girlfriend, was de Killer truly that daft that he would assume that she and Phoenix were romantically involved? Was he truly that incensed that he'd stoop to the level of guilt by association? However, as she mulled the thought over, it felt less and less like an accusation and more like a taunt regarding their status and attitude towards one another. Such a thought made her ill.
Phoenix slowly stood, his hand covered his left shoulder which was now heavily stained with blood, de Killer had nicked an artery with his shot. Phoenix seemed unperturbed by the pain in his shoulder and was instead focused on Franziska. Their eyes locked and Franziska suddenly became aware of why Phoenix Wright was so respected. He would not be going down without a fight, and he would be damned if he left her behind.
"Drop the gun." Phoenix spoke softly and darkly to de Killer. As if speaking to an individual that could be reasoned with. De Killer's demonic laugh rang through the room, bouncing and echoing off the walls of the courtroom. When addressing Phoenix, he did so mockingly. As if to a child.
"Or what? You are fairly badly injured Phoenix Wright, any attempts to attack me would be futile in every sense of the word." He pointed the gun at Phoenix tauntingly. "Or perhaps you'd like to take her place? Is that your offer, boy?"
A tired and patient smile slid across Phoenix's face. Instead of diving for cover or attempting to attack de Killer, he simply stared down the barrel of the gun almost disinterestedly. His altruistic demeanor unsettled Franziska. De Killer became impatient and yelled angrily, "Well, Wright?! What'll it be? You?" He cocked the gun. "Or her?" Slowly de Killer turned, taking careful aim at Franziska.
Phoenix moved far quicker than his injury would normally allow. From somewhere near him, he pulled out a large blanket; which Franziska recognized as one of the emergency blankets for the courthouse. Within mere fractions of a second, he crossed the space between himself and de Killer. De Killer took aim, but before he could fire off a shot, Phoenix pulled the blanket over his head. As de Killer struggled, he then tied the blanket down with a small length of rope he'd been using to secure a myriad of weaponry and provisions to his side.
With little time to waste, Phoenix grabbed Franziska, who was still disoriented, and pulled her beneath the defense bench to safety. De Killer snarled shrilly and tore the blanket off, shredding it as he did so. He glanced around as if in search; as if he knew they were still in the room. His eyes landed on the defense bench as Franziska disappeared beneath it. Phoenix was still standing.
De Killer took aim but was distracted once again when he noticed Phoenix's posture. Only when a long thin strip of leather leapt up and left a grisly gash across his hand and face did he understand why Wright had been standing. Wiping the blood from his face, the gun slipped from his bloodied hand. He stumbled and knocked the flashlight from the desk, casting the room into shadow. He stumbled to find his gun.
Franziska cried aloud at the resulting darkness. Fear embedded itself into her heart and her father's letter requesting her death echoed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to erase the damning letter from her mind. In desperation, she cried, "Phoenix!" in that instant, a hand clapped over her mouth to silence her cries.
Her eyes snapped open and her worried blue eyes met with Phoenix soft brown eyes. His voice was soft, naught but a whisper in her ear, "Are you ok?" he asked. Without a word, she pulled herself close to him and sobbed quietly into his chest. The pain and relentless mental anguish was eating away at her sanity.
"No." she cried bitterly as a stunned Phoenix pulled her close. "You were right. My father, he's a monster." As Phoenix's arms enclosed her she fell. All of her pains, worries and inhibitions fell away and she relaxed in his arms, nearly forgetting the dangers that lay so close.
A gunshot pierced the silence, ricocheting off the back wall behind Phoenix and Franziska and taking a small chunk off the defense stand. Franziska went to move but Phoenix pushed her back down. "Stay here." He whispered softly," You'll be safer here."
"No, You've done enough, the bastard wants to kill me, not you." She snapped in return, but was forced down again. Phoenix had that tired and patient smile on his face again and before she could protest, he kissed her forehead. Still in shock, Franziska could only watch as Phoenix leapt over the banister and charged at de Killer. A gunshot echoed through the chamber and with a loud resounding thud, Phoenix fell to the floor.
Franziska rushed out without thinking, only for her eyes to meet the barrel of de Killer's gun, still smoking. She closed her eyes and turned away as he cocked the gun. However, a soft click was all that could be heard. De Killer had run out of ammunition. With a snarl, he swiped his butterfly knife at her, slicing her hand. He then dashed out of the room as she reached for her whip, which Phoenix had left by her side.
Ignoring the immense pain in her hand and arms, Franziska ran to Phoenix's side, where blood gushed from his shoulder. No other wound could be seen. Tears welled in her eyes and she reached down to feel his pulse, thready and jumpy. She was barely able to find a shred of blanket from nearby. Pressing it in his shoulder wound she began to plead.
"Phoenix? Please open your eyes. Please?" No response. She checked his pulse again, fading. She began applying CPR, praying and crying. Blood stained her hands, arms and clothes as she continued pleading. "Phoenix, please speak to me! Phoenix!" his pulse stabilized, barely. But he'd stopped breathing in the process. Desperate, she clung to his chest and fell into hysterics. "Phoenix, Please…" For all her begging, he remained still.
My Explanations:
Why continue? Recently one of my professors at college pulled me aside shortly after we had our final. Note that this professor is an accomplished author. She pulled me aside and told me that, with a little effort and polish, my works were easily worth being published. To say that I was stunned was an understatement, my jaw was on the floor. Never had I thought that any of my work in any sense would be worth publishing!
As for why I have so much free time, well… The college I was attending? Some stuff happened. bad stuff. Stuff the staff and faculty didn't even know about. This stuff goes into some personal detail that is obvious even if I were to say what happened to the school so, I'd rather keep that private. All I will say is the faculty and staff have done nothing aside from helping me obtain a decent education.
As of right now I am attempting to finish my education elsewhere, the best place to do so is taking new students... For their fall 2017 classes. I will be applying as soon as the online application opens. Until then (and until the classes begin), I will be living my life as well as writing as much of TS as I can.
From here, all I can do is say Thank you to all of my readers. Here's hoping I can have Thunderstorms out soon. :)