Quicksand

(Happy Holidays, everyone! What odd timing. LOL For Christmas, I got you all a cliff-hanger! Enjoy! *evil grin*)

Chapter 13: The Only Way Out

"Mr. Von Karma, we're finished photographing the body. You may continue your investigation now."

Manfred's only response was a nod, and with a glance at his student, he approached the dead police officer lying crumpled in the corner of the old parking garage they currently stood within. The young man accompanying him – twenty-two-year-old Miles Edgeworth – followed silently and obediently, having gotten over his fear of corpses shortly after his arrival in America. He did much of his work on his own recently, but on occasion, he would still be ordered to join his mentor during an investigation, or to serve as co-council during a trial. Considering the older man needed no help and rarely ever asked Miles for any input, the young prosecutor viewed it as a form of baby-sitting, as if he had the will to run off and do something forbidden of him when Manfred wasn't around.

So here he was, spending his time here watching a slow investigation on a sweltering summer afternoon instead of doing something productive, like studying his own caseload. Of course he never objected; that would be the most foolish thing he could ever do.

Unfortunately, he could not feign interest in this case when it was not his to solve. Miles found himself staring out over the low wall and between the support beams, watching the traffic whiz by and send visible waves of heat up from the asphalt. If he were to go outside, he'd no longer be under the shade of the parking garage, but he could tell by the movement of the few trees around the area that there was a nice breeze, which was not making its way into the concrete structure. This building was stifling, full of cars and people; perhaps a walk out in the sunlight would do him some good.

"Sir, I think I'll go look around on the ground level a bit more," Miles said after a long span of silence, using a normal and more acceptable form of address while in public, as always. "Perhaps there are traces of activity there..."

Manfred's response was nothing more than a small noise of acknowledgement, alerting Miles to the fact that he was barely being paid attention to. Taking this for approval, the young prosecutor turned and walked toward the ramp leading down to the ground level, passing by the detectives and ignoring a wave from the bearish Detective Gumshoe, a bumbling man that had – for some reason – developed an odd sort of loyalty to him.

Miles exited the parking garage, placing his hand above his eyes like a visor as he was momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. According to the large temperature reading upon the bank beside the parking structure, it was ninety-seven degrees outside, and needless to say, Miles' usual suit was not meant for hot weather. However, the prosecutor chose to just deal with it and began to walk slowly along the sidewalk, scanning the familiar sight of downtown Los Angeles. The breeze wasn't all that refreshing, but it was better than nothing, though Miles didn't have to wonder why there weren't too many other people walking or biking today.

As he strolled along the rather busy four-lane street, letting his mind wander, the sudden sound of a barking dog caught his attention. Miles raised his head and looked further down the sidewalk, noticing what appeared to be a large Alaskan Husky chained to a sign post outside of some type of high-end department store. The animal seemed to be looking directly at him, its mouth wide open and its tongue hanging out.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to stray from his path and approach the dog, but looking back, he credited the decision to empathy. The poor creature was chained up with not a single square inch of shade, standing on the scorching concrete with enough length of chain to allow it to run out in front of one of the many cars speeding by. However, that length of chain was not long enough to allow it to reach the patch of grass nearby, which presented a fountain full of potentially cool water. He had no clue for how long this dog had been standing out here, but it was panting heavily, baking beneath a thick, dark gray coat of fur.

As he reached the Husky, it peered up at him excitedly with wide blue eyes, obviously hopeful that the presence of a human would come with cool water or shelter. Miles stared back into those shining blue eyes, torn with the knowledge that this dog belonged to somebody...

….It was somebody's pet... and just look how much they cared...

The prosecutor reached up to place his hand against his own neck, feeling the leather beneath all the layers of material that covered his neck and hid the inappropriate item from view. This dog... it had one just like his, only thicker, less sleek and less likely to be missed. Like this dog, he too yearned for freedom, even though his own chain was more figurative, more emotionally binding than physically.

So how could he deny this poor creature its freedom when he could so easily give it? With that thought in mind, he reached down and unclipped the chain from the metal ring on its collar. The moment this was done, the Husky bolted toward the grassy area, rushing to the fountain to lean over the stone ledge and plunge its head beneath the water to drink.

Miles watched from where he stood while the dog drank its fill, now certain that it had been out here for far too long if it was so parched. How could someone be so careless? Their dog could have died out here, yet they were probably inside shopping for a new pair of expensive shoes or something without sparing a single thought for the well-being of the animal that depended on them. Such a selfish person didn't deserve to have such a beautiful and loyal companion at their side, and there remained not a doubt in his mind now that he was doing the right thing.

Before too long, the Husky descended back to all fours and bounded back toward Miles, its tongue still hanging out and its tail now in the air and wagging. He couldn't help but smile, and when the dog stood up on its hind legs and placed its paws against his chest, he didn't spare a thought about how filthy his suit would become. He simple stroked the animal's head and back, nearly flinching at how hot its fur felt to the touch.

And then his fingers traced over that thick collar once more, and a surge of determination came over him. He was going to set this creature free. He would have loved to take it into his care, to treat it like an adored and cherished companion, better than anyone would ever treat a household pet. Alas, he knew he could not. Manfred would never hear of it, and he himself spent so much time working that he feared he would unintentionally neglect the dog if it were possible.

So, with the hope that it would find a new home, a loving family to care for it, Miles unbuckled its collar and let the item drop to the ground with the chain. As if giving him one final thanks, the Husky barked, and then dropped down to all fours and turned to trot away, heading for an alley between two of the large buildings that lined this busy street. It seemed to know that he could not be its caretaker, and for this, Miles was grateful. If it had tried to follow him, the guilt might have really started to sink in.

"Ah! Here he is, Mr. Von Karma!"

Miles whirled around to see one of the police officers standing a few yards away, calling back to his mentor, who was now approaching and looking rather annoyed.

"Miles Edgeworth, I thought you were going to investigate the ground level of the parking structure," Manfred said as he came nearer, his eyes scanning the scene before him: the limp chain and unbuckled dog collar on the cement, and the dirty smudges on his pupil's suit jacket. The displeasure in his expression grew, and he came nearer, leaning down to pick up the dog collar to inspect it. Miles was sure that he had momentarily wondered if it belonged to his own pet and had been discarded in an act of rebellion. "What is this?"

"...A dog collar, Sir," Miles responded simply, as if such an answer was really what was being asked of him.

"What, did someone's dog get loose?" the officer inquired, raising an eyebrow at the sight before him.

Manfred looked at his student, then at the dirt on his jacket, connecting the dots behind a mask of indifference. He scoffed and dropped the collar to the ground, taking hold of Miles' arm and turning to walk back toward where he had parked his car. "Come. We're finished for today," the German man stated, his grip just a bit too firm as he led Miles along.

The young man looked back at the place where he'd last seen that Husky disappear behind a building and sighed, lowering his head and facing forward again. He now envied that creature, but he certainly did not regret his decision. He was happy to have helped another living creature even if he himself was trapped, being roughly pushed into the passenger seat of Manfred's car.

"Mr. Von Karma, is something wrong? I thought you wished to examine the victim's vehicle," called the officer that had accompanied Manfred to find his missing student.

"I will return for that a bit later," Manfred replied, standing on the driver's side of the car with the door partially open. "I feel the need to take Mr. Edgeworth home; the heat seems to be getting to him."

"Oh, all right. Goodbye for now."

Manfred said nothing as he got into the car, pulled the door shut, and started the engine. He spoke not a word to his passenger, and though the tension was viscous, Miles was grateful for this. It allowed him to gaze out his window and forget for a short while that Manfred surely knew what he had done, and what it meant to him.

ooooooooooooooooo

Sobbing... The soft, frightened crying of a woman...

That was the first sound that reached his ears through the heavy darkness clouding his world. Next came pain, a horrible pounding in his head, like a bad hangover or the feeling of someone hitting him over and over with something hard. His own breath came to him next, suddenly quick and irregular, and then...

"Oh, I think Herr Edgeworth has finally decided to join us..."

With a small, pained groan, Miles hesitantly opened his eyes, somewhat grateful for the dim lighting in the room. However, what he was not grateful for were the cuffs on his wrists, holding his arms behind his back, the rope around his chest and waist that tied him to what felt like a wooden bench, or the familiar feeling of something wrapped loosely around his neck.

"N'Abend, Schatzi..." cooed that sickly-sweet female voice from somewhere to his left, and he realized that hers was not the first he'd heard. The other speaker... had been a man...

He glanced slightly to his left and, sure enough, his gaze fell upon Amelinda and her mane of blond curls. Those ruby-red lips bore a smile, a smile he loathed above all others. "Sorry that's a bit uncomfortable for you, but I'm afraid the couch is already taken. First come, first serve, you know?"

"...Amelinda... What is this...?" He felt weak, and his lips barely moved as he spoke. He was still trying to wake up his muscles, but every part of him was so stiff; he had to wonder for how long he'd been lying here.

"Why, it's just a little get-together, Schatzi. We had Frau von Karma here, so we thought you might like to join us as well."

Miles' breath hitched in his throat, and then he clenched his teeth in a growl. "W-where is Franziska?" he demanded in the most intimidating voice he could muster, which wasn't saying much at the moment.

Amelinda's response was a small giggle. "She's right over there," she said, pointing to the opposite side of the room.

One look, and Miles couldn't believe what he was seeing. Amelinda's earlier comment was true: the couch was indeed taken. Franziska lay upon an old brown leather couch against the opposite wall, and glimpsing her also told him where the sobbing was coming from. The young woman was lying on her stomach, wearing nothing but her undergarments and hiding her face in her arms. Her small, pale frame shook with sobs, and even from this distance Miles could make out a few dark spots on her skin, indicating some kind of violence against her.

Fury. Blinding fury flared up within him, and he momentarily forgot about the ropes holding him down. He tried to lunge, to leap up, but his restraints were too sturdy. "What have you done!" he snapped, his own pain taking a backseat to his lover's plight.

"Calm down, Herr Edgeworth..." Only then did Miles finally notice the Chief Prosecutor, stepping out of the shadows beside the couch to stand over Franziska. "I haven't done anything too drastic... yet..." As he said this, he began to trace his fingers through her hair, making the young woman squeak in protest and try to shrink away from him. "You're the one we're really concerned with. However, should you choose not to play by our rules, I just might have to indulge my desires..."

"Don't you DARE, you sick bastard!"

"Ah, ah, ah..." Amelinda chimed. "Be a good boy, Schatzi. What would Herr von Karma say if he saw you behaving like this?"

Miles felt his stomach lurch, but he refused to give into that instinctual fear. "I don't give a DAMN what he would think! I set no store by the wishes of a dead man! Now, unbind me, you pathetic co~"

It was as if his voice had been snatched away from him, as if his vocal chords had completely frozen in place, but as soon as the initial shock wore off, Miles realized he was choking again. The item around his neck – the identity of which he was certain he knew – was now pressed firmly against his throat, choking him and making breathing and speech impossible.

And worst of all, no one was standing over him.

He could hear Franziska give a wail of fear and misery in the background while Amelinda tsk'ed at him. "Such a stubborn streak you've had going! Well, I think it's about time you remembered your place..."

The pressure on his throat was relieved, allowing him to take in a gasp of air and cough a few times to get his lungs working. But now, the fear had set in, the knowledge that standing over him, unseen and incorporeal, was the man behind all of this, the man that had always had such a powerful grasp on his mind, the man he feared too greatly to resist.

"I will admit," Isold began, speaking while Miles tried to regain his breath. "I was unnerved when I figured out that Herr von Karma hadn't quite left us yet, but then I realized... just how much sense it makes. You see, Herr von Karma always made certain to finish what he started, and if all is understood properly, he has some unfinished business with you."

So, finally, is had been confirmed that he was not insane, but this was far from good news. Miles could feel himself shaking, and for a few seconds, he thought he might pass out again. However, the continued crying of the woman he loved could not be expelled from his notice, and it was this that forced him to face this horrifying situation and not escape into the safety of unconsciousness.

"…What do you want…?" he muttered, speaking to the two people holding them prisoner… and perhaps the vengeful spirit hovering somewhere near him.

"It's really quite simple, Herr Edgeworth," Ewald Astor answered him, stepping over to his work desk to pick up a manila folder filled with several sheets of paper. Miles didn't have much of a mind to wonder how they were getting away with doing this in the Chief prosecutor's office. "You see, Herr von Karma had you and Franziska in his will to inherit his fortune. However, he never did intend for you to be there for very long, because – obviously – had you been convicted as he'd planned, you would have been removed and the image would have been complete."

The younger prosecutor did his best to hide the pain the mention of that betrayal caused him. To this day, he still had not actually gotten over that, hwo he'd nearly gone to the penitentiary to beg Manfred to tell him that it wasn't true, how his Stockholm syndrome had nearly driven him to another attempt on his life. He fought off the sickness it created and kept a firm glare fixed on his face as he looked at Ewald, waiting to hear the reason for all this, to find out what would save them…

"Now, in that case, everything would have been left to this beautiful Freulein here," he stated, indicating Franziska. "This would have been just fine… had she not decided to disgrace her late father by beginning a relationship with you…"

He hated thinking about it… He wished he'd never had to, but this whole situation had forced him to remember what he was to the father of the woman he now called his lover. Not only that, but Manfred would certainly not have approved of a relationship between the two of them in any case. They were supposed to be rivals, enemies.

Still, he didn't understand… "And what does any of this have to do with either of you…?" he inquired, keeping his gaze fixed on the other man, as if there was someone visible standing over him that he could never make direct eye-contact with. "You want money…? Fine… How much will make you stop tormenting us…?"

That soft little laugh that he'd always hated came from the blond woman standing near the office door. "Oh, Schatzi, you don't believe it is quite that simple, do you?" She smiled, folding her arms over her chest. "We don't just want the money; we want everything: the money, the manor, everything. After all, Herr von Karma believes that Ewald and I are much more deserving than 'his ungrateful children'."

Miles gritted his teeth, able to hear those words being spoken in the deceased prosecutor's voice. So, this was all just about money and assets… They had destroyed his image and tortured the both of them simply for wealth they didn't even need. Sure, he and Franziska made enough on their own to continue their upscale life, but it was simply the principle of the matter that enraged him.

And plus… it made little sense… The spirit of Manfred von Karma had been tormenting him just get him to give their inheritance to these two? He really didn't know anything about the nature of residual energy, but that sounded far too materialistic and trivial to be a reason for someone to stick around after death.

No… there was something more… but if this was what would get them out of here, it wasn't worth it to him to risk more harm to either of them.

"….Fine… You can have it… I don't want his money anyway…." His tone was one of defeat and bitterness. He had averted his gaze from everyone now, just staring down at the binds across his own chest and stomach. They would have to untie him if they wanted him to sign off onanything, so at least he'd get some relief from this uncomfortable position he'd been placed in.

This time, it was Ewald who laughed. "Not much of a fight in you, is there…? A bit of a shame, but at least we don't have to waste an entire day." He gave a nod of his head, and Amedlinda walked casually over to Miles to begin untying him. "All it took to get Freulein von Karma to sign was the threat of your life… You're both so easy to manipulate. It's difficult to believe we're dealing with the disciples of the legendary Manfred von Karma."

"…And I find it hard to believe neither of you has been imprisoned yet…" Miles countered as he was freed and able to sit up. "I wonder if the people of Bitburg know just how many criminals they have had in their legal system for all these years…"

Amedlinda clicked her tongue as she leaned over him to unlock the handcuffs. "What did I say earlier, Schatzi? You need to remember your manners…"

He could feel a hand gripping the back of the collar around his neck, and it did not belong to Amelinda. He was unbound by physical means, but he was snared in the trap of his own emotional damage. He could not fight, and as he was led by an invisible force toward the papers Ewald had placed upon the desk, the fear writhed in his stomach like thousands of tiny maggots, gnawing at his resolve and breaking him down to the point of no resistance.

Before him on the polished walnut desk lay the deed to the manor that had been owned by the von Karma family for hundreds of years, and the proper forms to turn his inheritance over to Amelinda Isold. He stared at them, brooding over how smoothly this was all going for the crooks now watching his every move. They were making sure he didn't try anything sneaky, but they weren't the ones keeping him subdued. It was that presence standing behind him, the grip on the collar around his neck, and the sheer cold freezing his blood.

Swallowing the terror, Miles moved his hand slowly toward the pen that Ewald had dropped before him, picking it up and uncapping it. He could still hear Franziska's shaky breath in the background, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her right now. She wasn't crying anymore… probably because it seemed they were free once Miles scrawled a couple of signatures.

Everything around him seemed to fade out as he leaned over the desk to sign his name, to remove the last legal ties he had to his old teacher, but all it did was remind him of the torment he'd endured for nine long years… staring down at a desk… Manfred von Karma standing there behind him… preventing his escape and forbidding resistance…

And then it was done. He had signed away his portion of their inheritance and the large house they were currently staying in, but he didn't stand up immediately. He was distracted by his disturbed mind, held in place until that pressure was lifted, giving him permission to stand up straight and put down the pen.

"….There… It's yours…" he mumbled, trying to shake all of this off. "Now let us leave… and leave us be…."

"Not just yet, Herr Edgeworth," Ewald said, holding up a hand to stop him from doing anything. "There was one more thing… one more condition to allowing us to have this fortune…"

Miles felt his chest tighten even further, if that was possible. "And what was there?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Astor walked over to his desk and leaned down to get something out of one of the drawers. When he stood up again, he was holding a pistol in his hands, checking the clip to ensure that it was loaded. Franziska gasped with fear, and Miles just stared with wide eyes.

"He wanted you dead, Edgeworth…" Ewald said, now smirking at the fear they were both demonstrating. "But he had a rather specific want, whether or not you had ended up in prison."

Ewald placed the gun down on the desk in front of Miles, setting it in just the right position for the younger manto pick it up with his right hand.

"He wanted you to take your own life… and that's what you're going to do."

"NO!" Franziska pushed herself up, ready to leave her place on the couch and protect her lover. Obviously, she had not been aware of this condition upon her capture. Unfortunately, Ewald was quick, and before she could get far, he approached her, and with the sickening sound of a slap, Franziska fell back to the cushions, a sharp scream escaping her lips and a dark red mark appearing upon her cheek.

"Don't touch her!" Miles growled, clenching his fists and preparing to now be the defender. Yet, he could not move. He was held there and reminded quickly of who was right there with him. He paled, and now, he really registered what was happening….

"You want her to make it out of here alive?" Ewald asked with a grip on Franziska's hair. "Do it, Edgeworth. It's you or her." The false politeness was gone now. His tone was threatening and demanding, leaving no room for question.

Anyone else could have picked up that pistol and taken care of these two huge problems for the sake of saving their own life and that of a loved one, but Miles Edgeworth could not. It wasn't the knowledge that he would spend the rest of his life in prison that kept him from doing it… It was that presence behind him, that controlling hand, reminding him constantly that he was nothing but a worthless puppet, a filthy whore… that he would be doing himself and the world a favor by complying…

"This game is through, boy… I will no longer tolerate your insolence…"

"No… you're dead…." That voice… It was so clear, it could not have been in his head. Miles stood there as rigid as a board, his complexion pale and his eyes rolled back. Everyone in the room was staring at him, but he could no longer see them, had no idea that they were listening to one end of this conversation.

"And you will soon join me… Pick up the gun, Miles…"

His heart pounded in his ears. His breath came quick and labored. His hand moved to the gun.

"Miles! No! Please, don't!"

"Such a stupid girl… What were you trying to do, Miles? You once called me sick, but to cope with your pathetic neediness, you seduced my daughter. You were never in love; you just needed a way to fill you created with useless emotions…"

"…That's not… true… It's not…. True…." His fingers curled around the gun and he began to lift it, his eyes falling shut. "It's got… nothing to do with you…. You're dead…. You're dead…."

"Miles… Miles, please… Stop it…" She was crying again, terrified and desperately wishing he would listen to her, for she could not physically get to him now.

"Put the gun in your mouth…"

Miles raised the barrel of the gun to his lips, his hand shaking so badly he could hardly control this action.

"NO! STOP IT!"

The cool metal tasted wretched, bitter.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk… Now doesn't this look familiar… It's as if no time has elapsed… You still cannot defy me, can you…?"

The world around him was nothing but darkness, and he could no longer hear Franziska's desperate pleas. All that he knew was that haunting voice, that instinctive obligation to do whatever it told him to….. because it was his Master…

"Pull the trigger, Miles. End your miserable existence like you should have done years ago."