Total Drama: Nights at the Hazy Museum

by Day by Dawn

After an encounter with Seema, a witch that seemingly attacked her daughter Shari, Sarika must make a deal with her in order to pay back what has happened to Seema's daughter Shreya. The idea of hosting a Total Drama season at the Esterhazy Museum of London was the first idea that came to mind, but will it prevail now that Seema is there? [Episode 2.4: The Case's Trial]

14. Episode 2-4: The Case's Trial

Disclaimer: Total Drama does not belong to me. The characters seen in this episode belong to their owners.

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Episode 2.4: The Case's Trial

Hospital, London - 1:00 pm

The door clicked shut behind Attila, leaving Shari alone in the sterile quiet of the hospital room. She stared at the tray on her bedside table, her reflection distorted in the empty bowl of soup. Her thoughts swirled like a storm, each wave of emotion threatening to pull her under.

Why did he have to show up now? Why did his words, his presence, make her feel so… unsteady?

She leaned back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. A memory surfaced—faint, distant, like a photograph worn with time. She was six years old, sitting on the swing at the park, her legs too short to touch the ground. Attila stood behind her, pushing her gently, his laughter ringing in her ears.

"Higher, Papa!" she'd squealed, her tiny hands gripping the chains tightly.

His deep chuckle had been warm, comforting. "Hold on tight!"

That was the last time she remembered feeling safe with him. The memory dissolved, replaced by the years of silence, of watching her mother struggle alone.

"Why now?" she whispered aloud, her voice trembling.

The door creaked open again, startling her. She sat up slightly, expecting Eszter, but instead, a nurse walked in carrying a clipboard.

"How are we feeling, sweetheart?" the nurse asked with a kind smile, checking the monitors beside her bed.

Shari shrugged. "I've been better."

The nurse chuckled softly. "That's to be expected. You've had quite the ordeal. But you're young and strong—you'll bounce back in no time."

Shari didn't respond. Her thoughts were still on Attila, on the words he'd said and the emotions they'd stirred.

The nurse finished her checks and patted Shari's hand gently. "If you need anything, just press the call button, alright?"

"Sure," Shari muttered, watching as the nurse left the room.

Alone again, she let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her temples. She didn't know how to feel about Attila's return, about his claims of wanting to make things right. Part of her wanted to believe him, to let herself hope that he was genuine. But the other part—the part that had built walls to protect herself—refused to let him in.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. This time, it was Eszter. She walked in, her expression unreadable, and closed the door behind her.

"Lunch wasn't enough for you to snap out of it, huh?" Eszter asked, her tone light but tinged with concern.

Shari rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

Eszter sat in the chair beside her bed, crossing her legs. "To see how you're doing. And to tell you that you don't have to figure this out all at once."

Shari frowned, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "What if I don't want to figure it out at all?"

Eszter leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You don't have to. But you also can't ignore it forever. He's here now, Shari. Whether you like it or not, he's part of your story."

Shari scoffed. "Part of my story? He bailed on us. That's not a 'part,' that's a whole missing chapter."

Eszter sighed, sitting back. "I'm not saying you have to forgive him or even talk to him. But maybe… just maybe, you should listen. Even if it's just to tell him how much he hurt you."

Shari didn't respond. She wasn't sure what to say.

Eszter stood up, giving her a small smile. "I'll be out there if you need me. And remember, you're stronger than you think."

As Eszter left, Shari leaned back against the pillows, her mind still spinning. She didn't know what she was going to do, but one thing was clear: her life had just gotten a lot more complicated.

The hospital room fell silent again as Shari lay back, her eyes staring at the sterile white ceiling. Despite her best efforts, her mind wandered to memories she thought she had buried deep, memories she wished would stay buried.

It was a summer afternoon, warm and golden with sunlight streaming through the windows of their small, cozy home. Shari couldn't have been older than seven, her dark hair tied into two messy pigtails. She was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by crayons and a half-finished drawing.

Sarika was in the kitchen, her laughter carrying into the living room as she chatted with Attila. They were happy then—or at least, Shari thought they were.

"Shari, sweetheart, show your papa what you're drawing!" Sarika called out as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

Shari grinned, grabbing the paper and running over to where her parents were standing. She held up the drawing—a crude but colorful picture of the three of them holding hands under a rainbow.

Attila crouched down to her level, his face lighting up with a smile that made Shari's chest swell with pride. "Is this us?" he asked, pointing to the figures.

Shari nodded eagerly. "Yep! That's me in the middle, and that's you and Mama!"

"It's beautiful," Attila said, ruffling her hair. "You're getting better every day, sweetie."

Sarika leaned against the counter, watching the two of them with a fond smile. "She takes after you, you know. Always so creative."

Attila chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around Sarika's waist. "She gets her determination from you, though."

For a moment, everything felt perfect. They were a family—whole, happy, and together.

But then, the cracks began to show.

The memories shifted, and suddenly Shari was nine years old, sitting on the stairs late at night. She clutched her teddy bear tightly, her small frame trembling as she listened to the muffled argument happening in the kitchen.

"You can't just leave, Attila!" Sarika's voice was sharp, desperate.

"I don't have a choice!" Attila shot back, his tone equally heated. "You think I want to go? You think this is easy for me?"

"Then don't go!" Sarika's voice cracked, and Shari could hear the tears in it. "We need you. She needs you."

There was a long pause, and then Attila's voice softened. "I can't be what you need me to be, Sarika. I'm sorry."

Shari felt her heart drop, her small hands clutching the banister tightly. She wanted to run into the kitchen, to grab his hand and beg him to stay. But she didn't. She stayed frozen on the stairs, listening as her world fell apart.

The next morning, he was gone.

Shari blinked, her vision blurring as the memory faded. She was back in the hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic replacing the warm smells of home. Her chest felt tight, and she realized she was clutching the edge of the blanket so hard her knuckles were white.

She let out a shaky breath, trying to push the memories away. But the echoes of her father's voice, her mother's tears, and her own silent heartbreak lingered, refusing to fade completely.

For years, she had told herself she didn't care. That he didn't matter. But now that he was back, those carefully constructed walls were crumbling, leaving her vulnerable and confused.

What was she supposed to do with all of this?

She didn't have an answer. And that terrified her.

---

Southampton, England - 1:00 pm

The car hummed softly as Derek navigated the winding roads leading out of the small village. The morning sunlight bathed the fields in a golden hue, but the tension in the car muted any appreciation for the scenery. Shreya leaned against Callista, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow but steady. Ingrid sat stiffly beside her, her gaze fixed out the window, her thoughts unreadable. Derek kept his focus on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

Callista adjusted Shreya's position slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"Tired," Shreya murmured, her voice barely audible. "But… okay. I guess."

Callista offered a small, encouraging smile. "We're going to get you the help you need. Just hang in there."

Ingrid broke her silence, her voice low and eerily calm. "If Southampton doesn't have the answers, what's next? Are we prepared for that possibility?"

Callista shot her a sharp glance. "Let's not think like that. One step at a time, Ingrid."

Ingrid tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint, unsettling smile. "I'm simply being realistic. It's better to consider all outcomes than cling to blind hope."

Derek sighed, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "Can we not do this now? We're all trying to help her, Ingrid. A little optimism wouldn't hurt."

Ingrid didn't respond, her attention returning to the passing countryside. The car lapsed into silence again, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on all of them.

After a while, Shreya stirred, her voice soft but clear. "Southampton… is it a big city?"

Derek glanced at her in the mirror. "Yeah, it's one of the larger cities in the area. They've got a good hospital, so you'll be in good hands."

Shreya nodded faintly, her brow furrowing. "I hope they can help. I feel like… there's something important I need to remember, but it's just out of reach."

Callista squeezed her hand. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this."

The group continued in silence for a while longer, the distant hum of other cars becoming more frequent as they approached the outskirts of Southampton. The modern skyline loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the quaint village they had left behind.

Derek exhaled, glancing at the GPS. "We're about ten minutes away. You'll want to keep her comfortable until we can get her inside."

Callista nodded, adjusting Shreya's seatbelt and wrapping an arm around her protectively. Ingrid's gaze shifted to Shreya, her expression unreadable but her focus sharp, as if she were analyzing every detail of the young woman's condition.

As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Callista felt a surge of hope mixed with apprehension. She glanced at Derek, who parked the car with precision, and then at Ingrid, who was already unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Let's get her inside," Derek said, stepping out and moving to open the door for Shreya.

Callista carefully helped Shreya out of the car, supporting her as they walked toward the hospital entrance. Ingrid followed closely, her boots clicking softly against the pavement.

As the automatic doors slid open, the sterile smell of the hospital greeted them. The bustling environment was a stark reminder of the seriousness of their mission. Callista tightened her grip on Shreya, her resolve hardening.

They approached the reception desk, where a nurse greeted them with a professional smile. "How can I help you?"

"She needs to see someone immediately," Callista said, her voice firm but tinged with desperation. "She has amnesia and fainted earlier. We think it's trauma-related."

The nurse nodded, her demeanor becoming more focused. "I'll call a doctor to assess her. Please have a seat in the waiting area."

As they guided Shreya to a chair, Callista turned to Derek and Ingrid. "We made it this far. Let's hope this is where things start to make sense."

Derek nodded, his expression resolute. "They'll do their job. We just have to be patient."

Ingrid said nothing, her eyes scanning the room, her mind clearly working on something unseen.

Callista placed a comforting hand on Shreya's shoulder. "We're here for you. No matter what happens, we're not giving up."

Shreya looked up at her, her eyes filled with uncertainty but also a glimmer of trust. "Thank you… for not leaving me."

As they waited, the group fell into a tense silence, each person bracing for what was to come. The answers they sought were just within reach, but whether those answers would bring peace or more questions remained to be seen.

The waiting area was quiet except for the occasional hum of conversation and the distant beeping of hospital monitors. Callista sat beside Shreya, her arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Derek leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, as he stared at the polished tiles beneath his feet. Ingrid sat apart from them, her posture upright and her hands clasped neatly in her lap. Her sharp eyes darted around the room, observing everything and everyone with a detached curiosity.

Shreya shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands trembling slightly. "How long do you think it'll take?" she whispered.

Callista smoothed Shreya's hair, offering a gentle smile. "Not too long, I hope. They're probably just finding the right specialist to help you."

Derek glanced at Shreya. "You hanging in there? Need anything? Water? A snack?"

Shreya shook her head slowly. "I'm fine… just nervous. What if they can't help me?"

Callista tightened her hold on her. "They will. And even if it takes time, we're not going anywhere until we figure this out."

Shreya gave a faint nod but remained silent, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

The sound of hurried footsteps drew their attention as a nurse approached them, clipboard in hand. "Ms. Shreya?" she asked, her tone calm and professional.

Callista stood immediately, helping Shreya to her feet. "That's her. Is the doctor ready to see her?"

The nurse nodded. "Yes, we have a neurologist on call who's willing to take a closer look at her case. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the examination room."

Callista supported Shreya as they followed the nurse. Derek and Ingrid exchanged a glance before rising and trailing behind. The group walked through the brightly lit corridors, the sterile environment amplifying the tension in the air.

They reached a small examination room, where the nurse gestured for Shreya and Callista to enter. "The doctor will be with you shortly," she said. Turning to Derek and Ingrid, she added, "Only one person can accompany the patient inside. The rest of you can wait in the hall."

"I'll stay with her," Callista said without hesitation. She helped Shreya into a chair before turning to the others. "You'll let us know if something comes up, right?"

Derek gave a reassuring nod. "Of course. Take your time."

As the door closed, Derek and Ingrid leaned against the wall outside the room. The air between them was thick with unspoken thoughts.

"So," Derek began, breaking the silence, "you've been awfully quiet. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Ingrid turned to him, her expression unreadable. "I'm just observing. It's what I do."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Observing what, exactly?"

She smirked faintly. "Everything. How Callista interacts with Shreya. How you're trying so hard to keep it together. How this hospital runs its operations. Every little detail matters, Derek."

Derek sighed, shaking his head. "You're exhausting, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are," she replied smoothly.

Inside the room, Callista sat beside Shreya, holding her hand tightly. Shreya looked around nervously, her gaze lingering on the various medical instruments lining the walls.

"I'm scared," Shreya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Callista gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this. We'll figure out who you are, no matter how long it takes."

Shreya looked at her, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you… for everything. I don't know why you're helping me so much, but… thank you."

Callista smiled, her eyes soft. "Because you matter, Shreya. And no one deserves to face something like this alone."

Before Shreya could respond, the door opened, and a middle-aged doctor in a white coat entered, holding a tablet. He smiled warmly. "Good afternoon. I'm Dr. Ellison. Let's see what we can do to help you today."

Shreya inhaled deeply, bracing herself for whatever came next, as Callista sat by her side, her unwavering support a comforting presence.

---

London Outskirts, Team Emerald, Team Midnight - 5:30 am

The wrecked car lay on its side, steam hissing from the engine, the acrid scent of gasoline filling the air. The world around them felt surreal—shards of glass glittered in the early dawn light, mingling with the haze of smoke and the fading echoes of chaos.

Humbert, groaning as he unbuckled his seatbelt, was the first to move. "We... we have to get out of here! The car's gonna blow or—those guys will come back!" His voice was high-pitched and frantic.

Carmine kicked her door open, adrenaline surging through her. "Come on! Out! Now!" She grabbed Claudia's arm, helping her crawl through the shattered windshield as Humbert tumbled out from his side.

The three scrambled away from the car, stumbling over debris and shattered pavement. A tense silence followed, the only sound their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city beginning to stir awake.

Claudia, still poetic even in urgency, looked back at the wreck. Her voice wavered but was resolute. "The wrecked beast lies still, its fire waiting to awaken. Return, and it may claim us too."

Carmine froze mid-step, her face twisting in realization. "The case file! It's still in there!"

Claudia whipped around, an alarmed look spreading across her face. "No! You cannot go back—it's too dangerous!"

Carmine clenched her fists, torn between anger and fear. "That's evidence! Without it—"

"Without you," Claudia interrupted, stepping forward, her tone sharp yet pleading, "we lose not only evidence but a voice to wield it. Let the car burn, Carmine. Let it go."

For a moment, the two locked eyes, the intensity of the situation weighing heavily between them. Finally, Carmine let out a frustrated growl and stepped back, her hands running through her disheveled hair. "Fine! But we better have something else to work with."

She hastily checked her pockets, pulling out the ID and the lawyer's pin. "At least I've got these," she muttered, holding them up.

Humbert, still trembling, leaned against a post, his eyes wide and unfocused. "This is my fault," he stammered. "I—I should've driven better! I—I panicked! The cops are gonna kill me when they find out I totaled Alcott's car! We're dead—"

"Shut it, Humbert!" Carmine snapped, turning her frustration toward him. "This isn't about your crappy driving! We're alive, aren't we?"

"Enough!" Claudia's voice cut through the tension, firm yet laced with exhaustion. She stepped between them, her tone even but commanding. "Blame serves no purpose now. Our path forward is clear, and survival demands focus, not friction."

Carmine glared at Humbert, the big guy looking like he was about to cry, before finally sighing and backing off. "Fine, whatever," she muttered. "Let's just keep moving."

Claudia reached into her coat pocket (she managed to grab Alcott's coat from his law firm) and pulled out a walkie-talkie, its surface scuffed but intact. "We still have this," she said, holding it up. "The last call with the Chancellor was recorded. Proof, preserved in static whispers."

Carmine raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you recorded that creep? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"I didn't have the chance," Claudia replied calmly, tucking the walkie-talkie back into her pocket. "But it's all there. Every word."

Humbert clutched his head, muttering under his breath, "This is bad. So bad. We're walking away from a wrecked car—Alcott's car—and now we're walking through London like fugitives. They're gonna arrest us!"

Carmine rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Humbert, we've got bigger problems than a fender bender right now. The cops might already be in the Chancellor's pocket! So get it together, or we're not making it back."

Claudia placed a gentle hand on Humbert's shoulder, her voice softening. "Panic is the predator's prey, Humbert. Breathe. Move forward. The dawn grants us a chance—take it."

Humbert gulped and nodded, his breathing slowing slightly. "Okay… okay. Let's just go."

The trio started down the quiet streets on foot, the first light of dawn casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The city was waking, the distant sounds of carriages and early risers beginning to fill the air.

As they moved, Carmine glanced at Claudia. "You better hope that walkie-talkie has enough to nail the Chancellor. Because if it doesn't…"

Claudia didn't reply immediately. Her eyes were fixed ahead, her expression calm but resolute. "Truth is a flame, Carmine. It may flicker, but it cannot be extinguished. We have what we need."

Humbert, trailing slightly behind, muttered, "Let's hope so. Because if we don't… we're toast."

The trio trudged along the quiet road, their steps heavy with exhaustion. Dawn's pale light illuminated the road, casting long shadows that stretched across the path. Humbert, lagging slightly behind, paused to pick up a rock, its shape oddly rounded and uneven. He turned it over in his hands with a faint smile.

"I miss my rocks," he said wistfully. "Back home, I've got this whole collection—agate, quartz, even a piece of malachite from Cornwall. They're… peaceful, y'know? At least they don't try to kill ya."

Claudia glanced back, her expression softening. "Fear not, Humbert. Though this is London, it is but a distorted echo, painted in the hues of a bygone era. When we prevail, the present will reclaim us, and your cherished stones shall greet you anew."

Humbert sighed, still turning the rock over. "Yeah, but what if we don't? And… what if every bruise and broken bone we've taken here comes back with us? Like, does the painting transfer pain?"

Carmine, walking ahead, muttered, "It probably does. Blair broke her arm back in Budapest, and it carried over to the real world. That's just how these twisted paintings work."

Claudia's gaze flickered with concern. "I recall that night," she murmured, her voice softer now. "Blair's pain was etched deep, and I aided her as best I could. Yet my thoughts linger now on Team Burgundy… How do they fare, I wonder? Do they hold firm against the storm of this trial? Especially Zuni…"

Humbert nodded, his face clouded with worry. "I'm worried about them too. The trial's starting soon, and we're still so far away. What if something goes wrong?"

Before anyone could respond, Carmine suddenly stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing at something in the distance. "Wait. Do you see that?"

The others followed her gaze. A car was speeding down the road, its engine rumbling faintly in the stillness.

"It's a car!" Carmine shouted, her voice echoing. "We can flag it down!"

Claudia raised a hand, her tone sharp. "Hold, Carmine. It could be a trap. The black figures move like shadows, veiled and cunning. This could be their snare."

Carmine turned to her with an incredulous look. "Oh, come on! You're telling me we're supposed to just keep walking when a ride is right there? You're the one who keeps falling for traps, like answering the Chancellor's calls—twice, Claudia! Twice!"

Claudia sighed, reluctant but conceding. "Your point stands. Yet caution must temper our haste."

Ignoring the debate, all three began yelling and waving their arms, trying to catch the car's attention.

"HEY!"

"HELP!"

"OVER HERE!"

The vehicle sped on, its driver seemingly oblivious.

"Why aren't they stopping!?" Humbert asked, frustrated.

Carmine's eyes darted to the prized rock in Humbert's hand. Without hesitation, she snatched it from him, earning a loud and exaggerated gasp.

"Hey! That's my rock!" Humbert whined.

Carmine didn't respond. She hurled the rock with surprising force, and it struck the car's hood with a loud thud.

The car screeched to a halt, its tires skidding against the pavement. For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, the driver's side door swung open, and a man stepped out, his face red with irritation.

"What in bloody hell was that?" he barked, his thick British accent unmistakable.

A woman stepped out from the passenger side, her expression a mix of curiosity and annoyance. "Did someone just throw a rock at us?"

Claudia stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Forgive us, good travelers. Desperation guided our actions. We are in dire need of transport to Scotland Yard."

The driver, a stocky man with a tweed flat cap, scowled. "And throwing a rock was your way of asking? This car's got dents now, thanks to you lot!"

Humbert groaned. "That was my rock…"

Carmine shot him a look. "You'll survive, Humbert. I'm sorry about the car," she added, addressing the driver. "We didn't mean to damage it, but we're in a big hurry. Please, we need your help."

The woman, younger and wearing a patterned scarf, folded her arms. "What's so urgent you've got to pelt a moving car?"

"It's a long story," Carmine said quickly, "but trust me, it's important. Just—can you help us or not?"

The driver exchanged a glance with the woman, who sighed. "Fine. Get in. But you're explaining everything once we're on the road."

Carmine gave a curt nod, ushering the others toward the car. Humbert grumbled under his breath about the loss of his rock as he climbed into the back seat, getting sandwiched by both Claudia and Carmine.

As the car rumbled to life, Claudia leaned back, her gaze distant. The city outside began to blur, but the weight of their mission only grew heavier. Scotland Yard was still a long way off, and time was running out.

---

Scotland Yard (Lobby), Team Midnight

The atmosphere in Scotland Yard was tense as Zuni, AJ, and Blair were escorted by officers to the Old Bailey. Evan remained behind, still dressed in his police uniform, his posture stiff as he watched them leave. His mind churned with unease, knowing the trial was about to begin and that Carmine, Humbert, and Claudia hadn't returned.

Just as the building began to settle into a false calm, the crackle of a radio broke the silence, and an officer standing near the front desk picked up the receiver.

"Attention, all units," the voice on the radio said, grainy but clear. "Car accident reported on the Great West Road. Vehicle registered to a lawyer by the surname Alcott. No sign of passengers at the scene. Over."

Evan's heart sank. His pulse quickened as he processed the information. Alcott? That's Carmine's cover. The timing, the description—it had to be them.

"What's going on?" asked Constable Greene, one of the officers in charge of dispatch, as he scribbled notes on a pad.

"A crash on Great West Road," replied Officer Barrett, his voice grim. "Alcott's car. No one inside. Could be foul play."

Evan clenched his fists, fighting to keep his face neutral. Barrett glanced over at him and gestured.

"Hartman," Barrett said, addressing him by the surname displayed on the uniform Evan had borrowed, "you're coming with us. Need all hands for this one."

Evan forced a quick shake of his head. "Sorry, sir. I've been assigned to watch the remaining prisoners. Orders from above."

Barrett frowned but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. Greene, Stanton, you're with me. Let's move."

The officers hurried out, leaving Evan standing in the middle of the bustling precinct. He then made his way out of the building, keeping his head low. He walked a few blocks, scanning for an alleyway or a secluded spot. He finally found a quiet corner behind a row of shops. Quickly, he stripped off the police uniform, revealing his white shirt and black dress pants underneath. He stuffed the uniform into a nearby bin, ruffled his hair, and adjusted his appearance as best he could.

Once satisfied, he darted back into the streets, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. The Old Bailey loomed in the distance, its grand façade drawing closer with every step.

Evan's breath came in ragged bursts as he finally rounded the corner of the Old Bailey, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. The clock was ticking. He could barely register the noise of the crowds and the hurried steps of the people around him as he focused on one thing: finding Setsuna, Naila, Ashe, and Declan. He pushed through the corridors, excusing himself as he weaved around others in the bustling courthouse. His mind raced, panic gnawing at him as the stakes grew higher.

It wasn't long before he found Ashe and Declan in a small side room, standing by a table, flipping through the documents of the case file they scattered. Evan's voice was strained, filled with urgency.

"Ashe! Declan!" he shouted, rushing over to them. They both looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"Evan? What—" Ashe began, but was cut off by Evan's frantic question.

"Where are Setsuna and Naila?" His voice was tight with panic. "We don't have much time."

Ashe frowned, his confusion mirrored by Declan's.

"Setsuna and Naila are on their way to the British Museum," Ashe said, his brow furrowing in worry. "They're searching for Eclipse's main hideout. Why?"

Evan's face went pale. The weight of the situation hit him all at once. "Because Carmine, Claudia, and Humbert are in trouble. There's been a car accident and I'm pretty sure it's them because the vehicle involved traces back to the car they used... but no one's been found at the site. The police are probably already on their way to search for them and I'm not sure where the three are right now."

The words crashed over Ashe and Declan, leaving them frozen for a split second. Declan's face twisted in panic.

"What?! Where—what about the accident?" Declan's voice rose with fear. "The trial starts in less than an hour! We... we don't know what to do. We're not lawyers! How can we defend them if they—if they're—"

Evan grabbed Declan's shoulders and shook him violently, trying to steady him. "Calm down, Declan. We still have a chance." He turned to Ashe, gesturing to the pin that glistened on Ashe's lapel. "So are Carmine and Humbert, remember? They're not lawyers either. We've also got Capone, Caren, Ian, and Angie, though. They can help. They're somewhere here in the Old Bailey, I told them to head here for backup."

Ashe blinked, his eyes wide in confusion. "Angie? But... how is she with them?"

Evan's gaze hardened, realizing that everyone in Team Burgundy weren't totally filled in with the current situation. "She got kidnapped by Eclipse along with Elisia and as far as I know, Mike and Xerxes are looking for them. But Angie managed to escape. It's a long story, I don't have time to explain. But they've got major proof—Angie herself, in particular. We need to find them, and we need to do it fast. We can't handle this alone."

Ashe was still confused and Declan's breath quickened again, trying to take in all of the information, but this time, he nodded resolutely. "Holy crap… Right. Let's go find them. Fast." He pulled at Ashe's sleeve. "They can help us."

Ashe nodded as he gathered the case file. "Let's go."

Without waiting for another word, they all turned and bolted out of the room, their feet pounding against the cold stone floors of the Old Bailey. They had no time to waste. The trial was about to start, and if they didn't act quickly, they might lose the chance to expose the truth—and to save their castmates.

---

British Museum - Team Burgundy, Team Midnight

Setsuna and Naila managed to catch a ride, the last of their remaining cash from Seema and Sarika exchanged for the fare. The streets were quieter than usual, a calm hush falling over the city as the dawn barely kissed the horizon. As they approached the British Museum, Naila's excitement was palpable, her eyes gleaming with the anticipation of uncovering secrets hidden within the vast walls.

They walked toward the imposing entrance, only to be stopped by a guard standing watch near the grand doors.

"Sorry, ladies," the guard said gruffly, eyeing them as if they were trying to sneak in. "The museum doesn't open until 8 AM. You'll have to wait."

Naila blinked up at him, her expression mischievous. "8 AM, huh? That's so late. Guess we'll just have to look around until then!" She leaned over and peeked past the guard, like a child at the gates of an amusement park.

Setsuna, who had been studying the structure of the building with a quiet sense of foreboding, suddenly heard Naila's voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've got an idea."

Setsuna raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I like the sound of this."

Naila grinned, bouncing on her toes. "Oh, come on, Setsuna! It'll be fun! Just think of it like a little... historical prank."

Setsuna crossed her arms, eyeing Naila skeptically. "What are you planning?"

Naila's eyes sparkled with childish delight as she lowered her voice further, leaning in close. "We're gonna do what any self-respecting, resourceful, and totally-not-daring young woman would do in this situation… we're going to pretend we're on a guided tour!"

Setsuna blinked, not sure if she had heard that correctly. "A guided tour?"

Naila nodded enthusiastically, her hands already moving to adjust her hair, as if preparing for an acting performance. "Exactly! You know, just... casually stroll in, act like we're supposed to be here. I'll even throw in some pretend facts about the Roman Empire. What do you think?"

Setsuna groaned, already regretting the entire idea. "Naila, that sounds like we're going to get thrown out before we even get inside."

Naila looked as if she hadn't heard a word of her caution. "Don't worry, Setsuna! They'll never know. I've got this. You just follow my lead!" She winked, her face lighting up with the gleeful excitement of someone who had a reputation for getting into mischief.

Despite her reservations, Setsuna couldn't help but chuckle at Naila's infectious enthusiasm. "I don't know about this," she muttered, but she could already feel herself being swept into Naila's reckless charm.

"Come on, it'll be so much fun," Naila said, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she straightened her posture. "Now, watch and learn, Setsuna. Watch and learn."

Without waiting for a response, Naila strutted up to the guard, who had now noticed the two girls standing by the entrance, their arms crossed in defiance of the cold morning air.

"Excuse me, sir," Naila said, her voice smooth and professional, though her eyes were dancing with mischief. "We're part of the early morning archaeological society. You know, one of those groups that gets a head start on the exhibits before the public rushes in. Very exclusive."

Setsuna's hand flew to her forehead in embarrassment, already picturing the disaster that was about to unfold. She could see Naila continuing her act, gesturing vaguely as she listed off "highly classified" historical terms.

The guard, who was clearly not buying any of it, gave Naila a skeptical look. "I've been working here for years, miss. I know the tour groups, and you're certainly not on the list."

Naila's eyes widened in mock horror. "What? But we... we were supposed to be meeting with... Dr. Barney from Oxford! He's waiting for us inside!" She tapped her fingers on her chin, clearly improvising the name as she went. "You know, Dr. Barney, famous for his work on Roman dinosaurs?"

Setsuna winced, shaking her head. The name was completely fabricated, and there were absolutely no such thing as Roman dinosaurs. She could practically hear the guard's skepticism rising.

The guard shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to handle this. "Listen here little girl, I don't know any Dr. Barney, and I don't care much for jokes before opening hours."

Naila, completely unperturbed, leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a sweet, almost pleading tone. "Please, sir! We've come all this way, and we really need to get started on our research..." She fluttered her eyelashes dramatically.

The guard hesitated, clearly not wanting to make a scene. He glanced back at the door, still tightly shut, and sighed. "Ugh God, I shouldn't be doing this, but... you better make it quick. I can't have you two wandering the halls while we're getting ready for the crowds."

Naila grinned widely, turning back to Setsuna and whispered. "See? I told you this would work!" she jutted her chin. "Though you should've spilled some of your amazing dinosaur facts, y'know?"

Setsuna shook her head in disbelief and whispered back. "You've got to be kidding me. You won't see any dinosaurs in the Roman empire."

"You do know I can hear you two, right?" the guard sneered as he let them through. Setsuna couldn't even thank the guard at this point thanks to all the embarrassment.

With the guard reluctantly letting them pass, Naila bounced forward, practically skipping through the entrance. "Well, we're in. Now let's find out where Eclipse's hideout is!"

Setsuna sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear, one of these days, Naila, you're going to get us caught."

"Pfft, not if I can help it!" Naila grinned back at her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Besides, we're not just here for fun. We've got a mission!"

Despite herself, Setsuna found a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I guess you have a way of making things work… even if it's through sheer chaos."

They entered the museum together, ready to face whatever awaited them—though Setsuna couldn't shake the feeling that they had just stepped deeper into something far more dangerous than either of them had expected.

---

Old Bailey (Defendant Lobby no. 3) - Team Burgundy, Team Emerald, Team Midnight

Zuni, AJ, and Blair were escorted through a narrow corridor, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they arrived at the defendant's lobby. It was a modest yet grand room, with high ceilings, heavy oak doors on one side, and windows that let in faint streaks of light through intricate iron bars. The wooden benches in the center of the room, where the three were now seated, had seen better days, with faint scratches and worn upholstery. The air was thick with tension, and the oppressive silence only seemed to deepen the knot of anxiety in their stomachs.

AJ, unable to sit still, shifted nervously on the bench, his hands gripping the sides tightly as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He bounced his leg up and down incessantly, the sound of his movements filling the silence around them.

Blair shot him a look, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and annoyance. "You know AJ, if you keep doing that, this bench is gonna snap in half," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as she tried to focus on something other than the rising dread.

Zuni, who had been silent up until now, sighed heavily and glanced around the room. "I don't know how we're going to do this... If only we knew where Carmine and Humbert were," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she leaned back against the wall, her expression filled with unease. "They're probably in worse trouble than we are."

Blair frowned, worry etching her face. "I'm not sure they can handle this trial alone. We need to hope they've got backup."

AJ shot them both a nervous glance. "Yeah, but what if they don't? What if it all goes wrong?"

Zuni met his eyes, her own nervousness evident despite her attempts to keep her composure. "We've got no choice but to trust them. And we have to make sure we stay calm and stick to the truth. We can't let anything shake us now."

Before AJ could respond, a pair of officers entered the lobby. They looked at the trio briefly before nodding curtly. "You're to wait here until the trial begins," one of them instructed in a no-nonsense tone. "Stay put. No talking to anyone."

The door to the courtroom loomed in front of them, its heavy oak structure intimidating as the trio sat in silence. AJ resumed shifting in his seat, the weight of the upcoming trial pressing down on them. Zuni and Blair exchanged a quiet glance before both looked ahead, their minds racing with the uncertainty of what was to come.

The sound of the door creaking open broke the tense silence in the defendant's lobby. Zuni, AJ, and Blair looked up in surprise, their eyes widening when they saw Capone, Caren, Ian, and Angie sneaking into the room. Their expressions quickly shifted from shock to relief as they stood to greet the group.

Zuni was the first to speak, her voice filled with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What are you all doing here? How did you get in?"

Blair's eyes widened further when she saw Angie, who appeared disheveled, her gown torn and stained. Bruises covered her face, and her movements seemed stiff, as if every step caused her pain. AJ took a sharp breath, his gaze fixed on Angie in disbelief. "Angie? What happened to you?"

Angie took a shaky breath, wincing slightly as she leaned against the wall. Her voice trembled but was tinged with urgency. "Hell happened," she began, her words heavy with distress. "I was kidnapped. Me and Elisia—by Eclipse. They took us to some warehouse. I barely got out. Mike and Xerxes are still looking for Elisia, but I'm here to make sure the police take action. They need to do something about this before it's too late."

The room fell silent as Zuni, AJ, and Blair processed what Angie had just revealed. AJ approached her, a worried frown crossing his face. "Kidnapped? By Eclipse? That's… That's insane. Are you okay? What exactly happened?"

Angie shook her head, rubbing her forehead. "I don't even know how to explain it. They're after something. I don't know what they're planning, but they can't get away with this."

Capone stepped forward, his face serious as he reached into a bag. "We have evidence," he said quietly, placing a set of plastic bags on the table in front of Zuni, AJ, and Blair. Inside the bags were the items Capone, Caren, and Ian had recovered.

The evidence laid out on the table was enough to make everyone pause. A small metallic fragment caught the light, resting in one bag. Another bag contained a crumpled document—the gala's seating arrangement—with several names hastily crossed out. Beside it, there was a torn glove, clearly discarded. And finally, a syringe, the very one Eclipse had used to inject Evan, which Ian had brought.

But then, Caren's brow furrowed in concern as she looked at the evidence they had just handled. "Wait," she murmured, her voice low with unease. "We all held this evidence with our bare hands when we found them. Won't our fingerprints be on it? If they analyze this, they might trace it back to us. Won't we get suspected?"

Ian, who had been standing quietly off to the side, his hands nervously adjusting his jacket, spoke up. "Well… We have Angie," he said, though his voice was far from confident. "Maybe that'll turn the case around?"

The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air as everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Zuni chewed on her lip, visibly anxious. "We have proof, but… is it enough? What if they trace it back to us? What if they catch us in the middle of this and think we're part of Eclipse?"

Caren glanced at the evidence once more, her fingers tapping on the edge of a plastic bag, as if searching for some kind of answer. "We don't have much of a choice. We have to make this work."

Blair stood up, her voice steady despite the rising tension. "Then we need to make sure the police take this seriously. We can't afford to make any more mistakes. This could be our only shot."

AJ nodded in agreement, though his face was clouded with worry. "So… we just hope everyone believes us, right?"

Ian, growing increasingly nervous, stepped forward, a slight tremor in his hands. "Well, I hope they do. If not, we could be in more trouble than we can handle."

As the room fell into silence once again, the weight of the evidence and the looming trial pressed down on them. They were running out of time, and they all knew it.

Suddenly, the door to the defendant's lobby burst open yet again, and in rushed Evan, Declan, and Ashe, all looking panicked and urgent. Their sudden entrance startled everyone with a loud swear from Capone, and a heavy silence then filled the room as they quickly closed the door behind them.

Evan's voice was frantic, breaking the tension. "Carmine, Claudia, and Humbert were in a car accident," he said breathlessly. "The police are looking for them right now. They haven't been found yet."

Zuni, AJ, and Blair froze in shock, their faces drained of color. Ian, Caren, Angie, and Capone exchanged worried glances, but they too were clearly rattled by the news. Only Declan and Ashe, having been told by Evan earlier, remained visibly composed, though their faces tightened with concern.

Ashe glanced at Evan, his voice tight. "You said they were still looking for them, right? They don't have any updates?"

Evan nodded, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "No updates yet, but they found the car. They're probably out there searching the area as we speak."

Angie, who had been standing quietly, flinched when she saw Declan and Ashe for the first time. The bruises on her face and the disheveled appearance shocked them both, though Evan had already filled them in about her kidnapping. Ashe's gaze softened, and he stepped toward her, concerned.

"Angie… you're really alright? After everything that happened?" he asked gently, his voice a mix of concern and disbelief.

Angie gave a faint smile, though it was strained. "I'm fine, really. I made it out. Mike and Xerxes are still looking for Elisia, though." She gave them all a determined look. "I'm willing to testify. I'll help however I can, but I need to make sure that they will believe me so they can get the police to the warehouse soon."

Zuni, AJ, and Blair exchanged anxious glances, trying to process everything that had been said. Zuni, her voice trembling slightly, asked, "But… if Carmine and Humbert aren't here… then who will defend us?"

Evan's gaze flicked between Declan and Ashe, his face filled with uncertainty. The room went quiet as everyone waited for an answer. Declan, looking nervous, pointed to the pin on Ashe's lapel—the one Setsuna had given him earlier.

"Well, uh," Declan began, his voice shaky. "Ashe is going to defend you guys. He's the lawyer, and I'll be his assistant." He said it almost like an afterthought, as if trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Ashe flushed a deep red, swatting Declan's hand away with a sudden burst of indignation. "What? You're still coming with me, Declan!" he protested, his voice rising with flustered urgency. "I can't do this alone! You're my assistant—stop pointing at the pin!"

Declan grinned, his usual nervousness mixing with a bit of amusement. "I was just reminding you, you know… for the formality of it." His smile widened when Ashe turned even redder.

The others in the room couldn't help but chuckle, the tension momentarily lifting. Capone clapped Declan and Ashe on the back. "I think you two will do just fine," he said with a grin. "You've got this."

"Just don't panic," AJ added with a slightly nervous laugh, though his tone was encouraging. "It's going to be alright."

Ian nodded in agreement, giving them both an encouraging look. "You've got us backing you up! Just stick to the plan."

Blair, still a little rattled but relieved, added, "We believe in you guys."

Ashe and Declan exchanged a look. Ashe's nerves were still evident, but he nodded resolutely. "Right. We have no choice. We'll do our best."

Before they could say anything else, the door to the lobby opened again. A police officer entered, glancing at the group.

"The trial is about to start," the officer stated, his tone authoritative. "You need to follow us now."

Caren gave them all a nod. "We'll see you guys in the courtroom."

"I'll head back to Scotland Yard in case Claudia, Carmine, and Humbert come back." Evan informed.

Zuni, AJ, and Blair exchanged one last, anxious glance with the others before they all stood up. Everyone began to move toward the door, preparing to leave the lobby. Declan and Ashe shared a final, brief glance, the weight of the task ahead of them settling in. They had no time to waste now.

They followed the officer out of the room, heading toward the courtroom, the pressure mounting with each step.

---

? - Team Emerald

Mike trudged through the dimly lit corridor, the echoes of his footsteps bouncing off the cold, stone walls. His mind reeled from the argument with Xerxes. The words they'd exchanged still burned in his chest, leaving behind a bitter taste of guilt and frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to push it aside, but it lingered like a stubborn shadow.

As he turned a corner, his eyes caught sight of something unusual—a faint draft emanating from a crack in the wall. Squinting, he noticed an almost-hidden lever embedded in the stone.

"A secret passageway?" he muttered to himself, a flicker of hope igniting. Maybe this would lead him closer to the British Museum.

He yanked the lever, and with a low groan, the wall shifted, revealing a dark tunnel. The smell hit him immediately—damp, moldy, and acrid. His face twisted in disgust as he stepped inside, his shoes splashing against what he hoped was just water.

"This better not be what I think it is," he grumbled, holding his sleeve to his nose as he advanced. The flashlight he had managed to snag along the way flickered across the walls, illuminating faint markings and pipes running along the ceiling.

The realization struck him like a punch. "Of course. The sewers," he groaned. "Could this day get any worse?"

He pressed on, each step squelching beneath him. The murky water swirled around his shoes, and he felt an itch of paranoia creeping in—half expecting rats or something worse to skitter across his path.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to Xerxes. He couldn't shake the falconer's voice, filled with the most emotion he'd seen in him, echoing in his head.

"You're asking me to walk away from her, and I can't do that, Mike!"

Mike clenched his fists, guilt pressing down on him again. He knew Xerxes wasn't wrong—Elisia wasn't just another casualty in their fight against Eclipse. She was someone they both cared about, just in very different ways. And yet, Mike couldn't ignore the bigger picture.

"Was I wrong to leave him behind?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of dripping water. "Maybe I should've stayed... helped him find her."

But then his jaw tightened. "No," he said firmly, as if convincing himself. "We can't lose sight of the bigger goal. If we don't stop Eclipse, everything we've done so far means nothing. Angie can get help in time, and Xerxes... he'll figure it out. He's a strong guy."

Still, the memory of Xerxes's hardened gaze refused to leave him. Mike shook his head, trying to shake off the guilt. He couldn't afford to dwell on it now.

After what felt like an eternity in the damp, stinking tunnels, Mike's flashlight revealed a metal ladder leading upward. He exhaled a breath of relief. "Finally," he muttered, climbing the rungs with haste.

As he pushed the heavy manhole cover aside, he emerged into a narrow alley. He glanced around and realized he was much closer to the British Museum than he'd expected.

Mike dusted himself off, wrinkling his nose at the smell that clung to him. "Perfect. Just the scent I needed to make an entrance," he muttered sarcastically, his mind still weighed down by the events that had unfolded.

Straightening up, he headed for the museum, his determination hardening. He'd made his choice, and now he had to see it through—regardless of the consequences.

---

? - Team Emerald

Xerxes stood frozen in the corridor, the sound of Mike's retreating footsteps fading into the distance. The argument replayed in his mind, every sharp word, every accusation echoing like a hammer striking an anvil. He tightened his grip on Petra, the falcon shifting uncomfortably in his arms as if sensing his inner turmoil.

"You're thinking with your heart, Xerxes. You don't usually do that, and it's clouding your judgment."

The words cut deep, more than Xerxes wanted to admit. Mike was right—he wasn't usually the one to let emotions dictate his decisions. Logic, strategy, and pragmatism had always been his guiding principles. But this time, it was different.

His chest tightened as he thought about Elisia. The image of her seeped through his mind: her warm smile, her goofy metaphors, the way she always seemed to light up the room despite her own struggles. She was someone who mattered to him in a way he hadn't fully understood… until now.

But was Mike right? Was his determination to find her clouded by those feelings?

He leaned against the cold wall, closing his eyes. The weight of the situation pressed down on him like a crushing tide. Logic dictated that stopping Eclipse was the priority; Mike wasn't wrong about that. Without their main hideout neutralized, they might not get another chance to end this nightmare.

And yet…

"You have feelings for her? That's fine, but this isn't the time to let that get in the way!"

Xerxes flinched at the memory of Mike's tone. The accusation felt like a blow, as if Mike had exposed something he wasn't ready to face. Maybe he did have feelings for Elisia. Maybe that was why he couldn't bring himself to leave her behind.

But was that so wrong?

He opened his eyes, staring down the dark corridor. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to regroup with Mike and focus on the bigger picture. But the thought of leaving Elisia behind, of not knowing what might happen to her, was unbearable.

He straightened, his resolve hardening. Maybe Mike was right about him thinking with his heart, but he didn't care. For once, it felt like the right thing to do.

"Let Mike handle the museum," he said quietly, his voice firm. "I'll find Elisia."

Petra let out a soft cry in his arms, almost as if in agreement, and Xerxes began moving again. His steps were cautious but determined as he plunged deeper into the labyrinthine corridors.

…

Elisia's knees buckled, and she collapsed in the dimly lit corridor, her body trembling as the weight of everything crashed down on her. She could barely hold herself together anymore. Her heart felt as though it were being crushed, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness sinking in with every sob that escaped her lips.

What had she just endured? What had happened to her? The room, the pain, the fear—it all blended together into an incomprehensible nightmare. She didn't know where Angie was, or if Mike and Xerxes were even still looking for her. The darkness around her seemed to close in, and she wondered if she would ever escape this hell. Would she even survive it?

Her breath hitched, and the tears flowed freely now, unstoppable, as though they were the only release for the horror she'd experienced. Her arms ached from the needle mark, and every inch of her felt raw, as if she had been torn apart inside.

The sound of footsteps, distant but clear, caused her to stiffen. She turned her head, panic rising in her chest as her body screamed in protest. She heard them again, closer now, their echo bouncing off the walls. Her mind raced—was it another one of those black figures? Was it him?

Then, suddenly, a hand gripped her arm from behind.

A gut-wrenching scream tore itself from her throat, instinctively lashing out at whoever had dared touch her. Her vision blurred with terror, her heart pounding so loudly it seemed to drown out the world. She twisted, ready to fight, to flee, anything to get away from whatever threat loomed.

"No! No please—don't touch me!"

"Elisia, stop—it's me!"

She stopped her thrashing, her eyes locked with a familiar face.

"Xerxes?"

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The world stopped spinning as she gazed up at the falconer, her breath hitching in her throat. He was standing there, his expression a mixture of relief and pain, his eyes wide with shock as they traced over her beaten form. His body was tense, almost rigid, but his gaze—his gaze made Elisia's heart break all over again. She could see it, the weight of the worry, the guilt he carried for not being there sooner. She watched him as he carefully placed Petra beside him and went down to her level.

"Xerxes, I—" she gasped between sobs, her voice breaking.

Before she could even comprehend it, he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in the kind of embrace she hadn't realized she desperately needed. She knew that he wasn't used to the feeling, or even initiate it, but his arms were firm, yet gentle, holding her close as she crumpled against him. Her cries of anguish muffled against his chest as he rested his chin gently on top of her head.

He didn't answer right away, simply holding her tighter, letting her weep into him as the tears flowed relentlessly. Elisia's body trembled as her emotions finally broke free. She was exhausted, terrified, and completely undone by the overwhelming relief of being found, but also the heaviness of everything she had endured.

"Shh, it's okay," Xerxes whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion. It was the first time she'd ever heard him sound so vulnerable, and it tore at her heart. "You're safe now, Elisia. You're safe."

Her chest tightened at the sound of his words, and she shook her head, unable to stop the flood of tears. "I… I didn't think I'd make it out. I didn't think anyone would come for me. I don't know what to do…"

Xerxes gently pulled back just enough to look at her in the eyes, his face filled with a raw, painful sincerity. The way he looked at her made Elisia's heart twist. She could see it in his eyes—the fear, the concern, and something else too, something deeper that she couldn't quite name.

"Angie made it out," he said, his voice shaky but steady. "She's trying to get help. She left us a note. And Mike... he had another plan, but…" He hesitated, his voice trailing off as if he couldn't bear to talk about his argument with the team player. Elisia noticed how tightly his fists were clenched, but he stayed strong for her.

"I'm here, Elisia," he said softly, his hand brushing her hair back. Prosthetic or not, his touch was tender and reassuring despite the pain in his own voice.

Elisia closed her eyes as she calmed down, basking in the warmth of his embrace, the safety she hadn't felt in so long. She let the quiet solace of his presence seep into her, the pain slowly fading, though it lingered, always present in the background. For the first time in hours, she felt like maybe—just maybe—things might be okay.

"I'm so sorry," Xerxes suddenly whispered, his voice uncharacteristically thick with regret. "I couldn't protect you… I should've been here sooner. I—"

Elisia pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face softening as she looked at him, her hands trembling as she reached up to touch his cheek.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I… I'm just glad you're here."

Xerxes closed his eyes at her gentle touch, his expression a mixture of relief and sorrow. "I'll never let anything happen to you again. I promise."

---

Old Bailey (Courtroom 3) - Team Burgundy, Team Emerald, Team Midnight

Courtroom 3 was vast and imposing, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to loom over everyone present. The walls were lined with dark wood panels, and the faint smell of polish hung in the air. The gallery buzzed with indistinct chatter, a sea of expectant faces watching the unfolding drama. At the center of the room, the judge's elevated bench stood in stern authority, flanked by the prosecutor's table and the defense area. The entire room was steeped in an air of tension and curiosity.

Ashe and Declan walked toward the defense table, where the small pile of evidence Capone, Caren, and Ian gathered awaited them. Metal fragments glinted under the courtroom's lights, and nearby lay the torn glove, the syringe, the Eclipse case file, and a copy of the gala's seating arrangement with names ominously crossed out. Declan subtly nudged Ashe. "You see all this? I feel like we're walking into a crime drama."

"Focus, Declan," Ashe muttered, though his hands were visibly trembling. "This is serious."

In the gallery, Capone, Caren, Ian, and Angie sat together. Angie ignored the occasional whispers and judgmental glances from others in the room, her disheveled appearance causing more than a few raised eyebrows. Meanwhile, Zuni, AJ, and Blair sat in the defendant's area, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and defiance.

The judge entered, a no-nonsense man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone who dared to speak out of turn. The gavel struck the wooden block sharply, silencing the murmurs in the room.

"This court is now in session," the judge declared, his voice commanding absolute attention. "Presiding is Judge Thaddeus Hayes. The case before us is the murder of Lady Vivienne Rousseau at the Chancellor's Gala, which took place at the Gilded Rose Ballroom, this 28th of October, Year 1960. Prosecution, please introduce yourselves."

A tall man in an impeccable navy suit stood from the prosecutor's table, his slicked-back hair gleaming under the lights. His expression was confident, almost smug. "Your Honor, I am Prosecutor Edwin Ashcroft, representing the Crown. We intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt the guilt of the defendants in this heinous crime."

Judge Hayes nodded. "Defense, your turn."

Ashe cleared his throat and stepped forward, his nerves barely concealed. "Your Honor, I am... uh.. Ashen Grey, representing the defense."

Declan's head whipped toward Ashe, his mouth agape. He leaned in and whispered, "Ashen Grey? Really? That's the name you're going with?"

Ashe whispered back harshly, "What's wrong with it? It sounds professional. Unless you wanna get caught and be thrown into Scotland Yard. Again."

Declan rolled his eyes. "It sounds like a teenage vampire novelist came up with it."

Ashe's face twitched with irritation. "At least it's better than whatever it is you're probably thinking of. You're next."

Declan stepped forward confidently, though the significant way his jaw trembled betrayed his confidence. "Your Honor, I'm Deck D. Hall, co-counsel for the defense."

Ashe turned to him, his expression deadpan. "Seriously? Deck D. Hall? That's your fake name?"

Declan grinned unapologetically. "What? It's festive. And technically, I didn't lie." Ashe was unamused.

Ashe rolled his eyes playfully. "Don't go fa-la-la-la-la-ing on me, Dick."

"Deck!"

Judge Hayes gave them both a pointed look, silencing their whispered argument. "Let's move on," he said, clearly unimpressed. "Prosecution, present the charges."

Prosecutor Ashcroft stood again, his tone cutting. "Your Honor, the primary suspect in this case is Miss Zuni Flores, who was seen dancing with Lord Montclair during the gala just before the incident. When the lights went out, two gunshots were heard, and Lady Vivienne Rousseau was found dead moments later. Miss Flores was the closest to the victim during this time, making her our primary suspect."

He gestured toward AJ and Blair. "Furthermore, Mr. Aaron Rogers Jr. and Miss Blair Robertson, who were both near Miss Flores at the time of the incident, are accused as accomplices. Their proximity to the suspect and suspicious movements during the blackout suggest a coordinated effort."

The gallery erupted in a low murmur. Capone leaned over to Caren and whispered, "This prosecutor's laying it on thick. What a showman. They don't even have proof that AJ and Blair moved in the dark."

Caren responded, "Let's hope he won't suspect Ashe, Declan, and Naila too for running away. It's a good thing Ashe and Declan came up with fake names."

Ashe shot Declan a nervous glance. "The prosecutor looks like he eats public defenders for breakfast."

Declan fumbled, trying his best to sound confident. "Relax, Ashen Grey. I've got your back."

"Stop calling me that," Ashe hissed.

Judge Hayes banged his gavel. "Order in the court! Defense, you may respond to the charges."

Ashe took a deep breath. "Your Honor, while the prosecution's narrative may seem compelling, we intend to demonstrate that the evidence they rely on is circumstantial at best. We will also show that there are other individuals and factors involved that the prosecution has conveniently overlooked."

He gestured to the evidence on the table. "The items we've compiled will reveal the truth behind the events of that night. The defense requests permission to present our findings in detail."

Judge Hayes nodded. "Very well. Let's proceed."

Declan leaned over to Ashe and whispered, "You actually sounded kind of cool there, Ashen Grey."

Ashe shot him a glare, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks and a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's just not mess this up, Deck."

They shuffled back to the defense table, their hands slightly shaky as they settled into their seats. Declan leaned toward Ashe, his voice low but brimming with unease. "So… be honest with me. Have you actually been to a trial before?"

Ashe hesitated, avoiding Declan's gaze. "Uh, does playing Ace Attorney count?"

Declan froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? That's a video game, Ashe!"

"Hey, it's not just a game," Ashe whispered defensively. "It's practically a simulation. I've cross-examined plenty of witnesses!" he winced. "And… I've failed most of them."

Declan buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God, we're doomed. We're so doomed."

Ashe patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Relax, Deck. We'll get through this. Just… stick to the plan."

Before Declan could respond, the judge's voice cut through the tension. "Prosecution, call your first witness."

Prosecutor Ashcroft rose smoothly, his confidence unwavering. "Your Honor, the prosecution calls Mrs. Charlotte Winslow to the stand."

A woman in her early thirties stepped forward. Her elegant black gown suggested she had been part of the gala's orchestra, and her posture was prim and professional. She had the air of someone who took her craft very seriously.

"Please state your name and occupation for the court," Judge Hayes instructed.

Winslow adjusted the hem of her dress and spoke clearly. "My name is Charlotte Winslow, and I am the principal violinist for the London Royal Orchestra. We performed at the Chancellor's Gala on the night of the incident."

Prosecutor Ashcroft nodded. "Miss Winslow, can you describe your position relative to Lady Vivienne Rousseau during the gala?"

Winslow inclined her head thoughtfully. "I was seated just behind Lady Vivienne while she performed her final song. The orchestra pit is situated directly at the rear of the stage."

"And during the dance between Lord Montclair and Miss Flores, what did you observe?" Ashcroft prompted.

Winslow's brows furrowed slightly. "The pair danced gracefully across the ballroom floor. However, I recall Miss Flores occasionally glancing over her shoulder. At the time, I thought it was unusual, but I assumed she was simply nervous under the watchful eyes of the guests."

"And when the lights went out?" Ashcroft's tone was sharp, deliberate.

Winslow's voice tightened. "There was chaos. People gasped, chairs scraped across the floor, and then… two gunshots rang out. When the lights returned, Lady Vivienne was slumped over the piano, lifeless."

The gallery murmured again, whispers rippling through the room. Declan nudged Ashe flamboyantly. "Okay, Mr. Ace Attorney, this is where you shine. Cross-examine her!"

Ashe stood, his legs feeling like jelly. He cleared his throat and approached the witness stand, trying to channel the courtroom heroes he had admired in games. "Mrs. Winslow, thank you for your testimony. You mentioned that Miss Flores glanced over her shoulder while dancing. Did you see anything specific that might have drawn her attention?"

Winslow shook her head. "No, but her behavior suggested unease. It was as though she was looking for something—or someone."

"And during the blackout, did you hear or notice anything apart from the gunshots?" Ashe pressed.

Winslow hesitated. "There was… shuffling, movement near the stage. It's difficult to say who or what it was."

Ashe nodded, his confidence building. "Thank you, Mrs. Winslow. One final question: is it possible the sounds you heard were unrelated to the crime?"

Winslow frowned slightly. "I can't say for certain. The room was in complete darkness. Anything could have happened."

Ashe returned to his seat, relieved he hadn't tripped over his words. Declan leaned in with a smirk. "Not bad, Ashen Grey. I mean, you didn't crack under pressure, so that's something."

Ashe shot him a dry look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Deck D. Hall."

Judge Hayes turned back to the prosecution. "Prosecution, call your next witness."

The prosecutor adjusted his coat and called for the next witness. "Your Honor, the prosecution calls Mr. Theodore Crawley to the stand."

A tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-40s approached the witness stand. His tuxedo was slightly disheveled, hinting at the chaotic aftermath of the gala. He had the composed yet sharp demeanor of someone used to performing under pressure.

Judge Hayes nodded toward him. "State your name and occupation for the court."

Crawley cleared his throat. "My name is Theodore Crawley. I'm a concert pianist and one of the featured performers at the Chancellor's Gala. I played alongside Lady Vivienne Rousseau during her final song."

Prosecutor Ashcroft smiled confidently, stepping forward. "Mr. Crawley, you were situated very close to Lady Vivienne during her performance. Can you describe her demeanor?"

"She was radiant, as always," Crawley said, his voice tinged with admiration. "But there was… something different. She seemed tense, like she was forcing herself to remain composed."

"And during the dance between Lord Montclair and Miss Flores?" Ashcroft prompted.

Crawley hesitated, glancing at his hands. "I noticed Lord Montclair whispering to Miss Flores several times. I couldn't hear what was said, but Miss Flores seemed… agitated. Distracted, even."

Ashcroft nodded. "And during the blackout?"

Crawley took a deep breath. "I heard shuffling, movement near the stage, then two gunshots. When the lights returned, Lady Vivienne was—" He swallowed hard. "—already gone."

Ashcroft turned toward Ashe, his gaze almost taunting. "Your witness, Mr. Grey."

Ashe stood, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. His palms felt sweaty as he approached the witness stand. "Mr. Crawley, thank you for your testimony. You mentioned Lady Vivienne seemed tense during her performance. Did she interact with anyone before taking the stage?"

Crawley frowned in thought, ignoring Ashe's look. "Not that I saw. She was focused on her performance."

"And during the dance, you said Miss Flores appeared agitated. Could you elaborate on that?" Ashe asked, his voice steady despite the creeping self-doubt.

Crawley hesitated. "She… she looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to leave but couldn't. It was subtle, but I noticed it."

Ashe pressed further. "And the whispers from Lord Montclair—did they seem threatening or affectionate?"

Ashcroft interjected sharply. "Objection! Speculation, Your Honor."

Judge Hayes nodded. "Sustained. Rephrase, Mr. Grey."

Ashe's mind raced, even more self-doubt creeping in. Am I even doing this right? What the freaking hell? He glanced back toward the gallery, where Capone, Caren, Ian and Angie sat. Capone gave him a small, encouraging nod. Caren mouthed, "You've got this." Ian's calm demeanor somehow reassured him as Angie gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile.

Ashe steadied himself and rephrased. "Mr. Crawley, did Miss Flores' body language suggest she felt threatened during the dance?"

Crawley paused, then nodded slightly. "Yes. She seemed… uneasy."

Ashe nodded, but before he could continue, Ashcroft cut in again. "Your Honor, it's clear that Mr. Grey is fishing for assumptions rather than facts. This line of questioning is irrelevant."

Judge Hayes frowned, glancing at Ashe. "Sustain your objections, Counselor."

Ashe felt his confidence waver. His heart pounded as he glanced at Declan, who whispered, "Pull it together. You're doing fine!"

Still, Ashe couldn't help but feel the weight of every misstep.

Judge Hayes cleared his throat. "Let's move on. Prosecution, your next witness."

Ashcroft smirked. "Your Honor, the prosecution calls Miss Blair Robertson to the stand."

The gallery murmured as Blair stepped forward, her steps purposeful yet hesitant. She avoided making eye contact with Ashe and Declan as she swore her oath and took her seat.

"State your name and occupation," Judge Hayes ordered.

Blair straightened her shoulders. "Blair Robertson. I'm… a security specialist, assigned to assist with maintaining order at the gala." She lied. They are not even from this timeline after all.

Ashcroft wasted no time. "Miss Robertson, you were near Lady Vivienne Rousseau when the lights went out. What did you see?"

Blair kept her tone neutral. "Not much. It was pitch black. I heard shuffling, footsteps, and then two gunshots. When the lights came back on, Lady Vivienne was slumped over."

"And were there any suspicious individuals nearby before the blackout?" Ashcroft asked, his eyes sharp.

Blair hesitated, her expression unreadable. "No. Everyone in the vicinity seemed like they belonged there."

Ashe noticed the slight twitch in her expression and realized she was deliberately avoiding mentioning their team.

Ashcroft raised an eyebrow. "And what about after the lights return? Did you see anyone fleeing the scene?"

Blair shook her head. "No. Everyone was panicking, but no one ran from the area. It was chaos."

Ashcroft smiled faintly. "No further questions, Your Honor."

Ashe stood, his heart pounding as he gazed intently at Blair. "Miss Robertson, you mentioned hearing shuffling during the blackout. Could you discern where the sounds were coming from?"

Blair frowned in thought. "It was hard to tell. The acoustics in the ballroom made it echo, but it seemed close to the stage."

"And you didn't see anyone suspicious before or after the incident?" Ashe pressed.

Blair shook her head firmly. "No. Not that I recall."

Ashe paused, considering his next move carefully. He couldn't afford to push too hard—Blair was clearly protecting them, but one slip could unravel everything.

He stepped back. "Thank you, Miss Robertson. No further questions, Your Honor."

As Ashe returned to his seat, Declan leaned over. "That wasn't too bad."

"Yeah, except now I'm more convinced we're walking on a tightrope with no safety net," Ashe muttered.

The tension in the courtroom thickened as Prosecutor Ashcroft stepped forward once again. This time, he held up a photo for the judge and jury to see.

"Your Honor, I'd like to present this crucial piece of evidence," Ashcroft began confidently. He handed the photo to the bailiff, who passed it to Judge Hayes before distributing copies to the defense and jury.

The image depicted scuff marks on the polished ballroom floor, faint but visible, leading toward the hallway adjacent to the stage. The photo was accompanied by a timestamp from the gala night.

"These marks were found mere feet from where Lady Vivienne Rousseau's body was discovered. They lead directly toward the hallway, suggesting the perpetrator or an accomplice fled in that direction after the crime." Ashcroft's voice was razor-sharp, every word calculated to strike at the defense's case.

In the gallery, Capone's expression darkened. "Those marks…" he muttered under his breath, leaning toward Caren and Ian. "We found those during our investigation. That's evidence from the crime scene."

Angie looked at the Midnight members with a surprised look. "Wait, you went back to the ballroom?"

"Yeah." Caren's brow furrowed in concern. "How did they get their hands on it? I thought we were the only ones who noticed those."

Ian's face went pale. "This isn't good," he whispered, his voice trembling. "If they connect those marks to Zuni, or worse, to them…" He trailed off, glancing nervously at Ashe and Declan.

Capone placed a hand on Ian's shoulder, trying to steady him. "Calm down, bro. They can't tie it to them unless they have something concrete. Just keep your cool."

Meanwhile, at the defense table, Ashe was scrutinizing the photo with a sinking feeling in his chest. Declan leaned over, whispering, "Is it just me, or does this feel like a trap?"

Ashe nodded grimly. "It's not just you. Those marks… if they're saying they lead toward the hallway, they might use it to suggest an accomplice—or worse, a premeditated escape route."

Ashcroft continued, addressing the court. "The prosecution asserts that these marks were made by someone dragging something—or someone—toward the hallway. Given their proximity to the stage and the timing of the blackout, we believe this evidence strongly implicates the defendants in the murder and subsequent attempt to flee the scene."

The gallery buzzed with murmurs, the tension palpable.

The judge banged his gavel. "Order in the court!"

Ashcroft turned his piercing gaze toward Ashe. "Mr. Grey, the defense may cross-examine the evidence. If you dare."

Ashe stood, his nerves threatening to overwhelm him. He glanced back at Capone, Caren, and Ian in the gallery. Capone gave him a subtle nod, a silent message: Stay sharp.

Ashe cleared his throat, stepping forward. Is this even the right thing to do? "I would like to request… Mr. Crawley to return to the stand."

The gallery murmured as the sound of the gavel filled the air.

"Request granted. Mr. Crawley, please return to the witness stand." The judge ordered.

Once Crawley was standing once more on the stand, Ashe began, "You testified earlier that you heard shuffling sounds during the blackout. Would you say those sounds could have come from someone dragging something across the floor?"

Crawley hesitated, frowning. "It's… possible. But with the noise and chaos, it was hard to tell."

Ashe nodded. "And these scuff marks—did you notice them that night, or were they pointed out to you later?"

"I didn't notice them," Crawley admitted. "I only saw them when the investigators showed me this photo."

Ashe seized on the opening. "So, it's fair to say that these marks weren't immediately obvious, and any interpretation of them is speculative at best?"

Ashcroft interjected, his voice sharp. "Objection! The marks were documented and analyzed by experts. The defense's attempt to downplay their significance is both baseless and desperate."

Judge Hayes frowned, gesturing for Ashe to proceed. "Sustained. Keep your questions relevant, Mr. Grey."

Ashe stood there for a while, seemingly running out of ideas and digging up for literally anything he could remember to ask the court.

Judge Hayes cleared his throat impatiently. "Mr. Grey, do you have further questions?"

Before Ashe could respond, Ashcroft raised his voice again. "Your Honor, to further solidify the prosecution's case, I would like to call another witness. Blair Robertson has already testified, but I believe her partner during the waltz, Mr. Aaron Rogers Jr., may shed additional light on the events of that evening."

The defense table stiffened as Ashcroft called AJ to the stand. Declan muttered, "This is going to get messy."

As AJ approached, Ashe leaned over to Declan. "If AJ cracks under pressure, we're all done for."

Declan nodded grimly. "L-Let's just hope he knows how to keep his mouth quiet about us and turn this thing around."

AJ nervously made his way to the stand, his hands fidgeting slightly as he took the oath. The room fell into a tense silence as all eyes fixed on him. The judge gestured for him to begin.

"State your name and occupation for the record," Judge Hayes instructed.

AJ cleared his throat, his voice a little shaky. "Uh, Aaron Rogers Jr. I'm, um, a freelance event coordinator." He lied about the occupation part as well.

Ashcroft stepped forward, his confidence unwavering. "Mr. Rogers, you were present at the gala on the night of Lady Vivienne Rousseau's murder. Can you tell us what you saw during the blackout?"

AJ shifted in his seat, glancing briefly at Zuni and Blair in the defendant's area before answering. "It was, uh, chaotic. There were two gunshots, and everything went dark. People were screaming, running… but, um, there's something else I saw."

The courtroom leaned in, curious. Even Ashe and Declan straightened in their seats, bracing for whatever AJ might say.

"Oh no…" Declan squinted his eyes shut.

"Go on," Ashcroft encouraged, his eyes narrowing slightly.

AJ swallowed hard. "Just before the blackout, I remember looking toward the windows near the ballroom. There were… figures. Figures in black, outside the glass. They were moving quickly, like they were waiting for something."

The gallery broke into murmurs. Capone leaned over to Caren and Ian. "Figures in black? That's new."

Ian muttered nervously, "What if they're connected to Eclipse?"

Angie looked at the defense area. "I hope so. Every single figure in black in the warehouse is definitely part of Eclipse. But in this case… unless these people AJ's talking about are someone else."

Caren's eyes darted to Ashe and Declan. "This might turn the case around—if they can handle it."

The judge banged the gavel. "Order! Order in the court!"

Ashcroft's expression hardened as he turned back to AJ. "Figures in black, you say? That's quite the dramatic claim, Mr. Rogers. Are you suggesting they had something to do with the murder?"

AJ hesitated, but then nodded. "I can't say for sure, but it looked suspicious. They disappeared right after the blackout."

Ashcroft's lips curled into a smirk. "Suspicious? Or perhaps a convenient fabrication to shift blame away from your associates?"

Without thinking, Ashe immediately shot to his feet. "Objection! That's an unfair insinuation!"

Judge Hayes raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Grey, control your tone."

Ashe took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Your Honor, the witness's testimony introduces a new angle that hasn't been investigated thoroughly. These figures in black could be critical to understanding what happened that night."

Ashcroft scoffed, stepping closer to the jury. "Critical? Or a desperate attempt to redirect attention from the defendants? There's no evidence to support these so-called 'figures in black.'"

Ashe clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. "The prosecution is dismissing a key eyewitness account simply because it doesn't fit their narrative!"

Ashcroft shot back, his tone cutting. "And the defense is grasping at shadows, trying to create doubt where there is none. This is a courtroom, Mr. Grey, not a stage for theatrics!"

The two sides stood in a tense standoff, the courtroom buzzing with energy.

In the gallery, Capone winced and muttered, "This is turning into a slugfest."

"Definitely." Angie gritted her teeth.

Ian nervously whispered, "Do you think AJ's telling the truth about the figures?"

Caren nodded. "He's nervous, but he doesn't strike me as a liar. There's something here."

The judge's gavel came down again, silencing the room. "Enough! Both counsel, approach the bench!"

Ashe and Ashcroft exchanged a sharp glance before moving toward the judge. The tension between them was palpable, but Ashe felt a flicker of determination. If these figures in black were tied to Eclipse, they might hold the key to unraveling the entire conspiracy.

Back at the stand, AJ glanced nervously toward Blair, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement as Zuni kept focus on AJ with a determined look. He knew he had to hold his ground—there was more to this story, and the truth was inching closer to the surface.

Ashcroft smirked, his voice dripping with disdain as he turned to Judge Hayes. "Your Honor, we're truly diving into the absurd now. The defense is clutching at straws by believing a witness who clearly has no idea what he's talking about. Figures in black? Ha! That's a convenient story, but it's far from credible!"

Judge Hayes raised a hand, silencing Ashcroft. "Prosecutor Ashcroft, enough. We're here to deal with facts, not assumptions. Please, let the defense continue."

Ashe was feeling the weight of the trial bearing down on him. He glanced over at Declan, who gave him a quick, reassuring nod, and then turned his attention back to the matter at hand. It was time to present something that could shift the momentum.

"Your Honor," Ashe began, his voice steadying, "I would like to present Case #E-1738, Eclipse's previous case."

The entire gallery erupted into hushed whispers, followed by loud murmurs of confusion and disbelief as he held the file Setsuna had handed them before she and Naila left for the British Museum. He held the file with such confidence that he never felt before, despite the entire courtroom's reaction around him. Zuni, AJ, and Blair exchanged panicked looks in the defendant's area, clearly unsure if this was the right moment to bring up the case.

"Ohhhh this is really bad…" Ian covered his eyes with his hands, Capone wincing beside him, Angie looking down as she gritted her teeth and Caren squeezing Capone's arm (much to his tiny delight).

"Case #E-1738?" Ashcroft sneered. "That case was dismissed. There's no relevance here! It's ancient history!"

Judge Hayes banged his gavel. "Order! I will not tolerate disruption in my courtroom. Prosecutor Ashcroft, you will remain silent while the defense presents their case."

Ashcroft's face tightened with frustration, but he reluctantly stayed quiet.

Ashe cleared his throat, his fingers running over the case file in front of him. "Case #E-1738 was related to an incident involving Eclipse. The investigation reached a dead end, but there were several unresolved elements in the case that link directly to this one."

"Mr. Grey, or if that's really your name, that case was dismissed… a long time ago." Ashcroft shot back with a jab, standing up from his seat. "Eclipse was proven innocent when the statute of limitations ran out. There is absolutely no point in bringing up this irrelevant file now. It's over, done, finished."

Judge Hayes leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Mr. Ashcroft, as much as I understand your position, the defense is free to present whatever evidence they deem necessary. You will refrain from interrupting the proceedings."

The prosecutor opened his mouth to retort, but Judge Hayes raised a hand, silencing him once more. "We'll proceed. Continue, Mr. Grey."

Ashe tried to remain composed, but the pressure of the courtroom was palpable. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him as he faced the jury.

"Your Honor, though Case #E-1738 was technically dismissed in… 1955 due to the statute of limitations," Ashe said as he read the case file's label, "it's still marked as unresolved—something not indicated in the public record. The file is clearly marked in red ink, which is significant. It indicates an ongoing investigation that links directly to the events of tonight."

The gallery erupted into chaos. Judge Hayes banged his gavel again, but the noise in the room only grew louder. "Order!" he shouted. "Order!"

Zuni's eyes widened, and AJ shifted nervously in his seat. Blair clenched her fists, visibly tense. They had no idea that Ashe and Declan would be going this far, but the risk was already taken.

Ashcroft stood, fury blazing in his eyes. "This is madness! You're bringing up a case that's long gone, dismissed under the law! The statute of limitations is clear, and there is no longer any relevance to that file! You're wasting this court's time, Mr. Grey!"

Ashe's mind raced, but nothing he said seemed to sway Ashcroft's harsh rebuttal. He suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on him—he needed something more, but the words weren't coming.

Declan, who had been silently observing the back and forth, finally stood up. His voice was shaky at first, but as he spoke, a certain confidence crept into his tone. "A-Actually, Mr. Prosecutor, let me restate what Mr. W—Mr. Grey just said." He cleared his throat, nervous about the slip-up. "The case file is unresolved. It's marked in red ink. And just because the statute of limitations ran out doesn't mean it's no longer important."

Ashcroft looked at Declan, his face twisted with disbelief. "You—You're telling me that an unresolved case, which was dismissed because of the statute of limitations, still has value in this court? Are you even serious right now, Mr. Hall?"

"Y-Yes," Declan replied, trying his best to sound firm. "It means that the investigation into Eclipse isn't over… and if it's somehow connected to the current case, then we still need to explore it—dismissed or not."

Ashe, though still unsure, caught his breath. "Exactly. It's part of the bigger picture. This case isn't just about Lady Vivienne's death—it's about a pattern, and this file helps us understand that pattern."

Ashcroft clenched his jaw but didn't speak. The courtroom was tense, with everyone waiting for the judge's response.

Judge Hayes took a deep breath. "Very well. I have heard enough. We will adjourn for a short break. When we reconvene, I expect the parties involved to proceed with clarity and focus. Any further disruption will not be tolerated."

The gavel came down, and the room fell into silence. The defense team—though shaken by the intense exchange—felt a small victory. They had made their case, for better or worse, and now the next step awaited. The gallery slowly dispersed as the judge stood, signaling the break.

Ashe, Declan, Capone, Caren, Ian, Angie, Zuni, AJ, and Blair slowly stood up, trying to digest the chaos of the minutes passed as they headed for the defendant's lobby. The weight of the trial still hung heavy in the air, but for the first time, they felt like they had a chance to turn things around.

---

London Outskirts - Team Emerald, Team Midnight

The trio settled into the back of the car, squeezing together in the cramped space. Humbert shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the irritable glare of the driver, while Carmine and Claudia exchanged tense looks. The muffled hum of the car's engine was the only sound breaking the silence.

The driver, a stocky man in a tweed cap, glanced at them through the rearview mirror as he shifted gears. "Right, then. Now that you're in my car, mind telling me who you lot are and what's so urgent about Scotland Yard?"

Carmine exchanged a quick glance with Claudia before responding. "I'm Carmine. That's Claudia," she said, gesturing toward the woman sitting next to her. Claudia gave a small, polite nod. "And the big guy here is Humbert."

"Big guy?" Humbert raised an eyebrow, clearly not appreciating the comment.

The driver snorted. "Figures," he muttered. "Name's Walter," he said, jerking a thumb toward the passenger seat where his sister, Gwyn, sat. "That's my sister, Gwyn."

"Pleasure," Gwyn said dryly, her eyes scanning the rearview mirror with a bored expression.

Walter's eyes flickered to the clock on the dashboard as the car sped through the dim streets. "You lot are in a rush, yeah? It's 6:55 a.m."

Carmine tensed, her eyes widening. "Six fifty-five!? The trial starts at seven! There's no way we'll make it in time!"

Humbert leaned forward, panic evident in his voice. "We're doomed! Zuni, AJ, Blair, Ashe, Declan, Naila—they're going to be in so much trouble!"

Claudia placed a steady hand on Humbert's shoulder, her voice calm despite the urgency of the moment. "Humbert, breathe. All is not yet lost."

Humbert glanced at her, incredulous. "How can you be so calm? We're running out of time!"

Claudia lifted the walkie-talkie they had been carrying, its surface dull in the early morning light. "We still have this," she said. "A tether to our allies, a voice that bridges the distance. With this, we hold the means to relay crucial evidence, even if our bodies do not reach the trial."

Carmine exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "A backup plan. Great. Let's just hope it works. We're cutting it way too close."

Walter, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, glanced at them curiously. "Wait, what trial? What evidence? Are you lot in trouble with the law?"

Gwyn turned slightly in her seat, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, and why the rush to Scotland Yard? What's going on?"

Carmine shot them a weary smile. "It's... complicated. We're trying to stop something big, something dangerous. If we can get there in time, we might have a chance to fix it."

Walter and Gwyn exchanged looks. "And who's the lawyer?" Walter asked, his tone casual but curious.

Carmine hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'm a subordinate of Alcott."

The words hung in the air for a beat, then Walter's eyebrows shot up. "Alcott? You mean Wallace Alcott?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise. "That's my brother. He got disbarred five years ago because of some shady dealings with an organization. Knowing him, he's probably still working in the legal field, but under a different name to avoid getting caught up in that mess."

The trio froze. Carmine, Claudia, and Humbert stared at him, shocked.

"You're... related to Alcott?" Carmine finally managed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Walter gave a shrug, his expression hardening slightly. "Yeah, that's my brother. Not the most... trustworthy guy, but he's got his uses. If you're working for him, I hope you know what you're doing. He's not exactly a pillar of integrity."

Claudia shook her head, her mind racing. "This complicates things." She exchanged a look with Carmine and Humbert, who were equally surprised.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Humbert muttered, still reeling from the revelation.

Carmine sighed, rubbing her temples. "You think I would have known he had a brother working in the same mess? But now—" She glanced out the window, her thoughts a whirlwind of worry and uncertainty.

The car sped forward, cutting through the London streets as the urgency of their situation weighed heavily on them. With each passing second, the trial drew closer, and the tension in the air seemed almost palpable.

"Hold fast," Claudia murmured under her breath, though her words were as much a reminder to herself as to her friends. "We still have a chance."

---

British Museum (Lobby, Exhibit Hall) - Team Burgundy & Team Midnight

The lobby loomed before them, its classical columns and vast stone steps standing like a sentinel in the early morning light. As they entered through the grand entrance, Setsuna marveled at the towering exhibits and intricate architecture. The vastness of the space seemed to swallow them whole, the air carrying the faint scent of old history and polished wood.

The exhibits were a labyrinth of ancient wonders, each room housing relics from civilizations long past, their stories etched in the very stones that surrounded them. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the marble floors, a soft reminder of the centuries that had passed since these artifacts were first crafted.

Naila bounced forward with excitement, her eyes darting around as they walked past a display of Egyptian mummies, Roman statues, and early medieval armor. Setsuna, though focused on their mission, couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the magnitude of history around them.

"Okay, we need to get to the dinosaur fossils," Setsuna said, glancing at the map they had swiped at the entrance. "The Archaeopteryx fossil should be in the next hall. Based on the case file we got, it's the key to unlocking the entrance to Eclipse's main hideout."

Naila, still grinning from their successful stunt at the door, was already halfway down the hallway, peering into glass cases with fascination. "Yeah, yeah, you keep going on about fossils and all, but what's the deal with that?" She pointed to a towering statue of a Greek warrior, his stone face frozen in a fierce expression. "Doesn't it look like he's trying to flex his muscles and impress someone? Like, oh yeah, look at these pecs. I'm so glad I'm dead and immortalized for my abs." She chuckled, eyeing the six-pack that deliciously defined the structure of the statue's abdomen. "Abs-olutely."

Setsuna smirked at her friend's humor but continued walking, her mind focused on the task ahead. "You know, the Archaeopteryx was considered one of the first birds, but it's actually classified as a transitional fossil. It has feathers but still retains many reptilian characteristics, like teeth and a long tail."

"Fascinating," Naila replied flatly, rolling her eyes and grinning as she dodged past a display of old pottery, though her expression suddenly changed. "But can we get to the smelly part? I'm getting a vibe that something's... off."

Setsuna didn't seem to hear her. She was already absorbed in a display about ancient mammoth fossils. "Look at this! These tusks could reach over ten feet in length. Imagine walking around with that on your face—talk about intimidating. Mammoths were the kings of their time, right up until they went extinct—"

"Okay, no offense, Setsuna, but something really stinks in here," Naila interrupted with a grimace, making a face as she covered her nose dramatically. "Like, not 'old museum' stinky, but real stinky. And I don't think it's the dinosaur bones."

Setsuna paused mid-sentence, suddenly more aware of the unpleasant odor. It was faint at first but grew stronger the further they ventured into the dinosaur hall. Naila turned to her, eyes wide with mischief, her lips curling into a playful grin.

Without warning, she grabbed Setsuna by the shoulders and spun her around, pointing straight at a nearby display. "Look, look! It's an Archaeopteryx! Hah! Gotcha!" Naila burst out laughing, her voice ringing out loud in the silent hall.

Setsuna blinked, a bit confused at first, but then she realized what had happened. "Naila, you—" she started to say, only to stop short when she turned back to see what had caused her friend's sudden attention.

A figure stood in the doorway of the exhibit room, looking more like he'd just crawled out of a sewer than a museum. His clothes were drenched and stained, and his disheveled hair stuck out in all directions, resembling something out of a horror movie. His face was streaked with grime, and an unmistakable scent of wet earth and something worse followed him like a cloud.

"Naila..." Setsuna whispered in shock, her hand shooting out to grab her friend's sleeve. "Is that... Mike?"

Naila squinted, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Mike? More like Muck," she teased loudly. "Did you, like, swim in a toilet or something? Or did you think you could just wade through sewage for a spa day?" She pulled a disgusted face as she waved a hand in front of her nose. "Dude, you're bringing the entire muck of the sewer with you!"

Mike, standing there awkwardly, wiped his face with his sleeve and shrugged. "Uhh... long story. Let's just say... yeah, I had some business down there." He scratched his head sheepishly, clearly not prepared for Naila's theatrics. "Anyway, what are you two doing here?"

Setsuna, still a bit taken aback, stepped forward cautiously. "Mike, where's the rest of your team? What happened? We haven't seen you all since... well, since the gala."

Mike shrugged again, his tone nonchalant despite his unkempt appearance. "Uhhh... we all have other plans." He glanced around, his voice dropping to a more serious note. "But hey, I'm here to tell you that Eclipse's main hideout? It's here. In the museum."

Setsuna was still processing the new information, but her eyes widened in recognition. "So this means our deductions are correct…"

Mike gave a quick nod, though there was a slight hesitation in his voice as he had no idea what they deduced. "Lord Montclair told me earlier back in the warehouse. He was kidnapped too but he managed to escape and is on his way to the trial. I came here to check things out."

Naila shot him a deadpan look. "But you couldn't check out a shower first, huh?"

Setsuna glanced at Naila with a slight frown but couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. "Mike, are Angie and Elisia safe?"

Mike looked at them both, suddenly a little less confident. "Yeah." He paused, then added quietly, "They're getting help right now..."

Naila's eyes widened, a slight chuckle and sigh of relief escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "You know, you're full of surprises, Mike. Or should I say… Muck." She glanced at Setsuna. "Guess we better stick around with Muck to see what Eclipse is up to, huh?"

Setsuna nodded slowly, the weight of their discovery settling in. Though for some reason, she didn't believe Mike's answer completely, at least not yet.

"Come on, let's look for the Archaeopteryx."

---

? - Team Emerald

The tension in the dim corridor grew unbearable as Xerxes gently held Elisia's trembling hand in his, his prosthetic arm holding Petra carefully against his side. He whispered, his voice low and urgent, "Stay close. Don't let go."

Elisia nodded silently, her fragile composure barely holding. Each step forward felt heavier, the shadows pressing in like unseen eyes watching their every move.

Then, the distinct echo of footsteps rang out behind them, cutting through the silence. Xerxes stopped abruptly, his grip on Elisia tightening as he turned, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, well, well," a cold, mocking voice echoed. "What a heartwarming sight."

From the shadows emerged the Chancellor, his tall figure predatory blocking the path as he approached with slow, deliberate steps. His icy smile spread wide as his gaze swept over them, lingering pointedly on their clasped hands.

"Ah, young love," he purred, his voice dripping with malice. "How quaint. Tell me Miss Saphora, does Mr. Siska's hand feel steadier than mine did?"

Elisia stiffened, her face paling. Her mind flashed back to his cold gloves, his mocking words, the suffocating helplessness she felt under his touch. Her grip on Xerxes loosened, her body trembling involuntarily.

The Chancellor's smile deepened, his sharp gaze catching every flicker of her reaction. "Oh, what's this? Do I bring back... memories?" He stepped closer, his fingers brushing a loose strand of her hair, before yanking her hand of Xerxes's grasp, the Chancellor's fingers digging deep into her wrist as she yelped. "You're even more fragile than I remember. It's almost charming."

"No! Stop!" Xerxes growled, stepping forward, his voice sharp with fury. "Don't touch her—"

But the Chancellor ignored him, tightening his grasp on Elisia as his hand drifted towards her shoulder. His gloved fingers rested just over the faint needle mark, before pressing down harshly with cruel intention.

Elisia gasped as the throbbing pain hit her and she jerked back, but the Chancellor's grip on her wrist was unyielding. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his breath close to her ear. "Such a delicate thing you are. It would be a shame if something... permanent were to happen, wouldn't it?"

"How do you even know that!?" Xerxes lunged forward, his anger reaching its peak. "Let her go!"

Before he could reach them, Celestine stepped into his path, her dark silhouette illuminated by the faint light. Her sly grin widened as she shoved Xerxes back against the wall with shocking strength, pressing down on his chest. Petra slipped from his arm and clattered to the ground, the sound echoing in the narrow corridor as she painfully cawed.

"Oops," Celestine said mockingly, tilting her head as her eyes flicked to Petra. "Looks like you're even less capable than I thought, Mr. Siska." She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. "Does that prosthetic of yours make you feel powerful? Because you still look helpless to me."

"Don't touch me." Xerxes's gloved prosthetic hand curled into a fist, his breath coming in heavy, furious bursts. But Celestine only chuckled, clearly reveling in his restrained rage.

Meanwhile, the Chancellor tugged Elisia closer, his fingers brushing down her arm in a mockery of gentleness. His expression twisted into a smug grin as he whispered, "You've made quite an impression, Miss Saphora. I must admit, I'm tempted to relive our... little moments."

"Stop it! Please!" Elisia recoiled, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting to Xerxes for help.

"Let her go!" Xerxes bellowed, his voice breaking with desperation. He pushed against Celestine, but her strength and position kept him pinned.

The Chancellor glanced back at Xerxes, his smile unfaltering. "So protective, aren't you? Tell me, Mr. Siska, how far are you willing to go to keep her safe?" He smirked, his gloved hand trailing briefly along Elisia's side, the touch enough to make her flinch.

Xerxes struggled against Celestine's hold, his fury boiling over. "If you so much as—"

The Chancellor cut him off with a dark laugh. "Easy, easy. I'm just giving her a taste of what will happen if you don't comply." His tone turned sharp. "It's simple. Do as I say, or Miss Saphora doesn't leave here in one piece."

His gaze shifted momentarily to the faint mark on Elisia's shoulder, his fingers grazing it again. "This little mark… insulin, isn't it? I wonder what might happen if we had already... adjusted her dosage."

Elisia whimpered, her body trembling as tears streamed down her face. Xerxes's breath caught in his throat, the mention of her condition hitting him like a punch to the gut. How does he know? Her insulin? His prosthetic? How do they know everything?

"Let her go," Xerxes said again, his voice raw.

The Chancellor smirked, clearly enjoying the display. "Oh, I will. But only if you prove you can follow instructions." He gestured toward the hallway ahead. "I have quite the show planned for both of you."

Celestine finally released Xerxes, her laughter lingering as she stepped back. Xerxes immediately moved to pick up Petra and place her in the crook of his arms again, his eyes blazing with fury and desperation as the Chancellor tugged Elisia forward.

Elisia shot Xerxes a frightened glance, her voice barely a whisper. "What do we do?"

Xerxes's jaw clenched, his mind racing. One thing was certain: whatever plan the Chancellor had in store, it was bound to be far worse than anything they had faced so far. He watched as the Chancellor grabbed the nearby telephone and dialed a number.

"Shall we proceed?"

---

Old Bailey (Defendants Lobby 3) - Team Burgundy, Team Emerald, Team Midnight

In the defendants' lobby, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Zuni, AJ, and Blair sat on one side, their expressions ranging from worried to completely drained. Ashe and Declan entered with Capone, Caren, Ian, and Angie close behind. Ashe leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples as he took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

Declan glanced at Ashe and hesitated before speaking. "You good there?" he asked, his tone softer than usual.

Ashe exhaled heavily, his hands dropping to his sides. "I don't know if I'm doing this right," he admitted, his voice low. "That back-and-forth with Ashcroft… I feel like I'm barely holding it together."

"Well," Declan started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "you're doing better than me. That was... intense." He shifted uncomfortably before adding, "But hey, thanks for letting me jump in. I guess."

Ashe blinked, then awkwardly nodded. "No, I should be the one thanking you. That rebuttal against Ashcroft—you really saved me back there."

Declan returned the smile, his cheeks warming up thanks to Ashe's gratitude. "Yeah, well, someone had to. You looked like you were gonna pass out."

Blair, sitting nearby, lowered her gaze, her voice soft as she said, "I'm sorry… I wasn't able to help much during the trial. I was just so nervous, and I didn't know what to say."

Capone patted her back gently. "You're doing fine, Blair. None of this is easy."

Ian nodded in agreement. "You were trying to protect Team Burgundy. That's what matters."

Blair managed a small, grateful smile, though her eyes were still filled with worry.

Zuni sat apart from the group, her brow furrowed deeply as she stared at the ground. Caren noticed and approached her, kneeling to meet her eye level. "Zuni? What's wrong?"

Zuni hesitated before speaking. "I'm just… thinking about my testimony. I'm afraid. What if I say something that makes things worse? For all of us? I'm already the prime suspect."

Caren placed a hand on her shoulder, her voice firm yet gentle. "Listen, we're all here for you. We're not letting you go through this alone. No matter what, we'll figure it out together."

Zuni looked up, her expression softening slightly as she nodded. "Thanks, Caren. That helps. A little."

Suddenly, the room was interrupted by the sharp ringing of a telephone. Everyone froze, their heads turning toward the source of the sound.

Ian swallowed hard, his voice shaky. "Who… who's going to answer that?"

Ashe hesitated, doubt flickering across his face. Then, straightening his posture, he said, "I will. I'm the defense, after all."

The others exchanged nervous glances as Ashe approached the telephone, picking up the receiver with trembling fingers.

"Hello?" he said cautiously.

A smooth, chilling voice responded on the other end. "Ah, Mr. Grey. Or should I say… Mr. Ward?"

Ashe's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "Who is this? How do you know my name?"

The voice chuckled lightly, a sound that sent a shiver down Ashe's spine. "I know everything, Mr. Ward. Thanks to one of your dear friends."

Ashe's grip on the receiver tightened, his knuckles whitening. "What do you want?"

The voice continued, its tone calm but filled with menace. "I have a favor to ask of you. Have Miss Flores plead guilty. And while you're at it, include Mr. Rogers and Miss Robertson as well."

Ashe's heart sank. "And if I refuse?"

The voice's tone darkened. "Let's just say… two more of your friends will suffer dearly."

Before Ashe could respond, the call shifted. He heard a familiar voice, strained and pained. "Ashe… don't listen to him!"

"Xerxes?!" Ashe exclaimed, his voice filled with panic.

A loud, sickening thud followed by his groan of pain came through the receiver. The voice returned. "Ah, forgive the interruption."

A desperate scream echoed through the line. "No! Don't—!" Elisia's voice was cut off abruptly with a harsh slap, and Ashe felt his blood run cold.

"And one more thing," the voice added. "There's someone in the courtroom who knows your every move. One wrong step, or proving your friends innocent, and your other friends will pay the price."

Before Ashe could respond, the line went dead. He slowly lowered the receiver, his face pale and his hands trembling.

"Who… who was that?" Angie asked cautiously, weakly stepping closer. "That was Eclipse, wasn't it?"

Suddenly the bailiff opened the door, much to the surprise of some of the others.. "Please return to the courtroom."

Ashe shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's go."

No one pressed him further. The weight of the unknown loomed heavily over them as they prepared to return, the stakes higher than ever.

---

Scotland Yard - Team Midnight

Evan crouched low behind the corner of a building near Scotland Yard, his eyes darting nervously around the street. He had shed his police uniform, hoping it would help him blend in better, but now he felt exposed—too much so for comfort. The looming presence of Scotland Yard felt both a blessing and a curse, and his heartbeat quickened with every passing moment. His hand gripped the stone wall, his knuckles white, as he tried to stay hidden from prying eyes.

He peered cautiously around the corner, scanning the street for any sign of movement. The trial had started, and the clock was ticking down. He wasn't sure what Claudia, Carmine, and Humbert would do, or if they'd even make it in time given the accident. The thought gnawed at him. They were running out of time, and if they didn't get here soon, everything would be over. He couldn't shake the worry gnawing at his gut.

The silence was deafening, and with each passing second, his anxiety mounted. Where are they? he wondered. What if they've been caught? What if—

Suddenly, Evan froze, his eyes snapping toward the horizon. A car was approaching from a distance. His heart skipped a beat. He stood up slightly, straining to see through the haze of early morning light. It was hard to tell with the distance, but it might be them. It might be Claudia, Carmine, and Humbert.

He didn't dare move from his spot, fearing the slightest wrong move could give him away. His breath hitched as the car drew closer, the noise of its engine growing louder. The headlights cut through the morning fog, casting long shadows on the pavement.

He held his breath, watching intently. This could be it. This could be their chance.

But as the car drew closer, his nerves stretched thin, Evan felt a pang of doubt. What if it's not them? He couldn't afford to be wrong. Not now.

The car slowed, approaching the entrance of Scotland Yard. Evan's fingers tightened against the stone, his mind racing. He couldn't let anything slip now. It has to be them. It just has to be.

The car came to a stop. And for a long moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Evan waited, his heart pounding, as the vehicle parked, the door creaking open.

He looked back and another thought raced on his head.

The binder—he read it. He did. And the black figure that drugged him had all the information he spilled now. They might use all this information against them in the trial.

But he was going to make sure his castmates don't know that. Especially Ian.

---

British Museum (Prehistoric Exhibit) - Team Burgundy, Team Emerald, Team Midnight

The museum doors slowly creaked open, signaling the start of another day. The soft hum of voices outside grew louder as the first visitors trickled into the grand lobby, echoing off the towering columns. Setsuna and Naila exchanged nervous glances as they hurried down the hall, Mike trailing behind them with his unmistakable stench still wafting in the air like a cloud of wet earth.

"Come on, Setsuna!" Naila urged, her voice half teasing, half panicked. "If we don't find that fossil soon, the whole place is gonna be crawling with people! And—" She gestured back at Mike, who was doing his best to look casual despite the heavy odor around him. "—we definitely don't need anyone sniffing around and wondering if Muck here got a little too friendly with a swamp monster."

Mike shot her a dirty look but didn't respond, more focused on keeping up with the others than bothering to banter.

Setsuna pushed forward, her eyes scanning the exhibits as they raced through the corridors, their footsteps echoing off the stone floors. "The Archaeopteryx should be in this next hall. It's supposed to be the centerpiece here. There," she pointed toward a large, circular display case at the far end of the room. "It's right there."

They rushed toward it, but as they drew closer, Setsuna's heart sank. The glass case was locked, and there was no sign of the key. Panic began to creep in as she tried to scan the area, but the museum was getting busier by the minute. A couple of tourists had begun meandering toward the dinosaur exhibits, chatting in hushed voices as they snapped pictures.

"We're running out of time," Setsuna muttered, already reaching into her bag for the tools she had brought along. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to find what she needed.

Naila glanced nervously over her shoulder and then at Mike. "Setsuna, you gotta hurry! Everyone's gonna be here soon, and I'm not sure how much longer we can pretend Muck here is part of the exhibit." She glanced at him, waggling her eyebrows. "Maybe you could make a few artistic adjustments and tell everyone you're the 'Museum of Swamp Life's Newest Attraction'?"

Mike groaned, slapping his palm to his forehead in mock exasperation. "Please, just don't." He glanced around warily. "You think I want people to know I look like this?"

"Hey, we've all got our thing," Naila chirped with a grin. "Yours just happens to be... Eau de Swamp."

Setsuna shot Naila a look but couldn't suppress a small, reluctant smile. "Focus, Naila! I need to crack the code on this case before we—"

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the hall as the museum's main doors swung wide open, and more people flooded in. The bustle of voices grew louder, the sound of excited chatter filling the space. The clock was ticking, and the pressure was mounting.

"Setsuna! Please!" Naila urged, her voice rising in urgency. "We're gonna be so screwed if we don't hurry!"

Mike, growing more anxious by the second, tried to slide out of view behind a pillar. "Yeah, and I'm not exactly blending in with this... look." He motioned to his soaked and grimy clothes, his face contorted in disgust.

"Almost got it!" Setsuna muttered under her breath as she fiddled with the lock on the display case. The code had to be somewhere, and she was determined to crack it.

The code was a series of small, intricately designed symbols etched along the side of the display case. At first glance, it appeared like a random collection of ancient characters, some looking like hieroglyphs while others resembled symbols from an old, forgotten language. Setsuna studied the code closely, noting that the symbols weren't just decorative—they seemed to follow a pattern.

There were four primary symbols: a bird, a leaf, a spiral, and a star. These symbols were arranged in a circular pattern, and each symbol was slightly offset from the others, as though they were meant to align in a particular order. The key to unlocking the case was to rotate the dial in a specific sequence that mirrored an ancient myth tied to the Archaeopteryx, representing its connection to both bird and dinosaur ancestry.

Setsuna had already deciphered the order, recognizing that the bird symbol must align first, representing flight and transformation, followed by the leaf (symbolizing life and growth), the spiral (representing the passage of time), and lastly the star, which symbolized guidance. As she twisted the dial, the symbols clicked into place one by one. The sound of the final click was almost deafening in the tense silence.

"I just need one more—there!" She twisted the dial, and with a satisfying click, the case popped open.

"Thank the heavens!" Naila exclaimed, grabbing Setsuna's wrist and pulling her away from the case. "Okay, now open the damn thing and let's get this door open before Mike's scent becomes the star attraction."

Setsuna ignored the jabs, her fingers moving quickly over the intricate mechanism behind the glass, trying to decipher the code that would open the secret passage to Eclipse's hideout.

The locking mechanism was as complex as it was ancient, a work of both ingenuity and mysticism. Behind the glass of the display case, nestled in a hidden compartment, were a series of small gears, each one intricately carved with tiny symbols that seemed to shift and align as the dial was turned. The gears were connected to a central shaft that ran deep into the base of the case, and each twist of the dial triggered a subtle clicking sound, like the mechanism was coming alive.

There was no simple key or button to press. Instead, a ring of symbols wrapped around the base of the case, glowing faintly under the dim light of the museum. These symbols weren't just random; they represented key elements tied to the Archaeopteryx itself. Setsuna could almost feel the weight of the puzzle bearing down on her. The lock wasn't a traditional one; it was a cryptic mechanism that responded only to a specific combination of symbols, which—if aligned correctly—would release the hidden passage beneath the exhibit.

The symbols, when aligned in the right order, caused the central shaft to turn, unlocking the hidden compartment. But it was no ordinary turning lock. Each symbol had to be turned with precision; too far in one direction, and the mechanism would reset. Too little, and the lock would remain sealed.

Setsuna's eyes darted over the ancient symbols again, her fingers flying over the dials with practiced ease, matching each glyph to the corresponding sequence in her mind. Each click sent a thrill of anticipation through her, knowing that they were getting closer to breaking through the hidden secrets of Eclipse's hideout. Her mind raced, but there was no time to hesitate. The museum was almost fully open now, and they could hear more footsteps approaching.

"We're almost there..." Setsuna muttered, her voice a mix of determination and impatience.

Just as the first few tourists wandered closer to their display, the locking mechanism clicked, and the door to Eclipse's hideout slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a hidden stairwell leading downward.

"Finally!" Naila exhaled in relief. "Let's get the hell out of here before they start asking if Muck's on a special exhibit tour."

Mike shot her a glare but said nothing, following the others into the darkened stairwell. Setsuna led the way, her heart racing with anticipation. As they descended into the shadows, the muffled sounds of the museum above them faded, replaced by the eerie silence of what lay ahead.

"Let's go. We can't afford any more delays," Setsuna said, her voice tight with urgency.

---

Old Bailey (Courtroom 3) - Team Burgundy, Team Emerald, Team Midnight

The courtroom returned to its rigid order as Judge Hayes took his place behind the bench, his gavel tapping once for silence. Prosecutor Ashcroft stood confidently at his table, his posture as sharp as his glare toward the defense. The jury members shuffled into their seats, and the gallery buzzed quietly as people resumed their positions.

As Ashe and Declan returned to the defense table, their movements were slower, weighed down by the tension from the earlier break. AJ remained on the stand, his nervousness apparent in the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.

From the gallery, Capone nudged Ian and gestured toward the prosecution's table. "Are you guys seeing what I'm seeing?" he whispered, nodding toward the green binder Ashcroft had just placed beneath his desk.

Ian narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. "That can't be the same binder we found, can it?" His mind raced back to their initial quest, recalling the time they had obtained the binder and delivering it to Scotland Yard… and how his suspicions towards Evan began to falter at this point.

Caren leaned closer, her voice low and firm. "It's possible. Interpol and the police technically work with the prosecution. If Ashcroft has access to it, that's bad news for us. But that binder we got… wasn't it red?"

Angie, still visibly disheveled from her ordeal, furrowed her brow. "Red binder? What's the deal with that?"

Caren placed a calming hand on her scratched shoulder. Angie didn't flinch. "Don't worry about it right now. Focus on yourself."

Angie nodded reluctantly, leaning back in her seat as the trial resumed.

Judge Hayes adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "The court will now reconvene. Mr. Rogers, you are still under oath. Continue your testimony."

AJ swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Ashe and Declan before nodding. "Y-Yes, Your Honor."

Ashcroft wasted no time stepping forward. "Mr. Rogers, before the break, you mentioned seeing figures in black outside the windows during the incident at the gala. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," AJ replied cautiously.

Ashcroft's eyes narrowed. "Do you expect this court to believe that mysterious, unidentifiable figures—conveniently outside the ballroom—had anything to do with the crime, when the evidence points directly to the defendants?"

AJ shifted uncomfortably. "I—I'm just saying what I saw. It was dark, and I couldn't make out much, but they were definitely there."

Ashcroft scoffed, addressing the court. "The defense, or rather, this witness in particular, would have us chase ghosts, Your Honor. This is nothing more than a desperate attempt to deflect from the defendants' guilt."

Ashe stood abruptly, his voice steady despite his internal turmoil. "Objection, Your Honor. The witness is recounting what he saw. Whether or not it fits the prosecution's narrative doesn't make it any less valid."

Judge Hayes nodded. "Sustained. Mr. Ashcroft, let the witness finish his testimony."

Ashcroft's lips tightened, but he stepped back. "Very well. Mr. Rogers, continue."

AJ hesitated before speaking again. "I—I don't know if they were involved or not, but the way they moved… it felt like they were watching. Waiting for something. And after the lights went out, they were gone."

Ashcroft smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "How convenient. Figures in black, appearing and disappearing at the perfect moment. Tell me, Mr. Rogers, do you often see things that aren't there?"

The gallery murmured, and AJ's face turned red with embarrassment.

"Objection!" Ashe interjected, his tone sharper now. "That's badgering the witness!"

"Overruled," Judge Hayes said firmly. "But Mr. Ashcroft, tread carefully."

Ashcroft turned back to AJ. "One last question, Mr. Rogers. Can you provide any proof—anything tangible—that these 'figures' you claim to have seen were real?"

AJ hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the stand. "No… but—"

"No further questions," Ashcroft said, cutting him off and returning to his table with a satisfied smirk.

Ashe clenched his fists, his mind racing for a way to counter Ashcroft's dismissal. Before he could speak, Declan leaned over and whispered, "Do something, or he's going to tear AJ apart."

Ashe nodded and stood. "Your Honor, the defense would like to explore the possibility that these figures are connected to the crime. Dismissing this testimony outright is premature."

Ashcroft chuckled darkly. "The defense is grasping at straws. Figures outside the windows? What next, aliens from another planet?"

The gallery erupted in laughter, and even Judge Hayes struggled to keep a straight face.

Ashe's cheeks burned with frustration, but he held his ground. "Your Honor, this isn't a matter of conjecture. The figures may hold the key to understanding what truly happened that night. We request further investigation."

Judge Hayes sighed, tapping his gavel lightly. "I'll allow it, but tread carefully, Mr. Grey. This line of inquiry must lead somewhere."

Ashe nodded, his resolve firming. "It will, Your Honor." He glanced at AJ, who still sat nervously on the stand, and offered a small nod. He needed to make this count. "Mr. Rogers," Ashe began, his voice firm but not unkind. "You mentioned earlier that the figures in black seemed to be watching and waiting. Can you elaborate on that? Did they do anything specific that made you feel this way?"

AJ shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed as he thought back. "Well, they weren't just standing there. They were… pacing, almost like they were looking for something. One of them stopped near the window closest to Lady Vivienne. I didn't think much of it at first, but then, when the lights went out, they were gone."

Ashe nodded thoughtfully. "You said they disappeared after the lights went out. Is there any chance you saw where they went? Did they leave through the window, or perhaps move deeper into the ballroom?"

"I—I don't know," AJ stammered. "It was too dark to tell, and everything happened so fast. But they weren't there when the lights came back on."

Ashe paced slightly, his gaze fixed on AJ. "Do you believe these figures were connected to the gunshots that were heard?"

AJ hesitated before nodding. "It's possible. I mean, who else could it have been? They were in the perfect position to do something."

Ashcroft stood abruptly. "Objection, Your Honor. The witness is speculating without evidence. This testimony is baseless."

Judge Hayes raised a hand. "Sustained. Mr. Grey, unless you have tangible evidence to support this line of questioning, I suggest you move on."

Ashe took a deep breath. "Understood, Your Honor." He turned back to AJ. "One last question, Mr. Rogers. Did you notice anything else about these figures? Anything that might help us identify them?"

AJ shook his head slowly. "No, I'm sorry. They were dressed in black, and I couldn't see their faces."

Ashe nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Rogers. No further questions."

AJ was dismissed from the stand, visibly relieved as he returned to the defendant's area.

Judge Hayes adjusted his glasses and leaned forward slightly. "Mr. Grey, the court must now ask: how does this line of testimony connect to Case #E-1738, which you so boldly introduced earlier?"

The courtroom fell silent. Ashe's heart raced as he froze, unable to find an answer. His mind was a chaotic mess, desperately searching for a way to tie the testimony back to the old case.

He could feel the weight of every gaze in the room—Ashcroft's smug smirk, the judge's expectant stare, the gallery's whispering curiosity.

"I…" Ashe started, but no words followed. His palms began to sweat as his composure cracked.

From the gallery, Capone whispered to Ian, "He's panicking. He needs something to keep this together."

Ian clenched his fists, glancing at Caren. "He can't fall apart now. Not with everything on the line."

Declan, noticing Ashe's turmoil, leaned over and whispered sharply, "Ashe, snap out of it. You've got this. Focus."

Ashe closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Think. Focus. What did we find in the Eclipse case that ties everything together?

Ashe frantically looked around for any answers. Anything? Anyone?

Still, his mind came up blank, and the silence in the courtroom grew heavier.

The air in the courtroom thickened, the tension palpable as everyone fell silent. Suddenly, without warning, a figure in the gallery stood. The action was so abrupt it seemed to freeze time itself.

Angie.

Her disheveled appearance—her torn gala gown, bruised skin, and wild hair—was an image of someone who had just barely escaped something horrific. She looked like she had just come from a nightmare. Yet, it was her eyes—wide, fierce, and determined—that commanded the room's attention.

For a moment, the courtroom seemed to hold its breath.

"I demand to testify!" Angie's voice rang out, sharp and defiant, cutting through the silence. Her words echoed like thunder in the tense atmosphere, sending a chill down the spines of those who heard it.

The gallery erupted in chaos—murmurs, whispers, and gasps filled the air. The people around her looked at her with disbelief, not just because of her sudden outburst, but because of her appearance. No one had expected this. How could someone like her—dressed in tatters and clearly battered—dare to stand up now?

Caren shot up from her seat, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and concern. "Angie, what the hell are you doing?!" she demanded, her eyes wide with panic as she took a step toward Angie.

But Angie didn't flinch. Her gaze locked firmly with Ashe and Declan for a split second, before she turned back to the judge.

"Trust me. I can connect that to everything that's happened so far. I did told you all that I would testify." Her voice was unyielding, confident, as if she had reached the point of no return and was ready to expose everything as she turned to the court. "But there's a condition."

Everyone in the courtroom watched, breathless. No one dared interrupt.

"If my testimony proves to be true, you will send the police to the warehouse immediately." Angie's words hit like a cold slap, her tone carrying the weight of the truth. She didn't waver.

A wave of disbelief swept over the room. Everyone turned to look at each other. What was she talking about? Where was this warehouse? And what did it have to do with the trial?

Zuni, AJ, and Blair, standing on the defendant's side, exchanged glances that spoke volumes. Their expressions were grim, a mixture of worry and disbelief, and none of them could shake the feeling that this was about to go terribly wrong.

Judge Hayes was about to speak when Ashe, caught off guard but realizing the urgency of the situation, stood up quickly. His voice was calm, yet laced with tension.

"T-The defense requests that Miss Angelina Locayne be allowed to testify." His words were like a spark in dry tinder, igniting further chaos in the courtroom.

Ashcroft's face contorted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with hostility. "This is absolutely absurd! This woman is clearly unstable. How could you allow this circus to continue? Again, the case with Eclipse? It's closed."

Judge Hayes raised a hand sharply, silencing Ashcroft. "The request is granted." The words fell like a hammer, making it clear that the trial was about to take a drastic turn.

Angie stepped forward, her expression hardening as she took the stand. The room watched in stunned silence as she introduced herself—Angelina Locayne, without a title or occupation. She didn't need one. The confidence radiating from her was enough to make everyone listen.

"My name is Angelina Locayne. And I will testify how everything connects to Case… whatever it is." She turned to the judge and prosecutor. "And how the Eclipse organization was never proven innocent. For the third time today… that case was unresolved." Her voice rang out like a statement of undeniable fact.

Ashcroft, his patience worn thin, spat at her. "You can't just say 'unresolved.' Eclipse was cleared of all charges. This is nonsense."

Angie's eyes burned with a fire that made the room shiver. "Eclipse was never cleared. You've only scratched the surface." She didn't flinch at Ashcroft's accusation.

Then, with a chilling calmness, she began her testimony.

"I was with my team. We were trying to follow the defendants when they were detained by the police. But something stopped us. We were ambushed. One of my teammates and I—we were taken."

The room tensed. Every person in the gallery, even the jury, leaned in, hanging on every word.

"The figures in black—" Angie paused, her eyes darkening. "They were the ones who took us. They dragged us to a warehouse. I'm not sure what they wanted." Her voice trembled ever so slightly, but her determination cut through.

"We were assaulted, tortured… and I found something." Angie's voice dropped, and the room seemed to hold its breath. "A document. It had the name 'Eclipse' on it. I knew then, I knew everything was connected. They wore black, had masks… They're still operating. They were behind the gala."

The room was completely still, the only sound the faint echo of her words in the cold courtroom.

"And my teammate. She's still in there. Trapped in that warehouse."

The air seemed to freeze as Angie's words landed like a stone sinking into still water. Her confession hung heavy in the air, and the room was paralyzed.

Capone, Ian, and Caren exchanged frantic looks. Capone leaned over to Ian, whispering urgently, "She's telling the truth. She has to be."

Ian's voice shook slightly as he answered, "I— I don't know anymore. This… this is too much."

Caren's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

Angie's eyes were burning with an intensity that was undeniable. "If you let me finish, you'll see. You'll know I'm telling the truth."

Ashe stood still, processing her words, but his heart was pounding. He knew this was the turning point. Whatever happened next could make or break everything.

Angie turned back to the judge. "Send the police. Do it now. Or more lives will be at risk."

She didn't hesitate. And the courtroom, which had been tense before, now crackled with the anticipation of what would come next.

The moment Angie finished her testimony, the courtroom was alive with tension, but it was clear this would not be the end of her involvement. Ashcroft stood, his face an unreadable mask of both disdain and determination. He approached the witness stand, his eyes narrowing at Angie.

"Miss Locayne," Ashcroft began, his voice smooth but dripping with skepticism. "You claim that you were kidnapped, tortured, and taken to a warehouse by individuals associated with the Eclipse organization. But there is no evidence to support these allegations. None of your teammates are here to corroborate your story. No one else has provided such testimony."

Angie's gaze never wavered. "Because they can't. They're still in that warehouse. I'm the only one who made it out."

Ashcroft's lips curled into a smirk, clearly not convinced. "And you expect us to take your word for it? You, a woman with no occupation, no solid ties to the people you're claiming to know, no proof of your whereabouts at the time? How convenient."

Angie met his gaze without flinching. "I don't expect you to take my word for it. But I'm telling you the truth."

"How do we know you weren't just... confused? Overcome by fear and panic?" Ashcroft pressed, his voice insidious. "Perhaps it was nothing more than a delusion."

Ashe could feel the room pressing in on him. His hands clenched into fists as he braced himself for his own questioning. He had to act quickly. He couldn't let Angie falter now.

"Your Honor, the defense would like to cross-examine the witness," Ashe said, trying to hold his voice steady. The judge nodded, allowing the cross-examination to proceed, but Ashe's mind was already in a whirlwind.

Stepping forward, Ashe hesitated for just a moment before addressing Angie. "Miss Locayne, you claim to have found a document in the warehouse, a document identifying the Eclipse organization. How did you manage to find such a document in a place so dangerous?"

Angie's answer was immediate, her confidence unwavering. "I didn't just find it. It was in plain sight, lying on a desk, as if it was meant for me to see it."

Ashe nodded slowly, trying to mask the doubt creeping into his mind. "You claim that this document had the name 'Eclipse' on it. Do you have any proof? A copy, a photograph— anything?"

"I don't," Angie said, her voice growing firmer. "But I remember what it said. I remember the words. I don't need a piece of paper to prove what I saw."

Ashe's mind raced. There had to be something else. Something to keep this moving forward. "And you're certain it was the Eclipse organization? You don't think it could have been another group? Another organization with similar motives?"

Angie's eyes bored into his. "It was Eclipse. I don't care how you try to spin it. I know what I saw."

The self doubt in Ashe's chest grew, but he pressed on, needing to keep Angie's testimony solid. "You said you were taken by figures in black. Can you describe them in more detail? Were they affiliated with any known group?"

"They wore masks. They were tall, imposing. I couldn't see their faces clearly, but I could tell they were prepared. They knew exactly what they were doing." Angie's voice grew more tense as she spoke.

Ashe's throat went dry. He could hear Ashcroft preparing his next strike.

Ashcroft wasted no time. "And yet, there's no corroborating evidence of any such figures. No reports of masked individuals matching your description. No one else saw these so-called 'figures in black.' It seems... improbable, don't you think?"

Ashe's mind blanked. He was losing control of the narrative. He glanced over at Declan, whose face mirrored his own rising panic. They had to find something, some way to make this work.

He turned back to Angie, his voice more fragile than he intended. "Miss Locayne, you say you were taken to a warehouse. What exactly happened when you arrived there?"

Angie paused, clearly collecting her thoughts. "They... they hurt us. They left us in a room, waiting. I don't know why they kept us alive."

"Why would Eclipse, a supposedly innocent organization, kidnap and assault you?" Ashcroft's voice was laced with scorn. "You're saying that an organization that was cleared of all charges did this—without any evidence?"

Angie's expression hardened, and Ashe could feel his own words faltering in the wake of the prosecutor's relentless questioning.

"I don't know why they did it," Angie said, her voice quiet but firm. "All I know is what I saw. And I know Eclipse wasn't innocent."

Ashcroft sneered. "It's all just a story you've made up, isn't it? A sad attempt at deflecting attention from the truth. There's no warehouse, no document. You're grasping at straws."

Ashe's heart thudded in his chest. He couldn't think of a way to counter this. The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of Ashcroft's words pressing down.

"Your Honor," Ashcroft continued, his eyes never leaving Angie. "The defense is relying on a witness whose testimony is nothing but a string of incoherent accusations. There is no evidence to support anything she's claimed. This entire trial has descended into absurdity."

The judge, his patience clearly wearing thin, looked toward Ashe. "Mr. Grey, do you have any further questions?"

Ashe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind was a blur. Every word felt like it would fall apart in his hands. He swallowed hard. He had to keep going. He couldn't let this slip. Not after everything that had been at stake.

The courtroom was buzzing with whispers and murmurs as Ashcroft's words still hung in the air. His piercing voice echoed throughout the space, sending a chill through the defense team. "Miss Locayne, all of this," he gestured dismissively toward Angie, "is nothing but an act. You fabricated this entire story. You abused yourself. It's all staged, just a desperate attempt to shift the blame from the defendants sitting over there."

Angie's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched at her sides. Ashe opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, Declan shot to his feet. "That's not true!" he shouted, his voice crackling with anger. "You don't get to say that about her!"

Ashcroft's eyes flashed, his voice icy as he snapped, "Shut up, Hall! This is not your place!"

The courtroom descended into chaos. Capone, Caren, Ian, AJ, and Blair all descended into silent panic. People began shouting, lawyers barking at each other, and the murmurs grew louder.

"GUILTY!"

"GUILTY!"

"GUILTY!"

The judge raised his gavel, trying to restore order, but it was clear the tension in the room had erupted.

Ashcroft, seeing the opportunity to assert his dominance, turned back to Angie with a mocking smirk. "No wonder you're an inventor," he said, his voice laced with contempt. "You're so good at inventing, you can even invent testimonies. What's next, huh? Some higher-up is behind all this? A president shot Lady Vivienne?"

The gallery burst into laughter, a cruel chorus of ridicule. Declan clenched his fists, his face burning with frustration. Angie's face flushed a deep crimson, her gaze dark and angry, but Ashcroft didn't seem to notice. He was already looking toward Ashe, prepared to twist the knife further.

But something hit Declan like a brick to the chest. A small but unmistakable detail. Ashcroft had mentioned "chasing ghosts" when talking to AJ earlier. AJ was a self-proclaimed ghost hunter in the present. And then there was Angie, who had never mentioned her occupation, yet Ashcroft knew she was an inventor. Declan's gut churned, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

"Wait…" he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding. "Something's not right here."

He couldn't ignore the sudden realization. Ashcroft's knowledge of personal details that no one else could know, sprinkled in the trial through his ruthless mockery. How did he know AJ was a ghost hunter? How did he know Angie was an inventor? The connections were too strange to be a coincidence.

The laughter in the courtroom was deafening, drowning out Declan's thoughts. He looked over at Angie, whose face was flushed with humiliation, her jaw clenched tight with anger. She had fought so hard to tell the truth, only to have it twisted into something unrecognizable.

Ashe stood frozen, his mind blank with disappointment. He felt utterly useless in that moment, the words to defend her slipping through his fingers. He knew Angie was trying to connect the dots, trying to piece together the chaos that had unfolded in the warehouse, but no one seemed to believe her. The weight of that realization crushed him.

Zuni, who had been sitting silently, watching the scene unfold, suddenly stood up. She grabbed Angie's arm firmly, her expression hardening as she addressed the room.

"I've had enough of this. I am NOT letting you all belittle her any longer," Zuni said, her voice low and steady but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. She jabbed an accusing finger at Ashcroft's direction. "You want the truth? I'll give you the truth. The WHOLE truth." Her eyes locked onto Ashcroft's sneering face. "I don't give a fuck if I'm the primary suspect in Lady Vivienne's murder. If you want the truth, here it is. You've been snaking your way in this trial this whole time. And I'm done letting you twist it."

The room fell into stunned silence. Blair had a hand up on her mouth as AJ squinted his eyes shut. Capone and Caren widened their eyes as Ian had his mouth agape. No one had expected Zuni to speak out so fiercely, especially after everything that had been happening in the trial. Her words cut through the chaos, like a knife slashing through the tension that had built up in the room.

Zuni's stance was unwavering, and her voice rang with conviction. She wasn't going to let Ashcroft—or anyone—get away with this anymore.

The judge finally slammed his gavel down, shouting for order in the court. "Miss Flores, if you wish to speak, you must be sworn in first!"

But Zuni didn't wait for the judge's order. "You think this is all a game, don't you?" she continued, her gaze never leaving Ashcroft. "You want to play this like it's some kind of joke, but I'm telling you—there's no joke here. I'm not afraid of you, and I'm not afraid to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences are."

Angie's eyes widened, a flicker of gratitude crossing her features. She had felt helpless in her fight, but Zuni was standing with her now. Ashe and Declan exchanged looks of shock, still processing what Zuni had just said, but they didn't stop her. This was the break they needed.

Ashcroft's confident façade cracked, just slightly, his eyes narrowing as he met Zuni's defiant stare. He didn't have a retort ready, not in the face of someone so adamant about the truth.

Zuni's words had shifted the tide in the room, and for the first time, the gallery seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the truth to finally be spoken. The courtroom grew eerily silent as all eyes were on her as she took a steady breath, her hands clasped in front of her to hide their trembling.

"Your Honor," Zuni began, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of tension. "I'll recount exactly what happened at the gala as I danced with Lord Montclair."

Judge Hayes motioned for her to proceed, his expression one of careful neutrality.

Zuni took another breath and continued. "While we were dancing, everything seemed normal at first. But then... the lights went out. Everything went pitch black. In that moment, Lord Montclair let go of me, and I felt a rush of air like someone was moving quickly past me. When the lights came back on, Lord Montclair was back, acting as if nothing had happened and yelled at the inspectors. It was as if he'd never left."

The gallery erupted into whispers, the weight of her testimony sending ripples through the room.

Zuni raised her voice slightly, commanding their attention once more. "And that's not all. After Lady Vivienne's murder, when we were brought to Scotland Yard, I had an encounter with the Chancellor. It was... unsettling. He was suggestive, overly touchy, and made me extremely uncomfortable. He kept insinuating things about my involvement, almost as if he wanted me to confess to something I didn't do."

At this, the murmurs in the gallery grew louder. The tension was palpable.

Ashcroft suddenly chuckled, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "Oh, I see how this is going now. Now we're pinning this on Lord Montclair?!" He threw up his hands mockingly. "Are you going to accuse him of being a master assassin, plotting this from the shadows like some villain in a cheap novel?"

Zuni's fists clenched at her sides. "I'm telling the truth," she said firmly, her voice rising above the growing noise. "I'm not here to spin some ridiculous story, unlike what you're trying to do!"

Ashcroft sneered. "The truth? Oh, please. Do you even hear yourself? You're accusing one of the most respected figures in the country—without a shred of concrete evidence! What's next? You'll claim he's running a secret cabal!?"

Zuni shot back, her voice sharp and unyielding. "You don't know what I've been through! You weren't there when he looked at me like I was prey, when he tried to intimidate me into silence. This isn't just some story—I lived it!"

The courtroom erupted into chaos. The defense, prosecution, and Zuni all started talking over one another, voices raised in heated argument. Ashe and Declan tried to regain control of their side, but Ashcroft's jeering tone kept fanning the flames.

The judge slammed his gavel repeatedly, shouting, "ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT!" His voice barely rose above the commotion.

When the room finally quieted, Judge Hayes looked at Zuni with a grave expression. "Miss Flores, you understand the weight of what you're accusing here? Implicating someone of Lord Montclair's standing is a serious matter. If you cannot substantiate these claims with evidence, it could severely impact your case."

Zuni's gaze didn't waver. "I know the weight of what I'm saying, Your Honor," she replied, her voice calm but resolute. "But someone needs to say it. Because if I don't, who will?"

The judge studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. The court will take this testimony into account, but I warn you, Miss Flores—this is a dangerous path you're walking."

As the murmurs in the gallery subsided, Zuni stood tall, her determination unshaken. She glanced back briefly at Ashe and Declan, who gave her subtle nods of support. Whatever the consequences, she was prepared to face them head-on.

Judge Hayes cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "Prosecution, you may question the witness."

Ashcroft rose slowly, his expression a mix of condescension and cold calculation. He approached the stand with deliberate steps, his voice sharp as a blade. "Ms. Flores, your testimony is... colorful, to say the least. Let me start with this: Are you seriously asking this court to believe that Lord Montclair—a decorated and respected chancellor—acted inappropriately toward you and conveniently vanished during the crucial moments of the murder?"

Zuni stared him down. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Ashcroft smirked. "I see. And yet, you have no evidence to back up these claims. No witnesses. Nothing to corroborate your story. Isn't that right?"

Zuni narrowed her eyes. "I didn't have time to gather evidence when I was being falsely accused and detained by Scotland Yard."

Ashcroft chuckled derisively. "Convenient, isn't it? You, the primary suspect, now shifting blame onto someone else. Tell me, Ms. Flores, how exactly did you feel during this so-called encounter with Lord Montclair? Threatened? Intimidated? Or were you simply imagining it, hoping to redirect suspicion from yourself?"

Zuni's fists clenched on the stand. "I felt unsafe, if that's what you're fishing for. He cornered me, leaned too close, and spoke to me like I was some pawn in his game. I know what I felt, and I'm not imagining it."

Ashcroft leaned in closer, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Unsafe, you say? Fascinating choice of words. Could it be, Ms. Flores, that you felt unsafe because of the guilt weighing on your conscience? After all, it's quite a coincidence that you happened to be closest to Lady Vivienne when she was shot."

Zuni's voice rose, unwavering. "I didn't kill her!"

Ashcroft raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why did the lights go out while you danced with Lord Montclair? Why were you the one with proximity to both the victim and the murder weapon's suspected trajectory? Tell me, Ms. Flores—if you didn't do it, who did? Are you really pinning this on Lord Montclair?"

Zuni took a deep breath. "Yes, the lights went out while I danced with him. Yes, I was near Lady Vivienne. But I'm telling you, someone else orchestrated this! Someone who knew how to move undetected, and someone who—"

Ashcroft cut her off with a sharp laugh. "Enough! What you're suggesting is pure fantasy. Who are these mysterious orchestrators you keep alluding to? Do you even have a name?"

Zuni hesitated, knowing she couldn't reveal the entire truth without endangering others. Ashcroft seized the moment. "Exactly. You don't. What you have is a wild story and a desperate attempt to save yourself."

Ashe jumped to his feet. "Objection! The prosecution is badgering the witness!"

Judge Hayes nodded sternly. "Sustained. Mr. Ashcroft, control yourself."

Ashcroft raised his hands in mock surrender. "My apologies, Your Honor. Allow me to rephrase." He turned back to Zuni, his tone colder now. "Ms. Flores, do you expect this court to believe that a man of Lord Montclair's stature—someone who has dedicated his life to public service—would risk everything to orchestrate a murder?"

Zuni met his gaze, her voice steely. "Yes, I do. Because no one suspects someone like him, and that's exactly how he gets away with it."

The gallery erupted into whispers, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch. Ashcroft turned to the judge. "Your Honor, this line of testimony is preposterous. The defense is grasping at straws again to redirect blame without a shred of credible evidence!"

Judge Hayes banged his gavel. "Order! Ms. Flores, if you have anything further to substantiate your claims, now is the time to present it."

Zuni hesitated, her mind racing. Before she could respond, Declan suddenly stood up without thinking. "Uhhh Your Honor! The defense requests permission to submit evidence that ties the gala's events altogether!"

All eyes turned to Declan, who held up papers and a plastic bag of a single piece of evidence. Ashe's heart pounded in his chest as he whispered, "What are you doing?"

Declan wavered. "Well, if Zuni's testimony is to be doubted… then let's try and see if this evidence works."

Judge Hayes frowned but nodded. "Proceed, Mr. Hall."

Ashcroft's confident smirk faltered as Declan approached the bench. "Let's see if this is still fantasy when we lay it out piece by piece."

Declan's hands trembled as he approached the judge's bench, clutching the torn glove and the gala seating arrangement document. His voice wavered slightly as he spoke. "Your Honor, we have evidence—"

He placed the glove on the table and spread the document next to it. "This glove was found near the hall, and it's similar to the one worn by Lord Montclair that night. And this seating arrangement... the names crossed out—Lady Vivienne was one of them."

The gallery went silent as Ashe stood by, watching in nervous anticipation. It was their best shot, but the connection felt tenuous. Judge Hayes scanned the items, his face unreadable.

Ashcroft stood, sneering. "I fail to see how a torn glove and a piece of paper with some crossed-out names prove anything." He turned to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you—how do we know this glove isn't simply a piece of discarded trash? And these names? Mere coincidence."

Declan's heart sank as the prosecutor's words hung in the air. He couldn't find a way to argue back. Ashe stood silent beside him, equally at a loss.

Ashcroft mocked them further. "Is this really the best the defense can do? How utterly predictable." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "And yet, here we are, about to watch these pathetic attempts to fabricate something into a crime. What a disgrace."

The gallery erupted. A few voices shouted, "Guilty!" over and over, as the pressure mounted. Ashe's head was spinning. His mind raced back to the phone call—that call. He hadn't connected the dots until now, but the chilling threats made him second-guess everything. Ashe couldn't shake the feeling that Xerxes and Elisia might still be in even more danger too, even if Zuni, AJ, and Blair are being deemed guilty, to which he had no idea on how will he turn this around. Would they be next? Or worse, would they be used as leverage?

Judge Hayes turned his gaze toward the defense. "Do you have any further evidence, or are we to take these items at face value and close this case?"

Declan and Ashe exchanged a look—silent, desperate. But neither of them had an answer. The weight of it all pressed down on them.

"Your Honor," Ashe began, his voice weak, "we... we don't have anything else."

Declan nodded solemnly. The room felt like it was closing in on them. The pressure from Ashcroft, the accusing voices from the gallery—it was all too much.

Judge Hayes stood, the gavel in his hand. "Then, unless there is further evidence, the verdict is clear."

Zuni, AJ, and Blair sat in stunned silence, their fate hanging in the balance. Ashcroft beamed triumphantly, his victory almost certain. But just as the judge raised his gavel to announce the verdict, there was a loud bang as the courtroom doors swung open, startling everyone.

The entire room froze. Declan's heart skipped a beat, and Ashe's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the entire courtroom seemed to hold its breath, the weight of what was about to unfold hanging in the air.

And just like that, the trial had come to a screeching halt. A voice rang out from the doorway—forceful, commanding.

"STOP THE TRIAL!"

To be continued…

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A/N (from 12/20/24): Dare I say that this was the most difficult chapter to structure mainly because of the trial. XD I had like, an entire note pad filled with notes on how the entire case and trial would go and how to split it up. XD Though to be honest, I'm literally in Ashe's position, I have never witnessed a trial irl and I just based it off of the proceedings in Ace Attorney. TT Anyone who has a degree in law or is majoring in law or something, I apologize if there are any inconsistencies. XD Despite that, I was absolutely amazed with how this one came out! I wrote this a few months ago and rereading it before I uploaded it was a ride. XD

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The Cast of Nights at the Hazy Museum

Team Burgundy: AJ, Ashe, Blair, Declan, Naila, Zuni

Team Emerald: Angie, Carmine, Elisia, Humbert, Mike, Xerxes

Team Midnight: Capone, Claudia, Caren, Evan, Ian, Setsuna

Eliminated: Derek (20th), Ingrid (19th)

Basingstoke: Shreya, Callista, Derek, Ingrid

Museum: Sarika, Seema

Hospital: Shari, Eszter, Attila

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A/N (1/25/25): There is a chance that Episode 2.5 may be put on hold because I am planning to go on a quick hiatus. If ever 2.5 will be uploaded, I would say February 9th will be the earliest. Thanks for reading!

~Dawn