mushroom cap'd

He called in at two AM, and it was just about the worst two AM call one could make. Panicked shouting, poor reception, and news of a terrible accident– an accident that involved an old friend, to boot. But Larry Butz wasn’t exactly the most tactful person on the planet; he just knew he had to do something while the police trawled the ravine.

Well…certainly good to know that the detective would keep him informed of such a serious matter. However, that was not of importance right now. “I’m currently paying Wright a visit in the hospital. I can assume you’re working on the case he’s involved in, correct?” Edgeworth was well aware that he wasn’t supposed to leak any sort of info to either one of them, seeing as he wasn’t officially on the case, however the detective’s loose lips could actually be of some use to him for once.

“Oh! Gee, Mr. Edgeworth, you’re always two steps ahead!” he sounded relieved, probably due to the lack of threats against salary, “Yeah, I’m on the case. It’s a brutal one, sir, from what I can tell so far. Investigation officially starts in the morning.”

Phoenix frowned, “Is Maya okay? What about suspects? Please, detective, if there’s anything–”

“No word on her yet, pal, I’m sorry...” he sounded apologetic, “But that might be a good thing. No news is good news, ya know? Plus, we’re pretty sure we got our man! Er, woman, in this case. Seems crazy such a sweet lookin’ gal would commit such a horrible crime, but ya never know...”

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

It’s harder to regain himself when he’s still being treated like a person, ears that hear and a voice that responds with such genuine calm but dammed up emotion; the strength of a man who’d held himself back in rougher times than these, when lives were on the line.

A history he’d hardly heard of yet. His head falls despondently, rightful guilt sucking the words out of him for a while. People glance at the two,  avoiding to stay long or in that section of the restaurant.  Phoenix receives an eventual nod, pushing his knuckles against his lids to clear away another round of tears. “..  Okay. I-I can… do that.” It’d be another year before  legal emancipation, and yet, there was hope again.

Phoenix let out a breath, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Okay. Good, I’m glad.”

He took a moment to compose himself -and partake of his mostly untouched fries- then gave a loud yawn and a stretch.

“Alright. Let’s head back. I think we both need some shuteye, pronto. We can talk about where you wanna go from here in the morning, okay? Or whenever.”

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

Tiny movements of the crowd had been his specialty to spot out.  People that were displeased, or hiding something in the shadier places he’d performed. Tonight was supposed to be his most official premiere, to be broadcast across the city, and then to disappear miraculously. The last of the acclaimed Gramarye, snuffed out spectacularly.  He couldn’t use that here, even if he was trying his hardest to see the truth he believed was in Phoenix’s eyes. The painful reality he’d been scrapping together and thinking he’d pieced it all in his decision to make a break for it. His head begins to sink, feeling something  from his stomach in a sickly uprising, running his thumb against the edge of the table. The exhale from the young man is a shaking, betraying noise,the rest of his expression breaking from the blank disgust he’d been trying to use as a mask. “Stop it. stop-” There was no one to impress here. The genuine honesty pierced directly through his heart, wetness at his lids starting to gather rapidly before he started to viciously rub his eyes to clear them away, reddening after. “… You c-can’t help.  I just wanted to be gone. I would’ve made my own life, I-” The futility of that pursuit had already been known, and still he’d pushed it down. His food remains untouched, hands shoving onto his knees and gripping them tightly, dots of tears warming faintly on his skin as they fell before sliding down between his knuckles.

“Apollo...” Phoenix’s expression was pained, “Apollo, if... If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. There’s nothing you have to be, except healthy and safe.”

His own hands were laced now, tightly, as if they could hold his composure together.

“Y’know, you’re just about old enough to be emancipated. If you wanted to get your own place...” 

He called in at two AM, and it was just about the worst two AM call one could make. Panicked shouting, poor reception, and news of a terrible accident– an accident that involved an old friend, to boot. But Larry Butz wasn’t exactly the most tactful person on the planet; he just knew he had to do something while the police trawled the ravine.

“Gesundheit.” He’d mindlessly say as he quickly phoned the detective. “Whatever puts your mind at ease, Wright.” He initially had his phone up to his ear, but decided it’d be better for him to hear from Gumshoe himself. “Here, I’ll put him on speaker for you.” He added over the whirring sounds of an awaiting phone call.

The detective’s voice crackled through the speaker a moment later.

“Mr. Edgeworth, sir? Wow! What a surprise to get a call from ya! It must be really late over in Europe. Um, sorry, but... this isn’t the best time, actually; something kinda serious just went down and I’m on the case. I-I mean, if it’s an emergency, I’m all ears! But we kinda got a stiff on our hands, and Mr. Wright is, er–– er, I mean! Mr... Right is... w-who I gotta find! The culprit, I mean! No grievous injuries to old friends here, sir!”

Phoenix chuckled quietly.

“Hey Gumshoe. Thanks for the concern.”

There was a yelp from the other end of the phone.

The world was dull. Sounds were muted, images murky. He seemed to float up out of the nothing slowly, as if rising from a great depth. Yet once he broke the surface, nothing became any clearer. He was just in a gaping, reddish... nothing.

“...H-Hello?” he tried, tentatively.

Murdered. In a sense he was. If it wasn’t for Cabanela pressing him so much, for Jowd cornering him at the park and making him panic and if it wasn’t for the little girl to be on his way when he was running… None of this would have happened and he’d still be alive.

“In a way, yes. Not directly.” But he still felt like he was murdered by all those people. “It’s okay, though.”

Yomiel is still filled with resentment and deep-seated anger at those responsible for his death. His mood only changes when the other ghost speaks.

He smiles weakly as he sees the man offering his hand. It’s the first time Yomiel feels he’s not alone and that is already good enough.

“All right, seems fine to me.” He says, shaking the ghostly hand. “She… I found her in her old house, where she used to live with her dad, before he passed.”

He never thought of ever setting foot in the house again. The memory was still livid in his mind. Her body lying cold and lifeless in the living room…. The scene flashes in his mind for a second and makes him shudder.

Indistinct images of Yomiel’s past flicker through the world of the dead, not quite sharp enough to see, but active enough to hint. The spirit shivers. 

“Okay. I... I know it might be hard, but can you take me there?” 

The briefest flash of the spirit’s own memory fizzles through the air; a pair of hands turning over the soil of a potted plant, something metallic and pink glittering amidst the dirt.

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

Unaffected, she bows her head once more to start on  the paperwork on the man that files in next behind them with a police escort. More to be dealt with, put away, or released after an hour.  The machine of the government would churn on without more to put inside a cell. Trudging out this far on foot had put him in a bitter mood, if the sour look could get any thinner and harder to mask. Apollo’s mouth hangs for a moment, half open. It’s familiar fare and something he’d planned to gorge himself on until he could get a new name and face, if everything went right according to plan. The ground becomes intensely more interesting to look at than to meet his eyes while nodding,  stepping in behind him. When they’re sitting again,  the shorter in his plain clothes and hat tucked away, he even seems a bit smaller in the metal chair across from Phoenix. A murmur comes from him, inaudible; but even as he attempts to take a bite,  it drops an inch from his hand to repeat that same confused noise. “Why… Why are you just…  doing this? Why aren’t you mad?”

Food is purchased, a table is found. Phoenix pores over his cardboard cup of fries, deep in thought. When Apollo speaks, he glances up.

“Well, I’m not pleased,” he says, slowly, as if still processing the words as they come out of his mouth, “But this isn’t... your problem.”

He picks at the paper liner on the tray before him.

“...Where were you going, Apollo?” he asks, at length, his voice as even as he can keep it, “What were you doing that you felt you couldn’t... You know, I’m always here to help. That’s really– that’s really why I’m here, at all. The point is, I’m not...”

His eyes finally meet Apollo’s, and his hand twitches as if he wants to reach out across the table.

The world was dull. Sounds were muted, images murky. He seemed to float up out of the nothing slowly, as if rising from a great depth. Yet once he broke the surface, nothing became any clearer. He was just in a gaping, reddish... nothing.

“...H-Hello?” he tried, tentatively.

Yomiel is a bit surprised at the sudden ghost touch. It’s nothing like being alive again, but it’s still better than not feeling nothing at all. For the first time, his lips curves into something that resembles a smile.

“Unfinished business…” Yeah, that made sense. However, Yomiel’s train of thought goes in a darker direction.

Revenge. Against the ones responsible for my death.

The dark thought lingers in the Ghost World for a mere second before disappearing as Yomiel watches the spirit of the man take shape in front of him.

“Her? You mean Sissel?” He blurted out, a bit desperate. Could this man really help him find Sissel? “Well, huh… Thanks.” He sounded confused, but he was also glad that he wasn’t alone anymore. “I’ll try helping you out too, if I can.”

The spirit blinks in shock as the dark thought manifests.

“Y-you were– w-were murdered?” His grip on Yomiel’s shoulder tightens, “I’m... I’m so sorry.”

His voice aches, but he refocuses when Yomiel mentions his beloved. Sissel... Sissel... 

“That name doesn’t ring any bells... but I do think I know what we should do next.”

He withdraws his hand and offers it instead, giving a faint but reassuring smile.

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

Wholly jarring to hear a crack like that in Phoenix’s voice, the sulking bow of his head turns upward to see the bleary eyes of a man worn on worries, and lacking that burn of anger he’d expected to feel,scolding and distrusting when he’d been pulled in and his business made known. Apollo still appears bitter in his confusion, peering up at the man, slightly agape at his silence, though emotional and hardly held reserve compared to himself. Still surrounded by strangers, whatever might’ve fallen from his mouth is sealed up, standing only when prompted again by the authority in the room. Brief paperwork is exchanged, though a concerned look is given while the clerk’s thin gaze travels from the young man to the elder. “He ran far. We’ll have to schedule a wellness check within a week to stay compliant.  If this becomes a pattern,Mr. Wright, a judge could see him fit to stand and get a taste of Juvenile hall; it wakes them to reality,  you know. ”Her tone is consolatory, though Apollo is looking more fit to spit unseemly words the longer he’s made to face her.

“Of course,” Phoenix nods abruptly, before his eyebrows knit, slightly, at the woman’s last statement, “...I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Once the rigmarole is over with, Phoenix takes a moment to thank Gumshoe again for his help, then leads Apollo out into the darkened streets. For a time, he walks in silence, staring straight ahead. His face is as inscrutable as a cardsharp’s, belying whatever he was thinking.

Then, all the sudden, he turns into a McDonald’s parking lot and heads to the restaurant. He glances back at Apollo as he reaches the door, and his eyes are weary, but gentle.

He called in at two AM, and it was just about the worst two AM call one could make. Panicked shouting, poor reception, and news of a terrible accident– an accident that involved an old friend, to boot. But Larry Butz wasn’t exactly the most tactful person on the planet; he just knew he had to do something while the police trawled the ravine.

Miles froze at Wright’s words. He didn’t know what to say, he felt he hadn’t deserved such kind words.

The conversation shifted once more before Edgeworth could figure out how to respond. Thankfully, it was something easier for him to respond to. “Gumshoe? I haven’t spoken with him yet, however, I could easily contact him.” Edgeworth didn’t waste much time pulling his phone out from his coat pocket, as if to show Wright he could call him now if he wanted.

“You could? T-that might be really helpful– I...”

Phoenix tugged at the cinch of his borrowed hood again, “I’m just really w-w-–ACHOO! Worried...”

He shook his head, sniffling.

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

There’s only so many exits a Magician can take before the curtain call comes. Just as he was going to clear  the subway stairs, outside were four in blue, eyes vigilant and  peering at every passerby. Even though bragging much for his athletics and ability,  trying to clear the space between too many moving people  and the concrete walls, climbing out  using the fence surrounding the  subway exit to climb up was far out of his capabilities. He proved it to himself when  he was  struggling to pull himself up while a firmer hand took him by the wrist, the too smooth shoe sole skidding against the concrete, just seconds from falling onto one of the late night commuters. One heft, and the young man saw his plans shatter in front of his eyes, surrounded by confused faces as he was led away. The station wasn’t more than twenty minutes away. Under watchful eye, the magician was being processed for identity, eyes cast to the dirty linoleum floor.

It took about fifteen minutes for Gumshoe’s squad car to pull up outside the station. 

Phoenix hurried up the steps, but stopped just short of the door, hand outstretched. Questions clogged his cognitive processes, backed by an army of awful scenarios. 

“Y’okay pal?”

Gumshoe had trotted up next to him.

“...Yeah.”

With a jerk, Phoenix pushed open the door. Moments later, an officer lead him farther in, past the cork boards and the water cooler and the filing cabinets until

“Apollo–” the word came out like a hiccup, clipped and involuntary.

He was there; he was in one piece, one, very sulky piece, but one piece all the same. Phoenix froze again, shaking, before letting out a long, deep breath.

He called in at two AM, and it was just about the worst two AM call one could make. Panicked shouting, poor reception, and news of a terrible accident– an accident that involved an old friend, to boot. But Larry Butz wasn’t exactly the most tactful person on the planet; he just knew he had to do something while the police trawled the ravine.

Frostbite and hitting a tree on the way down?! That certainly did not sound fine. However, his state certainly seemed miraculous enough.

“Gesundheit.” If he fell into the river, it only made sense that he’d fall ill, he’d be lucky if this really was the extent of his injuries.

There was a pause between the two of them. Miles couldn’t say he was certain what to say next, comforting had never quite been something he felt he was particularly good at. So Wright had a bad feeling about this case? Edgeworth found himself oddly unsettled as well, though he wouldn’t know why. Perhaps seeing his dear friend for the first time in a year, and he was in this condition could be why. “Better?” At least he was able to provide some form of comfort, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“…Wright, I want to help.” He finally said after a few moments. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he knew he wanted to.

Phoenix reached for a tissue box nearby and blew his nose.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Things usually look up a bit when you show up. Always have.”

Since fourth grade, in fact.

Phoenix’s expression became thoughtful.

“I dunno if there’s anything you can do for me. You’re not exactly a doctor...” he gave a faint chuckle, “Agh... If I knew more about what was happening, maybe... oh! Hang on–”

Opening night. The people of the city were filing in, tickets passing from hand to hand while the shuffling behind the curtain continued. Apollo was dressed very smartly,  bright red cloak around his shoulders that had a decent shimmer.  New clothes were getting rarer on the list of things allowed, but a magician only needed so much to get himself performance ready.

A beeping he swiftly avoided by burying his face in his hoodie, digging around in his pockets to try and silence his phone while peering down at his last few texts.  Usually, someone his age wasn’t trusted with a personal cell-phone, but Apollo had wheedled a bit with Phoenix to promote safety and keep in touch whenever possible, though he had a tendency to mute his ringer whenever leaving the house for more than a few minutes. Apollo lingers after standing off to the side of the rush of people leaving the subway,  staring at the station times, the rattle of the solari boards among the crowds of bodies brushing past him. Until a hand settled on his shoulder. The strangers had begun with a question, tentative, but the opportunity was seized by his quick retort. “ Ah! I know you from the show! I should’ve known the audience would get curious where I went after I disappeared into the demon’s maw!”  Other spectators are drawn to his booming voice, exchanging the hood for his cape in a quick flourish. All attempts to interrupt are brushed off with an airy wave of his hand, the charming little smile he could use at any time..   “ All questions have to wait! Now, watch,  it’s as quick as a blink, as I -” Smoke explodes,  and in the magician’s place, one of the confused spectators, flexing his hand, as it’d been previously grabbed, now empty again. The hooded figure disappears into a bathroom.

“We got a sighting,” said Gumshoe, after a sudden babble through the radio, “Kid set off a smoke bomb in a subway station, pal. Units in the area are going to check in, and we’ve alerted everyone along the line he might show up at a stop.”

Phoenix swallowed thickly, “Oh, thank god. Gumshoe, I... I’m sorry this is all so–”

“Again, pal, save it. After all, I’m just doin’ my job.”

The detective puffed out his chest a little, smiling his crooked smile. Phoenix gave a faint chuckle and returned his eyes to the squad car window, his heart racing.

He called in at two AM, and it was just about the worst two AM call one could make. Panicked shouting, poor reception, and news of a terrible accident– an accident that involved an old friend, to boot. But Larry Butz wasn’t exactly the most tactful person on the planet; he just knew he had to do something while the police trawled the ravine.

“…As I said, I just got here, but he sounded so worried on the phone. I can check up on him later, however.”

Though thank goodness he was wrong. Maya was not the one who was killed. He couldn’t imagine what grief Wright would experience had she been harmed, though surely that must have meant Maya was on the other side of the bridge. It’d been a long time since he’d seen the layout of Dusky Bridge and Eagle River, however if he recalled correctly, there was only one way off that side of the river… “But what about you? Are you alright?” After all, he’d fallen from a bridge, he was lucky to be alive, but he hadn’t appeared injured.

Phoenix blinked.

“Me?”

He glanced down at himself, as if he’d only just realized he was bandaged and bedridden.

“I-I think it’s just bruising and a bit of frostbite. I-I think I might’ve hit a tree growing out of the cliff on the way down or something... broke my fall.”

At that moment, his sinuses decided to butt in, and he gave a loud sneeze, “Agh. Sorry. I think I mighta caught something, too... B-but otherwise, I...”

He pursed his lips, gazing into the distance. It took him a while to speak again.

“I have a really, really bad feeling about all this, Edgeworth. But... I’m glad... It’s good to see you. Feels... better, somehow."

Yes, but analog stick are hard to move. Since lack of thumbs, plus it’s hard be be precise with what buttons you want to push since there small and clumped together