April 8, Saturday
Wright & Co. Law Offices
12:37 p.m.


Phoenix clicked his tongue in an impatient manner, slumping on the sofa while watching the door with concentration. Two hours had already passed and still, no sign of his newest employee. He sighed, breathing slowly out his nostrils and closing his eyes in an attempt on relaxation. 'I can't blame him if he's late...' Phoenix lazily decided. He rubbed his temples hard, blinking as he thought over his dilemma. 'Today is Saturday; no one in their right mind wants to work on a weekend.' He was saying that on the behalf of the working class man. But the thought struck him as funny, because he knew too many people who devoted their weekends to work. After all, crime never stops and neither does the justice system. The men in blue, as well as lawyers, never rested, no matter what sort of day it was. It was their job to keep people safe, at home and on the streets. And that required 24-hour dedication.
But still, one could hope for it.
‘Boy,’ Phoenix chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. ‘What would I give to see that happen?’

Regardless, he had really expected his collogue to be here already; the enthusiastic man had eagerly told him he'd be on time. Apparently, he needed this job badly due to money shortage and he didn't want to lose it so easily. Such zest like that interested Phoenix into hiring him the following day. But here he was, on the first day his assistant was supposed to show, without the 'assistant' at all. Phoenix wondered if the other had simply gotten sick and couldn't come in today, but before he could even believe that to be true, the phone rang.  “Maya, get the phone!” Phoenix yelled to his other assistant, still on the lookout for the missing employee. When there was no answer, he glanced up, and called out in a stronger but more irritated voice. “Maya, get the phone!!!” But still the reply didn’t come.

Phoenix huffed as he got up from his sofa and walked up to the wailing machine, grumbling about Maya’s unique laziness that was much more inconvenient than his own. Wherever the nineteen year old girl had gone was far beyond hearing range of Phoenix. And he didn’t plan on ruining his voice just to call for her. So now he’d have to get it himself. ‘Bummer.’
It was not all that unusual though, for Maya not to respond to a call.’ She must be re-watching Steel Samurai somewhere,’ he sighed, plucking the phone from its holster and bringing it to his ear. He made a metal note to scold her for that. But before he could even recite his company’s [lame, as he put it, because Maya didn’t have an inner rhyming scheme] motto, a shrill cry came over the crackling line, preferably from a man who had the shit scared out of him.

“MR. WRIGHT!!!!!”


“AHHHHH!!!!” Phoenix yelped in reply, nearly falling backwards to the magnitude of the voice. He had not expected for such a greeting, if his gasping was any indication. Normally, a client would shyly or calmly ask for him or just inquire if it was him before going on to some horrible story about their accusation of murder and whatnot. So he had to momentarily brace himself from the shock by clutching the end of the desk. He replied wearily with wide eyes, “W-who is this!?”
“Who the hell do you think it is!?!?” came the agitated reply, the voice seeming to try and take much needed breathes of air. They coughed hard when they had snapped out the reply, which was then replaced with haggard breaths that seemed worry-filled and anxious. When it looked as if they had gotten an adequate amount of air, they continued in an exasperated intonation, “It’s me sir! It’s Slade!!!!!”
“Slade!?” Phoenix asked, distressed that the one he’d been waiting for was calling him, on what looked to be an urgent matter no less. A million thoughts raced through his mind, all centered on the other and his well being, but he forced to calm himself down before he interrogated, lest he wanted to alert the other even more. “Slade,” he composedly acted, trying not to seem over anxious or worried about the situation. He heard the other still trying to catch his breath and slow his breathing while he continued. He then slowly asked, “Slade, what happened?”
“I-I-!” was the worried reply, still seeming to try and fix himself in this situation. He was trying to form words but was failing miserably at accomplishing them. His tongue was tied with whatever happened, so Phoenix waited patiently before moving back to his questioning. Just to give the poor man a break.

Phoenix had to give it to him; Slade was pretty overactive to things. A tiny slip-up or mistake on his part usually resulted in many apologies from the said man. But it didn’t mean that he was a klutz or anything; no, it’s just that he sometimes took things too seriously. Or took them the wrong way. Either way, it looked to end in many unpleasant ways. That’s why he had to be careful when he was conversing with him. The wrong gesture might set him off or lead him to think to do something that might be completely unnecessary, so precaution was the key.
   When it sounded like the other was finally calm enough to speak clearly, Phoenix repeated his question again. “Slade, tell me what happened.” He demanded, not so strictly but enough to convey the message ‘I want to help’. The line went silent, save for what sounded like someone trying to choke down a sob or cough, before he gave his answer.

“I-I don’t know…” was the slow and distant reply.

“You don’t know?” Phoenix paraphrased, unsure now how to answer to such a vague comment. He could simply ask where Slade was and go to the scene himself or he could try and pick the pieces from this conversation. The latter seemed like the better choice, but yet again he was interrupted, this time from a request that had an all too familiar urgency to it.

“Mr. Wright, can you please call an ambulance?”

“WHA?!?!” Now it was his turn to be surprised, jaw hanging open in the most unmannered way possible. What could’ve happened to require medical assistance!? The anxiety was becoming too overbearing, as horrible thoughts filled his mind. Dear god, what was going on!?  Phoenix nearly yelled out ‘what the hell do you mean Slade!?’, his calm façade dissipating quickly with each passing second, however, his concern was blocked. Slade sounded so distant, so worried, that his words were barely audible. It definitely sounded like he was holding back fear, for his voice quivered like a vase during an earthquake. “He’s unconscious…” he began, voice so hallow of feeling.  “..And he’s bleeding slightly. My cell phone is already dead, and…I-I don’t know what to do! Please Mr. Wright! I’m…I’m not sure if he’s okay...”

Phoenix, thankfully, didn’t have to be asked twice.

--   

Something wasn’t right.


‘What in the…?’


There was pressure all around him.


‘Who….?’


He couldn’t move and couldn’t talk.


‘How….?’


He could only see the darkness enshrouding him.

--
April 8, Saturday
Hotti Clinic
1:05 p.m.


The nurse sighed, gritting her teeth together. “I told you,” she began again, narrowing her eyes at the person before her, “The doctor has issued an order that NO ONE enters and visits the patient. He’s alright, but he needs rest.”
She glared at him when he wouldn’t budge.

“I told you, that’s what he said!”

Still, the man was unresponsive.

“Do I have to call security on you?” she asked angrily, thoroughly annoyed at this man. She swore she’d do it if he wouldn’t move it. But he still wasn’t compliant. Instead he decided to relay his own retort.

“Call security and I’ll call a subpoena on you.”

“Oh, ‘hardy har’!” she snarled, not holding out her anger towards him. If looks could kill, her eyes could’ve given him death ten-fold. “What are you, a freaking lawyer!?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Get real.”
“No madam, I really am.”
“Really??” she snapped, eyes glowing with pure hate. “Then let’s see it!”
“See what?” was the stoic reply.
“Don’t play dumb! Let’s see your badge!!”

“My badge??” he asked, almost looking innocent to her questions. He acted like he was genuinely surprised that she wanted identification of authority. He patted down his built frame frantically, as if he needed to find it or else, digging through his pockets in a mock search before landing his hand over a small gold button on his vest. “Oh, here it is!” he said with enough fake enthusiasm to make a con artist barf. His eyes almost seemed to shimmer before they went dark and silted snake-like. “It’s been on my fucking chest this entire time, if you haven’t noticed. Now let me in!!!”

But before there was time to begin an all-out catfight in the receptionist area between the non-compliant visitor and the furious nurse, the person (who may as well have started it first) was plucked away quickly by two strong arms, who ushered him to the farthest reach of the murderous front desk nurse. The nurse gave a loud snarl of her own as the person she was nearly close to killing was already gone.
It was probably a close call for everyone there.
The man, however, didn’t seem quite happy with that fact as he wiggled and squirmed in pointless attempts to be free. He glared up at the taller male who had dragged him away from a potential fight, as if he was trying to drill holes into the other with his eyes. He instantly demanded, “Why’d you do that?!”

The other man, a tall man around his late twenties, ran a hand through his seemingly unkempt auburn hair, eyes nor face holding any sort of indication to emotion other than a perfectly raised eyebrow. His brown eyes locked themselves onto the others’ striking blues, as if they engaged themselves in a silent conversation. Perhaps it was about how childish the other man was acting, for he sighed in agitation. He focused his eyes on the ceiling instantly afterward, bluntly replying, “This is a public area, Slade, not a boxing ring.”
“So??” Slade asked haughtily, turning his gaze away from the man and pretending to examine a rather ugly painting to his left. “Bitch could fight me all she wants; she’s just going to lose.”
“Uh-huh.” The other half-heartily agreed, leaning back against the wall and taking up the habit onto examining useless objects scattered untidily in the drab waiting area. “That’s what I mean by ‘public area’ Slade. You’re not supposed to get into fights, much less slaughter the people of modern society and give innocent patients heart attacks.”

The rejoinder that Slade gave seemed all too interested in an underlining hint.

“So you are, in fact, saying that I can beat up that wannabe Madonna over there?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“But I can?”

“Slade, as much as I am your friend and have witnessed your fighting capabilities, I have to say that picking a fight with a nurse is just as fruitless as picking a fight with a rabid wolverine.”

“And how so?”

“She’s armed with syringes.”

“And? I’m supposed to be scared of that?”

“Well, unless you wish to be sedated and then be slashed to death via scalpel, I’d recommend not pursuing the matter.”

“Oh.” Slade slumped back, hands in his pockets as he went over the situation in his mind. His high I.Q may have been able to verify the conclusions as his eye went a little wide in the aftermath. “Oh wow.” He stated, somewhat shocked to have seen the setbacks. He shivered physically to the mere thought now. “I never thought of it that way.”
“I’d guessed as much.”
“Where did you hear such a method?” Slade grilled, eyebrow quirked in a perplexed fashion, but earnest curiosity certainly underneath.  His eye gleamed with vague inquisitiveness, continuing, “I never thought you were into the morbid ways of dealing murder, Kratos.”

Kratos Aurion, Ace Attorney at Law and a best friend to the stubborn mule known as Slade, shrugged, eyes closing and opening in disinterest. He casted them away from his collogue, muttering, “I’m not.” He straightened up, stating clearly, “It was just something that came up during one of my cases that Mr. Wright helped me with.”
“One of your cases, huh?” Slade repeated, hands in his pockets, head tilted downward in thought. Suddenly he perked up, head turning side to side in a confused manner. When it seemed his search ended in nothing, he looked up at Kratos with a truly puzzled visage. He asked immediately, “Speaking of which, where’s Mr. Wright??”

“Mr. Wright?” Kratos replied, he ,too, interested to where the said lawyer was. He didn’t look too worried from a first glace, but Slade knew his face was the equivalent to a wide eyed grimace. Slade nodded, still looking around for him. “He said he’d meet us here, I’m sure he did.” he insisted, walking away from his spot on the wall. He looked back at Kratos, raising a hand up to his chin, much like Mr. Wright himself did when thinking something over. “Do you think he went o the wrong hospital??”
Kratos sighed at the native-ness his college displayed.
“Yeah, I’m sure there are plenty of other hospitals that are called the ‘Hotti Clinic’.” he sarcastically countered, grabbing onto Slade’s shirt collar and pulling backwards. He didn’t bother to ask him to wait outside, as the native-ness of his friend would prove it to be too pointless. So he instead focused on moving him outside the clinic himself. He glanced over to his friend who squirmed with the discomfort of being handled this way, eyes half lidded. He retorted, “Mr. Wright has been here too many times to forget it. Besides, didn’t he call the ambulance??” He was saying that on what he knew, as he was only there because Slade had screamed at him to hand over his cell phone, which had ran out of minutes as soon as Slade had delivered his urgent message. He merely followed to make sure his friend didn’t collapse from hyperventilation.
“True…” Slade replied in a defeated tone, eye casted to the side in embarrassment. He raised his eyebrow again when he locked his eyes back with Kratos, re-stating, “However, I still don’t think it’s normal for him to be late.”

Before Kratos could retort, saying that it was all too ‘normal’ for Mr. Wright to be late (as earlier encounters with the man would prove), something caught his ear, making him snap his head up in honest surprise. Both of his eyebrows were raised in mild confusion, eyes looking in the direction the sound came from. The sound itself had been loud, but was comprehensible, as someone ungracefully yelled:

“MAYA, FOR GOD’S SAKE, WILL YOU HURRY UP!?!?!?”

“Speak of devil,” Kratos expressed, eyebrows lifted in slight amusement. He let go of Slade’s collar long enough for the man to compose himself in at least a dignified position other than lying on the floor. They both watched the two who headed (rather fast) towards the small clinic, the wait finally over.

--

Phoenix gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the marathon he just ran, panting and wheezing for all it was worth. Maya, on the other hand, sipped happily at the juice can Kratos had bought for her, eyes closed in silent delight. Meanwhile the two men observed them both from a few feet back, surely puzzled yet glad they weren’t alone.

Maya took one last gulp from her delicious treat before graciously wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Unlike her boss, she wasn’t out of shape (to which Phoenix would protest that he was in shape as well), so the running she had just done wasn’t as bad. Merely, she was thirsty and had asked for something to drink upon their arrival. However, she had been oddly quite while Phoenix agonizingly tried to catch his breath. Now she looked up at the two, a smirk playing on her lips, eyes dancing with glee.

“You should’ve seen him.” She chuckled, eyebrows raised in a playful manner.

“Seen him do what? Run?” Kratos curtly replied, handing Phoenix the damp paper towel that he had asked (through gasps and wheezes) for. Apparently, there was something funny about the way they got here, though Kratos was bemused as to why. Maya nodded cheerfully, while stifling snorts of laughter at her boss. When Slade gave her the ‘Look’ though, arms crossing each other, a smirk and carefully placed eyebrow, she broke, laughing hard and snorting like no tomorrow.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” she giggled, holding her ribcage and kicking her feet wildly. “He ran at least four red lights, jumped over two cars, and nearly got hit with a bicycle on his way over here!!!” She laughed even harder, face turning a slight red as her laughing continued. “He must’ve broken at least twelve traffic laws!!” Slade looked genuinely surprised. He turned to his boss, head cocked to the side.
“Is this true??”
The muffled ‘Danm you Maya’ nearly went unnoticed in the noisy area. But at least it got a snicker or two from the small group of theirs.

“It’s not that funny,” Phoenix dejectedly argued to the group, fully recovered from his earlier action but frowning in disappointment. He held his head in his palm, leaning forward in boredom while he glanced about the area. Suddenly, a thought struck him as his azure blue eyes widened in realization. He looked up, arms resting on his thighs, as he asked, “That reminds me…where’s the boy?”
Kratos and Slade both perked up to the mentioning of the kid, Slade looking more depressed at the reminder than the other. Phoenix caught sight of it; he cocked his head in a quizzical fashion, but never got the chance to speak as Kratos eyed him, warning him to be precautious.  Phoenix had stopped to deliberate the matter, chewing subconsciously in thought before trending in the sensitive matter. He talked slowly: “Is…he okay..?”

“Define ‘okay’,” Slade replied, locking his upset glare onto something more innocent other than his companions. That statement in itself had been a particularly hard hit on the two arrivals. Never had they seen that sort of emotion come out of their friend, nor did they know what to do. They had simply been stumped by a curious action and phrase, both which now rang restlessly in the mind’s eye.
Maya, who had finally stopped laughing, withdrew from her gleeful state to replace it with a frown, but otherwise a concerned disposition. Her eyes danced frantically between both Phoenix and Kratos, almost pleading ‘What is going on here’? Phoenix himself was already perplexed by Slade’s reaction, his curiosity nagging wildly at him for an answer. Kratos looked as if he heard their questions, for he gave a tired sigh. His eyes closed pensively, eyebrows knotted in a debate, before he gave any word to the puzzled pair. Collected and calm, he answered, “We never got to see him.”
“Say what now?” Phoenix asked, now surprised with this new information. He was attentive to both of the men in front of him, eager to know what was going on. The same could be said for Maya, who leaned in as well. The silence was unbearable, as concerns and thoughts were racing at the highest speeds. Yet it was maybe the lack of knowing that worried them more.
Slade sighed, probably giving up on being silent. He threw up his hands in a dramatic defeat. “The receptionist said that we couldn’t go in.”
“And why not!?” Maya asked defiantly, an offended visage crossing her features. Her reaction was all too the same to what had just happened awhile before between the nurse and Slade. “Why can’t we!? What makes her so important that we can see him!?”
“Bed rest.” Kratos interjected quickly, giving Maya a slight bonk on the head as a reminder of ‘indoor voice’. He was taking precaution lest what he was trying to prevent before suddenly happened again, this time, without the promise of anything being completely unharmed. “The doctor said he needs rest, so we’re not going to be able to see him for a while, at least until he awakes.” He crossed his arms, eyes half lidded and lips curved down in a frown. “Happy?”

“Not really.” She shot back sourly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kratos continued, completely ignoring Maya’s retort, “If we can or can’t see him at the moment. Right now, it’s best that we let him rest and probably try and come up with a way to confront him when he wakes up.” He glanced around at all of them. “How about it?”
“Agreed.” They all replied, the answer very true to each person. They would have to wait. In the meantime, they had to prepare.

--

It was hard to open his eyes. They didn’t seem to respond like he wanted them to, remaining heavy and shut. And that invited the darkness to his vision, black in its entirety, unforgiving in its coldness.

However, Robin was all too familiar with the dark. The blackness was more of an old friend rather than a daunting perpetual fear man keeps close to his heart. His life, his existence had always co-existed alongside the night. It was a part of him, if it had to be more defined.

Even so, he demanded to see the light he longed for, the rays of sun he desired much. He didn’t want to stay long; even if the dark was his ally, it did not mean he didn’t hold some fear for it. Slowly, his eyes would obey to his insistent fighting, opening him up to the world. Which started in a white room, perhaps darker than what he had seen behind his eyelids. He made a move to get up, but he felt a force keeping him down.

His eyes flashed around the room in vague horror.


There were machines everywhere and wires stuck to his body.


But it was the straps that held him down that scared him most of all.


A bitter memory flashed before him, something he had tried to forget.


Grunts, flashes of light and a copper mask. All of it came back




And all he did, was scream.