samuraiprosecutor | [RL 58: Let's play a game; Edgeworth, Stanfield][Forward dated]

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[RL 58: Let's play a game; Edgeworth, Stanfield][Forward dated]

'Another day, another hard-earned dollar.' Not that the money really meant anything to him. Despite appearances, that had never been a prevailing factor behind his choice in career, even in his misspent youth. Moments like this, when his tireless efforts were rewarded with the sweet ache of overwork in his head and limbs and the ring of the judge's verdict still echoed in his ears—this was why he did what he did.

Though the soft leather seats of his Benz were a welcome bonus to be enjoyed at the end of a long day…as was the exquisite dinner he intended to have at Chez Panisse on his way home…

All right. He had to admit, the money did mean something to him.

Edgeworth smirked lightly to himself as his brisk stride finally brought him to his car. The headlights flashed a warm greeting as he approached, illuminating the immediate area in the dimly lit car park. He opened the door with a smooth but slow movement, hefted his briefcase into the passenger seat, and half-slid, half-fell into the driver's seat with a soft, weary sigh. He took a moment to settle himself, leaning his head back, closing his eyes, and allowing his tired body to sink into the bucket seat. The trial seemed to have taken more out of him than he had realized.

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It hadn't been very hard for Claire to find Edgeworth's workplace. He remembered what Edgeworth's apartment looked like, and after using one of the Akashic Points in Henry's world to travel there, he had simply followed the other man, snooped around and finally located the courthouse.

Though Claire often came off as a flighty person, when it came to death and revenge he was a very, very careful assassin. That was why he hadn't been caught before, and why it had taken a betrayal of this magnitude for him to be caught now.

He had climbed into Edgeworth's car and waited patiently for him to emerge. Now he continued to wait as Edgeworth entered the car and leaned back with a sigh.

The only warning of his movement was a soft whisper of cloth against leather as Claire sat up. A slender cord dropped over Edgeworth's head and pulled tight around his throat, not enough to kill or bruise, but definitely a very clear threat, and too tight for the other man to fit fingers between the cord and his airway or tender arteries.

"Hello, Mr. Edgeworth," Claire said. His voice was no longer the cheerful, almost childlike tone he normally used. He was serious. He was working, now, and his crimson eyes burned into Edgeworth's in the rear view mirror. "Please start driving. I'll tell you where to go."

He had no idea anything was coming until it was upon him. His eyes snapped open at the feel of something brushing his neck, and his hand moved to his throat to sweep it away. Then it tightened, much to his confusion, and tightened more until breathing suddenly became more of a challenge than usual, naturally prompting him to breathe harder, faster.

"Jesus!" he hissed, flinching as a seemingly disembodied voice rang out behind him in the supposedly empty back seat. He didn't recognize it at first, but when red eyes materialized in his rear view he finally knew who he was dealing with.

The knowledge made his blood run cold.

"Stanfield…" He didn't make any move toward the wheel yet. Even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could have managed it. "To what do I owe the…honor?"

Claire waited until he had Edgeworth's attention, then loosened up on the garrote just a tad, just enough that Edgeworth could breathe unobstructed, but his gloved hands were curled around the cord and ready to pull it taut at any moment.

"I told you to drive," he said, and gave a light tug for emphasis. "Or maybe I could cut off your head right here and leave it on the front of your car for the cops at the courthouse to find. Being killed by garroting is probably not very pleasant, don't you think, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"…I highly doubt being killed would be pleasant under any circumstances." He had to force the quip out on a tongue that suddenly felt too thick, and before the words finished leaving his mouth he was already reaching for the ignition slot on the dash.

Common sense and every public service announcement he'd ever heard on the subject were telling him that leaving the courthouse was the worst possible course of action he could take, but he could see no alternative. The car park was almost entirely empty at this hour. Even if he could do something to attract attention or stall long enough for security to make their next round, Stanfield would see them, and he'd have more than enough time to finish his task before anyone could reach Edgeworth. Making any move for his cell phone would undoubtedly have the same result. At least if they were driving somewhere he could be fairly certain he would live long enough to reach their destination.

"No, I imagine it wouldn't be," Claire said, his tone a little lighter. It was obvious that he was being sarcastic, something he rarely indulged in when he was being nice on the community. "But maybe you won't find out today. We'll see, huh?"

Despite his serious tone and expression, he was utterly relaxed, completely certain of his command of the situation. His eyes never darted nervously towards the courthouse, worried that security might catch them, though he did swing his eyes in that direction often enough that it was obvious he was fully aware of everything around him.

When Edgeworth managed to start the engine, Claire nodded. "Turn right when you leave the parking lot," he said. Left was towards Edgeworth's apartment.

For once, Edgeworth had no comeback to offer. His ire hadn't been raised yet. Stanfield had done nothing to prick his pride in any substantial way. All he had to feed on was fear, fueled by unwelcome mental flashes of the horrific video that had led them here. Stanfield's unflinching authority over the situation, too, was having an effect on his subconscious mind, paralyzing rational thought and narrowing his focus to a second-by-second field. They weren't equals any longer. In this moment, Edgeworth was a potential victim, and Stanfield owned the situation.

They made it to the lot's exit without seeing another occupied car, and with a shallow gulp, Edgeworth turned right onto the street.

Claire directed Edgeworth through the city, leaning close so that his face wouldn't be visible outside the car, though the windows were tinted, which hid his identity even further. He murmured instructions in a calm, even voice, just like before, and if Edgeworth made any strange moves, he tightened his grip on the garrote, just to remind him.

Finally he told Edgeworth to turn off the road and they drove between warehouses for a few minutes before Claire instructed the driver to stop, this time next to a building. Claire used a clicker to open the garage door, which slid upwards and then gaped, black and ominous.

"Take us inside, please, Mr. Edgeworth," Claire said quietly. He didn't want anyone to come by and wonder what such a nice car was doing here in this crappy part of town.

Edited 2011-03-21 03:31 (UTC)

Something inside him screamed at the thought of entering that great maw. A flash of desperation overtook him, weighing his foot down on the brake pedal. In the calmest tone he could muster, he asked, "What is this about, Stanfield?"

It was a hopelessly stupid gamble, he knew that without question. But if it meant a few more seconds under the night sky, it might be worth the consequences.

"You'll find out when we go inside," Claire said in that same calm, even tone. "And if you think that you're going to be able to wait, talking to me, for more than a few seconds and that that's going to save you from whatever I'm going to do to you, you're sort of stupid. Do you really think I'm this bad at my job?"

He smiled. Finally. "That's why you turned me in, after all, isn't it? Because you know how good at my job I am."

The smile didn't really make him look any more harmless.

There was obviously no point in keeping up the pretense any longer, so he didn't bother to try. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the man in his rear view. Heat crept up from their depths to swallow much of the fear that had shone there. This was the platform he needed, the foundation on which he might build up his walls once again.

"I turned you in because it had to be done and there was no one else willing or able to do it."

Claire's expression didn't change, but his eyes hardened and the garrote around Edgeworth's neck tightened. "Drive inside please, Mr. Edgeworth."

Without taking his eyes off of Stanfield, Edgeworth gritted his teeth and hit the gas, sending the car lurching forward with a brief burst of speed and squeal of tires. The effect the sudden movement might have on the other man's balance (and, consequently, the rope around his own neck) surprisingly never crossed his mind.

Claire managed to catch himself instead of falling back and strangling Edgeworth to death just in the nick of time, but the cord did tighten a little more before he pulled himself back forward again. He shook his head faintly and closed the garage door with the clicker.

"Stop," he instructed. "Please turn off the engine and give me the keys, then get out of the car."

Edgeworth realized his mistake just as the cord tightened again. Gagging, he hit the brake, this time with much more care, and wrenched the car into park.

The building was pitch black. For a few moments the headlights illuminated only the grey wall at the back of the warehouse, then Edgeworth cut the engine as instructed and that, too, was swallowed up by darkness. Hesitating, he steeled himself, tossed the keys carelessly on the back seat, and opened the car door.

As any sudden movements after that little display of defiance could very easily prove fatal, Edgeworth made sure to make his exit exceedingly calm and methodical.

Claire slipped the garrote away as Edgeworth cut the engine and the warehouse dropped to pure blackness. He closed his eyes, coiling the cord up and slipped it into a pocket, then slipped the keys in next to it. He had no fear of losing track of Edgeworth, and remained silent as the lawyer left the car.

He waited a minute or two, disabling the interior light of the car, then opened the door and slipped silently out into the darkness.

Eyes still closed so he could focus completely on hearing Edgeworth, he prowled to one side.

"Mr. Edgeworth," he said suddenly, using the echo inside the warehouse to disguise his location and continuing to move. "You and I both know that you turned me in. This world isn't my world, and I never hurt anyone on the community, or anyone in your world, but you interfered. You used your future technology to change my world, just like if you went to Wall Street and used your knowledge of the future to make yourself lots of money, and I don't think that's fair."

He paused. "But I like being fair, even if you don't. So we're going to play a game."

Edgeworth stood just outside the car door, frozen in place. Part of his mind attempted to catalogue his surroundings, but the space didn’t offer much information. It felt large and empty, dark, and unnaturally still. The air chilled his skin as he struggled to keep his breathing even and waited for whatever was to come next.

When the last vestige of light was suddenly snuffed out, he flinched and uselessly threw his gaze about the room, his ears pricked for the slightest sound. He felt more than heard the door opening, and retreated from it a few steps to wait again. This anticipation was maddening.

The voice that finally rang out from everywhere and nowhere caused him to jump embarrassingly. That was…ominous, to say the least, but if nothing else, it gave him something else to rail against.

“…I don’t think your comparison is fair,” he snapped. “This was not a grab at personal gains. It was a fulfillment of the responsibilities we all owe to our fellow men. If I had witnessed a crime committed in another country I’d be under the same obligation to report it. Why should that rule not hold for events on another world or another universe?”

"I don't think you want it to go like that," Claire said, continuing to move. His voice echoed around the entire room, seeming to come from all around at once. "You don't want to live by the rules and morals of other places, Mr. Edgeworth. You might think that you're perfect and no one can have a problem with what you do, but what about aliens? What about people who might believe they have the moral right to conquer worlds like yours? It's better that we not interfere, and if you don't interfere with me, I was never going to interfere with you. But you broke that trust."

"And now you need to be punished."

He let those words ring for a moment. "So do you want to know the rules of my game or should we just start playing?"

There was no room left for moral arguments. Even if there had been, he was far too distracted to come up with any. Discreetly, he took a few more steps, putting the hood of the car at his back, then asked wryly, “If I knew the rules, would it really make a difference in the outcome?”

"It might make you feel better," Claire said, almost cheerfully, but there was still danger in the words.

"I'll tell you, since you've stopped trying to justify yourself and it seems like you're listening." He paused. "Here's the game: if you can avoid me long enough to get out of this warehouse, then you're safe. But if I catch you, you won't like the results."

He smiled. "Go."

‘You’re mad!’ was Edgeworth’s first thought. There was only one way this ‘game’ could end, and his pride balked at the indignity of being forced to flee like a frightened, doomed mouse solely for this vicious cat’s pleasure.

But fear is a powerful motivator, at times powerful enough to overwhelm all others. He didn’t take the time to vocalize his protests before he bolted, spinning around the front of the car. The door they’d entered through would be the most obvious target, so he ran blindly in the other direction, aiming for the only spot of the warehouse he’d seen up to that point. He knew the way was clear and roughly how far he could run before he hit the wall. If he ran along it and was lucky enough both to pick the right direction and move fast enough to evade a man who undoubtedly knew every inch of the place, and if there was even another door to be found, and if said door wasn’t locked, he may just make it.

Some of Wright’s miraculous dumb luck would certainly come in handy right about now.

Claire remained where he was, in the exact centre of the room, listening to the terrified shuffle of feet. He waited for Edgeworth to reach the rear wall of the warehouse, which he would probably hit harder than he intended.

There was a heavy steel door in the rear wall, but it was locked from the outside. Edgeworth would likely find it and try to open it if he felt along the wall.

While he waited, he pulled a slingshot out of his pocket. Turning his head back and forth to try to pinpoint where Edgeworth was, he dropped a rock into his slingshot and pulled it back, aiming for a point close to Edgeworth and letting fly. The rock slammed into the metal wall with a ringing sound, right where Edgeworth had been a few moments before.

As predicted, Edgeworth misjudged the distance and managed to find the wall accidentally. His foot slammed into it, and his shoulder followed immediately after when he tried to turn away and couldn’t quite pull himself up. A curse echoed through the warehouse, but he was gone almost as soon as the ruckus could have pinpointed his location.

He crept along the wall as fast as he dared, trying to keep the sound of his shuffling feet and clothes and his ragged breathing to a minimum. He aimed for what he thought was the center, and was finally rewarded when he felt a break in the wall, a seam. A silent cry of gratitude rang through his head. If only—

The door wouldn’t open. His fingers tightened on the handle until he knew his knuckles must be white then he was gone again. No time to bemoan his fortune (or lack thereof), his only chance to keep moving…

A sound like a bullet’s ricochet rang out right behind him. He ducked, his shoes scuffing loudly on the dirty floor, and froze in a half crouch, completely at a loss. ‘Goddamn him…’

Claire grinned as he listened to the echoes die away. He was pretty sure Edgeworth was still near the door, but he wasn't completely certain. Would he run a different direction in panic, or pull futilely at the door, jingling the chains that secured it on the outside?

He lined up another rock and let fly, hitting the wall again on Edgeworth's other side.

In the end, Edgeworth did neither. The impact made him flinch again, but this time he held fast, determined to rein himself in. Blind panic would only help his foe. The garage door seemed to be his only hope; now all of his attention had to be focused on reaching it if he was to have any chance.

Even that was a very big ‘if.’

He considered the locations that had been hit by projectiles. As far as he could make out, they were close and on either side of him. Stanfield must know approximately where he was, but where he was going he could only guess at unless Edgeworth gave himself away. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted one foot and slipped off his shoe, giving a silent prayer of thanks to a God he didn’t believe in that he had decided on loafers this morning. He repeated the process with the other shoe then bent over to set the pair down on the floor, at arm’s length from him.

Unfortunately, the gesture failed to instill him with much confidence, but there was nothing else he could think to do to make this trek any easier. Moving silently, he began to cross the warehouse almost inch by inch, carefully feeling his way with stockinged feet.

Claire lowered the slingshot and listened hard as the echoes died down again. He didn't hear much now, a purr of fabric rubbing here, an indrawn breath there. Edgeworth was trying to sneak past him.

He really was a strong person, to be able to be so calm in the face of the game Claire had set up. Claire would have had a lot of respect for him if he weren't a dirty, self-righteous rat.

Moving even more silently than Edgeworth, Claire darted to the garage door at the front and settled down beside it to sit and wait. When Edgeworth reached the door, he would have to stop and open it. That would require finding the handle and pulling it up to slip underneath. With Claire only inches from him, he likely wouldn't even realize he was already there until Claire decided to strike,and then he'd get a real surprise.

He amused himself slinging rocks randomly around the room, as if he didn't know exactly where Edgeworth was.

That random pattern of hits could mean a few things. Either Stanfield was searching for him, hoping to get lucky or drive Edgeworth to reveal himself…or he knew where Edgeworth was going and was simply toying with him. There was nothing he could do about the latter, so Edgeworth continued his stalwart path across the warehouse, following a winding course roughly down the middle. Any time he made a detectable sound he changed course, but he knew it wouldn’t be difficult for his tormentor to guess where he was going. Once he reached the door, it would be a race to find the box or lever to open it before Stanfield could pounce.

A fresh wave of fear washed over him, halting his movement for a moment as he struggled to push it down. The odds against him were astronomical, but surrender had never been an option for him. He pressed on, and after an eternity his fingers finally came to rest on something solid.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he began to feel along the wall, keeping his ears trained on the overwhelming silence. His nerves sang with tension—surely if Stanfield was nearby he’d be able to hear him breathe or feel his presence somehow, wouldn't he?—then he found the corrugated door and began to run his hands all along the side of it in a mad dash to find whatever mechanism would open it.

Claire heard the man coming - did he think he was being sneaky?

His repressed snort of laughter was likely all Edgeworth heard before the assassin arched upwards, pushing himself up from a seated position in an acrobatic lift that would have taken strength impossible for a normal man - and lashing out with his feet towards Edgeworth's head. That ought to knock him off of his feet at the very least, and then Claire would pin him and deliver his final surprise.

He had probably been toying with Edgeworth long enough.

The location of that snort left Edgeworth with a woefully inaccurate picture of how much time he had to get away. Something connected hard with his head when he had barely begun to twist aside. He felt his teeth clack together and his head swam and suddenly he was on his back, staring wide-eyed into the darkness and struggling desperately to fill his lungs.

It was only a moment before he started to move again, trying to right himself and scurry away, but he knew with sick dread that a moment could be all Stanfield needed.

A moment was indeed all he needed. Claire finished his leap and landed right on Edgeworth's chest, legs parted to straddle him so only part of his weight compressed the lawyer's chest. A knife came out with a very loud snick sound, and Claire pressed it to Edgeworth's throat.

"Gotcha," he said, leaning in close to Edgeworth's face.

What breath he'd regained was knocked out of him, and again the speed of the maneuver left him disoriented. But it didn't last long this time, as that unmistakable sound, followed by the feel of hard metal against his throat, brought him an awful clarity. In this position, struggling would be not only pointless but dangerous. He was the one thing he absolutely could not stand to be: helpless.

"…Congratulations," he muttered and was surprised to hear that his voice was still relatively clear. "And what prize have you won?"

"Well what do you think?" Claire asked cheerfully. "Have you realized yet how stupid it is to be my enemy?"

The cheerfulness in his voice grated on Edgeworth's already fraying nerves. He clenched his jaw and frowned up into the darkness above him where he could feel the other man hovering.

"Despite the impression you seem to have of me, I'm not stupid, Stanfield. I knew what the consequences might be before I did it."

"You didn't think you'd get caught," Claire said, tapping Edgeworth lightly on the cheek with his free hand. The knife was as steady as a rock. "But you have been. Can you deny that there's nothing I can't do to you if I really wanted to?"

Edgeworth dearly wished he could turn away from Stanfield's casual touch.

"If you're looking for me to repent, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed," he growled.

"Just answer my question," Claire returned. "Do you know now that I could do anything I wanted to you, really. If I chose."

"…You've made that abundantly clear." Edgeworth's voice was strained, as though the answer was being dragged out of him. The blow to his pride was difficult enough to suffer without the man forcing him to acknowledge it. "The only thing I question is what you think you'll gain from this."

Claire smiled with satisfaction. "See," he said as if Edgeworth hadn't spoken. "If I were really as bad as you thought I was, I'd slit your throat right now. There'd be nothing stopping me from doing it, and I'd enjoy it as much as it's possible to enjoy something so pathetically easy to do."

He lifted the knife away from Edgeworth's throat and began flipping it end over end, catching it easily with a soft slapping sound right over Edgeworth's face.

"What I've gained from this is this - you now know that I can get you. Anywhere. Anytime. If you really make me upset, maybe I'll do this again. Maybe something worse. Maybe I'll decide that someone like you needs to die after all, even though you are a pretty good person who doesn't usually qualify under my criteria." He caught the knife and dropped it down so the point pressed directly between Edgeworth's eyes. "Do you catch my drift?"

He couldn't quite believe that he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. This was the speech of a man who was making a point to be remembered, not gloating before the kill, but some part of him still couldn't process the possibility that this madman could have gone to such lengths only to…to teach him a lesson? There had been no doubts in his mind about how this was likely to end, and until this was over and done with he didn't want to allow himself to think he might make it out of this alive…if not entirely unscathed.

That knife flying dangerously above his head and suddenly coming to rest pressed against the bridge of his nose certainly helped to quench some of that hope that was threatening to spread through his chest.

His shallow breathing echoed in the narrow space between them. Eventually he found his voice again. "I do." A tight smirk crossed his lips, hidden from view. "And if that ever comes to pass, I suppose I'll at least be able to take comfort in knowing that you are as bad as I thought you were."

"Oh I doubt that," Claire said lightly. As far as he was concerned, it wouldn't mean he was bad - since it's not like he'd have changed. It would just mean that Edgeworth had done something bad enough to qualify.

The knife vanished and he got to his feet, graceful as a cat, long-limbed and strong and perfectly balanced. "Oh yeah," he said suddenly, as if remembering something he'd almost forgotten to say. "Even though you were a jerk and now I can't go home to my family, I do want to thank you for one thing." Though it was too dark to see, his eager, satisfied smile was obvious in his voice. "I can worldhop all by myself now."

And with that, the Akashic Point he'd used from Henry's world was activated. A swirling portal opened, knowing somehow that he was now ready to leave, and he slipped away, gone in a moment back to his new home.

Edited 2011-03-23 03:45 (UTC)

Edgeworth misinterpreted that doubt, and though he’d never admit to it, to some degree he had to agree. This encounter only confirmed the depravity he already knew the man possessed, but that knowledge would be pitiful comfort if Stanfield ever made good on his threats.

The light prick of the blade suddenly left his forehead. Edgeworth stayed still, not daring to move or even (somewhat miraculously) to argue. Stanfield didn’t give him the chance to point out how very little he cared that he was now cut off from his family. In what was perhaps the most terrifying part of the whole ordeal, he drove his point home with a perfectly timed demonstration of how inarguably fucked Edgeworth would be if he ever crossed Stanfield’s path again.

…Not that he ever intended to let that stop him from doing anything that had to be done. But it was a cruelly effective and sobering moment which left Edgeworth staring in mute shock, eyes wide and features craggy in the dim light cast by the portal. When the darkness closed in again he fell back and covered his face with his hands, breathed shuddering, uneven breaths as he took stock of himself.

The ache of fatigue had been replaced with myriad other pains. His ankle and shoulder felt bruised. His throat was tender from both cord and blade. His chest was sore, his entire back ached from the fall, his jaw was on fire, and above it all his head pounded a staccato beat in time with the frenzied pace of his heart. He still had to find his way out of the warehouse and make his way home. (He spit out a bitter curse as he realized Stanfield probably still had his keys.) Groaning, he struggled to roll over onto his hands and knees.

Despite all of that, he was alive. Considering it seemed only minutes before that this wouldn’t be the case, a little physical discomfort would be relatively easy to endure. (And that was surely all he’d be left with, the physical effects: the bruises, the aches, at the worst scars that might even fade in due time.) As an added bonus, he’d done what was right and helped to save a world from that monster.

…He only hoped he hadn’t inadvertently doomed any others in the process.

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[RL 58: Let's play a game; Edgeworth, Stanfield][Forward dated]

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