Requiem 09: Further Enlightenment
"Working in a movie?" Tom blinks, she didn't look like the type to be an actress... A bit too tomboyish, maybe, "Uhm, well, what about
Teddy? Or Yosuke?"
"Teddy..." Misato scratches the back of her head, wincing again. "Hmmmm...No...I don't know where he is, either...and Yosuke..." She
trails off. "...hang on. Why...?"
It seems her drunkenness is slowl
y working itself off.
"Did they do somethin' wrong?"
"No, no. Nothing like that," Tom's eyes trail away from the page before realizing that they accidentally worked their way into her cleavage. He
returned to the book, "I just need to ask them questions in regards to the incident at the school- and regarding Minato.
"Minato..."
Isako (Miss Toriumi) looks away at that, a bit of a flush on her face as his name is mentioned.
Misato frowns. "...oh...that."
The change of atmosphere isn't not lost on Tom. Looks like he just touched a nerve... "Yes, I believe it may somehow tie into current events within
the city. Anything you know- anything- would be helpful."
Misato looks over at Isako as the other woman finds her way out of the room, closing the door. The blue-haired ex-teacher focuses back on Tom, a frown on her
face as her hangover clears. "...ehn..."
"I need a beer. I don't know that I want to talk about this sober."
Tom winces as the door shuts behind him. Yeah, definitely touched a nerve. "I'm sorry, this must be painful for the both of you... But there are
things happening in this city- I understand. Go ahead."
She cracks open one of the beers from the fridge after a moment bent over rooting around in the bottom box, then turns back to stare at Tom, a serious
expression on her face despite the nigh-naked state she's in. A very unbashful woman, apparently.
"Minato was a good kid. Very straight-and-narrow." She takes a swing. "Popular. Outgoing. Bright. Lots of people liked him."
"Including Isako," she adds meaningfully, jerking a thumb at the door. "He was a nice, smart, unobtrusive kid."
Nigh-naked, and thankfully not too cold. Tom wouldn't be able to handle that- not today, and not well enough to be convincing, "Please, go on. What
happened to change him?"
"...I mean, in regards to Ryoji."
"Ryoji was the other big, popular kid at the school. He did a lot of reading, was practically Minato's best friend. But Ryoji was dating that
girl...what'sername...Yukari."
"I don't know what happened, but Minato just snapped one day. Word is he ambushed them on a date, beat Ryoji to death, and...well..."
"It was never proven, though."
"That was a little ways after graduation."
"...I see. Please, tell me, how well did Souji know Minato? Were they close at all?" Connections, connections. He had to find the connection...
"And Minato, he just snapped? Was he acting strangely before then at all?"
"I don't know how well they knew each other." She takes another sip of her beer. "And I don't think Minato had been any different...I
mean, besides that pretty much everybody knew he was in love with Yukari."
"Was he?" Well, there's something interesting, "But she didn't necessarily share the same feelings?"
And he just 'snapped...' So it's possible...
"I don't know if she did or not."
"I see. Was there anyone else Minato was close with who might still be around? Besides the club, I mean."
"A lot of people leave this city." She replies quietly, "A lot of people...." She purses her lips, wrapping one arm around her stomach.
"...well, people just can't take the weird stuff that seems to happen so often. So most people just move away. I came back, but only because I got
sick of dealing with giant robots invading the city."
"New London, I mean."
"...Uhm. Giant robots invading the city?" One would think he'd be used to that sort of thing- giant robots. Really, he wasn't. He generally
stayed well away from the Knightmares back in college... "Er, nevermind. So there's probably nobody around here who might know more?"
"Not that I can think of offhand."
"Is there anything else you might know? It doesn't have to be anything that might seem relevant. Just anything will do."
"Mmm...well, the guy who prosecuted the case is still around...so's the policeworker who found Ryoji's body."
"...I see. Could I have their names, if you know them?"
"Miles Edgeworth is the prosecutor...and, ah...Roger Smith is the freelancer who found the body."
"Edgeworth and Smith... Alright. Thank you very much for your time. I'm sorry for dredging up such unhappy memories."
"Salright." She takes another pull. "It's life."
"Yes, and it's a harsh reality, but that's why we need to make it just a little bit easier," He rises, gathering the yearbook into his coat,
"Thank you again. Please give my regards to Miss Toriumi."
"Will do. Take it easy."
"You too," With that, he offers a short nod, turning to leave the apartment- not, perhaps, with the information he was looking for... but at least,
something to go on... "Edgeworth and Smith... Why do those sound familiar?"
Tom wanders out of the apartment complex, glancing up at the sky to ascertain an idea of just what time it was.
It's starting to get very, very late. Nearly Requiem-time late.
Then it's probably a good idea to get back to base before anything strange happens... After all, he doesn't know where to find either Smith or
Edgeworth yet anyway.
A bit of a walk later, and Tom makes it inside the comfortable Detective Agency as the mist so common to the area closes in, nighttime settling across the city
like a blanket. Yukari seems to have gone to bed - it's Fuuka sitting at the desk, diligently writing something.
Comfortable being the key word. Tom pushes inside, shrugging his coat from his shoulders to hang on a nearby... something. A coat rack, hopefully,
"I'm home."
There's always a coat rack. "Evening," Fuuka says, looking up. "Are you...um, are you feeling better?"
Tom chuckles, rubbing at the section of shoulder that was just earlier in the day bleeding most profusely, "Yeah, I'm fine. How's everything been
over here?"
"Oh, um..." She frowns. "Minato went out with Boss again...Yukari's asleep...and Junpei started cleaning about a half-hour ago."
"Ah, I see..." Tom strolls to the counter after extracting the yearbook from his coat. Future reference, after all, "Uhm, Fuuka, you
wouldn't happen to know how to contact Souji Seta, would you?"
"U-hm..." She thinks, long and hard. "Hm..."
"No...I don't have his number. Uhm...what did you need it for?"
"Oh, I just wanted to talk to him about something, that's all... What about a Miles Edgeworth, or Roger Smith?"
"I...um..." She looks down. "I...can....ask Yukari tomorrow..."
"Thanks a lot Fuuka. I think I've got a pretty good lead on... Well, on a whole lot of things. I'm sorry if I've been worrying you."
She smiles. "It's...it's okay. You're...still taking me to the festival, right?" She lights up red as a Christmas scarf.
Tom chuckles, giving her a broad grin, "Of course! I said yes, didn't I?"
She nods and goes back to whatever it is she's writing.
It's getting awfully late. At least nothing's happened yet.
Nothing he knows of, anyway...
"So, uhm..." It looks like he's in the mood for conversation, "What are you writing?"
"Just...um, just doing..." She looks away. "...a psych profile..."
A tilt of the brow, "Erm, for whom?"
"The...the agency."
"Oh, I see."
"...I'm...trying to find out who...might turn into what." She murmurs guiltily.
"Oh, you mean in terms of Requiems."
He tosses her another grin, "Well then, what does it say about me?"
"You're...type...um...R-0." She answers, pressing her fingers together. The young analyst frowns. "...suicidal impulses manifesting as
recklessness leading towards erratic behavior and the ignorance of wounds, as well as high tolerance for pain."
"...Soooo in other words... I'm crazy enough to plough through pain in order to accomplish a goal?"
"...uh-huh."
"Similar to R-2, but without the actual suicide implication."
"Is there anything about traits in those files? I mean, in regards to the Requiem produced."
"...And for that matter, I wonder which one you are."
"The traits are really varied," Fuuka informs him, "Psychologically, they tend to be magnified from whatever they were in life...but physically
they seem to have a lot of variance."
"I see. So there may be another factor affecting physical ability- or perhaps, that is an entirely random matter."
"So you're saying that if I were to produce a requiem, it'd more likely jump off a bridge to, say, destroy a target than others."
"Sort of...not more, because R-2s are blatantly suicidal berserkers...yours is more likely to jump off a bridge for no reason at all than others."
Well, that was certainly reassuring, "Ah. I see.:
"It's...weird. Requiems don't seem to care about their own deaths...or anything but eating, really."
"But this list goes all the way up to R-10s...Requiems who died peacefully, in their sleep, and for no reason at all, but psychologically somehow still
produced Requiems...and the R-11s they mentioned on the last page are even more unusual."
"...Really? So perhaps it's not mental trauma at all... What are the R-11s like?"
"...there's no information on them. It just says, 'See File 148'."
"...And we don't have that file."
"That's right."
"I wonder if Mitsuru could help out with that... Probably not. They likely increased security since I pulled that one out of there. So uhm..."
"How about the rest of the agency? I'm curious!"
"I...haven't finished." She looks down. "I was just bored and...well...started thinking about it...and you were the first to come to
mind."
Another chuckle, "I'm flattered!"
"...you seem to get nearly-killed more than anybody else."
"I can't help it if my mind slips into Heroic Mode every time I get into a scuffle!"
"...'heroic mode'?"
"Erm, I tend to rush into harm's way to keep others out of it."
"Oh! Yes....that's...true. Which...is unusual, because you're a psychologist and all..."
"Unusual? How so?"
"...you're not exactly a specialist in a, um, combat-intensive field...?"
"Oh, well..."
"Just because it says I'm a psychologist doesn't mean I don't do other things- After all, I used to box quite a bit back in Pendragon."
"And besides that, I was raised well, so I'm a bit inclined to do that sort of thing."
"I...see." She smiles at him. "Well...I think it's really cool...ah!" She blushes again, burying her head back in her work.
"...a-anyway, it's getting late...I should probably go to sleep..."
And this is why Fuuka is adorable, "Go ahead. I'll probably be heading that way myself soon- if boss and Headphones don't get home before
then."
She nods and stands, heading upstairs with her papers clutched to her chest.
Tom watches her leave, chuckling to himself before settling down onto one of the couches.
Comfy couch.
Comfy couch indeed. The question now is... What was going to happen?
...apparently, absolutely nothing. The night goes on, and as the clock strikes midnight, it becomes increasingly apparent that the fog is not supernatural in
nature - it's just fog.
And the other two haven't returned either... About time to turn in, Tom feels. If they aren't home by now... Then there's no point in waiting any
longer. He'll just end sleepless.
The next day...
A pleasant awakening is otherwise spoiled by an alarm clock going off in his ear, but it seems the Twilight Detective Agency's still standing when he opens
his eyes. The unfriendly alarm clock, however, is probably not the worst way in the world to wake up, all things considered.
It is, at least, an awakening. Better awake than not, and better a rising sun than a not rising one. He does, however, make a note to smash that alarm clock
one of these days,...
...And probably would have otherwise been able to when he shut it off- except for the fact that his was reinforced.
The alarm clock is shut off, and Tom is allowed to go through his morning rituals without any interruptions from any of the myriad folks living at the Agency.
Surprising, all things considered. Then again, he's quickly becoming just another resident. Another strange, cybernetic, mildly suicidal one, but another
part of the day none the less.
Downstairs, Yukari is manning the phone and in a heated discussion with someone.
He moves himself downstairs once properly dressed. Was anyone even home?
Tom's heavy footsteps wind their way to the kitchen. He was hungry- was there any food?
There's a fair bit of food in there. Enough to make himself a decent breakfast.
Then it was time to begin! No day can start without an ample breakfast.
After breakfast, it seems Yukari is still talking on the phone. However, it seems to actually be a client, which is far more interesting than just some
girl-talk arguing. Finally, she sets the phone down, yawns, and waves.
"Morning, Tommygun."
Tom waves back, swallowing what remained of the sandwich he put together for breakfast before responding, "G'morning. How's everything
going?"
"It's okay. Just...dealing with some organizational stuff."
"Oh, I see. So who was that on the other line?" He lands himself in that couch again. Mm. Couch.
She grins. "A client."
"A client? Well, that's interesting..."
"What's the case?"
"A disappearance."
"Police say it's nothing to worry about, so they turned to us."
"A disappearance eh? Let's hope it's not another Requiem case."
"Oh, right, I was meaning to ask you... Do you know where I might be able to find Miles Edgeworth or Roger Smith?"
"Crossing our fingers." She agrees. "Edgeworth's the city's prosecutor-on-call, actually. And Roger's Phoenix Wright's
half-brother."
"Edgeworth's usually at the district courthouse, and Roger lives a bit outside the city in his mansion."
"I'll have to pay them a visit sometime. I've got a few questions for 'em both."
"Anything about the case that's interesting? I might be able to lend an opinion or two."
"I'll let you know when they drop off the stuff. The police think it's gang-related."
"...Is this gang called Endgame?"
"They're not sure," Yukari replies, wiggling her finger in his direction as she blows a bubble of her gum. "Just think the disappearance is
gang-related. Anyway, Fuuka left the note for me about Edgeworth and Roger, so I wrote down their addresses."
"And got you a map, and highlighted it," she adds wryly, "So you can get there like a big boy instead of wandering all over the city."
Tom chuckles. But inside? A wince. Ow, so she heard about his little run through the city, did she? "Heh, thanks a lot. I appreciate it."
"...And if you guys need me to, I'll keep an ear to the ground about that case. See if anything pops up."
"Good idea, Tommygun. See you later." She picks up the phone as it rings, mouthing 'gotta take this'.
He deftly slides the map from the table, nodding a goodbye before turning to leave himself, "Oh, I need to talk to the Boss and headphones later. Thanks
again Yuka." A mechanical hand runs itself through his hair, as he moves through the portal out of the office. Time to get the day started.
Yukari's map is actually quite helpful - it seems to lead him to Edgeworth's apartment first, as the Smith Manor seems to be outside Vespertine proper.
Understandable. Something like a Manor would have been a bit too... obstructive in a town like this one. He glances up the facade of the structure for a
moment, moving forward only when he has a pretty decent idea of this guy's living standards.
Edgeworth is in the higher-class of citizens. His apartment complex is nearly a penthouse (only beaten out in that the penthouse is owned by someone else), and
according to the number, is fairly high up there...making him one of the important people who doesn't want to get burgled.
Or, perhaps, bothered.
The doorman holds out his hand to block Tom's procedure.
A smirk creeps across his face. One of these kinds- should be interesting. He makes his way inside- wait, guess not... "Uhm, is there a problem,
sir?"
"Identification and business, please." The guard replies blankly.
Tom slides his wallet from his coat pocket, flipping through the layers to get to that... Where was it, that card...
There. Driver's liscence, Brittanian, of course, "The name's Thomas Magnusson, currently in the employ of the Twilight Detective Agency. I need to
ask one of your tenants a few questions regarding a case."
He looks at the license for a moment, then hands it back to Tom, still barring his way. "No can do."
Tom slides the card back into his wallet, and the wallet back into his coat, "I take it that there's a no Sleuth policy?"
Simultaneously, the man nods his head, removing his hat to tip it at a man in a horrendous pink-and-white tuxedo as he opens the door for the man.
"Morning, Mister Edgeworth. Picking up some of your books?"
"Can you at least make a call up to Miles Edgeworth's sui- Oh! Just who I needed to see!" Tom tried to pry his eyes away from the suit, just
barely succeeding... Then it gets caught in the ruffled collar, before finally looking the man in the eye, "Hello sir, my name is Thomas Magnusson,
detective. Could I ask you a few questions regarding the case of Ryoji Mochizuki?"
Edgeworth stops. "A detective?" He asks slowly.
"That's right. I'm actually in the employ of the man you prosecuted way back when. The thing is, I think there are details of that case that might
pertain to one I'm currently investigating."
"...Well, one of the men you prosecuted. I've heard you've got quite the track record."
"Go away." Edgeworth pushes the door in. "That case is over."
"Yes, I realize that, but there are forces at work in this city- things that need uncovering. That is the job of the prosecution, is it not? To pursue a
truth?"
"The job of prosecution is to punish the guilty."
With that, he slams the door behind him.
'Hmph, figures,' Tom humms to himself, 'this'll be a bit tougher than I thought.'
...Well, there was still one more link he could pursue before he went -THAT- far.
Tom sighs, pulling away from the apartment complex... Next stop, Roger Smith.
THAT one requires a taxi called.
About half an hour later, the taxi deposits him at the gate of a large manor.
...An impressive manor, if Big-O memories do not fail this one. If there's an intercom system, he looks to use it.
The intercom is hanging right outside the gate.
He pushes the page button and awaits a response.
"Hello?" A very Pendragon-accented voice inquires. "Who may I say is calling?"
"Hello there. I am Thomas Magnusson, detective. Would it be alright if I came inside to ask a few questions of Mr. Smith regarding a case I am currently
investigating?"
"Are you wearing black, sir?"
He looked down at himself. His coat was black... "I'd say yes. Mostly black, at any rate."
"I could take off what isn't black, but then I'd be shirtless."
"Very good, sir." The door swings open. "I will announce your presence and meet you at the door."
"Buttoning whatever you are wearing above it shall suffice."
"I will do that. Thank you."
"Of course, sir." The call system blinks off.
Tom makes his way up the manse's driveway, buttoning his coat together as he went. Thankfully, it wasn't -TOO- beat up these days. Spares did quite a
bit to help, after all.
Heavy footsteps brought him to the doorway of this mansion, knocking gently as he arrives.
At the manor's actual door, he is met by an older gentleman in a handsome black tuxedo. "Good morning, Mister Magnusson. Master Roger is in dining
room - allow me to take you there at once."
"My name is Norman - I am Master Roger's faithful servant and guardian." He turns after this little introduction is complete, heading into the
house with a beckoning for Tom to follow.
"Good morning, it is good to meet your acquaintance." He nods in agreement, following the aged manservant into the house proper itself. Norman looked
old, but something about him was nagging the detective- like this one could fire heavy weaponry barehanded, or something to a similar effect.
As he follows, Tom takes the opportunity to observe his surroundings. It wasn't every day you were able to walk about inside a mansion, after all.
The manor is quite impressive. As Norman leads him into the dining hall, piano music can be heard from upstairs, drifting through the huge halls with an
impressive acoustic.
In the dining hall, Roger Smith sits, calmly eating pancakes in a black tuxedo (goodness, who wears a tuxedo at breakfast?). He looks up as Norman and Tom
enter. "Is this Mister Magnusson?"
"Yes, sir, Master Roger."
Obviously, someone who really liked his suits. It's either that, or this one was a fan of the noir setting to the point of obsession. Tom gives his host a
polite nod, "Hello sir. I am Thomas Magnusson, it's an honor to make your acquaintance."
"Nice to meet you. Want some pancakes?" Roger gestures to the stack in the center of the table.
Norman departs, probably to do something else. "Feel free to have a seat," Roger continues. "And tell me about why you're here."
Tom chuckles, sliding into an unoccupied seat, "Thanks, I'd be glad to have some, if you don't mind," Fork, knife, plate- were they nearby,
or set for a meal already? "I'm actually here to investigate an incident that may be possibly related to one I'm currently pursuing."
"It is in regards to the death of Ryoji Mochizuki."
The table is actually set for four - Norman, the piano player, Roger, and (presumably) company.
Roger frowns. "That was years ago. Why are you investigating this now?"
Tom slides a spare pancake onto his plate and begins- carefully- to slice it into squares before adding whatever was on hand as a topping, "The killer is
my boss, and the incident that occured at his highschool may be related not only to the reason behind Ryoji's death, but also to the rash of disappearances
in the city as of late."
Roger wipes his mouth with a napkin in a manner of dress altogether unseen these days. "I never thought he was the killer." Roger informs Tom after a
moment, setting the napkin down politely. "There were too many flaws in that case that didn't make sense to me."
"It was only because of Phoenix that he was acquitted, and it was a close one at that."
"Mm, nor do I," Tom pops a section of pancake into his mouth, swallowing before beginning again, "I've heard that Minato held quite a fair
bit of affection for Ryoji's girlfriend, Yukari Takeba- and also that Ryoji was evidently Minato's best friend back in class... It doesn't make
sense for him to have simply snapped like that."
"There's more than that. The murder weapon itself." Roger folds his hands in front of him, putting his elbows on the table and settling his chin
on his hands. "He wasn't beaten to death or shot, or anything else a teenager might be able to get their hands on."
"He was ripped apart. The only reason I was able to identify him is that said girlfriend was present at the murder, and she's too traumatized to
discuss it."
Roger presses his hand in his face. "It was horrible."
Tom nods, swallowing more of the pancake on his plate. After several bites, he wipes some of the syrup from his lips, "...Ripped apart.
That's..."
"Not possible. Not for a human being."
"I'm sorry, sir. But that is uncharacteristically similar to what I've come to face in the city since my arrival."
"I agree. It isn't."
"You have to understand something about Vespertine City." Roger frowns. "I take it you're new here, by the accent."
"Yeah, I've only been in town for a week or so."
"But the things I've seen... Of a gang by the name of Endgame, and creatures that stalk the night- this city isn't normal."
'But that's why the people need help."
"Vespertine City is a city of willing amnesia. People come here to forget about things, and they close their eyes to a lot of what goes on in the
streets."
"VitaTech owns over seventy percent of the city - literally - and people just like to pretend that things could never happen to them so long as
they're not on the streets too late at night."
"I'm sure you've noticed," he continues, pouring himself a glass of orange juice, "That the only people outside at night are thugs and
drunks, and even the drunks tend not to be out when it gets truly dark."
The image of Edgeworth slid as if a slide into his memory- So was it just that he didn't wish to remember? "Yeah. It's like the city's dead at
night. Has it always been like this, Mister Smith?"
"For a long time," he replies. "And please, call me Roger."
"You're a guest, which makes you a friend here."
"It's appreciated, Roger. Then please, feel free to call me Tom," he says with a smile. Another friend in this strange city of fog and shadow,
"I feel like I can trust you, so I need to ask, have you ever heard of Requiems, Roger?"
"..." Roger frowns at this. "There are monsters that walk the night," he says, "And not all of them are people. But not all of them
are Requiems."
"This is a city of rumors, myths, legends, and shadows."
"Of monsters masquerading as men. I had a run in with one of them, myself," Tom touches at the wound in his shoulder. It still stung, that one,
"A requiem almost killed three of my coworkers, and a man by the name of Fenrir nearly took the life of an innocent girl."
"Fenrir...Fenrir..." Roger's frown deepens. "You don't mean Fenrir the Cutter?"
"Even then, there's another asking for my help in vengeance toward a knight in moonlight. It's a strange city, Roger."
"That's the one."
"He took a bite out of my shoulder- I had thought I took care of him, but..."
The eye. His eye, that image pushed itself to the fore of his memory, "...His face, it's not human. Not totally human, anyway. He sliced her open
without a weapon. Glowing red eye, pitch black skin..."
"I don't know which is more dangerous, the Requiems, or this Endgame group."
"I've never seen what's under Endgame's masks." Roger informs him, "But Endgame, Endgame can be negotiated with."
"That's my job. I'm a negotiator. So if you ever need someone to back you up, feel free to call me."
"It's appreciated. I might actually need your services soon... Depending on what happens in the near future."
"Tell me about the Moonlight Knight."
"There's a rumor going around town- or maybe a legend, of a knight who grants wishes that appears on every full moon."
"The only way to be granted your wish is to defeat him in combat. The thing is, there's this girl who wants it dead- for vengeance..."
"And she's a member of Endgame," Roger finishes for him.
"That's right."
"She requested to remain anonymous, so if it's alright, I'll keep my word on that. Yes, she has a brother in intensive care, comatose now, because
of the knight. At the same time, I'm unwilling to go through on my end of the deal- I still don't know much about this knight. If it's not truely
malicious, I'd not want to end its life, and I can think of a way to appease her without killing, but I need to investigate that as well."
Roger nods.
"There's always the thought that this person might be risky to awaken, or if I do, she may refuse to cooperate. After all, I know better than to wish
for a solution to this case from a genie or fairy godmother, or anything. Those never end well for any involved."
"There's also the case of the incident that followed Ryoji's death at that school. The one that led to its closure."
"I've been told that there were... experiments on those grounds. Ones regarding pulling creatures from beyond the veil into our own, or something like
that. I've got a feeling that it ties into the Requiem as well."
"...Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know how long they have been appearing, would you?"
"I'm not sure. For as long as I can remember - it's always seemed to be a sort of natural thing."
"And they strike so rarely, nobody really cares to stamp them out."
"I see. But the thing is that they're apparantly interesting enough to merit research from VitaTech."
"I'm not surprised."
"We're looking into what they're after in regards to the Requiems now, but so far, we've come to a bit of a dead end."
"Again, I'm not surprised. VitaTech is rock-solid when it comes to their security. You'd have to be a family member to get to the really secret
stuff."
"Especially since that recent robbery."
"What we have uncovered is interesting, though. They seem to have attributed certain personality traits to the appearance of Requiems, and on top of that,
a VitaTech security guard we have been investigating was recently found dead."
Tom neglected to mention who exactly it was that made the robbery, but he figured that Roger already had an idea.
"I heard about that. But there's no suspect."
"Yeah, we've noticed that as well. The best way to get more info is really to tap the net, or someone inside the business itself. Otherwise, it'll
be impossible to follow that thread... But if it's as you've said, and VitaTech controls much of the city, I'd not be surprised if they had a hand
in manipulating Endgame as well."
"His body was found far enough out of town to avoid the authorities for quite a while. The guy who found the body for me was chased down by Endgame
following the investigation."
"He's pretty tight lipped, so I'm not sure if there's any relation, but it's possible. That's about when I encountered Fenrir."
"...I'm wondering if VitaTech's research into the Requiems has gone so far as to implant aspects of the creatures in human test subjects. If
Fenrir's any indication, it seems pretty likely."
"So you think Endgame is VitaTech's personal research group?"
"It's a possibility. And if they are, they'd also make a great team of hitmen, in my opinion."
"That's a pretty good conclusion. Like I said, I've never been able to get under their masks, but at least they can be reasoned with."
"Killing two birds with one stone seems like the kind of thing a corporation that powerful would do. On top of that, I haven't seen much police
investigation into the matter, so it's possible that VitaTech's hand is influencing them as well."
"That's almost certain," Roger agrees, "That's why I quit the police force."
Tom smirks, finishing the pancake on his plate, "Yeah, I can see that. You seem like the kind of person to detest corruption."
"...Speaking of which, there's another factor in the case who I need to ask about. Miles Edgeworth- is there any way I could convince him to talk to
me?"
"He's a hard man to get to if you're interested in a case like Minato's."
"Yeah, he snubbed me off earlier today," A sheepish grin, "But what you said earlier, that this city is one of willing amnesia- I think he's
trying to forget that case."
"You said it came close, and he was the prosecutor... And on top of that, the gruesomeness of the crime itself. The loss must have hurt him quite a
bit."
"It's more than that. Edgeworth is a man devoted to punishing the guilty - he goes into the course determined to get a Guilty verdict every
time."
"I see. So it was also a blow to his pride- one he'd rather not want to remember again."
"More than that...he genuinely believed that Minato was guilty."
"..."
"I see."
"So he feels he need to live with the guilt that he let a killer roam free."
"That's right."
"I doubt that guilt will leave him any time soon. I wonder if showing him Minato as he is now might work?"
"That kid... He's about as dead as the city's nightlife. I mean, he's -alive,- but there's nothing behind the eyes."
"...is he?"
"Yeah."
"It's like all the life's been drained out of him. I don't think he wanted to kill Ryoji, if he even did."
"And if he didn't, his friends and Ryoji's friends needed someone to blame."
"They're all around him now- the ones who stayed. But they're also very unwilling to talk about it."
"They seem to believe he killed Ryoji, but if that opinion has been distorted, feeling betrayed by everyone you trusted must have scarred him
deeply."
"Interesting." Roger rubs his chin. "You're not a detective, are you?"
"Detectives would give me hard evidence, tell me the links that set this off and got them pursuing this line of thought."
"I'm actually a criminal psychologist, cyborg and ex-boxer, but I'm working as an investigator at the time being."
"Quite a profile." Roger takes a sip of his OJ. "But that explains a lot."
"I'll admit that what I've got is mostly assumption, and the evidence I do have would never be accepted in court."
"Call me crazy, but Ryoji? Talked to him before I even knew about him."
"It's a good thing you're not working for a court case, then." Roger chuckles. "And crazy's not uncommon in this city."
"Elbows off the table, Roger Smith." A female voice informs him, a pale woman in a black dress walking in, seating herself opposite Roger on the
table. "In front of company? You're a louse, Roger Smith."
"Thank you, Dorothy," Roger replies, a bit of a smirk on his face.
"Tom, this is Dorothy R. Waynewright. Doroth, this is Thomas Magnusson. He's-"
"A cyborg. I know." Dorothy stares at Tom with an inordinately dispassionate gaze. "I can tell. You're like me."
"Dorothy's a full conversion-type," Roger informs Tom patiently.
"Heh, does it? I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted," Tom chuckles, scratching at the base of his neck, "I'll admit,
you've got quite the keen sense of people, Roger-" Tom glances up at the woman. Pale, perhaps even deathly pale- he gives her a smile none the less,
"Good morning, it's an honor, Miss Waynewright... And you've got quite an eye for the mechanical. Was it my hands?"
"It was your back." She replies, articulating every, single, word. "You arch over slightly, carrying weight on your shoulders. This implies an
unusual formation of the upper limbs."
Perhaps just a bit unnerving, that, but he chalked it up to the full-conversion bit, "So it's either I was a cyborg or missing a chromosome," He
chuckles, cheery in contrast to the color of the day, "I'd rather take the former any day."
"Roger!" Dorothy reprimands sternly as Roger leans forward again. He straightens instinctively at this show of emotion. "Dorothy! In front of
our guest!"
"You are a louse, Roger Smith!" She repeats emphatically, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Anyway, Tom..." Roger rolls his hand. "I'd like to help you with Miles, but he's one person who's too closed-lipped even for me to
talk to."
Tom nods again, smirking inwardly at this very, very odd couple. They seemed to fit, though, "I understand. Would there be anyone who might be able to
talk to him about it?"
"Phoenix, but he's out of the country at the moment."
"I see. So I'll have to wait on that one..."
"There is one last thing... I need your opinion: Do you think I can trust this individual within Endgame?"
"No."
"Then I'll have to watch my step."
"I trust women, as a rule," Roger continues, "But Endgame is an altogether different beast."
"Is that literal, or metaphorical? They seem keen on naming themselves after monsters."
"They are. The top members I know of are Fenrir the Cutter, Roc the Wing, and Hel the Death."
"There are a lot more than that, but I don't know anything about them."
That last one sent a chill down Tom's spine... "...Tell me, this Roc, does he have a habit of appearing out of the blue?"
"He does."
"I may have met him. In a way."
"Is that so?"
"He told me that I had 'won this round.' Knocked Fenrir out and probably saved the three of us in the process."
"I'm thinking there's definitely some tension between the upper echelons."
"Probably," Roger agrees. "Gangs tend to have a lot of tension in this city between each other and within themselves."
"Endgame is the biggest, but there's also a sect of the Brotherhood here, and a small group of imitators called Shadowkind."
"...Pardon, Brotherhood? Shadowkind?"
"The Brotherhood of Mutants. They tried to settle in in Pendragon, but, well, you know how the Crown tends to be about lawlessness in Pendragon."
"Allegiance or Death, it seems to be."
"And Shadowkind is a group of imitators who think they're monster hunters. Better than the other gangs, but they're still just vigilantes."
"Heh. Now you sound like those Big Fire lunatics." Roger leans forward, prompting Dorothy (who had been sitting silently) to whack at him with a
newspaper.
"At least there are none of them in Britannia."
"I see... Even if they are just vigilantes, monster hunting seems to have become a bit of a- Oh what? No, I'm not -THAT- crazy," Tom chuckles,
"Nor am I willing to wear a hood."
"...But yes, I think I might be able to persuade that Shadowkind group to maybe share some information. You wouldn't happen to know where to find
them, would you?"
"Sorry. I don't make a habit of negotiating with gangs."
"I understand. Who knows, maybe I'll run into them? Things that go bump seem to find me quite often these days."
"Heh. It sounds like you've got some pretty bad luck."
"Maybe you should visit the old Eleven shrine."
"Or good. I'm still alive, after all... Shrine?"
"Just an old cultural place that was built before Japan became Area Eleven."
"A lot of people still go there for good luck."
"I think I will. In this city, I'll be needing all the help I can get."
"Sounds like a good plan," Roger agrees wryly.
"Well, in a city of shadow-monsters, corporation-run-everything and a cadre of who-knows-what-else lurking around out there, it's always good to have
friends in 'high places.'"
"Heh. I guess it is, at that."
"Well, it's been good speaking with you, Roger. You've been a great help with the case, and I hope we can talk again sometime," The cyborg
turns his gaze to the woman at the table- pretty sure she's always been a woman, anyway, "And it's been wonderful making your acquaintance,
Dorothy."
"Have a pleasant day, Tom Magnusson."
Tom rises from his seat after dabbing what is left of the syrup from the corners of his mouth, "And you, Miss Dorothy." He nods one last time in
farewell and recognition, "And thank you both for the hospitality."
Norman shows Tom out quite briefly, bidding him farewell and reminding him that if he wants to visit again, he needs to wear black.
He chuckles again- fond of laughter, this one- and informs Norman that he'll be sure to do just that next time he's in town. Tom makes his way back
down the courtyard and out of Mansion grounds...
...It's time to visit a shrine!
A taxi seems to have (thoughtfully) been called, and arrives within a very short bit.
Tom steps into the rear seat of the car and provides the driver with his destination of choice. Hopefully, he or she knows where to go.
He does. Tom is deposited unceremoniously at the old shrine - and it really does look old. Fortunately, it's within walking distance of the city.
A good thing. Taxis are costly after all. Tom gazes up the steps of the shrine and cautiously makes his way into the grounds...
Old things are, after all, tremendously suspicious.
Nothing unusual about this one.
It is, admittedly, quite old.
Just old, eh? If that's the case, he simply pushes on ahead. Was there an altar, or an offering box, or something nearby?
(Or a fox?)
No fox, but an altar and an offering box quite plainly sitting in the middle of the shrine.
Tom slides an offering into the chamber, and turns to the altar for a short prayer to whatever benevolence may have been listening.
Good fortune and protection from danger for both himself, and those who he has found himself surrounded by.
If there is one, it doesn't seem inclined to be particularly chatty. Nothing happens - no magical effects, nothing indicating that this is built on a ley
line or anything.
Still, the very act of prayer is always somewhat comfortable, and the shrine is at least a nice place to do it. It's blatantly obvious why it hasn't
been torn down or modernized, or even Britannianized - it's simply comforting.
Even though the culture is so very alien, it's a nice place.
It's just an eye of calm in the midst of the tumultuous city, and it was one Tom appreciates. Even if there wasn't a being listening, the fact that
such a place still existed- even if it was aged- means quite a bit for the aspiring detective.
A comfort to any who wish to come to get away from their day to day stress. Even after a short stay, he feels significantly psychologically rejuvinated.
After a while at prayer, Tom decides it high time to continue investigation...
But where first? He had so many questions...
The most logical course of action would be to check the hospital.
After all, he needs to verify that there in fact IS a boy, comatose, with relevant history in the Hospital's care.
"Working in a movie?" Tom blinks, she didn't look like the type to be an actress... A bit too tomboyish, maybe, "Uhm, well, what about
Teddy? Or Yosuke?"
"Teddy..." Misato scratches the back of her head, wincing again. "Hmmmm...No...I don't know where he is, either...and Yosuke..." She
trails off. "...hang on. Why...?"
It seems her drunkenness is slowl
y working itself off.
"Did they do somethin' wrong?"
"No, no. Nothing like that," Tom's eyes trail away from the page before realizing that they accidentally worked their way into her cleavage. He
returned to the book, "I just need to ask them questions in regards to the incident at the school- and regarding Minato.
"Minato..."
Isako (Miss Toriumi) looks away at that, a bit of a flush on her face as his name is mentioned.
Misato frowns. "...oh...that."
The change of atmosphere isn't not lost on Tom. Looks like he just touched a nerve... "Yes, I believe it may somehow tie into current events within
the city. Anything you know- anything- would be helpful."
Misato looks over at Isako as the other woman finds her way out of the room, closing the door. The blue-haired ex-teacher focuses back on Tom, a frown on her
face as her hangover clears. "...ehn..."
"I need a beer. I don't know that I want to talk about this sober."
Tom winces as the door shuts behind him. Yeah, definitely touched a nerve. "I'm sorry, this must be painful for the both of you... But there are
things happening in this city- I understand. Go ahead."
She cracks open one of the beers from the fridge after a moment bent over rooting around in the bottom box, then turns back to stare at Tom, a serious
expression on her face despite the nigh-naked state she's in. A very unbashful woman, apparently.
"Minato was a good kid. Very straight-and-narrow." She takes a swing. "Popular. Outgoing. Bright. Lots of people liked him."
"Including Isako," she adds meaningfully, jerking a thumb at the door. "He was a nice, smart, unobtrusive kid."
Nigh-naked, and thankfully not too cold. Tom wouldn't be able to handle that- not today, and not well enough to be convincing, "Please, go on. What
happened to change him?"
"...I mean, in regards to Ryoji."
"Ryoji was the other big, popular kid at the school. He did a lot of reading, was practically Minato's best friend. But Ryoji was dating that
girl...what'sername...Yukari."
"I don't know what happened, but Minato just snapped one day. Word is he ambushed them on a date, beat Ryoji to death, and...well..."
"It was never proven, though."
"That was a little ways after graduation."
"...I see. Please, tell me, how well did Souji know Minato? Were they close at all?" Connections, connections. He had to find the connection...
"And Minato, he just snapped? Was he acting strangely before then at all?"
"I don't know how well they knew each other." She takes another sip of her beer. "And I don't think Minato had been any different...I
mean, besides that pretty much everybody knew he was in love with Yukari."
"Was he?" Well, there's something interesting, "But she didn't necessarily share the same feelings?"
And he just 'snapped...' So it's possible...
"I don't know if she did or not."
"I see. Was there anyone else Minato was close with who might still be around? Besides the club, I mean."
"A lot of people leave this city." She replies quietly, "A lot of people...." She purses her lips, wrapping one arm around her stomach.
"...well, people just can't take the weird stuff that seems to happen so often. So most people just move away. I came back, but only because I got
sick of dealing with giant robots invading the city."
"New London, I mean."
"...Uhm. Giant robots invading the city?" One would think he'd be used to that sort of thing- giant robots. Really, he wasn't. He generally
stayed well away from the Knightmares back in college... "Er, nevermind. So there's probably nobody around here who might know more?"
"Not that I can think of offhand."
"Is there anything else you might know? It doesn't have to be anything that might seem relevant. Just anything will do."
"Mmm...well, the guy who prosecuted the case is still around...so's the policeworker who found Ryoji's body."
"...I see. Could I have their names, if you know them?"
"Miles Edgeworth is the prosecutor...and, ah...Roger Smith is the freelancer who found the body."
"Edgeworth and Smith... Alright. Thank you very much for your time. I'm sorry for dredging up such unhappy memories."
"Salright." She takes another pull. "It's life."
"Yes, and it's a harsh reality, but that's why we need to make it just a little bit easier," He rises, gathering the yearbook into his coat,
"Thank you again. Please give my regards to Miss Toriumi."
"Will do. Take it easy."
"You too," With that, he offers a short nod, turning to leave the apartment- not, perhaps, with the information he was looking for... but at least,
something to go on... "Edgeworth and Smith... Why do those sound familiar?"
Tom wanders out of the apartment complex, glancing up at the sky to ascertain an idea of just what time it was.
It's starting to get very, very late. Nearly Requiem-time late.
Then it's probably a good idea to get back to base before anything strange happens... After all, he doesn't know where to find either Smith or
Edgeworth yet anyway.
A bit of a walk later, and Tom makes it inside the comfortable Detective Agency as the mist so common to the area closes in, nighttime settling across the city
like a blanket. Yukari seems to have gone to bed - it's Fuuka sitting at the desk, diligently writing something.
Comfortable being the key word. Tom pushes inside, shrugging his coat from his shoulders to hang on a nearby... something. A coat rack, hopefully,
"I'm home."
There's always a coat rack. "Evening," Fuuka says, looking up. "Are you...um, are you feeling better?"
Tom chuckles, rubbing at the section of shoulder that was just earlier in the day bleeding most profusely, "Yeah, I'm fine. How's everything been
over here?"
"Oh, um..." She frowns. "Minato went out with Boss again...Yukari's asleep...and Junpei started cleaning about a half-hour ago."
"Ah, I see..." Tom strolls to the counter after extracting the yearbook from his coat. Future reference, after all, "Uhm, Fuuka, you
wouldn't happen to know how to contact Souji Seta, would you?"
"U-hm..." She thinks, long and hard. "Hm..."
"No...I don't have his number. Uhm...what did you need it for?"
"Oh, I just wanted to talk to him about something, that's all... What about a Miles Edgeworth, or Roger Smith?"
"I...um..." She looks down. "I...can....ask Yukari tomorrow..."
"Thanks a lot Fuuka. I think I've got a pretty good lead on... Well, on a whole lot of things. I'm sorry if I've been worrying you."
She smiles. "It's...it's okay. You're...still taking me to the festival, right?" She lights up red as a Christmas scarf.
Tom chuckles, giving her a broad grin, "Of course! I said yes, didn't I?"
She nods and goes back to whatever it is she's writing.
It's getting awfully late. At least nothing's happened yet.
Nothing he knows of, anyway...
"So, uhm..." It looks like he's in the mood for conversation, "What are you writing?"
"Just...um, just doing..." She looks away. "...a psych profile..."
A tilt of the brow, "Erm, for whom?"
"The...the agency."
"Oh, I see."
"...I'm...trying to find out who...might turn into what." She murmurs guiltily.
"Oh, you mean in terms of Requiems."
He tosses her another grin, "Well then, what does it say about me?"
"You're...type...um...R-0." She answers, pressing her fingers together. The young analyst frowns. "...suicidal impulses manifesting as
recklessness leading towards erratic behavior and the ignorance of wounds, as well as high tolerance for pain."
"...Soooo in other words... I'm crazy enough to plough through pain in order to accomplish a goal?"
"...uh-huh."
"Similar to R-2, but without the actual suicide implication."
"Is there anything about traits in those files? I mean, in regards to the Requiem produced."
"...And for that matter, I wonder which one you are."
"The traits are really varied," Fuuka informs him, "Psychologically, they tend to be magnified from whatever they were in life...but physically
they seem to have a lot of variance."
"I see. So there may be another factor affecting physical ability- or perhaps, that is an entirely random matter."
"So you're saying that if I were to produce a requiem, it'd more likely jump off a bridge to, say, destroy a target than others."
"Sort of...not more, because R-2s are blatantly suicidal berserkers...yours is more likely to jump off a bridge for no reason at all than others."
Well, that was certainly reassuring, "Ah. I see.:
"It's...weird. Requiems don't seem to care about their own deaths...or anything but eating, really."
"But this list goes all the way up to R-10s...Requiems who died peacefully, in their sleep, and for no reason at all, but psychologically somehow still
produced Requiems...and the R-11s they mentioned on the last page are even more unusual."
"...Really? So perhaps it's not mental trauma at all... What are the R-11s like?"
"...there's no information on them. It just says, 'See File 148'."
"...And we don't have that file."
"That's right."
"I wonder if Mitsuru could help out with that... Probably not. They likely increased security since I pulled that one out of there. So uhm..."
"How about the rest of the agency? I'm curious!"
"I...haven't finished." She looks down. "I was just bored and...well...started thinking about it...and you were the first to come to
mind."
Another chuckle, "I'm flattered!"
"...you seem to get nearly-killed more than anybody else."
"I can't help it if my mind slips into Heroic Mode every time I get into a scuffle!"
"...'heroic mode'?"
"Erm, I tend to rush into harm's way to keep others out of it."
"Oh! Yes....that's...true. Which...is unusual, because you're a psychologist and all..."
"Unusual? How so?"
"...you're not exactly a specialist in a, um, combat-intensive field...?"
"Oh, well..."
"Just because it says I'm a psychologist doesn't mean I don't do other things- After all, I used to box quite a bit back in Pendragon."
"And besides that, I was raised well, so I'm a bit inclined to do that sort of thing."
"I...see." She smiles at him. "Well...I think it's really cool...ah!" She blushes again, burying her head back in her work.
"...a-anyway, it's getting late...I should probably go to sleep..."
And this is why Fuuka is adorable, "Go ahead. I'll probably be heading that way myself soon- if boss and Headphones don't get home before
then."
She nods and stands, heading upstairs with her papers clutched to her chest.
Tom watches her leave, chuckling to himself before settling down onto one of the couches.
Comfy couch.
Comfy couch indeed. The question now is... What was going to happen?
...apparently, absolutely nothing. The night goes on, and as the clock strikes midnight, it becomes increasingly apparent that the fog is not supernatural in
nature - it's just fog.
And the other two haven't returned either... About time to turn in, Tom feels. If they aren't home by now... Then there's no point in waiting any
longer. He'll just end sleepless.
The next day...
A pleasant awakening is otherwise spoiled by an alarm clock going off in his ear, but it seems the Twilight Detective Agency's still standing when he opens
his eyes. The unfriendly alarm clock, however, is probably not the worst way in the world to wake up, all things considered.
It is, at least, an awakening. Better awake than not, and better a rising sun than a not rising one. He does, however, make a note to smash that alarm clock
one of these days,...
...And probably would have otherwise been able to when he shut it off- except for the fact that his was reinforced.
The alarm clock is shut off, and Tom is allowed to go through his morning rituals without any interruptions from any of the myriad folks living at the Agency.
Surprising, all things considered. Then again, he's quickly becoming just another resident. Another strange, cybernetic, mildly suicidal one, but another
part of the day none the less.
Downstairs, Yukari is manning the phone and in a heated discussion with someone.
He moves himself downstairs once properly dressed. Was anyone even home?
Tom's heavy footsteps wind their way to the kitchen. He was hungry- was there any food?
There's a fair bit of food in there. Enough to make himself a decent breakfast.
Then it was time to begin! No day can start without an ample breakfast.
After breakfast, it seems Yukari is still talking on the phone. However, it seems to actually be a client, which is far more interesting than just some
girl-talk arguing. Finally, she sets the phone down, yawns, and waves.
"Morning, Tommygun."
Tom waves back, swallowing what remained of the sandwich he put together for breakfast before responding, "G'morning. How's everything
going?"
"It's okay. Just...dealing with some organizational stuff."
"Oh, I see. So who was that on the other line?" He lands himself in that couch again. Mm. Couch.
She grins. "A client."
"A client? Well, that's interesting..."
"What's the case?"
"A disappearance."
"Police say it's nothing to worry about, so they turned to us."
"A disappearance eh? Let's hope it's not another Requiem case."
"Oh, right, I was meaning to ask you... Do you know where I might be able to find Miles Edgeworth or Roger Smith?"
"Crossing our fingers." She agrees. "Edgeworth's the city's prosecutor-on-call, actually. And Roger's Phoenix Wright's
half-brother."
"Edgeworth's usually at the district courthouse, and Roger lives a bit outside the city in his mansion."
"I'll have to pay them a visit sometime. I've got a few questions for 'em both."
"Anything about the case that's interesting? I might be able to lend an opinion or two."
"I'll let you know when they drop off the stuff. The police think it's gang-related."
"...Is this gang called Endgame?"
"They're not sure," Yukari replies, wiggling her finger in his direction as she blows a bubble of her gum. "Just think the disappearance is
gang-related. Anyway, Fuuka left the note for me about Edgeworth and Roger, so I wrote down their addresses."
"And got you a map, and highlighted it," she adds wryly, "So you can get there like a big boy instead of wandering all over the city."
Tom chuckles. But inside? A wince. Ow, so she heard about his little run through the city, did she? "Heh, thanks a lot. I appreciate it."
"...And if you guys need me to, I'll keep an ear to the ground about that case. See if anything pops up."
"Good idea, Tommygun. See you later." She picks up the phone as it rings, mouthing 'gotta take this'.
He deftly slides the map from the table, nodding a goodbye before turning to leave himself, "Oh, I need to talk to the Boss and headphones later. Thanks
again Yuka." A mechanical hand runs itself through his hair, as he moves through the portal out of the office. Time to get the day started.
Yukari's map is actually quite helpful - it seems to lead him to Edgeworth's apartment first, as the Smith Manor seems to be outside Vespertine proper.
Understandable. Something like a Manor would have been a bit too... obstructive in a town like this one. He glances up the facade of the structure for a
moment, moving forward only when he has a pretty decent idea of this guy's living standards.
Edgeworth is in the higher-class of citizens. His apartment complex is nearly a penthouse (only beaten out in that the penthouse is owned by someone else), and
according to the number, is fairly high up there...making him one of the important people who doesn't want to get burgled.
Or, perhaps, bothered.
The doorman holds out his hand to block Tom's procedure.
A smirk creeps across his face. One of these kinds- should be interesting. He makes his way inside- wait, guess not... "Uhm, is there a problem,
sir?"
"Identification and business, please." The guard replies blankly.
Tom slides his wallet from his coat pocket, flipping through the layers to get to that... Where was it, that card...
There. Driver's liscence, Brittanian, of course, "The name's Thomas Magnusson, currently in the employ of the Twilight Detective Agency. I need to
ask one of your tenants a few questions regarding a case."
He looks at the license for a moment, then hands it back to Tom, still barring his way. "No can do."
Tom slides the card back into his wallet, and the wallet back into his coat, "I take it that there's a no Sleuth policy?"
Simultaneously, the man nods his head, removing his hat to tip it at a man in a horrendous pink-and-white tuxedo as he opens the door for the man.
"Morning, Mister Edgeworth. Picking up some of your books?"
"Can you at least make a call up to Miles Edgeworth's sui- Oh! Just who I needed to see!" Tom tried to pry his eyes away from the suit, just
barely succeeding... Then it gets caught in the ruffled collar, before finally looking the man in the eye, "Hello sir, my name is Thomas Magnusson,
detective. Could I ask you a few questions regarding the case of Ryoji Mochizuki?"
Edgeworth stops. "A detective?" He asks slowly.
"That's right. I'm actually in the employ of the man you prosecuted way back when. The thing is, I think there are details of that case that might
pertain to one I'm currently investigating."
"...Well, one of the men you prosecuted. I've heard you've got quite the track record."
"Go away." Edgeworth pushes the door in. "That case is over."
"Yes, I realize that, but there are forces at work in this city- things that need uncovering. That is the job of the prosecution, is it not? To pursue a
truth?"
"The job of prosecution is to punish the guilty."
With that, he slams the door behind him.
'Hmph, figures,' Tom humms to himself, 'this'll be a bit tougher than I thought.'
...Well, there was still one more link he could pursue before he went -THAT- far.
Tom sighs, pulling away from the apartment complex... Next stop, Roger Smith.
THAT one requires a taxi called.
About half an hour later, the taxi deposits him at the gate of a large manor.
...An impressive manor, if Big-O memories do not fail this one. If there's an intercom system, he looks to use it.
The intercom is hanging right outside the gate.
He pushes the page button and awaits a response.
"Hello?" A very Pendragon-accented voice inquires. "Who may I say is calling?"
"Hello there. I am Thomas Magnusson, detective. Would it be alright if I came inside to ask a few questions of Mr. Smith regarding a case I am currently
investigating?"
"Are you wearing black, sir?"
He looked down at himself. His coat was black... "I'd say yes. Mostly black, at any rate."
"I could take off what isn't black, but then I'd be shirtless."
"Very good, sir." The door swings open. "I will announce your presence and meet you at the door."
"Buttoning whatever you are wearing above it shall suffice."
"I will do that. Thank you."
"Of course, sir." The call system blinks off.
Tom makes his way up the manse's driveway, buttoning his coat together as he went. Thankfully, it wasn't -TOO- beat up these days. Spares did quite a
bit to help, after all.
Heavy footsteps brought him to the doorway of this mansion, knocking gently as he arrives.
At the manor's actual door, he is met by an older gentleman in a handsome black tuxedo. "Good morning, Mister Magnusson. Master Roger is in dining
room - allow me to take you there at once."
"My name is Norman - I am Master Roger's faithful servant and guardian." He turns after this little introduction is complete, heading into the
house with a beckoning for Tom to follow.
"Good morning, it is good to meet your acquaintance." He nods in agreement, following the aged manservant into the house proper itself. Norman looked
old, but something about him was nagging the detective- like this one could fire heavy weaponry barehanded, or something to a similar effect.
As he follows, Tom takes the opportunity to observe his surroundings. It wasn't every day you were able to walk about inside a mansion, after all.
The manor is quite impressive. As Norman leads him into the dining hall, piano music can be heard from upstairs, drifting through the huge halls with an
impressive acoustic.
In the dining hall, Roger Smith sits, calmly eating pancakes in a black tuxedo (goodness, who wears a tuxedo at breakfast?). He looks up as Norman and Tom
enter. "Is this Mister Magnusson?"
"Yes, sir, Master Roger."
Obviously, someone who really liked his suits. It's either that, or this one was a fan of the noir setting to the point of obsession. Tom gives his host a
polite nod, "Hello sir. I am Thomas Magnusson, it's an honor to make your acquaintance."
"Nice to meet you. Want some pancakes?" Roger gestures to the stack in the center of the table.
Norman departs, probably to do something else. "Feel free to have a seat," Roger continues. "And tell me about why you're here."
Tom chuckles, sliding into an unoccupied seat, "Thanks, I'd be glad to have some, if you don't mind," Fork, knife, plate- were they nearby,
or set for a meal already? "I'm actually here to investigate an incident that may be possibly related to one I'm currently pursuing."
"It is in regards to the death of Ryoji Mochizuki."
The table is actually set for four - Norman, the piano player, Roger, and (presumably) company.
Roger frowns. "That was years ago. Why are you investigating this now?"
Tom slides a spare pancake onto his plate and begins- carefully- to slice it into squares before adding whatever was on hand as a topping, "The killer is
my boss, and the incident that occured at his highschool may be related not only to the reason behind Ryoji's death, but also to the rash of disappearances
in the city as of late."
Roger wipes his mouth with a napkin in a manner of dress altogether unseen these days. "I never thought he was the killer." Roger informs Tom after a
moment, setting the napkin down politely. "There were too many flaws in that case that didn't make sense to me."
"It was only because of Phoenix that he was acquitted, and it was a close one at that."
"Mm, nor do I," Tom pops a section of pancake into his mouth, swallowing before beginning again, "I've heard that Minato held quite a fair
bit of affection for Ryoji's girlfriend, Yukari Takeba- and also that Ryoji was evidently Minato's best friend back in class... It doesn't make
sense for him to have simply snapped like that."
"There's more than that. The murder weapon itself." Roger folds his hands in front of him, putting his elbows on the table and settling his chin
on his hands. "He wasn't beaten to death or shot, or anything else a teenager might be able to get their hands on."
"He was ripped apart. The only reason I was able to identify him is that said girlfriend was present at the murder, and she's too traumatized to
discuss it."
Roger presses his hand in his face. "It was horrible."
Tom nods, swallowing more of the pancake on his plate. After several bites, he wipes some of the syrup from his lips, "...Ripped apart.
That's..."
"Not possible. Not for a human being."
"I'm sorry, sir. But that is uncharacteristically similar to what I've come to face in the city since my arrival."
"I agree. It isn't."
"You have to understand something about Vespertine City." Roger frowns. "I take it you're new here, by the accent."
"Yeah, I've only been in town for a week or so."
"But the things I've seen... Of a gang by the name of Endgame, and creatures that stalk the night- this city isn't normal."
'But that's why the people need help."
"Vespertine City is a city of willing amnesia. People come here to forget about things, and they close their eyes to a lot of what goes on in the
streets."
"VitaTech owns over seventy percent of the city - literally - and people just like to pretend that things could never happen to them so long as
they're not on the streets too late at night."
"I'm sure you've noticed," he continues, pouring himself a glass of orange juice, "That the only people outside at night are thugs and
drunks, and even the drunks tend not to be out when it gets truly dark."
The image of Edgeworth slid as if a slide into his memory- So was it just that he didn't wish to remember? "Yeah. It's like the city's dead at
night. Has it always been like this, Mister Smith?"
"For a long time," he replies. "And please, call me Roger."
"You're a guest, which makes you a friend here."
"It's appreciated, Roger. Then please, feel free to call me Tom," he says with a smile. Another friend in this strange city of fog and shadow,
"I feel like I can trust you, so I need to ask, have you ever heard of Requiems, Roger?"
"..." Roger frowns at this. "There are monsters that walk the night," he says, "And not all of them are people. But not all of them
are Requiems."
"This is a city of rumors, myths, legends, and shadows."
"Of monsters masquerading as men. I had a run in with one of them, myself," Tom touches at the wound in his shoulder. It still stung, that one,
"A requiem almost killed three of my coworkers, and a man by the name of Fenrir nearly took the life of an innocent girl."
"Fenrir...Fenrir..." Roger's frown deepens. "You don't mean Fenrir the Cutter?"
"Even then, there's another asking for my help in vengeance toward a knight in moonlight. It's a strange city, Roger."
"That's the one."
"He took a bite out of my shoulder- I had thought I took care of him, but..."
The eye. His eye, that image pushed itself to the fore of his memory, "...His face, it's not human. Not totally human, anyway. He sliced her open
without a weapon. Glowing red eye, pitch black skin..."
"I don't know which is more dangerous, the Requiems, or this Endgame group."
"I've never seen what's under Endgame's masks." Roger informs him, "But Endgame, Endgame can be negotiated with."
"That's my job. I'm a negotiator. So if you ever need someone to back you up, feel free to call me."
"It's appreciated. I might actually need your services soon... Depending on what happens in the near future."
"Tell me about the Moonlight Knight."
"There's a rumor going around town- or maybe a legend, of a knight who grants wishes that appears on every full moon."
"The only way to be granted your wish is to defeat him in combat. The thing is, there's this girl who wants it dead- for vengeance..."
"And she's a member of Endgame," Roger finishes for him.
"That's right."
"She requested to remain anonymous, so if it's alright, I'll keep my word on that. Yes, she has a brother in intensive care, comatose now, because
of the knight. At the same time, I'm unwilling to go through on my end of the deal- I still don't know much about this knight. If it's not truely
malicious, I'd not want to end its life, and I can think of a way to appease her without killing, but I need to investigate that as well."
Roger nods.
"There's always the thought that this person might be risky to awaken, or if I do, she may refuse to cooperate. After all, I know better than to wish
for a solution to this case from a genie or fairy godmother, or anything. Those never end well for any involved."
"There's also the case of the incident that followed Ryoji's death at that school. The one that led to its closure."
"I've been told that there were... experiments on those grounds. Ones regarding pulling creatures from beyond the veil into our own, or something like
that. I've got a feeling that it ties into the Requiem as well."
"...Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know how long they have been appearing, would you?"
"I'm not sure. For as long as I can remember - it's always seemed to be a sort of natural thing."
"And they strike so rarely, nobody really cares to stamp them out."
"I see. But the thing is that they're apparantly interesting enough to merit research from VitaTech."
"I'm not surprised."
"We're looking into what they're after in regards to the Requiems now, but so far, we've come to a bit of a dead end."
"Again, I'm not surprised. VitaTech is rock-solid when it comes to their security. You'd have to be a family member to get to the really secret
stuff."
"Especially since that recent robbery."
"What we have uncovered is interesting, though. They seem to have attributed certain personality traits to the appearance of Requiems, and on top of that,
a VitaTech security guard we have been investigating was recently found dead."
Tom neglected to mention who exactly it was that made the robbery, but he figured that Roger already had an idea.
"I heard about that. But there's no suspect."
"Yeah, we've noticed that as well. The best way to get more info is really to tap the net, or someone inside the business itself. Otherwise, it'll
be impossible to follow that thread... But if it's as you've said, and VitaTech controls much of the city, I'd not be surprised if they had a hand
in manipulating Endgame as well."
"His body was found far enough out of town to avoid the authorities for quite a while. The guy who found the body for me was chased down by Endgame
following the investigation."
"He's pretty tight lipped, so I'm not sure if there's any relation, but it's possible. That's about when I encountered Fenrir."
"...I'm wondering if VitaTech's research into the Requiems has gone so far as to implant aspects of the creatures in human test subjects. If
Fenrir's any indication, it seems pretty likely."
"So you think Endgame is VitaTech's personal research group?"
"It's a possibility. And if they are, they'd also make a great team of hitmen, in my opinion."
"That's a pretty good conclusion. Like I said, I've never been able to get under their masks, but at least they can be reasoned with."
"Killing two birds with one stone seems like the kind of thing a corporation that powerful would do. On top of that, I haven't seen much police
investigation into the matter, so it's possible that VitaTech's hand is influencing them as well."
"That's almost certain," Roger agrees, "That's why I quit the police force."
Tom smirks, finishing the pancake on his plate, "Yeah, I can see that. You seem like the kind of person to detest corruption."
"...Speaking of which, there's another factor in the case who I need to ask about. Miles Edgeworth- is there any way I could convince him to talk to
me?"
"He's a hard man to get to if you're interested in a case like Minato's."
"Yeah, he snubbed me off earlier today," A sheepish grin, "But what you said earlier, that this city is one of willing amnesia- I think he's
trying to forget that case."
"You said it came close, and he was the prosecutor... And on top of that, the gruesomeness of the crime itself. The loss must have hurt him quite a
bit."
"It's more than that. Edgeworth is a man devoted to punishing the guilty - he goes into the course determined to get a Guilty verdict every
time."
"I see. So it was also a blow to his pride- one he'd rather not want to remember again."
"More than that...he genuinely believed that Minato was guilty."
"..."
"I see."
"So he feels he need to live with the guilt that he let a killer roam free."
"That's right."
"I doubt that guilt will leave him any time soon. I wonder if showing him Minato as he is now might work?"
"That kid... He's about as dead as the city's nightlife. I mean, he's -alive,- but there's nothing behind the eyes."
"...is he?"
"Yeah."
"It's like all the life's been drained out of him. I don't think he wanted to kill Ryoji, if he even did."
"And if he didn't, his friends and Ryoji's friends needed someone to blame."
"They're all around him now- the ones who stayed. But they're also very unwilling to talk about it."
"They seem to believe he killed Ryoji, but if that opinion has been distorted, feeling betrayed by everyone you trusted must have scarred him
deeply."
"Interesting." Roger rubs his chin. "You're not a detective, are you?"
"Detectives would give me hard evidence, tell me the links that set this off and got them pursuing this line of thought."
"I'm actually a criminal psychologist, cyborg and ex-boxer, but I'm working as an investigator at the time being."
"Quite a profile." Roger takes a sip of his OJ. "But that explains a lot."
"I'll admit that what I've got is mostly assumption, and the evidence I do have would never be accepted in court."
"Call me crazy, but Ryoji? Talked to him before I even knew about him."
"It's a good thing you're not working for a court case, then." Roger chuckles. "And crazy's not uncommon in this city."
"Elbows off the table, Roger Smith." A female voice informs him, a pale woman in a black dress walking in, seating herself opposite Roger on the
table. "In front of company? You're a louse, Roger Smith."
"Thank you, Dorothy," Roger replies, a bit of a smirk on his face.
"Tom, this is Dorothy R. Waynewright. Doroth, this is Thomas Magnusson. He's-"
"A cyborg. I know." Dorothy stares at Tom with an inordinately dispassionate gaze. "I can tell. You're like me."
"Dorothy's a full conversion-type," Roger informs Tom patiently.
"Heh, does it? I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted," Tom chuckles, scratching at the base of his neck, "I'll admit,
you've got quite the keen sense of people, Roger-" Tom glances up at the woman. Pale, perhaps even deathly pale- he gives her a smile none the less,
"Good morning, it's an honor, Miss Waynewright... And you've got quite an eye for the mechanical. Was it my hands?"
"It was your back." She replies, articulating every, single, word. "You arch over slightly, carrying weight on your shoulders. This implies an
unusual formation of the upper limbs."
Perhaps just a bit unnerving, that, but he chalked it up to the full-conversion bit, "So it's either I was a cyborg or missing a chromosome," He
chuckles, cheery in contrast to the color of the day, "I'd rather take the former any day."
"Roger!" Dorothy reprimands sternly as Roger leans forward again. He straightens instinctively at this show of emotion. "Dorothy! In front of
our guest!"
"You are a louse, Roger Smith!" She repeats emphatically, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Anyway, Tom..." Roger rolls his hand. "I'd like to help you with Miles, but he's one person who's too closed-lipped even for me to
talk to."
Tom nods again, smirking inwardly at this very, very odd couple. They seemed to fit, though, "I understand. Would there be anyone who might be able to
talk to him about it?"
"Phoenix, but he's out of the country at the moment."
"I see. So I'll have to wait on that one..."
"There is one last thing... I need your opinion: Do you think I can trust this individual within Endgame?"
"No."
"Then I'll have to watch my step."
"I trust women, as a rule," Roger continues, "But Endgame is an altogether different beast."
"Is that literal, or metaphorical? They seem keen on naming themselves after monsters."
"They are. The top members I know of are Fenrir the Cutter, Roc the Wing, and Hel the Death."
"There are a lot more than that, but I don't know anything about them."
That last one sent a chill down Tom's spine... "...Tell me, this Roc, does he have a habit of appearing out of the blue?"
"He does."
"I may have met him. In a way."
"Is that so?"
"He told me that I had 'won this round.' Knocked Fenrir out and probably saved the three of us in the process."
"I'm thinking there's definitely some tension between the upper echelons."
"Probably," Roger agrees. "Gangs tend to have a lot of tension in this city between each other and within themselves."
"Endgame is the biggest, but there's also a sect of the Brotherhood here, and a small group of imitators called Shadowkind."
"...Pardon, Brotherhood? Shadowkind?"
"The Brotherhood of Mutants. They tried to settle in in Pendragon, but, well, you know how the Crown tends to be about lawlessness in Pendragon."
"Allegiance or Death, it seems to be."
"And Shadowkind is a group of imitators who think they're monster hunters. Better than the other gangs, but they're still just vigilantes."
"Heh. Now you sound like those Big Fire lunatics." Roger leans forward, prompting Dorothy (who had been sitting silently) to whack at him with a
newspaper.
"At least there are none of them in Britannia."
"I see... Even if they are just vigilantes, monster hunting seems to have become a bit of a- Oh what? No, I'm not -THAT- crazy," Tom chuckles,
"Nor am I willing to wear a hood."
"...But yes, I think I might be able to persuade that Shadowkind group to maybe share some information. You wouldn't happen to know where to find
them, would you?"
"Sorry. I don't make a habit of negotiating with gangs."
"I understand. Who knows, maybe I'll run into them? Things that go bump seem to find me quite often these days."
"Heh. It sounds like you've got some pretty bad luck."
"Maybe you should visit the old Eleven shrine."
"Or good. I'm still alive, after all... Shrine?"
"Just an old cultural place that was built before Japan became Area Eleven."
"A lot of people still go there for good luck."
"I think I will. In this city, I'll be needing all the help I can get."
"Sounds like a good plan," Roger agrees wryly.
"Well, in a city of shadow-monsters, corporation-run-everything and a cadre of who-knows-what-else lurking around out there, it's always good to have
friends in 'high places.'"
"Heh. I guess it is, at that."
"Well, it's been good speaking with you, Roger. You've been a great help with the case, and I hope we can talk again sometime," The cyborg
turns his gaze to the woman at the table- pretty sure she's always been a woman, anyway, "And it's been wonderful making your acquaintance,
Dorothy."
"Have a pleasant day, Tom Magnusson."
Tom rises from his seat after dabbing what is left of the syrup from the corners of his mouth, "And you, Miss Dorothy." He nods one last time in
farewell and recognition, "And thank you both for the hospitality."
Norman shows Tom out quite briefly, bidding him farewell and reminding him that if he wants to visit again, he needs to wear black.
He chuckles again- fond of laughter, this one- and informs Norman that he'll be sure to do just that next time he's in town. Tom makes his way back
down the courtyard and out of Mansion grounds...
...It's time to visit a shrine!
A taxi seems to have (thoughtfully) been called, and arrives within a very short bit.
Tom steps into the rear seat of the car and provides the driver with his destination of choice. Hopefully, he or she knows where to go.
He does. Tom is deposited unceremoniously at the old shrine - and it really does look old. Fortunately, it's within walking distance of the city.
A good thing. Taxis are costly after all. Tom gazes up the steps of the shrine and cautiously makes his way into the grounds...
Old things are, after all, tremendously suspicious.
Nothing unusual about this one.
It is, admittedly, quite old.
Just old, eh? If that's the case, he simply pushes on ahead. Was there an altar, or an offering box, or something nearby?
(Or a fox?)
No fox, but an altar and an offering box quite plainly sitting in the middle of the shrine.
Tom slides an offering into the chamber, and turns to the altar for a short prayer to whatever benevolence may have been listening.
Good fortune and protection from danger for both himself, and those who he has found himself surrounded by.
If there is one, it doesn't seem inclined to be particularly chatty. Nothing happens - no magical effects, nothing indicating that this is built on a ley
line or anything.
Still, the very act of prayer is always somewhat comfortable, and the shrine is at least a nice place to do it. It's blatantly obvious why it hasn't
been torn down or modernized, or even Britannianized - it's simply comforting.
Even though the culture is so very alien, it's a nice place.
It's just an eye of calm in the midst of the tumultuous city, and it was one Tom appreciates. Even if there wasn't a being listening, the fact that
such a place still existed- even if it was aged- means quite a bit for the aspiring detective.
A comfort to any who wish to come to get away from their day to day stress. Even after a short stay, he feels significantly psychologically rejuvinated.
After a while at prayer, Tom decides it high time to continue investigation...
But where first? He had so many questions...
The most logical course of action would be to check the hospital.
After all, he needs to verify that there in fact IS a boy, comatose, with relevant history in the Hospital's care.