Chapter Text
The LA airport was crowded per usual, people jostling around as they hurried to their gates; irritated and tired parents wheeling their suitcases through the hallways with children flopping uselessly by their sides, younger students, probably flying home for break and dressed in oversized hoodies with random phrases or schools emblazoned across the front, and irritated-looking business-types, wearing button-downs and slacks with laptop bags slung over their shoulders and sleek-looking suitcases in their free hands. It was chaotic, a mess and crush of bodies, and Kay hurried through the crowded airport, feeling gross from the last fifteen hours spent travelling.
“Slow down, pup. We’ve got no plans for tonight.”
Kay threw an annoyed glare over her shoulder but slowed, giving Lang who had been trailing behind her, time to catch up, “Can we go.” She grumbled, “I hate airports.”
“Nobody likes airports,” Lang responded, refusing to hurry as he munched on the pretzel he had insisted on stopping to buy, “But that doesn’t mean you have to go sprinting through the crowds, shoving every exhausted child out of the way.”
“Or you could pick up the pace.”
“Don’t want to.” Lang shrugged, “And I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t either. Remember our characters, Kay.”
“Oh, so your character would just stop by Auntie Anne’s to buy a pretzel?”
“Yeah,” Lang said, taking another bite of the pretzel, “He would.”
Kay rolled her eyes but kept at the slower pace, letting her shoulders slump slightly. Lang was right – they were in public and it wouldn’t do if someone spotted them acting out of character. Readjusting her blouse, Kay nodded slightly at Lang, straightening her back and marching smartly through the airport as he sauntered next to her.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Lang asked lowly as he finished the last of his pretzel, “Can’t have you blowing your cover right at the end.”
“I suppose not.” Kay agreed, matching his tone.
It would be stupid to trip here, right at the finish line. Kay and Lang had been on the trail of a major criminal organization for over a year – drugs, trafficking, murder; the group had left a trail of violence that spanned across all seven continents. (Kay didn’t even know you could involve penguins in criminal enterprises but the things rich people did with their money would never cease to amaze her.) Interpol had been on the case for decades, slowly chipping away at their criminal empire but it was often slow and painful work.
About a year and a half ago, the group had managed to bribe an official in the Borginian government to leak details of a major weapons project. The scandal had been barely covered up, but the plans were long gone by the time Interpol had gotten involved. Franziska, left in charge of cleaning up the mess per usual, had brought Kay and Lang on board, tasking them with the job of retrieving the stolen plans. She had only explained the barest details of the weapons plans to them, and, while her explanation was scarce, she had made it abundantly clear that failing to retrieve the plans would be nothing short of catastrophic.
Since then, Kay and Lang had managed to infiltrate the group, working slowly to establish themselves as trusted members of the organization. Kay was posing as the daughter of one of the European leaders of the criminal organization, a powerful and well-connected man that Franziska had managed to flip, and Lang, her loyal bodyguard. It had been horrible work, stressful and at times downright terrifying, but they had managed to track the plans to the LA branch of the organization, split among three different computer chips. The only thing left for them to do at this point was to infiltrate the LA branch and steal the plans back.
“This isn’t so bad though.” Kay muttered as they talked, careful to keep her voice low and expression stiff, “I mean in comparison to what we’ve dealt with. At least we’re somewhere familiar this time. Think we’ll be able to see Mr. Edgeworth while we’re in town?”
“I believe his lovely sister has commandeered his office as the base for this operation so I’d say yes.” Lang replied, “We’ll see him. Once we’re done with all this, let’s get pretty boy to take us out for a nice meal, yea?”
“Sounds like a plan” Kay nodded, keeping her face impassive, “We haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Since at least before we started this whole mess.”
“Heard he made some big life changes.”
“Finally bought a home in LA so he’s here for good,” Lang said thoughtfully, “Plus the improvements he’s been implementing into the LA criminal justice system – heard a few other districts are following suit. Hell, even the DOJ’s been consulting with him.”
“And beyond that.”
“Beyond his major accomplishments towards completely reforming a disgustingly corrupt justice system?”
“I was thinking a bit more personal.”
“Ah,” Lang never fell out of character but Kay could hear the smile in the single syllable, “You mean That Man?”
“Can’t believe he finally pulled the trigger on that,” Kay confirmed, not even glancing at Lang, “He’s actually dating him, god I thought he would never . He waxed poetic for years .”
“Oh, I know. It was awful. You know, even when we were hooking up – “
“Really don’t wanna hear about that.”
“But you’re curious about the new boyfriend,” Lang’s voice was light, “Hoping to get an introduction?”
“Naturally.” Kay responded evenly, “Gotta vet him.”
“Are you planning on threatening him?”
“Were you not?”
“Of course I was,” Lang shrugged, “I don’t distrust him yet but I obviously don’t trust him so we definitely need to chat.”
“Do you think Mr. Edgeworth is happy though?”
“Happy?” Lang echoed, “Kay, you saw how stupid in love he was…always That Man this and That Man that – he must be elated. Although…” Lang trailed off, clearly thinking, “Did we ever get a name?”
“Nope.” Kay said, “But I’m still gonna break every bone in his body and dump him in the Pacific if he ever hurts Mr. Edgeworth.”
“You, me, Franziska…” Lang mused aloud, running through the names, “Poor man must be getting quite used to being threatened. Wonder if Edgeworth’s worth it.”
“He is.” Kay said, speaking with absolute certainty, “And if That Man doesn’t think Mr. Edgeworth is worth it, I’m also gonna break all his bones.”
“Think you’ll get along?”
“I hope so.” Kay said, a slight frown creasing her forehead, “It’s sorta weird, isn’t it? Mr. Edgeworth’s kinda like my dad but I don’t expect That Man to… dad me? That’d be weird. Like, really weird. I’m an adult so I guess it shouldn’t really matter to me who Mr. Edgeworth is dating.”
“But it does.”
“It does,” Kay admitted, “It matters a lot.”
“Because you want Edgeworth to be happy?”
“Well…” Kay trailed off, deep in thought, “Obviously what matters the most is that Mr. Edgeworth is happy,” she finally said, trying to work through the mess in her head, “And…I think you’re right. I think being with That Man makes him happy. Hell, I know it does. He’s wanted this for years.”
“So that’s all good.”
“It...is,” Kay admitted, hesitantly, “It’s good and I’m happy about that. And I trust That Man with Mr. Edgeworth. I mean, I trust he’s a good person - he has to be, right? If Mr. Edgeworth loves him, he has to be. So that’s all great and wonderful and whatnot but...”
“But.”
“I guess I’m nervous?”
“Nervous.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re the one giving the shotgun talk.”
“Okay, sure,” Kay huffed, a half laugh that didn’t quite fully manifest, “I’m not nervous about that I’m just nervous about him...liking me? I guess it would just be easier if we all got along and...if he really is that good and smart and amazing of a person...I...of course I want him to like me? I want him to…to....”
“Approve of you?”
Kay really did laugh that time, the smallest snort before she quickly got herself under control, “I...god. That’s probably it, isn’t it?” she said wryly, “Fully grown adult working undercover for Interpol and I’m worried about the approval of some dude I’ve never met. But either way, I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be part of Mr. Edgeworth’s life no matter what and if That Man is a part of it too, well, I want him to like me. I want to like him. I want us to be friends.”
“Hmph.” Lang grunted.
“Hey, don’t ask emotional questions if you don’t want to hear emotional answers.” Kay said, not bothered by Lang’s single-syllable answer, “Besides, aren’t you curious?”
“About what?”
“What kind of man he is.”
“I am,” Lang admitted, “Frankly, it’s impossible not to be curious – you heard how pretty boy talked about him. What kind of man catches Edgeworth’s attention like that? He’s not an easy man to know, much less impress. So for him to just… obsess over one man. For years. Yeah, I’m curious.”
“Think he’s handsome? Pretty face, nice body?”
“Edgeworth is petty. So probably.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Well, we already know what his physical preferences are, don’t we?” Lang’s face was impassive but Kay could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Look, could you please stop bringing up your sordid affair –“
“Oh, sordid, so sorry Pretty Boy Jr.,” Lang retorted smugly, “But as far as we know, I am the only physical reference we have.”
“I guess,” Kay admitted begrudgingly, “Fine, ugh, no more physical preferences, you’ve ruined that one – what about his personality? Think he’s smart?”
“He has to be, right? Edgeworth compared the man to his dad . So he has to be insanely smart - some great legal mind or something. Plus didn’t Edgeworth say That Man basically ran off and reformed the entire legal system after being disbarred? Gotta be smart to come up with shit like that.”
“And, more impressively, he also broke Mr. Edgeworth’s and Franzy’s perfect win record.” Kay noted, “And their mentor’s right? Damn, he really took the whole group out.”
“So he has to be brilliant.” Lang nodded, “Smart enough to impress Edgeworth, competent enough to reform an entire legal system, and clever enough to trip up Edgeworth, Von Karma, and the man who trained them up. That’s not just smart, Kay. That’s scary smart.”
“Brilliant and handsome – probably into the same hobbies as Mr. Edgeworth?” Kay suggested, “So tea or Steel Samurai. Ugh.” Kay sighed, “He’s probably rich and fancy too. Maybe a little snobby? God. He’s probably one of those perfect people who’s had their life together since day one but you can’t even hate them because they’re so nice. I hate people like that. He sounds so...bleh. Boring.”
“Well Edgeworth’s obsessed with him so I’d question the nice part but the rest sounds right.”
“He could be nice. It could be an opposites attract situation.”
“Nah,” Lang said dismissively, “Edgeworth is too much of an asshole. That Man has to have some bite or he’d get torn apart.”
“You’re probably right,” Kay conceded, “He sounds like quite the character.”
“And we’re gonna shotgun talk him.”
“Yep.”
“Both of us? At the same time?”
“Hm,” Kay pondered as they maneuvered around an elderly couple, “Both of us at once might be overkill. I think doing it individually makes a stronger impression, don’t you think?”
“Works for me,” Lang grinned, bearing his sharp teeth, “Heads up though, pup. I think those men are ours.”
Kay and Lang had managed to make their way down to the baggage carousel and instantly spotted a pair of men in suits holding up a sign that read “Avis Black”.
“You’re right,” Kay muttered, readjusting her face into one of cool indifference, “Let’s go, Lang.”
“Right behind you.”
Holding her posture, Kay approached the two men, her steps confident but stiff. Channel Mr. Edgeworth at his most contemptuous. That had really been her entire character; cool, aloof, and so intimidating that nobody would dare become overly familiar with her.
“Ms. Black and Mr. Howlette?” one of the men asked as they approached.
“Yes,” Kay said, her tone as icy as she could make it, “Grab my bags. I trust you know which carousel they’re on. Mr. Howlette and myself both have black bags – our names are on the tags though, so you will have no problem finding them.”
“Of course,” One of the men nodded sharply and hurried over to the baggage carousels while the other smiled nervously at Kay. She did not return the smile.
“You will go get the car,” she said to the man who had been left behind, “I will be waiting outside – I have no desire to wander through some disgusting parking garage. I trust the other one will have my bags by the time you get back.”
“Whatever you say, Ms. Black,” the man replied nervously and turned, all but running out of the airport.
“You’re cold,” Lang observed, as soon as both men were out of earshot, “Didn’t even ask their names.”
“I’m the spoiled, bitchy daughter of some big-name mafia boss,” Kay murmured, keeping her eye on the man at the carousel, frantically scrambling at the suitcases, “I don’t get to know the names of our chauffeurs or something. Plus it gives me the added benefits of not being approachable. Less small talk means less of a chance at slipping up.”
“Hey, I never said I disliked your undercover persona just observed how good you were at being mean,” Lang smirked, “You get inspiration from somewhere?”
“Why are you asking questions you know the answer to?”
“Oooh, being mean to me too, hm?”
“You’re just my bodyguard, Mr. Howlette,” Kay said haughtily, “Should you be so informal with me?”
“Or what?” Lang asked, “Your daddy’s gonna take care of me? Sorta hard when I know daddy is just an Interpol snitch.”
“Turning Mr. Black was one of Franzy’s finer moments,” Kay agreed, “Okay, back in character. Looks like the poor man’s found our suitcases.”
The man had finally pulled two suitcases from the carousel and, after checking the tags, rushed back to Kay and Lang, his face still set in the same terrified grin as he approached.
“Ma’am,” he said, slightly out of breath, wheeling the suitcases besides him, “I believe these are yours.”
“Check them, would you, Mr. Howlette?” Kay asked loftily, “It wouldn’t do for us to get to our hotel only to discover this man’s made some mistake or can’t read.”
Wordlessly, Lang bent over, flipping the tags in his hands, “They’re correct, Ms. Black.” He said, scowling at the man whose nervous smile almost faltered.
“I suppose the help can be useful for some things,” Kay sighed, “You,” she said sharply, pointing at the man, who snapped to attention, “Carry those to our car. It should be waiting outside.”
“Of course, Ms. Black!” the man grabbed the suitcases, rolling them towards the exit. With one last glance at Lang, Kay followed the man through the automatic doors, the warm LA air blasting her face as she stepped out of the cold, air-conditioned airport.
Despite everything, it was good to be home.
“Are you sure this is a great idea, Mr. Wright?” Apollo asked, eyeing his boss nervously. Phoenix turned and grinned at him, readjusting the black baseball cap that he had pulled down over his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Phoenix asked, feigning innocence, “You don’t like the hat? Wasn’t feeling the beanie, honestly. Wanted to spice things up a little.”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying – “
“Think I should wear it backwards?” Phoenix asked, turning the hat around, “Is that how the kids are hanging these days?”
“How the kids are hanging isn’t my concern,” Apollo rolled his eyes, “You getting murdered by a massive international cartel is, seeing how if you get murdered they might come after me and Athena too.”
“They better!” Athena nodded vigorously, glaring at Apollo, “If Mr. Wright gets killed that’s our origin story Apollo! Our boss-dad got got by international criminals and we’ve now dedicated our lives to finding the men that killed him and killing them! A revenge story! It’s perfect, thanks for dying, Mr. Wright.”
“No,” Apollo said flatly, “No revenge story. No fighting an international cartel. If Mr. Wright dies, we are going to the police and we are begging them to put us in the witness protection program.”
“Or we become crime-fighting superheroes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m also not dying,” Phoenix shrugged, slipping a zip-up hoodie with LA DODGERS emblazoned on the front on, “Thoughts on the hoodie? Yay or nay? Oh – I should think about my character, shouldn’t I? So what would Nick Nayme do? Think he’s an LA Dodgers man?”
“I think Nick Nayme would skip his crime shift and let the police handle this,” Apollo scowled at Phoenix, “They’re gonna find out, Mr. Wright – and couldn’t you at least have come up with a better fake name than Nick Nayme!? You literally just used a nickname for yourself and...and Nayme ?! Nick Nayme !?”
“It’s pronounced Nick Nayé.”
“You don’t even say it that way half the time!”
“Don’t insult my family name, Apollo.”
“It’s stupid! And you think once this gang figures out who you are they’ll just let you walk away!?”
“Apollo I’ve been in the gang for months,” Phoenix shrugged, “And Nick is a star employee. He shows up on time and is so good at doing stuff. Look, they haven’t caught on so far and thankfully I haven’t had to do anything super illegal so – “
“Because of your insane luck .”
“I’m close.” Phoenix insisted, “Another day or two and I’ll get the evidence we need – “
“You’ve been saying that for months ,” Apollo cut Phoenix off, “We let you do this because we didn’t know how big this was! We thought it was a few petty criminals when you started, not some massive international gang! And now that we’ve figured out what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into, we should stop and let the police handle it!”
“Okay, but I mean it this time,” Phoenix said, “I’m close. Really close. And since when do we just let the police handle things? They’ll miss something or take three years to finally get a warrant and by then our client’s already dead so it doesn’t really help him, does it?”
“They’re way more qualified to handle this than we are! Plus, there are ways to slow the justice system if we need to buy our client time, Mr. Wight!” Apollo retorted, “This is ridiculous. You’re a lawyer, not some undercover agent – god. No. I’m putting my foot down. Today. That’s all I’m giving you. Today and then we’re done.”
“And what exactly are you gonna do after today?” Phoenix scoffed, “Call my mom?”
“Maybe not,” Apollo crossed his arms, glaring up at Phoenix, “But I do have Mr. Edgeworth’s number saved in my phone and I wonder how he’d feel to know his boyfriend was up to such dangerous nonsense – “
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You see any locks, Mr. Wright?”
“Pulling out the big guns, Apollo,” Athena sighed, “Sad we won’t get our cool backstory but I like your style.”
“You can’t just threaten me with Miles!” Phoenix blustered.
“Oh, I can’t?” Apollo questioned, puffing his chest out slightly, “Try me.”
“You’re supposed to be embarrassed that we’re even dating!” Phoenix protested, pointing at Apollo.
“I got over it,” Apollo said, “Take it or leave it, Mr. Wright. I’m not negotiating here.”
“I can’t believe I’m being bullied by my junior associate.”
“And I can’t believe I have to force my senior associate to stop snooping around a massive international criminal ring.”
“And I can’t believe we might pass up on our chance to be superheroes.”
“Athena - that’s not happening.”
“Fine, whatever,” Phoenix rolled his eyes and reached up, turning his baseball cap back around so that it was facing forward, “Y’know I think it’s too hot for the hoodie anyways…” Phoenix slipped the hoodie from his shoulders, tossing it aside so that it fell onto the client couch, “I can probably finish it today, honestly. Like I said, I’m close. There’s three computer chips total - I don’t know what’s on them but I think if we can get that information we can prove that there’s no way Mr. Hill is the murderer.”
“Basically, we need to prove that whatever was on those chips, Mr. Hill wouldn’t have killed the victim for them,” Athena nodded, “Simon is going to argue that the chips were the motive, but if we can find out what was on them then we can show that the motive doesn’t hold up.”
“Exactly,” Phoenix concurred, “We prove Mr. Hill had no motive, that throws a wrench into Blackquill’s whole theory. I already figured out the location of the chips so now it’s just a matter of taking them.”
“Great. Grab them today and get out.” Apollo said harshly, “I don’t see why you even need the full day if that’s all that’s left to do.”
“See, I would agree with you but there’s been a bit of a situation,” Phoenix sighed, “New boss is coming in today.”
“New boss?”
“She’s the daughter of some hotshot in the cartel,” Phoenix responded, “Avis Black. Daughter of Daniel Black – he’s high up, like high up. He’s the head of all their European operations from what I can tell. She’s newish and has apparently only been in the business for a little longer than a year but with Daddy’s connections she’s already running quite a bit. Anyways, her and her bodyguard – ugh what was his name? Logan? Logan Howlette? Something like that – it doesn’t matter I guess but they’re coming in from Europe to examine our operations. Daddy wants to make sure things are running smoothly so I guess she was picked for the job.”
“And why does that matter?”
“I’m supposed to be the one showing Black around,” Phoenix explained, “So I’ll be occupied for most of the day with some high-up kid in the gang. I know where the chips are but I have to figure out how to get away from her and her bodyguard at some point. Once I’m able to shake them, I can get the chips and bounce.”
“Perfect,” Apollo said, glancing down at his phone, “Then sneak off and do it today. I’m sure you’ll figure out something. You’re good in a pinch aren’t you?”
“I see your sympathetic streak is still going strong, Apollo.”
“It’s early – not even 6AM,” Apollo said, ignoring Phoenix, “We’ll give you twelve hours to get everything you need or I’m calling Mr. Edgeworth on you. You have until 6PM tonight.”
“God, fine,” Phoenix grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, “Anything else I can do for you mom?”
“If you do get caught, pretend you don’t know us,” Apollo shrugged.
“No, it’s easier if they come to us – “ Athena started.
“Athena, no.”
In retrospect, it did make sense that the gang’s headquarters would have been in the warehouse district, away from the city center and somewhere isolated where constant comings and goings wouldn't raise suspicions.
Kay looked out the tinted windows of the dark car she was riding in, watching as they passed the same steel warehouse over and over. The city had faded into the background a while ago, and the entire car was silent, no sound coming from either the nervous-looking driver or Lang, who was slouched in the seat next to Kay. It had been a long drive from the luxury penthouse suite that had been reserved for her to the gang’s headquarters, and nobody had spoken the entire time. Exhausted, Kay yawned widely, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, as she struggled to fight off the lack of sleep and jetlag.
Lang said nothing, glancing at her with an eyebrow quirked, the message obvious in his eyes. Stay sharp.
I always am.
In turning Daniel Black, Franziska had gotten Kay’s new “father” to do more than give Kay and Lang a cover story. Somehow (through her “usual” methods of persuasion), Franziska had also gotten him to spill the information on where exactly the chips were located in the LA warehouse, or more specifically, who had them. There were three chips in total, each held by one of the higher-ups in the LA operation, which meant that Kay and Lang’s plan was quite simple; get in, get the chips, get out.
Three steps. No problem. Maybe they’d be done with this whole thing by lunch.
The car eventually came to a stop in front of one of the nondescript warehouses near the back of the massive complex and Kay sat there stiffly, waiting for her door to be opened. The driver leapt out of the car, scrambling around outside before Kay’s door was pulled open, the driver standing stiffly as he held it. Not even thanking him, Kay stepped out as Lang crawled out behind her, straightening her black pencil skirt as she did so and holding her black briefcase in her left hand.
“Ms. Black.”
Kay arched an eyebrow coolly at the large man who came bustling out of the warehouse, “I’m James Ryder,” he explained warmly, extending his hand, “I run our Western North American operations and it is wonderful to see you.”
“Indeed,” she said, not matching his tone but shaking his hand, a brisk and practiced motion, studying Ryder briefly as she did so. He was big, at least half a foot taller than Lang and probably weighed three times as much. His massive hand, rough and calloused, easily engulfed Kay’s own. Nothing about Ryder comforted Kay; if they somehow found themselves fighting him she was fairly certain it would take both her and Lang to subdue him, “I do hope my visit here won’t be long, Mr. Ryder.” She said, once he released her hand.
“We won’t waste your time, Ms. Black,” Ryder spoke eagerly, “We’re just honored you came out to see us. Your father – “
“-is a busy man as am I,” Kay snapped, “And yet you insist on standing outside gabbing, Mr. Ryder.”
Ryder’s face darkened, his mouth instinctively flying open before he tensed, shutting it and instead forcing a smile. Kay’s eyes followed his movements, storing the information for future use. This was a man that wasn’t used to being talked down to or interrupted. A short temper, likely, provoked even further by Kay’s youth and gender, but also cowed either by his own ambition or fear.
“I apologize,” Ryder bowed his head quickly, his shoulders tense and voice stiff, “If you’ll follow me, Ms. Black.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ryder,” Kay shot him a sharp grin, full of teeth and mirthless, “Lead the way.”
Ryder led Kay and Lang into the warehouse, the door held open by some lackey that Kay didn’t even bother sparing a glance. Lang trailed behind her, silent the entire time, his hands shoved in his pockets and a menacing scowl fixed perfectly on his face.
The outside of the warehouse had looked completely unassuming but inside was a rather different operation. It was busy and somewhat crowded, people scurrying by, barely sparing Ryder and Kay a glance as they passed. The entire setup looked halfway between a warehouse and some sort of open-source office space. There were random desks and chairs scattered around, where some people sat hunched over laptop computers, working furiously. Palettes were stacked at seemingly random throughout the floor and high metal shelves, stacked high with boxes, were shoved against some of the walls. It was one of the strangest looking arrangements Kay had ever seen, but the weirdest thing immediately became apparent to Kay; odd-looking chickens fluttered around the floor, picking their way around legs and clucking irritably every time someone lightly tapped them with their foot.
“Are most American operations so…common?” Kay drawled, letting her gaze openly rest on one of the chickens who had gotten close to their group.
“It’s a good cover,” Ryder explained, his voice once again strained, “The authorities think we run a luxury chicken pet service.”
Really, Kay never would get over the things rich people did with their money.
“I see,” she said, not bothering to hide her disdain as she watched the chicken, “I trust I won’t be expected to interact with these animals.”
“Of course not, Ms. Black. We merely keep them on hand as a cover.”
“Good,” Kay responded, looking away from the chicken as it apparently decided to wander away, “I will be most upset if any chickens ruin my shoes or any of my property.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
“You won’t,” Kay agreed, “Now, what you will do is show me to my office. I have no desire to waste any more time today.”
“Yes,” Ryder spoke quickly, “If I could introduce you to your liaison today –“ Ryder indicated towards a man who had been standing a few feet away, silently watching their group, “This is Nick.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Black, Mr. Howlette.” Nick smiled, closing the distance between them before shaking Kay and Lang’s hands in turn. Kay examined Nick as she shook his hand, her eyes flicking over his face and down his frame. He was an attractive man with an average height and build, dressed simply in a black t-shirt with dark jeans and sneakers. His hair was hidden by a black baseball cap, his eyes dark, and he looked like he needed a shave, stubble messily splattered over his sharp jawline.
He was substantially smaller than Ryder too and did not appear nearly as strong as Lang. That was good. Just by looking at him, Kay was pretty sure she could take Nick if she had to. Her eyes passed over his arms. There wasn’t much muscle definition and while he was certainly larger than Kay, his hand had been soft when she had shook it. Probably not trained then. Kay’s eyes rested on a nametag pinned to the front of Nick’s black t-shirt, “I trust we will have no problems working together, Mr....Nayme?”
“Oh,” Nick looked down at his name tag, “No, it’s pronounced Nayé. The m is silent.”
“The m is silent.”
“It’s French.”
“I...I see,” Kay said, hastily quashing her bewilderment and returning to her stiff persona, “Very well, Mr. Nayme. I assume you will be able to perform your duties competently."
“Sure.” Nick grinned lazily at her, apparently not put-off by Kay’s demeanor, “I’ve been here for a while so I’d be more than happy to show you around.”
“Naturally,” Kay said, shifting to look at Ryder, “Mr. Ryder, I believe this is where we part ways. Thank you for coming to greet myself and Mr. Howlette.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Black,” Ryder nodded, “If you need anything from me just ask Nicky to come find me.”
“I will. Good day, Mr. Ryder.”
“Good day, Ms. Black.”
With that, Ryder stiffly turned and marched towards the back of the large room, people scurrying out of his way as he passed. Eventually, he disappeared through a set of doors, stooping down slightly to accommodate his lumbering frame.
“You guys ready for the grand tour?” Nick spoke first, the same lazy grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“Yes,” Kay responded harshly. She didn’t know why but Nick’s laid-back demeanor irritated her, “If you’ll lead the way, Mr. Nayme.”
“You could just call me Nick.”
“I won’t.”
“Alright,” Nick shrugged, apparently still at-ease, “Just follow me then.”
Nick turned, heading towards the back of the warehouse and easily navigating his way around clusters of indignant chickens, “It’s kinda a weird workplace, I won’t lie,” Nick acknowledged over his shoulder as Kay and Lang followed him, “But it’s a good cover. And they’re different from regular chickens, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” Kay replied drily as they walked across the floor, people and chickens alike scattering as they passed. The chickens did look different, strange little birds with odd little tufts on the top of their heads and a ruffle of feathers around their necks. She wanted to stop and examine them more closely, but Kay restrained herself from asking more about the chickens. Avis Black wouldn’t do that.
“They’re luxury chickens,” Nick said, apparently not needing further prompting to discuss the chickens, “Believe it or not, here’s this whole market for these and we legitimately do manage to sell quite a few – “
“Beg pardon Mr. Nayme, did I ask about the chickens?” Kay asked coldly, cutting Nick off.
“You didn’t.”
“Then why are you explaining these chickens to me?”
“I don’t know,” Nick admitted, “Thought you’d be interested.”
“I can’t fathom why you would think such a thing.”
“You just look like the type of person who’d be interested in luxury chickens,” Nick said easily.
Kay had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
“Sorry if that sounded weird,” Nick said, his tone completely unapologetic, “But they’re kinda cute, aren’t they?”
“I don’t think I asked your opinion, Mr. Nayme,” Kay snapped, recovering quickly. She was not used to people being so forward when she slipped into her icy persona but Nick seemed almost immune to it.
“Oh, sure,” Nick said, still apparently unaffected by Kay, “But if you want a luxury chicken in the future guess you could get them here. Kill two birds with one stone, y’know. Or hopefully no birds – I think they’re supposed to be pets.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Kay drawled, determined to change Nick’s demeanor, “But in the meantime, kindly focus on only providing pertinent information, not…chickens.”
“Yeah, sure, sure,” Nick nodded, “Y’know this might be weird, but you kinda remind me of my partner. It’s nice.”
That would explain why Nick did not seem even remotely disturbed when Kay put on her best “Mean Mr. Edgeworth” impression then. It was strange though, Kay mused, as they followed Nick through a door they had reached near the back of the warehouse, that someone apparently as relaxed as Nick would date someone as cold as she was behaving.
Maybe Edgeworth was dating someone like Nick. Maybe That Man was more relaxed, someone who could balance Edgeworth out, someone who could calm him after a day of high-strung and stressful trials. She glanced over at Nick’s back, thinking hard and trying to imagine it. It didn’t work. The idea of Edgeworth, in his expensive clothes and haughty demeanor even standing next to someone as sloppily relaxed as Nick seemed impossible.
“We’ve got a temporary space for the higher-ups back here,” Nick interrupted Kay’s thoughts as they reached a door near the back, holding it open for Kay and Lang, “It’s further back to avoid the smell.”
“Good.” Kay said, passing through the door and not even thanking Nick.
“But sometimes a few chickens still get back here.”
Kay did not respond, hoping that maybe just non-answers would deter Nick. It seemed to work as their group soon fell into a somewhat uncomfortable silence, Lang and Kay following Nick through a few more sets of doors before they finally reached a long corridor with multiple doors down the hallway. The whole area looked similar to an office space with tiled floors that caused Kay’s heels to echo loudly as she walked.
“This is it,” Nick announced, stopping before one of the doors and reaching into his pocket to pull out a keycard. He swiped it on a pad attached to the door handle and it beeped, flashing green. Nick pushed the door open, once again holding it as Kay and Lang followed after him, “And this is your space.”
The office was nice, considering it was in the back of a chicken warehouse. It was rather sparse, a sleek desk with a plush black office chair near the back of the room and a pair of couches facing each other in front of the desk with a low coffee table in between. There were a few paintings on the wall – probably stolen – and another door in the corner of the room, which Kay assumed led to a separate bathroom. Kay walked by Nick, dropping her briefcase onto her desk before she herself sat primly in the office chair placed behind the desk.
“All the doors are secured with keycards,” Nick explained, following them into the office, and handing both Kay and Lang a keycard, “Obviously, depending on who you are, your keycard opens different doors. Mr. Ryder said to give you two master cards. You should be able to get into any room here with those. He said it was really important to give you full access to all our operations, so you got totally free reign. If you have any problems though, I’ll be around too.”
“You’ll be hanging around?” Kay asked sharply. That was unexpected. She had thought she would be left alone with Lang to conduct her business.
“Yea, that’s what they told me to do,” Nick shrugged, “If you need anything let me know. Coffee, snacks…uh I guess that’s sorta all I have to offer, honestly.”
“You’re the snack boy,” Kay deadpanned.
“Snacks, drinks…oh I can get cigarettes too.”
“And you’re my liaison because…”
“I’m really good at getting snacks.”
Kay frankly had no idea why Nick was here. Nothing about him screamed “belongs in a massive international criminal enterprise”. His entire demeanor and personality seemed far too lax and friendly to really serve in any criminal organization and apparently his entire function in the gang was working as a snack boy.
“Is that all you do?” Kay finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her, “Are you just the snack boy?”
“We all have our own skills.”
“How did you even get hired?”
“Friend knew a friend knew a friend.”
“I...very well. While I appreciate your talents, I don’t think they will be necessary,” Kay said, now more confused than ever, “I am perfectly safe with Mr. Howleltte and capable of retrieving my own snacks. Furthermore, I do typically enjoy some privacy.”
“So you want me to leave you alone?” Nick asked.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Where should I go?”
“That isn’t my problem, is it?”
“I…well I’ll get yelled at if I just ditched you,” Nick muttered, clearly thinking, “But if you need privacy…I could go stand in the hallway, I guess? That way you can call me whenever you want.”
“Quite honestly, I do not care where you go, Mr. Nayme.” Kay responded stiffly, "As long as it is away."
“Alright, I'll do that then” Nick grinned, clearly unperturbed by how rude Kay was being, "I'll just head out then," he turned away, meandering towards the door and pulling it open, "Just give a holler if you need anything," he said over his shoulder as he stepped out, "If I’m not there I probably popped off to the bathroom or something, so I’ll be back soon.”
“That sounds agreeable.”
Once the door had swung shut behind Nick, Kay relaxed, slumping in her chair, “I’m so glad that actually worked,” she sighed, “God, what a nightmare this would have been if we had to deal with him too.”
“He seemed pretty slow,” Lang shrugged, “I’m sure we could’ve come up with something.”
“Not really what you were expecting from a major criminal organization, huh?”
“I mean a snack boy who’s that clueless?” Lang snorted, “Wonder how a moron like him got in.”
“If he knew the right people I guess anything is possible,” Kay said, “But enough about him. We’re in, we got rid of Nick, and we can get into every room here. Now we just have to figure out where exactly the chips are.”
“And hopefully do that in one day,” Lang nodded, “Longer we’re here, the riskier it is.”
“Good point,” Kay agreed, “Let’s get to work.”
Phoenix let out a breath, glancing around the hallway and ensuring that nobody had seen him step out of Avis' office. Once he had confirmed the hallway was empty, he walked further down the hall, deeper into the maze that had been built behind the chicken warehouse. He made sure to walk quickly but not too fast – if he ran into anyone he didn’t want to look suspicious, especially considering he was supposed to be with Avis at this very second.
Avis hadn’t exactly been what Phoenix had been expecting when he first heard he was expected to babysit the daughter of some hot-shot in whatever major criminal organization he had accidentally wandered into. She was young. That was the first thing Phoenix noticed. She couldn’t be older than thirty, her long dark hair curled and styled so it fell around her face in perfect waves. She was dressed in what Phoenix would probably describe as “office worker but really rich”, wearing a rather simple black pencil skirt, black pumps, and a pale pink button down. Nothing about her outfit immediately looked expensive but judging by the fit and the material, it was clearly of high quality.
God, Miles was really starting to rub off on him if he was noticing things like that.
Speaking of Miles though there was something about Avis that reminded Phoenix of Miles, or at least of Miles when he was being particularly mean. She spoke in a similar cadence, her words harsh but voice smooth and her mannerisms were cold and standoffish, giving off a distinctly hostile aura. He had watched as she spoke with Ryder, a man who could probably snap her like a twig and was impressed with how she handled him. In their entire conversation, it was obvious who was in control, despite how much physically smaller she was. Her tone had been biting and face perfectly fixed into an absolutely bitchy expression, clearly aware of where each of them stood in the operation. Phoenix knew logically he should have been put off by Avis but instead was strangely comforted, relieved to see someone so similar to Miles in the crazy situation he had somehow found himself in. He found himself mindlessly chatting with her as they walked to her office, far more at-ease with Avis than with her bodyguard.
Howlette appeared to be a silent, stoic type, with blonde hair that had been spiked back and an entirely black wardrobe. He had been scowling the entire time Phoenix had seen him and hadn’t even acknowledged Phoenix when they had met, clearly completely uninterested in anything Phoenix, or seemingly anyone else, had to say. He was also extremely muscular. His neckline had been cut very low, showing off a chiseled chest that Phoenix found nearly impossible to stop staring at. The thin material of his shirt didn’t do much to hide his rather muscular arms either, and Phoenix found himself simultaneously intrigued and terrified. He was handsome, in a “I know at least 47 ways to kill you with my bare hands” kind of way, which Phoenix frankly hadn’t known existed prior to meeting Howlette. While Phoenix was somewhat curious about the man, he wasn’t actually interested in finding out if Howlette could actually talk or if he indeed did know 47 different ways to kill a man, and made a mental note to keep a particularly close eye on him.
Phoenix glanced down at his watch as he hurried through the hallways. 11 AM. Perfect. Horner, who Phoenix knew held one of the chips, was usually gone by now, on his hour-long lunch break. Horner was, if nothing else, a man of routine. He always visited the same café for lunch, and ordered the same meal - vegetable soup with a turkey sandwich - reading the newspaper as he ate from 11AM to exactly 12 PM. His office, of course, was empty during that entire time, which meant that Phoenix would be able to hopefully to slip in, grab a certain computer chip that he knew Horner kept hidden away in his desk, and be back at his post in twenty minutes, tops.
The only thing really in Phoenix’s way at this point was Horner’s locked door but Phoenix had managed to steal a key card from one of the bodyguards a few days earlier, ensuring that the salad she had requested had a few extra ingredients mixed in. He hadn’t killed her obviously; according to Ema the powder she had given Phoenix would merely give her horrible stomach cramps and diarrhea for a few days.
“It’s relatively tasteless so long as you mix it in with something, you should be able to slip it into pretty much any dish.” Ema had explained, handing the powder to Phoenix.
“And you’re sure this won’t kill a person.”
“At the dose I gave you? No way,” Ema shrugged, “Like it’ll suck, but not more so than any other food poisoning.”
“So if you were trying to get it on, let’s say a salad, would it be best to put it on the salad itself or mix it into the salad dressing? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically, I’d mix it into the salad dressing,” Ema had said thoughtfully, “Hypothetically, of course.”
“Yeah. Hypothetically.”
Really, Ema’s complete willingness to go along with any weird request Phoenix had, no questions asked, had to be one of Phoenix’s favorite characteristics of her.
The plan wasn’t perfect, unfortunately. Once the gang realized that the chip was gone from Horner’s office, they’d pull the key card records to see who had come and gone recently. The key card of someone currently disposed of with pretty terrible food poisoning would certainly raise plenty of alarm bells, but Phoenix hoped to be well on his way by the time they put those pieces together.
He reached Horner’s office with no problem, smiling at the few people he saw in the hallway and, after looking around one last time, knocked. He waited for a few seconds then knocked again, waiting a little longer this time. Satisfied that nobody was in the office, Phoenix swiped the key card, holding his breath for a second before it flashed green. Perfect.
Slowly, he pushed the door open, looking around before he stepped fully in. Horner’s office was more lavish than Avis' and looked less sterile, more lived in. There were a few suits hanging from a rack that had been installed in the corner of the room, more paintings on the wall, a few couches and chairs scattered around the office, and the desk was cluttered with papers, two laptops, and two additional large monitors.
No sooner had Phoenix shut the door when there was a sudden, sharp clucking noise and Phoenix jumped, panic spiking in his chest. Glancing wildly around, he quickly located the source of the noise; one of the chickens from the front of the warehouses had apparently found its way into Horner’s office and was strutting around imperiously, throwing Phoenix a disparaging glance before continuing its lap around the office.
“Fuck, you scared me.” Phoenix muttered, raising a hand to his thumping heart as the chicken, who seemed completely uninterested in Phoenix, began trying to tug the rug on the floor apart.
Shooting a final dirty glare at the chicken, Phoenix hurriedly strode over to the large desk on the opposite side of the room. He dropped to his knees, checking the drawers frantically as the chicken continued to ignored him. All were unlocked but one. Grinning, Phoenix fished out a small lockpicking kit from his pocket, thankful, not for the first time, of Trucy’s rather unique set of skills and her willingness to share her knowledge with others.
His brow furrowed in concentration and tongue held between his teeth, Phoenix slid the tension wrench into the lock, slipping the pick in after it. He was silent as he worked, holding his breath slightly as he wiggled the pick back and forth, feeling for the pins, a sharp jolt of triumph coursing through him every time a pin clicked into place.
“It’s really just a feeling, Daddy!” Trucy had explained to him the first time she had taught him to pick a simple lock, “You gotta practice but eventually you’ll know what it’s supposed to feel like!”
And Trucy had been right, as she always was, clever girl. It was a feeling that Phoenix had worked on perfecting over the years, a strange father-daughter bonding activity that came with certain skills that Phoenix was finding particularly useful at the moment. In all, it took Phoenix about five minutes to work the desk open. It wasn’t a difficult lock to pick and Trucy probably could have done it under two but Phoenix was plenty satisfied with his time, placing the picks back in his pocket as he began to rifle through the contents of Horner’s drawer.
He located the chip in less than a minute, letting out a sign of relief as he straightened, chip in hand. One down, two to go and it wasn’t even noon. Maybe he would be able to meet Apollo’s ridiculous deadline after all and Miles would stay none the wiser. Grinning, he shut the drawer, careful to make sure it was locked before stepping around the desk. He had barely taken a step towards the door when there was a soft, familiar beeping noise and the door abruptly swung open. Phoenix froze, his veins turning to ice, as Avis Black slunk into the office, looking furtively around. Upon seeing Phoenix, she also froze, surprise flickering across her face. There was a moment of stillness as they both stood there, staring at each other before Avis seemed to come to her senses, shutting the door behind her and glaring at Phoenix as the door clicked closed with an ominous finality.
“What are you doing.” she demanded sharply, “Mr. Nayme, why are you in Mr. Horner's office? Why were you by his desk?”
Phoenix forced a grin, trying to casually shift so that his hand holding the chip dropped to his side, “I could ask the same of you, Ms. Black. I wasn’t aware you were supposed to be here.”
“I have the master key, I can go wherever I want.”
“Yeah but sneaking into other’s offices while they’re gone might be a little suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”
“And it’s not suspicious for the snack boy to be in here with no authority whatsoever.”
“Point taken. So we’re both suspicious.”
“…it would appear to be that way.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t tell?”
“No.” Avis squared her shoulders, walking towards Phoenix, who took a few steps back, “Who are you?”
“Nick Nayme.”
“I thought the m was silent.”
“Ah, right. Fuck.”
“Start talking. What’s your real name.”
“Oh, like you’re Avis Black?”
“I’m asking the questions here.”
“And I’m not about to be bossed around by a kid half my age -”
She lunged at him before he could finish his sentence. He jumped back, clenching the chip in his hand but Avis was far faster than Phoenix had expected. She quickly caught him, pinning him against the wall, her forearm shoved against his throat. Flailing, Phoenix desperately kicked out, his foot connecting solidly against her shin. She cried out in pain, loosening her grip and he shoved her back, gasping for breath before turning towards the door and bolting for it.
He had barely taken a few steps before Avis was on him again, kicking his legs out from underneath him, his chin connecting solidly and painfully with the tiled floor. He rolled over but she was on him in an instant, her hands grabbing at his closed fist.
“Gimme that.” She growled, scrabbling at his hand.
“No.” Phoenix gritted out, trying to buck her off. He eventually managed to push up enough and rolled them over. Before he was able to pin her down though, she pushed forward, using the momentum from their flip to reverse their positions again.
“Oh c’mon.” Phoenix cried out, “Just get off of me!”
“What do you have in your hand?! It’s the chip, isn’t it?”
“I’m not telling you!”
“Then I’m not getting off of you!”
“You are an asshole.” Phoenix grunted, trying to push her off again. They wrestled for a few more minutes, Avis constantly using Phoenix’s own weight and size against him, reversing their positions every time he thought he had the upper hand. After pinning him down for the third or fourth time, she jerked back before bringing her hand down sharply against Phoenix’s wrist. Crying out, Phoenix’s hand spasmed and jerked open, sending the chip skittering across the floor. It came to a stop a few feet away, right next to where the large chicken had been strutting around excitedly in circles as Phoenix and Avis fought.
There was a moment of stillness as the three of them – Phoenix, Avis, and the chicken – watched the chip. Then chicken moved, barely hesitating before it leaned over, picked up the chip, and swallowed it.
“NO!” Avis shoved herself off Phoenix, ignoring his wheeze as she solidly planted her foot in his chest. Rushing over to the chicken, she picked it up, shaking it frantically, “Spit it out, oh my god spit it out! ”
“That’s not going to work.” Phoenix had rolled over, gasping and pulling himself up, “You can’t just shake the chip out of the chicken!?”
“You.” Avis rounded on Phoenix, pointing an accusatory finger at him as she tucked the chicken under one arm, “This is your fault.”
“Mine!?” Phoenix spluttered as he stood up, “You were the one who assaulted me!”
“I needed that chip!”
“So did I!”
“Why?!”
“I – “ Phoenix glared at Avis, “I’m not gonna just tell you that, you’re a total stranger.”
“Interpol.” Avis spat out, glaring at Phoenix, “I’m Interpol, you asshole , I needed that chip I’ve been on this case for over a year and you come waltzing in and totally fucking ruin everything for me and now the chicken ate the chip!?”
“You’re not lying.” Phoenix said dumbly. No psychlocks had appeared around Avis. “You actually are Interpol?”
“Obviously ?” Avis said, “Why would I lie about that?! Give up my cover and just lie?!”
“I don’t know.” Phoenix shrugged, “People sorta lie to me all the time so just…sorta hm. Well. I…I’m an attorney. I needed it for a case I was on but then you sorta…”
“I didn’t do anything.” Avis said, “You threw it at the chicken.”
“Well he seems pretty calm about the whole situation.” Phoenix observed. It was true. The chicken had been completely still since Avis had picked it up and sat there calmly as they had yelled at each other. It was an odd-looking chicken, with a puff of feathers at the top of its head, making its eyes look half lidded. The ruff around its neck looked almost like a high collar and that, combined with the somehow condescending stare it was examining Phoenix with, reminded him very strongly of a certain prosecutor.
“Yea. I should name him.” Avis said, stopping to examine the chicken, as she held it in front of her, “Since he’s now coming with me. Hm.” She was quiet for a moment, staring at the chicken, “How about –
“-Miles.”
They spoke the name at the same time, and looked at each other, surprise evident on both of their faces.
“It just…fits him.” Phoenix said, shrugging, “I mean he’s so…”
“…poofy?” Avis finished, “And kinda smug-looking?”
“Yeah.” Phoenix agreed, “And a little mean.”
“But that’s what makes him fun.”
“So Miles it is.” Phoenix nodded, “Alright, Miles, let’s go.”
“Excuse you?” Avis asked, “What do you mean let’s go?”
“I’m taking Miles with me because that chip has information that I think could be useful for my client. I need to see what’s on it.”
“I’m sorry, is it normal for lawyers to go undercover in international criminal rings to steal computer chips?”
“Well in my defense I didn’t know it was an international criminal ring,” Phoenix shrugged, “My client had an in so I just went sorta undercover and then next thing I know I’ve been recruited and that’s about when I figured out that this thing was kinda…”
“Big.”
“Yea.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Possibly. Probably. But I do need that chip.”
“And I’m Interpol you think I’m just gonna hand it over?”
“Okay so we’re both on the side of justice or whatever, but I am seeing what’s on that chip.”
“Oh, do you think you have jurisdiction here?”
“Like you do? I’m sorry I wasn’t aware that Interpol had any jurisdiction here, Ms. Black,” Phoenix shot back, “I’m a lawyer, remember? I know a thing or two about jurisdiction and last I checked Interpol’s jurisdiction here only exists if California’s feeling friendly.”
Avis glared up at Phoenix, “Well, who has the chicken, Mr. Nayme?”
“Okay, gimme the chicken.”
“Try to take it.”
Phoenix rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. As much as he hated to admit it, it was apparent that he couldn’t win against Avis in a fight. She was small but fast and had clearly been trained well beyond what Phoenix could manage, “Fine.” he finally said, “Let’s get out of here. I’m coming with you though and I’m not leaving till I see whatever’s on that chip.”
“Oh, and what are you gonna do?” Avis hissed, “Just follow me around until you get this chicken?”
“Well considering my job was to be your liaison, yes,” Phoenix grinned, “My only job is to make sure you and Mr. Howlette are comfortable – wait that’s not his real name either, is it?”
“Obviously not,” Avis snorted, “What if I just killed you?”
“You won’t,” Phoenix shrugged, “It’d make a bigger mess and you don’t want any additional attention drawn towards you, do you? You just wanna grab these chips and get out. I’ll keep quiet if you don’t hurt me but do you really think you can just kill me and take care of my body before Horner gets back?”
“Goddamnit.”
“There’s two more chips,” Phoenix continued, “Did you have a plan to get the other two?”
“Let’s go back to my office to talk,” Avis glanced around, “We don’t want to be found here, especially now that the chip’s in this chicken.”
“Good point,” Phoenix agreed, striding over to the door, wincing slightly as a dull pain ran down his lower back, undoubtedly inflicted from one of the numerous times Avis had sat on him, “Did you have to go that hard though? My back’s fragile as-is.”
“You could’ve just handed the chip over,” Avis responded, blatantly unapologetic, “But you chose to fight so whose fault is it really?”
“Can’t even apologize, I swear to god, kids these days.” Phoenix grumbled, pulling the door open slowly and sticking his head out, “Alright, the coast is clear. Let’s get out of here.”
He pulled the door open fully and stepped quickly out, Avis following right behind him, still holding Miles. The chicken still seemed unbothered by the entire situation and sat quietly and comfortably in Avis' arms as they walked in silence back to the office. The hallways were fortunately empty and they made it back without seeing anyone, Phoenix using his keycard to open the door before pushing it open.
“Oh,” Howlette had been lounging on the couch and started as they entered the office, “You’re back – with a chicken?”
“He knows,” Avis sighed, stooping down and dropping Miles on the ground where he started strutting around, investigating his new surroundings, “About what we’re up to.”
“The chicken?” Howlette asked, eyeing the bird.
“The chicken – wha- no? The man?” Avis shot back, pointing to Phoenix, “Obviously? He knows we’re Interpol.”
Howlette stared silently at Phoenix who smiled back nervously, lifting a hand up, “Um. Nice to meet you?”
“It’s not nice to meet you,” Howlette growled, “What’s your name?”
Only 47 ways to kill a person? I probably need to probably double that number. Phoenix thought wildly.
“I asked a question, I expect an answer,” Howlette pressed, standing and slinking towards Phoenix, “Talk. What’s your name. Why are you here.”
“Nick Nayme is all you’re getting, sorry,” Phoenix said, more defiantly than he felt, “I’m a lawyer. I’m here for a client.”
“And why should I believe you Mr. Nayme ?” Howlette was now in Phoenix’s space and crowded close, his face only inches from Phoenix’s own as he glared him down. Phoenix swallowed. Howlette’s teeth were impossibly sharp and the deep cut of his shirt let Phoenix see his chest muscles shifting under his skin. Frankly, it was hard not to stare. How had he gotten so much definition –
“I asked you a question.” Howlette interrupted Phoenix’s train of thought abruptly.
“I – ah,” Phoenix stammered, putting his hands up and desperately not staring at Howlette’s chest, “Um. I’m n…not lying?”
“Alright, down boy,” Avis sighed. She had walked a few steps away from the door and was now slouched against the couch, her stoic and serious demeanor suddenly gone. Without the intense frown and stiff posture, she looked much younger, probably not even in her mid-twenties, “It’s pointless trying to threaten him and we were able to get the chip from Horner’s office.”
“Where is it?” Howlette turned away from Phoenix to look at Avis, though he didn’t seem to find it necessary to actually move out of Phoenix’s personal bubble.
“Well. That’s kinda part of the problem,” Avis looked openly at Miles who was still exploring the office, his head bobbing with each step he took, “The chicken has it.”
“The chicken .”
“That moron,” Avis pointed at Phoenix, “Let the chicken eat the chip.”
“I didn’t - “ Phoenix’s protest died in his mouth as Howlette turned back to glower at him.
“He did. So now we have to hold onto the chicken,” Avis continued, “And then figure out a way to get the chip out of the chicken which...might be kinda gross. But that’s not the problem right now.”
“What is our problem is that we have to add this idiot and a chicken to our plan,” Howlette said, still glaring at Phoenix.
“Yeah,” Avis nodded, “C’mon, La - um. Logan. Let’s have a huddle. We need to figure out what to do at this point.”
“You stay put,” Howlette snarled, shoving a finger into Phoenix’s chest for emphasis before turning to Avis, the two of them crowding into a corner of the room opposite from where Phoenix was. Avis' back was towards Phoenix and they spoke in low tones while Howlette scowled at him, barely looking at Avis as she spoke.
Sighing, Phoenix glanced back over to Miles, who had apparently decided he had quite enough with exploring the office and was sitting on the ground, looking up at Phoenix expectantly.
“Are you gonna bully me too?” Phoenix muttered, picking up the chicken, before walking to the couch and collapsing onto it, “Sure would be in-character for you.”
Miles said nothing, settling comfortably on Phoenix’s lap and relaxing, letting himself spread out before glancing coolly up at Phoenix with a single arched eyebrow. Did chickens even have eyebrows? This one certainly seemed to.
“That’s also very in character,” Phoenix said softly, moving his hand to pet Miles as Avis and Howlette continued to whisper in the corner.
“I don’t like this.” Lang growled, “Bringing an outsider in? And he’s apparently a lawyer ? He’s got no training here! Worst case scenario, he lied to you Kay, and they’re onto us. Best case, he’s actually telling the truth and does nothing but get in the way.”
“Well what do you propose we do?” Kay snapped back, “He won’t leave me alone till he gets what’s on that chip!”
“Which is currently in the chicken.”
Kay and Lang paused, looking up at Nick who was sitting on the couch, gently petting and clucking at Miles, who was currently sitting in his lap. Noticing they were looking, Nick sat up expectantly, and Kay and Lang both sharply shook their heads at him, turning back into their huddle.
“Okay he’s definitely just some dipshit lawyer.” Lang muttered, “How the fuck did a man that soft convince a gang that he’d be a good fit.”
“He’s not even a good fighter.” Kay agreed, “I had no problem beating him up.”
“So what skills does he have that might help us?”
“Well the chicken has taken a liking to him.” Kay pointed out, throwing a hasty glance at where Nick sat with the chicken.
“So he’s an animal tamer. Perfect.”
“What do you propose we do?”
“Kill him?”
“I already thought about that.” Kay sighed, “That’d only attract more attention – they’d notice he was missing.”
“So you’re telling me we get to babysit some soft moron who’s useless in the field while trying to steal weapon plans back from a major criminal organization,” Lang snorted derisively, “Love when lawyers try to get out into the field – they’re nothing but a burden.”
“Maybe he won’t be useless?” Kay suggested, “You said the same thing about Mr. Edgeworth when you first met him, remember?”
“You think that man is anywhere near the caliber of Edgeworth?” Lang asked, his eyes flicking over Kay’s shoulder, “Look at him, Kay. The chicken’s trying to eat his necklace and I think it’s winning.”
Kay sharply turned around. Lang was right; Miles was trying to choke down a golden locket that Nick had been wearing around his neck and Nick was frantically tugging back, one hand around the necklace and the other shoving back Miles’ face.
“Ooooo-kay,” Kay sighed, “So definitely not Mr. Edgeworth’s caliber.”
“Are you two done huddling yet?” Nick spoke up from the couch, finally wrestling his necklace from Miles' mouth, “Getting kinda tired of babysitting Miles, not gonna lie.”
“You named the chicken Miles?” Lang asked, arching a brow and glancing at Kay.
“He also wanted to name it Miles.”
“I mean,” Lang paused, looking up at the chicken, “I guess it…fits.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Alright,” Lang drew himself up to his full height and swaggered over to the couch, sneering down at Nick, “You’re lucky, chicken boy.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age?” Nick said.
“This is the way this is gonna go,” Lang continued, ignoring Nick, “Kay and I – “
“Her name’s Kay?”
“Pay attention, bird boy,” Lang snapped, “Names don’t matter now. The point is Kay and I are gonna give orders around here. You follow them. We’ll be getting the chips, you’ll be sitting here looking after Miles.”
“So you want me to be on babysitting duty.”
“Did I stutter?”
“I assume you know where the chips are then?” Nick asked, “Being fancy Interpol and whatnot.”
“Of course we do.” Lang snapped, “Each of the three executives has one – Horner, Ryder, and Morcar. We apparently already have Horner’s...well,” Lang paused, letting his glare drop down to the chicken, “We do in a way.”
“And your plan to get the remaining chips is…?”
“Search their offices,” Lang responded, “They have to keep them nearby.”
“That’s not going to work for Ryder,” Nick shook his head, “He keeps his on his person at all times.”
“And how would you know that.”
“I’ve been here for months,” Nick shrugged, “Don’t you think boots on the ground might be better at snooping than from Europe?”
“What about Morcar?”
“She leaves hers with one of her personal assistants – or bodyguards, really,” Nick said, “That might be harder to get.”
“Harder than the one that Ryder keeps on his person.”
“Much harder,” Nick responded, “I had a plan for Ryder.”
“And what was your plan for Ryder?”
“He’s a gambling man,” Nick said, slouching back, causing to Miles squawked indignantly as Nick readjusted himself, “Thought I might challenge him to a game of poker.”
“Are you good?”
“Fairly.”
“And how exactly is winning a game of poker going to help you get near the chip?”
“Like I said; I have a plan.”
“And we’re supposed to just go along with it.”
“It’s a low-stakes plan, Howlette,” Nick said, “It’s literally just me challenging Ryder to a poker match when the opportunity arises. You and your friend won’t be implicated, no matter the outcome of the game.”
“You said you were good.”
“Fairly.”
“Let’s go.”
“What?”
“I want to see how good you are,” Lang snarled, “Before you try this, I wanna see how good you are. If you beat me, we go with your plan. If you lose, we go with ours.”
Nick seemed surprised at Lang’s proposal, his eyes quirking up for a second before he relaxed shrugging, “Alright,” he agreed, “I’ll beat you in the first game.”
“Awfully confident of you, bird boy.”
“Like I said, I’m fairly good.” Nick replied.
“And you think fairly good is gonna be enough to beat me.”
Nick was silent for a moment, clearly appraising Lang. His dark eyes raked over Lang’s form, moving up over his shoulders and up his face before finally settling on his eyes. Though Nick hadn’t said anything, something about him suddenly seemed different. His demeanor had shifted the smallest amount, his eyebrows no longer quirked down and the small, apologetic smile he had been wearing most of the day slowly slipping away. In his eyes, there remained the faintest trace of a smirk, and his slouch no longer seemed lazy but confident, tension now thrumming thick in the air as he studied Lang.
“Yeah,” Nick finally said after a few seconds, apparently satisfied with whatever conclusion he had reached, “I think that’ll be plenty.”