Nightmare § 8

[prosecutes]

December 28, 9:47 AM
Prosecutor's Office
12th Floor Hallway

Walking through what he perceives as the 12th floor hallway of the Prosecutor's Office for the first time in months, Miles Edgeworth feels ill. With cracking paint, all manners of stains and a visible layer of dust blanketing the floor, the condition of the building is absolutely revolting. There can be no excuse for such a shameful deficiency of adequate maintenance.

(Has the groundskeeping budget suffered deep cuts in my absence? What an abomination!)

Nevertheless, the prosecutor continues toward his set destination: his own office. With any luck, it won't look quite so dreary and decrepit.

Lost in his own thoughts of how to best catch up on all his paperwork, return to the field as soon as possible and where he would be most likely to obtain a good cup of coffee at the late hour, Edgeworth doesn't pay any mind to the second set of footsteps he hears. He calmly approaches the door of his office and procures a set of keys to unlock it.

"You will find the office as you left it." Footsteps sound behind Edgeworth. "I was not certain when you would return. I request that you do not be offended by my intrusions; you will find everything in its proper place."

(Th-that voice!)

Unnerved by the mere coincidence that a voice resembling his late mentor's would call out to him, Edgeworth turns around to face the man with the hauntingly familiar-sounding timbre and accent. He unfortunately finds himself face-to-face with none other than Manfred von Karma.

"Do you think this is funny?" he calls out, horrified that anyone would even think to pull such a distasteful prank. Von Karma's jaw twitches, his expression cold. "Monsieur Prosecutor, I fail to see the humor in upkeeping your office in your absence."

"My office?" Edgeworth repeats lowly. Challenging the man's cold gaze, he then snarls. "You come here dressed as that man, and you think I'm upset about the state of my office?!"

Von Karma slowly looks down at himself, then fixes a level, probing stare on Edgeworth. He speaks in a measured tone. "That cannot be, I came here as I am. Tell me, would you prefer a different color waistcoat? I do not have another overcoat."

Edgeworth advances toward von Karma, pointing an accusatory finger. "Who put you up to this?"

Still staring, Karma stands his ground and answers, "You did, Monsieur."

"Whoever you are and whatever your reasons may be, I will find out." Edgeworth's scowl deepens. "Be it now via confession or hours later in the questioning room of the local detention center, it makes no difference to me. Offer one more false answer and I shall have you removed from the premises by force."

"Yes, you have the right to do that, but by whom?" His eyes sweep around the hallway. "There is no one else here. I am your inferior agent, and it is my duty to follow your orders. But, if you will permit me to speak freely, I do not think you are well. This affects others, too. I must request that you keep to your home until these... visions pass."

Visions? What an absurd notion. The prosecutor feels well physically, and were he willingly imagining a scenario, ghosts from his past would have no place in it. He turns and enters his office, going straight for the landline phone which has ceased functioning entirely. The details of the dream then begin to blur into one another, but after more yelling from Edgeworth, von Karma seemingly decides to somehow lock the office from the outside.

"Forgive me, Monsieur, for exceeding my authority, but I believe it is within my right to complete your work in this case. You must stay here. I will send for a doctor and provide your meals. See to it that you punish an inferior government servant justly when you have returned to yourself."

"Of all the--!" How von Karma managed to lock the door so effectively as to keep him from opening it, Edgeworth doesn't fully know, but he should have expected no less from the conniving man. "Let me out this instant!" he commands if only to retain his pride, knowing full well that the other man will never grant such a request.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but I cannot." There's a clack of a boot. "That is, it is my duty, in this instance, to see to your clarity of mind." A pause. "There is enough to keep you comfortable inside, and plenty of water for your afternoon tea. I will return with the physician."

Clenching his fists, the prosecutor looks around to find his office in ruins. As though it had been uninhabited for a century, dust covers every visible surface. Cracks run down the walls, crumbling the paint. The curtains are torn to pieces and one of the windows is broken. On one side of the room is that familiar couch, its upholstery ruined beyond repair.

All other thoughts begin to fade from Edgeworth's mind as he feels completely drained. Though he doesn't understand the sudden onset of exhaustion, he's well aware that losing consciousness on the ground would be a bad idea. Slowly and with a great deal of effort, he walks to the couch and sits down on one end. Edgeworth is asleep before his head hits the pillow on the other side.

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[He slowly opens his eyes, wincing and shutting them at once as the sun's rays announce their presence this bright and cheery morning. The man buries his face in his pillow in denial, but soon accepts the fact that he is now awake.] Mmmhhhhhh...

[Groaning, he pushes himself up on one elbow and scratches his head.] Wasn't... Karma...

...

[Remembering where he just woke up, he reaches for the blasted Dreamberry to cut the transmission.]