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Chapter Text

Adora took her first ever case as a prosecutor. That made sense, since she had always meant to be a prosecutor. She’d wanted to for as long as she could remember: as far back as her mind could reach, plying for memories of walking and talking, playing with her childhood friends. Of course she’d always wanted it. Growing up under Shadow Weaver at the height of her career, the path before Adora was clearly set. Studying for good grades, going to law school, passing the bar. It all culminated in this first case. 

She meant to be a prosecutor, but she was meant to be a defence attorney. 

The day started the best Adora could have wanted it to. Awaking with an electric tingle, she bounced to her feet and went for a morning run. She did up her hair ––a pony tail and a gelled up front–– and practised her ‘Objection’ into the mirror, before going on a second run. Adora liked to run. It helped clear her head, and thank god for that because otherwise she’d have to resort to punching the defendant. That’d be fun to see. 

Criminals are a vile breed, Shadow Weaver often said. It is the aim of every prosecutor to make sure everyone accused is placed behind bars, for the safety of everyone. 

Why do criminals do what they do? Someone (if it wasn’t Adora, it would have been her) had asked. 

Shadow Weaver had answered that it was quite simple. They are criminals, so that is what they must do. That is what they are. 

So Adora was ready and knew what to do. She would barrage the criminal with the evidence and testimony until their crime was clear to see. Already she could taste the sweet sound of ‘guilty.’

Polished tiles, shiny enough to glow with the golden light stretched out ahead in the courtroom lobby. The room had a few sofas upholstered with fine tufted leather, and the upper walls were girded with a series of portraits, each bearing the face of a judge, gavel in hand. She sat in the comfort of the chairs, and looked up the faces. Staring into their frightful eyes, she prepared herself for the real thing. 

“I’m ready. I can do this,” she muttered, “I can do this. I’m ready––”

“Adora,” came a deep voice to her side.

Adora jumped to her feet.

“The Prosecution is Ready–– uh, I mean, hello, Shadow Weaver.”

Shadow Weaver was a tall woman, with long black hair hovering in a way to extend her total height. Nowadays, she wore a mask. It was always obscuring her face, but for her eyes, seeming white; they often narrowed when they apprehended something of her displeasure. 

“We’re about to go in soon,” she said, “have you memorised the facts of the case?

“I’m on top of things. The defendant impaled the victim with a sword in the victim’s apartment. A witness saw it happen.”

“The case is quite simple really,” Shadow Weaver said with a satisfied nod, “I’d say too rudimentary even for your first case.”

“If I may ask, why not give me more of a challenge?” With a straighten of her back, Adora added, “I can take it.”

Shadow Weaver gave a small chuckle, that, while like everything behind that mask was a little menacing, carried some warmth.

“You misunderstand. This will be a challenge. The Chief Prosecutor is interested in how you handle the defence.”

Adora’s eyes widened. She did not let up her proud, straightened pose as she breathed in what she had just heard. 

“Chief Prosecutor Hordak himself is watching?”

“He specifically requested you,” said Shadow Weaver, “You’ve been given a great opportunity here, Adora.”

“I’m honoured,” Adora said through a stammer. “But what’s so important about the defence?”

“He is not to be taken lightly. The dents in the otherwise perfect prosecuting records of many prodigies can attest to that.” Shadow Weaver looked down at Adora, a new gleam in her white eyes. “But I have trained you knowing that you can best all others, and this trial has been long in the making. There is as much for me at stake as there is for you. The Chief Prosecutor will be following this trial closely… for both our sakes.”

“No pressure, then…,” said Adora. “I can handle him.” 

“Yes, I believe you can,“ Shadow Weaver began to glide towards the courtroom doors. “You will win so long as you remember to do what it takes to win.” 

Adora followed, and the two went inside, met with the sight of courtroom no. 3. The collonnaded back wall was made of white marble and in its centre hung an emblem of scales. In front of that was the bald and bearded judge at his high bench. A chattering crowd filled the air with their murmurs from the surrounding galleries. 

The two took their place behind the prosecution bench. Opposite them the defence, also two people, stood waiting. The smaller one grabbed Adora’s eye first, for she was dressed in purple kimono. Next to her, the taller man was comparatively normal in dress; just a blue suit and red tie.

This man was Phoenix Wright. In some ways he felt just as nervous as Adora. Though he had been in this job for three years, nothing unravelled a person like the terse moments before the Judge called for order and began proceedings. And Phoenix had only taken this case last night. He’d had little time to review the facts let alone undergo a proper investigation. 

But to Adora, he looked composed, with a hand on his hip and looking out stoically in wait. Leaning in, she scrutinised him with a peering eye. Maybe some weakness lay under that calm expression, one she could exploit in battle. Yet there was nothing. Whoever this defence attorney was, he clearly had everything under control. 

Phoenix Wright leaned to assistant, Maya Fey, and asked in a low voice:

“What… was our client’s name again?”

The look that Maya gave him was one of utter wretched defeat, but before she could answer, the Judge’s gavel came down with a sharp thunk. Silence fell over the courtroom.

“Court is now in session for the trial of ms. Glimmer.” 

“The Defence is ready, your honour,” said Phoenix, straightening up. 

The Judge looked to Adora and Shadow Weaver.

“And the prosecution?” 

Swept up in new fit of energy, Adora pulled a fast grin and said, “as ready as we’ll ever be.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” said the defence attorney, “Are you a new prosecutor?”

“This is my debut,” Adora explained, feeling the need to add, “I’m a prosecutor and I’m only 17.”

“Man, these prodigies sure get younger all the time….” 

“And… you’re what all the fuss is about?” Adora raised her brow. “You’re just some guy.” 

Such words hit Phoenix like a slap from a gloved palm, and he slumped in response.

“I’m not just some guy, I’m Phoenix Wright! Don’t people know who I am?”

“Face it Nick, you’re old news” Maya teased, “Or maybe just old.”

“I’m only 26….”

“Enough of this repartee.” Shadow Weaver’s voice cut across the court. “Proceed with the opening statement.”

Thus, Adora’s work began. She recited the basic facts of the case ––the victim impaled in her own apartment just a few days ago, between the time of 1 and 4–– and provided key evidence to back up the groundwork to her argument. An autopsy report was the first to be submitted, but then Adora called for the bailiffs to bring in the murder weapon.

The first thing about it was the gleam. Light of silver and gold intermingled so at first glance what was what wasn’t clear. A second look and its form came into focus ––a broad-bladed sword with a golden hilt, encircled in its guard a blue gem. That was the second thing about this object. The gem ––either because of the way it reflected shapes in dazzling but subtle ways, or maybe the way it seemed to stare back at Adora–– seemed the more interesting aspect.

For some reason, a hum seemed to emanate from the gem. It was barely perceptible to the ear and most all in the room didn’t notice a thing. Adora did, however. 

But she pushed whatever that was out of mind. The next thing she showed the court was a photograph of the crime scene ––the victim’s body lay on the floor, which was relatively spotless but for a picture frame, fallen flat on its face by the back wall. 

“The victim was a student at Ivy U. University,” Adora explained, “Her name was Sverdhild Studley.” 

“My, what a bizarre name,” the Judge remarked. 

“She was danish… or something.” 

Adora was in the middle of a minor panic about whether she had gotten the country right, when thankfully her awkward moment was saved by Phoenix Wright causing an even bigger one.

“By the way, it’s Ivy University. The second U is redundant.”

“What?”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck while flashing a sheepish grin. 

“Just… I was an alumnus there, gotta stick up for my old college. Didn’t want to let that slide.”

Adora just stared blankly, internally screaming. 

“Ignore him,” Shadow Weaver soothed. “Pointing out errors and contradictions are all defence attorneys have.”

“How does the defendant fit into all of this?” asked the Judge. 

“Right, yeah,” Adora set back her focus, “The defendant was known to the victim. They were lovers.”

The Judge’s eyes widened. “Lovers?” 

“There’s more. The defendant visited the victim’s room between 1 and 4, which we can tell from the condo’s security footage. The prosecution would like to provide screens showing her entering and leaving the complex.”

“Very well, the court accepts this into evidence.” 

“What about a motive?” Phoenix scratched his chin, “If they were together, surely there must be a reason why Glimmer would want to kill Studley? Otherwise, what’s so suspicious about her visiting her girlfriend?”

“Oh love is often a destabilising force” said Shadow Weaver. “The two knew each other, that’s what matters. That, and she had opportunity to kill.”

Phoenix shook his head.

“The Defence maintains that Glimmer’s intentions were pure. Her visit is not relevant to the murder of Studley. 

“Then let’s ask her herself. The Prosecution calls the defendant Glimmer to the stand, to testify about her visit.”

A short plump woman, Glimmer was as young as Adora if not a little more. She had a skirt suit of pastel purple and short side-swept hair of pastel pink. Both her eyes and the underside of her hair had a sparkling sheen to them, yet as she took the stand her expression was one of pain masked with resolution. 

“What is your name and occupation?” asked Adora.

“Glimmer. I’m training to be a paralegal.” She said. Her voice was calm and her tone left no open ends. Or at least that’s how it seemed, but as Adora went on to pose her first question, the defendant spoke again quickly in a much higher and varying shrill. “Uh, by the way. Hilda and I… we weren’t lovers per se, or rather… I don’t know what I thought of it at the time.” She suppressed a groan and said “ Anyway, that’s really personal to just put in front of a crowd like that!”

Adora blinked. Then, feeling suddenly hot, she muttered, “I, uh, just repeated what the detective found. Didn’t mean to make it personal….”

There was a slam. Shadow Weaver, her palm flat on the bench, leant forward and told Glimmer in a firm voice, “The light of this court will excoriate any and all hidden details. Expect no lenience here.”

Though Shadow Weaver’s interjection caught Glimmer at a jump, she now stared back at the tall woman. No more sparkle but a fierce fire burned in her eyes. 

“Prosecutor Shadow Weaver…. You know my mother.”

“We’ve met. How is Angella doing these days?”

“I know you were involved in the SP-0 case.”

Slowly, Shadow Weaver pulled her hand back until it slunk off the bench. She then stood fully straight so that she regarded Glimmer from her most downward glare. 

“The witness will not speak unless to answer a question posed by counsel.” She turned to her side. “Adora, you must be as ruthless as possible. The defendant’s guilt is her nature. It is your job to bring that nature out for the court to see.” 

“Right.” Adora looked to Glimmer. “Tell me about your movements on the day of the crime.”

In her testimony, Glimmer gave restrained statements, and kept her unerring gaze straight ahead. She didn’t reveal any more than the court already knew, so Adora went to prod for some more info: 

“In your own deposition, you said you and Studley planned to go out later that evening. Why did you leave abruptly before 4?”

That made Glimmer break eye contact with the spot dead ahead of her. Although she quickly fixed it, her hand went to grip at her other arm as she answered, “well, uh, I was having a bad day already, so I was tetchy.”

“Did you get ‘tetchy’ with the victim?”

“I–– okay, look, I sometimes unload onto her and I probably shouldn’t. She was usually so calm and sweet that just being around her was enough to destress. But that day was important for her. So yes, I got tetchy, and maybe because of that she snapped back, one thing leads to another… but it wasn’t a big argument!”

“Could you give more detail?” Adora asked. “What was so important?” 

Glimmer shot the prosecutor an irritated look, as if that would make her recant the question. When it didn’t, she sighed.

“The Sword,” she said. “Her research is into old technology. That’s why I came so early, because she needed the sword.”

“Wait, that sword is yours?” Phoenix said agape before slumping again. He was seriously regretting not getting a chance to review this case beforehand. 

“Well, I was lent it for safekeeping, really. I was interested in it because of its legal connection. But I was convinced there was no significant properties and that all the stories were just myth. I said as much to Hilda and that’s what set her off.” 

Glimmer’s throat tightened, yet she grew louder and more frantic as she talked. She stared down at her fists, tightened into balls. 

“But I just had to keep it going! I had to pull her down because I was having a bad day, and she just didn’t need that and–– Then she said… she said––”

Adora leaned forward. “Come on, what did she say?” 

“She said we should ‘take a break.’ And that’s when I left.” 

Adora looked to Shadow Weaver, who gave a nod. 

With that, Adora grinned and said, “no more questions, your honour.”

Phoenix was up now, taking on the defence’s cross-examination. However Glimmer’s testimony had ripped much the life out of her and not once did she look up from her hands. She answered his questions, yet there wasn’t anything he could really use. Well, there was one thing:

“You said it wasn’t a big argument, but that was before you told us what she said. Would you still say it wasn’t a ‘big argument.’” 

“I guess… it was.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, nothing. Well, maybe it wasn’t a big big argument?” Phoenix pulled a nervous smile as he stumbled on, “maybe it was a medium argument… one you wouldn’t walk away from feeling particularly murderous?”

From his right, Maya gave Phoenix an exasperated side-eye, her head lowered as if feeling the weight of his nonsense. 

“Is this seriously your big argument, Nick?”

“I haven’t got much to work with here!” he protested. “I hate having to cross-examine my own clients.”

“I remember now,” said Glimmer. “I threw the sword at her.”

“You whaaaat!” Maya was blown back a pace, although she leaned forward again with balled hands and said “Glimmer, you can’t do things like that!”

The Judge regarded Glimmer with wide eyes. “So you admit to trying to harm the victim!”

“Wait, it wasn’t like that,” Glimmer stammered. “It wasn’t like I threw it like a lance, I just lobbed it in her direction; more at the wall than anything. It slammed against it so hard the clock fell down. The point is, though I didn’t kill her, I wasn’t happy that day.” 

“Wait a minute, a clock?” asked Phoenix, recalling a recent memory. 

“Yeah.”

His eyes lit up. Knowing his memory had not failed and that that piece of evidence was in the record, he was ready. This was his time. Energy soared through him, thrusting out from his core and into his finger, which he struck into the air. 

“Then, objection! Look at the photograph of the crime scene. Something has fallen from the wall, but it isn’t a clock. It’s a picture frame.” 

Adora perked up, and she stared across the court with a furrowed brow.

“Shadow Weaver, that’s….”

“Yes,” Shadow Weaver said, serene as ever, “he’s pointed out a contradiction. But I have a feeling this one will sort itself out.”

“Actually,” Glimmer ventured, “I think Hilda had been planning to change her interior design for a while. She didn’t like that clock and did say something about putting a picture up. She probably just thought to do it after the clock was smashed to pieces….” 

“Oh….,” Phoenix stared in disbelief. His insides deflated, before he let out a woeful, “Nnaaargh!” 

“I’m sorry, mr Wright.” Glimmer sighed. “That was the last time I saw Hilda, and I threw a sword at her wall.”

Shadow Weaver uttered a tiny laugh, and leaned to Adora to explain, “Defence attorneys have to look for pitiful contradictions, so by putting his client up against him, you’ve placed him into a corner.”

“I just hope he stays there.” Adora peered over at the defence, where Phoenix and Maya was conferring over some of the photographs in the court record. “They’re planning a counterattack, I just know it.”

In actuality, Maya and Phoenix were having a small argument over the correct terminology for a step-ladder. There was one curiously in the background of the security footage, and as useless as the discussion was, it did at least mean Phoenix was looking at the two screens. 

In one, Glimmer was exiting the foyer into the street. Nothing was in her hands. Nothing should have been in her hands so that was in order. In the first screen, however, she did have something, though on her forearm as opposed to her hand. It was hard to discern by the monochrome of the picture, but it was a metal vambrace of sorts. 

Phoenix had found his next contradiction. 

“Well,” the Judge was saying, “if no-one else has any object––”

“OBJECTION!” 

“Mr Wright!” the Judge shouted back in a warbling voice, “Can I at least end my sentence before you burst in?”

“Sorry, your honour. But look at this” Phoenix pointed out the first security screen. “If the Sword belonged to Glimmer as everyone says, how did it get to the apartment in the first place? It’d be difficult to bring a huge weapon like that in without it being captured by the footage! If anything, Glimmer’s the one person who couldn’t have done it.” 

The two at the prosecution bench shared glances with one another. 

“Do you wanna tell him or should I?” Adora asked with a wry smile.

“But of course,” said Shadow Weaver, “the prosecutor on the case should have the joy of destroying every last hope of the opposition.”

Phoenix frowned. Though he didn’t catch their conversation, he watched their interaction with unease. It didn’t help when Adora shot her smug grin back his way.

“Mr, Wright. I thank you,” she said. “You’ve segued us to the next proof the prosecution has to show. Witness, please testify what you know about the nature of the weapon known as the ‘Sword of She-Ra.’” 

Biting her lip, Glimmer looked from the prosecution to the defence. But knowing what she did about procedure, it was no use. There was no excuse for not answering on the witness stand. 

“The Sword belonged to–– belongs to the reincarnation of Themis,” she explained. “That’s why I was interested in it. Hilda wanted to know about its mechanics, although ironically she bought the mythology around it more earnestly than I…. Between her and the researcher I borrowed it from at the Dryl Institute, they figured out it was a powerful piece of old tech. Among its functions, I only really cracked one; transformation.”

“How does this work?” 

“I speak the passcode, and the sword can transform into a number of items.”

“Did you use this on the day?” Adora enquired. 

Pain flashed across Glimmer’s face, and though she’d like to resist the flow of the questioning, she answered, “Yes. The Sword form is unwieldy, so I transform it into a bracelet when I want to carry it around.”

“If the court looks at the photograph again, they should see the defendant wearing the bracelet on her forearm as she enters.” 

Phoenix’s shoulders were slack and he stared agape. He leant over and asked, “is this all true, Maya?”

“I dunno,” she said, scratching her temple,”but if I can transform into my sister when you get stuck, then I don’t see why it should be harder for an object.”

“Hell, I could use Mia right about now.” Phoenix let out a groan. “Argh, come back, my sweet contradiction.” 

Shadow Weaver slammed the desk, speaking, “enough. Adora, it’s time to put the end to the defence’s misery. Direct evidence, now.”

“Of course, Shadow Weaver,” said Adora. “The prosecution would like to call an eyewitness, your honour, someone who saw the exact moment when the defendant killed the victim.”

The Judge gave a nod. “I see. Well, call this witness.”

“The prosecution calls Light Hope to the stand.”

Glimmer, with a look of defeat, descended the stand and returned to her seat at the dock. She would remain there the rest of the trial. Taking her place, then, was a far taller woman, with large draping robes and dress, and a general blue hue. She had a fixed, entirely neutral expression, and made no motion, gesture or remark until Adora asked for her name and occupation.

“I am Light Hope,” she said. “I am a facilitator for Prime Holdings.”

“And what were you doing in the apartment block?”

“I was surveying the property, assessing it’s value as a purchase for my employers.”

“You’re a businesswoman who deals in real estate?” Phoenix clarified. 

There was a trace of a slight, almost managed smirk on the witness’s face. 

“The group I work for is a conglomerate with many investments in multiple industries. Prime Holdings has an interest and ultimately seeks a stake in every part of life. Residential housing is one aspect of that.”

Averting his gaze, Phoenix muttered, “sheesh, was only asking.” 

“The point is,” Adora stressed, “while this witness would not have usually been in the area, it’s our luck that she was. Unfortunate for the defendant, to say the least.”

Light Hope recalled for the court how she was in the middle of her survey when she heard a commotion from the room belonging to Studley. She attempted to enter but it was locked. That was when she bent down to see through the keyhole. She saw the crime as it happened: Glimmer stabbed Studley with the sword, before rushing out the door, barely noticing the witness as she fled past her.

“So you saw the murder happen through a keyhole?” The Judge then mused, “Just a small crack, and otherwise no-one would have seen what happened.”

“Do we know for certain that she could see any of that, though?” asked Phoenix. “My apartment has a small corridor before you get to any of the rooms.” 

“The prosecution obviously has a plan of the apartment it can supply” Shadow Weaver spoke in a dry tone. “We didn’t expect the defence to suppose such weak questioning.”

“Gotta admit Nick,” Maya concurred, “ ‘my apartment is like that’ is not much of a defence.”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with covering all bases,” he said. “And maybe that plan will come in useful.”

“Well you better find something soon. If you don’t knock that testimony down, Glimmer will be pronounced guilty in a snap.” 

There was nothing off about her testimony, however. Phoenix knew that he’d need to get some more details, so he asked some questions. The first few were dead ends. The third, however, was all but. 

“Can you tell me more about the moment Glimmer supposedly stabbed ms. Studley?”

“What is your query?” asked Light Hope.

“Uh… hm, can you tell me which hand she used?”

“HOLD IT!” 

Adora slammed the table. It stung her palm. 

“Ow. I’ll get better at that,” she said to herself. “Right, anyway. It’s a pretty big weapon, mr. Wright. She’d have to use both hands, I’d say.”

“Well… you don’t know that until the witness says it, right?”

Adora cocked her head to the side. Even Maya was giving Phoenix an exasperated look. Light Hope, however, merely answered the question:

“I believe the killer held up the sword with one hand and then thrust it with the other on the end of the pommel. I cannot remember which hand was which. The hand on the hilt must have been the one which had the bracelet, if that’s any help to you.” 

“You can find the arm the bracelet’s on in that security photo, right?” said Maya. “But do you really think it matters?”

“I dunno,” Phoenix said, “but I’ve got nothing else to work with so we might as well go for it.” He looked up and pointed to the high bench. “Your honour, I’d like to have the witness append that statement to their testimony.”

The Judge’s heavy white brow deepened. 

“Mr Wright, I don’t see how which hand she was using could be relevant. It doesn’t change the fact that this witness saw your client stab the victim!”

“Please, your Honour,” Phoenix slammed the desk with both hands flat, “this statement is the key to turning this whole case on its head.”

The Judged sighed, “very well. Ms. Hope, if you will?”

Adora watched the opposing counsel with a fixed and hard expression. 

“He must be up to something now,” she said in an undertone. “He wouldn’t be so sure otherwise.”

“Not at all,” Shadow Weaver crooned. “The defence is just desperate and resorting to bluffs.”

“Urgh, I dunno, Shadow Weaver. I think we need to prepare for his counterattack.” 

“There is no need ––you’ve proven the case, as I see it. All that’s left is for him to fail this cross-examination and the Judge will give us the guilty verdict.”

Light Hope repeated her statement, almost word for word –– one hand on hilt, other on pommel, the former being the one which had the bracelet.  As she did so, Phoenix compared the two security screens. Glimmer exiting, empty handed, and before then her entering, with nothing but the bracelet. 

Phoenix tried to think. All he need do is go back over what Glimmer herself said. Assuming she was telling the truth ––she was his client, he had to believe her!–– then there must have been a reason she doesn’t have the sword with her when she left; a reason other than it being stuck in Studley’s abdomen. 

Then it hit him. A beautiful thought, and it’s all he needed to have his arm back up in the air, pointing, and shouting with real conviction:

“OBJECTION!” All eyes turned to him. “Please turn your attention back to what Glimmer said only a few minutes ago. She said she threw the sword and then left. In that case, there’s no reason it should have turned back into a bracelet ––and furthermore, no way this client could know that the bracelet turns into the sword!” 

“Wh-what?” said the witness. 

“HOLD IT!” Adora called back. “But she does know about the bracelet; she must have seen it. If anything, someone must have turned it back before it happened.”

“Why’s that?” Phoenix held his hands on his hips and smirked, “This witness says that Glimmer murdered Studley just after the argument. She brought that sword in for Studley’s studies, so why would she change it half-way through their conversation, just to change it back again?”

“I… aagh!”Adora fell forward, holding her heads in her hands as she found herself stumped.

“The way I see it,” Phoenix pushed on, “this witness knowing about the bracelet reveals she knows more than she should.” 

“That is–That is untrue,” said Light Hope. “There is nothing more to my testimony.” 

“I’m sure… I, uh… this isn’t a big problem,” Adora said in a weak voice, “there’s a simple reason for all of this! Maybe she guessed?”

“Guessed? I don’t think so.”

Phoenix stepped from behind the bench and made his way to the evidence table. The sword lay there and he took it up into his hands. 

“As you said yourself, this is a big weapon. I’m not sure anyone could mistake it for a bracelet, let alone guess it could magically transform itself into one. Of course, Glimmer didn’t see what happened after she left the apartment. For all she knows, Studley changed it back herself.” Phoenix gave a nod of his head. “But then that would mean Glimmer has to be innocent.” 

“I-innocent?” Adora stammered. “That can’t be true, can it Shadow Weaver.” 

Yet Shadow Weaver didn’t get to answer. In the next split second, Adora ––and only she–– heard a familiar hum. The very next moment, the court filled with light. 

There was a bang. An electrical beam struck out, and a man let out a yell. 

“Oh god! Nick!” Maya yelled out. 

Phoenix Wright lay limp on the floor.

Clamour rose from the gallery, and no amount of bashing from the Judge’s gavel would quell the noise. Yet in no time at all bailiffs came in to whisk him away. Only by the time when someone pronounced him unconscious did the Judge regain control of the courtroom. 

“Is Mr. Wright going to be okay?” he asked.

“No major damage…,” Maya held her hand over her mouth. “But they’ve taken him to a hospital.” 

Adora remained motionless throughout. Her gaze hovered around, from Maya, to Glimmer on the edge of her seat in the dock, to the witness still agitated on the stand, and down to the sword. It lay much the same place it had before, flat on the table. Still, there was that hum. 

“Glimmer…,” Adora spoke in softest murmur, “innocent?” 

“This might prove an opportunity,” Shadow Weaver hushed into Adora’s ear. Though she spoke quickly, she was no less calm than before. “You were on the verge of victory, if you push now the Judge may see fit to render the verdict.”

“But there’s no defence….”

“What does that matter?”

“He was onto something.” 

“All the more reason to put the lid on this case. Remember, Adora, you must win by any means necessary.” 

The Judge meanwhile was shaking his head:

“Well if Mr. Wright is unable to recover, then we’ll have to suspend these proceedings.”

Shadow Weaver whispered even faster now, “at the very least, this trial must continue today.”

“This trial must continue.” Adora said, still staring ahead. 

Still looking at the sword.

“Remember. Any means, Adora. Any means.”

“We need to resume the trial today.” She then said it again, loud enough for the whole court to hear, “we need to continue the trial!”

“We can’t!” said Maya, “Nick is no good. And without him there’s no defence.”  

“Then… then––” 

What exactly it was that possessed Adora in that moment, she didn’t know. She would never quite be sure, in fact. All she did know, right then, was that she had to do something. 

She lurched over the bench with a clean swing of her legs, then rushed to the evidence table. She took the sword into her hands. 

“Then I’ll take up the defence!”

“What!” Shadow Weaver exclaimed.

“What?” Glimmer tilted her head.

The Judge’s eyes widened, astonished, “wha….”

But Maya drowned them all what with a wide gape and a long, “whaaaaaaat?” 

If Adora had been another person and watched herself, she’d probably have the same reaction. She looked around, almost searching herself, wondering if what she’d just done was at all real. But she found herself in this situation. The only sensible thing, it seemed, was to keep going:

“That, uh, well you know,” she said, scratching her neck, “I’m a lawyer, and someone’s gotta take the defence for this trial to keep going.”

“But, this is unprecedented!” said the Judge. 

“Indeed,” said Shadow Weaver. 

She peered down at Adora from behind her mask. Her eyes narrowed. 

“And totally ridiculous. I’m sorry, your honour. This is my student’s first trial and nerves must have gotten the better of her.” 

Yet for all the heat in her cheeks and awkwardness in her words, Adora felt more at ease than she’d had in the whole trial. Nerves she did not have. And somehow the hum had been vanquished as sound, and now was a feeling of power rising up her arm, willing her to keep going. 

“Look,” she said. “You said this trial was as good as over. Plus, the defendant has a right to a speedy trial. If the contradiction’s nothing, it’s nothing, but we have to look into it. I’ll do it.”

With the tip of the blade, she pointed it into the air like it were her own finger.

“I’ll take the defence!” 

Chapter Text

Shadow Weaver, with those narrowed eyes, stared Adora down. 

“Perhaps…” she said, “you were not ready for this after all. Your honour, I ask that we suspend these proceedings. Al least until the defence attorney has recovered.” 

The Judge in his high bench considered this well and true. Through small movements, his head leant to one side as he thought of the one consideration, and then the other as he did the second; from the line of view where Adora stood, his head just touched the tips of each scale in the great emblem that hung behind him. 

Finally he said, “my opinion is this. While mr. Wright has an uncanny ability to turn around whole trial from small details, the case against Glimmer is almost certainly watertight. And yet, some small doubt remains.” He nodded, “If ms. Adora can fulfill the temporary role as a defence attorney, all she need do is explore this avenue until no doubt remains. And the spirit of the initial trial law is to keep the length of all proceedings to a minimum. Therefore, I will grant the prosecution its request, and give Adora leave to take the other side of the bench. Ms. Weaver” He looked to Shadow Weaver, “will you consent to take the lead on the prosecution?”

Shadow Weaver held silent for a second. Her mask never changed, hence always the calm passive air that hung around her. Even her eyes, which might otherwise have betrayed whole thoughts and affects, were merely blank and white. 

They were narrowed of course, but they couldn’t exactly get any narrower. 

Despite this, she made no further protest. She merely turned back to Adora, and said, “It looks like I’ll have to teach my student a valuable lesson.” 

Adora breathed. She was still pumped from having leapt over the table and grabbing the sword, and her temples still pulsed. Yet as she made her way to the defence table, the reality of this situation fell on her like crashing waves. Then she turned, stood at the bench. She looked across the room, seeing the prosecutor staring back at her.

“Oh god, what am I doing,”an incessant Adora muttered, “what am I doing, what am I doing. Shadow Weaver’s right, I don’t have any business doing this.”

“Are you… talking to yourself?” asked Maya

“Sorry,” Adora half-smiled, “I kinda vocalise my thoughts a lot. Better to let out then build up, I say.”

“Heh, opposite of Nick then,” Maya said. “He’ll just stare so intently at something that you can just hear his thoughts.”

The Judge gave a bang of his gavel, signalling the resumption of the trial.

“Ms. Hope,” he said, “would you please explain how you came to know of the bracelet and its connection to the Sword of She-Ra?”

Light Hope stated her second testimony. It was as crisp and monotone as before, although perhaps a little quicker. She hadn’t expected to be here this long. Briefly, she explained that she had followed the research conducted on the Sword so of course knew about its transformational power. Asserting that her knowing had nothing to do with the case, she reiterated that which she’d said before: she looked through the keyhole and saw Glimmer stab the victim. 

Adora rapped the bench with two fingers.

“Okay, okay, that’s her testimony. Okay….” Then she seized up breaking out in a sweat all at once. “Ah, what do I do!?”

“Nick always presses until the witness slips up and gives him a contradiction,” Maya explained. “Just… get some details.” 

“Right, press for details. Pfft, I can do that,” Adora muttered. “Just gotta find a contradiction.” She looked to the witness and began, “you say you follow the ‘research’ but what research would that be? Surely Studley and Glimmer weren’t publishing?” 

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver spoke in a mocking tone, “surely you haven’t forgotten your own investigation already?” 

“Uh… actually I think I kinda did.”

“The defendant obtained the Sword from the Dryl Institute, which does make public some of its findings.”

“Indeed,” Light Hope concurred, managing that trace of a smile again, “I am all about that sort of thing. “For the Honour of Grayskull” and other such.”

“For the honour of… wait, what?” Adora said.

“An enchantment of sorts, utilised by the First worshippers of Themis ––those who created the sword.” 

“I see….”

Then with the crushing weight of realisation, Adora began to slump over the bench. She clarified, though without a hope,” so, wait, anyone could have known that the sword turns into a bracelet? So long as they read this journal?”

“As I predicted,” Shadow Weaver said, “not a contradiction at all, but a minor misunderstanding. Had you merely kept your resolve, Adora, you would be on this side to deliver this final blow to the defence. It’s not too late of course.”

Adora straightened up again.

“It’s far too early,” she slammed the table. “Ow–– I mean, there’s still a few more statements I can question on!” 

What had Phoenix done? He’d asked about something as minute as which hand held which end of the hilt. She could try doing the same, but if she wasted the court’s time the Judge would hit her with a penalty. Although, if she was correct in thinking, that penalty would end up Phoenix’s record not hers….

Okay, that was devious, but she needed to do something to help Glimmer; anything ––surely? For now, she needed to become Phoenix Wright. 

“Light Hope,” she began slowly, quickly trying to come up with a good minute detail to ask about, “when you said you ‘saw’ Glimmer stab the victim, how did she… she, uh, how did she… fall…down?”

“Fall down?” her eyelids raised a midge, “Ah yes, I believe the blow from the hit was quite strong. She hit the back wall with such force, causing the portrait to fall down.”

“Portrait? You mean the clock, don’t you?” asked Adora.

“No, I mean the portrait. There was a photograph of the two lovers on the back wall, and the force caused it to fall down on its face.” Then her eyes fully widened upon something, “ah, is this another one of these contradictions you seek to impose on me? Was it really a clock and not a portrait? Therefore I am a liar and everything I say is wrong?”

“Uh… maybe?” Adora rubbed the back of her neck and mumbled something about needing to see the evidence again.

“No need,” declared Shadow Weaver. “The prosecution has the photograph in question, as you should remember, Adora. This is it.”

The portrait was a fine thing, so it was a shame. The glass had shattered and the black frames were coming undone. In the photograph itself, Glimmer seemed a completely different person to this trials’ defendant. She was filled with cheer and nothing else as she wrapped her arms around the blonde scandinavian girl, the two of them in front of some sort of rustic pier.  

Adora forgot herself, watching this photograph. She didn’t really think of anything, just let herself be washed by a fondness for it, and a pain. A nostalgia for a moment she never had. Maybe if she did think, she would have thoughts of how tragic a figure Studley was, so alive and brimming with joy in the photo, and out of it, just the opposite. Then there was Glimmer.

Glimmer couldn’t have murdered her. 

“This appears to be in order,” said the Judge with a nod, “and that appears to wrap all the questions up, correct? The defendant stabbed the victim with the Sword of She-Ra, and the witness who saw her do it knew it could transform because she had read about it. I think I am ready to call my verdict.”

Adora looked up at the Judge with a look of horror. “What?”

“Finally.” Peering down at her from behind her mask, Shadow Weaver crooned, “you shouldn’t feel too much shame, Adora. This victory is still yours in substance. I just hope your next trial won’t end with such an embarrassing display.” She added a tut. “You really must be better than this.” 

Adora seized up and cried out. “Oh no, that can’t be it right? That can’t be it!”  

“Adora, calm down!” said Maya, also tense in the shoulders and standing on the balls of her feet. “Nick’s been cornered all sorts of time, you know. You just have to look at the evidence again.”

“The evidence?” said Adora. “Right.”

She skimmed through the court record. Something had to be there, for each second felt like the hand of a clock booming on each tick towards its termination point. 

“Actually,” Maya said, absently wrapping a finger in her hair by her temple, “wasn’t there something about the clock and picture earlier?” 

Clock. The word reverberated in Adora’s head, but not in her own voice, nor Maya’s.

“Yeah, I remember,” she said vaguely, still trying to recall where she heard the word. “Studley hanged the picture after the clock fell down. But I don’t remember actually seeing what was in the picture today.” 

“They do kinda look sweet together.” Maya gave out a sigh. “Poor Glimmer, to lose such a close friend twice in one day.” 

Something has fallen from the wall, he had said, but it isn’t a clock. It’s a picture frame.

Adora looked down. Their copy of the crime scene photograph lay there, bearing the image of the dead body, the ruffled apartment, the shattered glass on the floor. The picture, at the end of the room. Face down. 

“Wait a minute––oh, OH!” Adora thrust out her pointer finger. “OBJECTION! Light Hope, you say you saw all of this through a keyhole in the door, and that you did not enter the apartment.”

“Yes, that is how things went down,” Light said.

“Well, I say that’s impossible” she took up one of the documents and battered it with her hand, “First, look at this floorplan. At the angle you look into the apartment, maybe you could have seen Glimmer and Studley –– but you couldn’t have seen the wall and the picture!”

“OBJECTION!” Shadow Weaver enunciated with that dark voice of hers, “Perhaps she did lie about not entering. Surely she must have wanted to confirm the victim’s death before she called the police. But otherwise nothing about her testimony changes.”

“OBJECTION!” Adora pulled a fast grin. “Actually, we know when she was in the apartment because she just told us.”

“Wh-what?”

“She identified the contents of the picture, when no-one else in the court had yet seen it. That’s because she saw the portrait before it fell face down!” 

“I–– argh,” Shadow Weaver gripped the sides of the bench and hung low, strands of hair falling down around her face, “this cannot be.” 

Light Hope gave more of a smile than she ever had, but it was a pained smile, and sweat trickled down her cheeks. 

  “Yes, this is… quite… ridiculous,” she said. “Surely it was impossible for me to have been inside during the crime. I would have been noticed.” 

“Yes, you should have been” Adora nodded, “But that assumes that one person was there to notice you.”

“Wh-what?”  

“Studley died, so whether she saw you or not doesn’t matter. But Glimmer only would have noticed your presence in the apartment if she had still been there, which of course the defence believes isn’t true!” 

“But that would mean––” the Judge paused to think, “uh, what would that mean?”

“If Glimmer wasn’t in the room, but Light Hope was, then it can only mean one thing ––Light Hope, you stabbed Sverdhild Studley, didn’t you?” 

Gasps drew from the court. It was followed by murmurs, and the Judge banged to quell the noise. 

“Order, order, I shall have order in this court!”

“No! I did not do that,” spluttered a cringing witness, “You have no proof.” 

“If you didn’t,” Adora posed, “then why were you in the apartment?”

Light Hope’s expression struggled for a second, but then she straightened up, forcing back that air of neutrality from before.

“Yes,” she said. “I shall testify again. I will explain why I was in there and how I didn’t kill Studley. We will put an end to this foolishness.” 

The Judge nodded, and allowed another testimony. Maya meanwhile bounded up grabbing at Adora’s arm:

“We can’t let up now, Adora. She’s already admitting to being in the right place, so I bet her next testimony will be even more full of holes than the last.”

Adora grinned. “Let’s do this!”

Light Hope fixed her expression and began. 

“I entered the apartment between 3 and 4 with the intention to steal the Sword of She-Ra.”

“Really?” the Judge’s eyes widened. “You confess to larceny?” 

“It was the only crime I committed that day,” the witness insisted through grit teeth. She continued.  “I did see the argument as it happened, but I was mistaken earlier when I said Glimmer stabbed the victim before she left. I believe she must have returned shortly after I broke in. I assume the victim transformed the sword back into the bracelet herself, because I used it to knock her out.”

“Then why didn’t you take the sword with you?” asked Adora.

“I believe I panicked. I am not a thug, I have no experience in violence, but I needed to take that item.” 

“Why?”

Light Hope took a few moments peace, shutting her eyes and calculating the best way forward. Her decision was, “I will not say. It is not relevant to this trial, which concerns murder. I did not impale the victim, merely bludgeoned her, so it could not have been me.” 

“But then it couldn’t have been Glimmer” Adora asserted. “Look at the photographs, she came and went once. And weren’t you who called the police? Why would you come back to discover the dead body if you had panicked? This testimony is even more shoddy than the last!”

Shadow Weaver struck the table with a bang. ‘This is all feeble nonsense. Perhaps this witness’s mind is addled. Ultimately, only the defendant knew the code to transform the weapon. You don’t have any proof to suggest otherwise.” She looked to the Judge and implored, “Stand down the witness, and hand down the verdict.” 

“Well, defence? The prosecution raises a good point.” Said the Judge with a tentative note, “As far as we know, only the defendant and the victim knew the passcode to transform the bracelet into a sword. If you want to suggest this witness was the true culprit, she must have had it too.” 

“Maybe she overheard Studley say the code,” Adora said, now plagued with cold beads of sweat and grasping madly again,  “Or maybe she was lying about it being a bracelet from the beginning!”

“Then where’s your proof for either of these statements?” said Shadow Weaver. 

“My proof, where’s your proof!”

“Adora!” came a sudden loud voice from over at the dock.

It was Glimmer. She looked at Adora was a singular intent in her eye.

  “You need to focus,” she said. 

“I–– what?”

“All these other questions are just a distraction.” Glimmer shook her head, explaining “You already know the answer, you’ve been feeling it this entire trial.”

“I’ve been…feeling it?”

For the first time since Adora had seen her, Glimmer smiled. It wasn’t the cheer that the Glimmer in the picture had had. It certainly couldn’t wipe away the anguish and anger this trial had wrought from her. But there was a light in Glimmer’s eyes that matched the feeling of lightness in her chest. 

The defendant had been more surprised than anyone during this trial. Even as the Judge and Shadow Weaver had accepted the turn in events, Glimmer had silently resisted. How could Adora, a prosecutor, ever want to actually help her? Perhaps it was some ploy. At least, that’s what Glimmer thought at first. Now she knew better. 

“Look at your wrist,” she said. 

“My what?” Adora wrinkled her cheek. “Defendant, there’s nothing on my––”

There was something on her wrist. Glistening gold, formed all the way down her forearm over her white sleeve, it was a bracelet. In its centre, the gemstone sparkled, staring back at Adora. And of course, there was that hum. Except now, the hum was inside her. 

“Okay” Adora blinked. “Okay, this is a thing now.” She took in a calm breath. “Just gotta get this… to this”

She thrust her hand out, the light but definite weight of the bracelet resisting but succumbing to her motion, and whatever power it held joining the sudden feeling of confidence emanating from her body, and the hum that only Adora heard was overcome by her shout:

“OBJECTION! Shadow Weaver, you want proof, right? Proof that the witness knew how to turn the bracelet into the sword?”

“I don’t want something that doesn’t exist,” Shadow Weaver chided. “Look through the court record. Nothing points to her guilt.”

“I don’t need the record, I have the witness’s testimony,” Adora declared. “Earlier she told us something. A phrase she thought was interesting. Do you want me to tell you what it is?”

“What are you babbling on about, child?” narrowing her eyes, Shadow Weaver even tilted her head as she said, “Have you not embarrassed yourself enough? Embarrassed me? To see my student turn into a… mere defence attorney.”

Before Adora could think of a retort, Glimmer shot up again to say, “She’s not just a mere defence attorney. She’s the defence attorney.” 

Many in the court were confused. Murmur from the gallery fled about, as well as some laughs. But despite a small twitch in her face, Glimmer held her gaze resolutely on the prosecutor. 

“Order, Order,” said the Judge. “Defendant, we do not need any comments from you. Defence, tell us the phrase that you think is so important.”

Adora steadied herself, slightly widening her stance. Her foot touched the edge of Maya. The other girl barely noticed, gripping her fingers tightly in her palm. She watched the impromptu-defence attorney prepare. The reason Adora did this of course was because of the weight. She knew it would be quite something to bear. But it was a burden she was willing to take. 

And because it would look very cool.

She held her arm out again. Not to point, not to call an objection. Instead she twirled her hand into a grip, feeling the air, but not quite closing her fist. She took a light breath. There was a flash of a smirk. And then, she spoke: 

“For the Honour of Grayskull!” 

A kaleidoscopic gleam burst through the courtroom, dazzling most eyes before anyone could tell what had happened. But soon the initial shock was replaced by the gasping of the crowd upon seeing the sharp shine of a heavy sword’s blade. 

The Sword of She-Ra, once again, in the hand of one who wielded it like it was always meant to be hers. 

Horror broke across the witness’s face, and she stammered, “wait, you… no, I––”

“How about it, Light Hope?”Adora brought the sword back behind her head, letting it laze across her shoulders, “Don’t you remember telling us this exact same phrase earlier today? You’ve had an interest in attaining this weapon for a while, haven’t you?”

“No–– I mean, that is, yes, but––”

Adora slammed the table. “When Glimmer left, you saw an opportunity! An opportunity to take the weapon and pin the blame on someone else!”

“I didn’t even take the weapon, it wasn’t me who was going to––”

Shadow Weaver gripped her bench, suddenly leaning forward. She was on the cusp of uttering a remark like ‘fool’ or ‘silence fool’ but the chance was stolen by the witness yelling:

 “Ah, aaah!” 

Light Hope clasped the sides of her face. Her eyes darted about, and she could not perish the guilty looks twisted across her expression. Adora made a decision.

It was time to end this.

“See this sword? Remember what I just said?” she said, “You said you were all about this sort of thing. But it likes the only thing you’re about to be… is finished!”

A moment of silence carried in the courtroom, even though Light Hope continued to throw guilty looked from behind her hands. Then she regained a sudden composure, stance straight and face neutral. 

Then she screamed:

“NOOOOoooo!”

The best word for it was ‘glitching’. The woman made a number of sudden janky movements. She twisted a number of ways, and as some concerned bailiffs came to restrain her she backed away, avoiding their approach ––even edging towards the one escape from the room, the door. But then, she fell down. A thud, and she was out. 

The following minutes slipped by. The breaths Adora took were hard and heavy, but slowly calming as the beating of her temple pulse began to recede. And she could no sooner blink when the Judge talking again, asking the whereabouts of the witness:

“She is being processed as we speak,” Shadow Weaver stated, calm but a little quieter than usual. “Though I fear in her current state of mind, the truth of her motivations may be hard to extract.”

The Judge nodded then turned his attention to the defence. 

“I must say, I have never seen a trial proceed like this one has today. Ms. Adora”

“Yes, your honour?” said Adora.

“You have shown remarkable nerve and talent today. I think we can expect great things from you in your career as a prosecutor… or a defence attorney, if you so wish.”

Adora looked down and clutched at her own wrist, which by now had become quite sore. Finally she just managed to say:

“Uh, thank you….”

“But for now,” the Judge said with a new briskness in his voice, “I can hand down my verdict.”

NOT GUILTY

Shadow Weaver did not break her gaze from Adora for quite some time. Now out of the heat of the moment, Adora had less of a barrier to the ability that Shadow Weaver’s stares to unnerve her. Adora tightened the grip she had on her wrist, although she made sure to return the look eye for eye ––no matter how much it made her squirm inside.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver said, “you have made a terrible mistake in what you’ve done today, and I fear it may undo you. Remember, you were nothing before me, you will be nothing without me. When we next meet, you’ll have realised that.” 

Shadow Weaver swept out of the courtroom, and finally Adora could loosen. 

But not a moment later she was rushing out herself, following Maya through the lobby and out of the courthouse itself. They headed over to the hospital and got a speedy admittance to one of the room. Inside, Phoenix Wright lay, bedridden, but alive. 

“Oh god, Nick, are you alright?” asked Maya

“Oh, I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“That’s the problem,” Maya said, folding her arms. “You’re gonna wear out your body by your thirties.”

Phoenix laughed, and although it gave him a sharp pain in the ribs, he welcomed the hug Maya suddenly thrust upon him. Adora meanwhile made a cautious step into the room.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Wright. I’m sorry about what happened.” She gave a half-smile, “I guess we really should have checked if that Sword was safe to handle.” 

“Do you know what happened?” asked Phoenix.

“Not really, but I guess that Sword has a lot of powers we don’t really understand.” She grinned and added, “Thankfully your client will be free to continue her research and find out.”

Phoenix quickly sat himself up in his bed. “Wait, what happened?”

“Adora took your place at the defence’s bench” Maya explained. “She took your contradiction and ran with it.

Placing a hand on her hip and tilting her head to the side, Adora commented, “Well, heh, I think I found a few contradictions of my own.” 

“Contradictions in your own case, remember,” Maya noted.

“Yeah, that’s true. “

She let out a sigh, and took a seat on the end of the bed.  

“How do you do it, mr. Wright?” she asked. “I never realised being a defence attorney would feel like that. So hopeless and on the edge all the time.”

“Did you believe Glimmer to be innocent?” Phoenix asked.

“Well, not really, not at first. Obviously I thought she was guilty. But then you pointed out some of the problems and, I dunno. Then when I was on your side of the court fighting her corner I just started to think, yeah, she couldn’t have done it.”

“Well, for me that’s enough,” Phoenix said, smiling. “I have faith in my clients, and I always want to help them.”

“Help….” 

Adora looked down, her line of sight falling upon a dusty cream floor with chipped tiles. Her brows drew together. She found herself swallowing empty air and once against clutched at her still sore wrist. Maya observed this in the corner of her vision and decided to come sit by her side. 

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“There’s someone out there I’d like to help,” Adora said in a vague voice. “I don’t know where, and I really don’t know how.” She took in a heavy breath, and after holding for a few seconds, let out. “But I always kinda thought just getting to the top as a prosecutor would do it. Now… I’m not so sure.” 

Now Phoenix was watching her too.

“There’s a lot of good you can do as a prosecutor,” he said. “I’ve come to blows with quite a few now, and while they can be a little… abusive, I think they’re good people.”

“But I didn’t even consider that Glimmer could be innocent. If I had succeeded… she would gone to prison because of me.”

“But you did succeed” came a new voice. Everyone turned to look at the doorway, where Glimmer now stood, adding, “And I am still here.” 

“Glimmer!” Phoenix beamed. “Glad to see you out of your cell.”

“Mr. Wright, are you alright?” she walked up to Phoenix with a concerned look.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured with a grin.

“Worn out by thirty!” Maya reminded him.  

Adora stood up, and awkwardly hovered as Glimmer passed her by. She felt conscious of the fact she stood a good foot over the other girl.

“Glimmer I’m sorry…,” she said. “Hilda was very important to you. I could have been less mean about it.” 

“It’s…,” Glimmer gripped her hand into a fist by her heart, so tight that her nails dug into the fabric of her fingerless gloves. “It’s fine. I made my mistake with her, and she didn’t want to see me again.” She looked to Adora with a forced smile, explaining, “but I think this was how things were meant to go. The Sword of She-Ra reacted to you, Adora, which means… well, I’m not sure what exactly. But I think you’re meant to be a defence attorney.” 

“What, me?” Adora waved it away. “Pfft, I couldn’t be a defence attorney. Today was totally just a fluke. You saw how I flailed around in there”

“I saw how you turned the case on its head and proved me innocent.”

“But it’s a whole different set of skills,” Adora argued. “Pressing statements, finding contradictions, I don’t know about any of that really.”

“I think you do –– or at least, who you really are does. That Sword wouldn’t have reacted to just anyone. She-Ra is a reincarnation of the Goddess of Law.” She chuckled, saying ‘’I guess I’ll have to explain the full story to you one day. But the way I see it, you just need a little training from a professional, and then you’ll be a real ace attorney.” 

“Hey I’d give you some tips,” Phoenix offered, “but I still feel like a rookie half the time.”

Maya suggested, “maybe someone can take her as an apprentice. Mr. Grossberg or Mr. Shields perhaps?”

Glimmer shook her head.

“I know someone who was once one of the best defence attorneys around,” she explained. “If you come with me to Brightmoon manor, I can introduce her.” 

“Woah, woah.”Adora pressed her hands out in a backing up motion. “This is still… a lot. I can’t just up and leave everything I know. I really should go back and apologise to Shadow Weaver or I may not have a place to sleep tonight.”

“Shadow Weaver?” Glimmer’s expression darkened. “That prosecutor. Adora, prosecutors are dangerous. You already said you almost put an innocent in jail, well that’s what they all do. They arrange witnesses, hide and forge evidence, make threats and backroom deals.”

“They’re not all so bad,” Phoenix muttered.

“Well, sure,” Glimmer granted with a huff, “some are better than others. But it’s not about the people, it’s the whole system. The prosecutor’s office itself breeds contempt and suspicion. If you really want to help people, the last thing you want to is go back there.” 

“Wait, now come on that’s not fair. I mean… ugh” Adora let out a breathy groan, “Look, this is all so confusing and this has been a weird day. I need some time to think.” 

“At least come to Brightmoon manor, you can stay there for the night” Glimmer took Adora’s hand, “You won’t regret it”

Adora pulled a pained expression. She looked to Maya, who merely shrugged, and then over to Phoenix. He looked over at the window, a wistful air about him, though he did speak:

“It’s not an easy life, but we get by. My mentor would say what really matters is the evidence. If you look at everything from a different angle and look at the facts clearly, maybe the choice will be more obvious to you.” Then he turned his head back, but his eyes passed over Adora, instead turning to the girl next to her. “You know, Glimmer, that’s how I know people are never really gone. I think Adora has some evidence left that you ought to see.” 

“Evidence?” Glimmer turned back to Adora with an insistent look. “What’s he talking about?”

Raising an eyebrow, Adora stared with a vacant eye. Then a neurone fired. A memory suddenly returned and Adora faced Glimmer and urgently bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“You said that Hilda didn’t want to see you again,” Adora said, “but I don’t think that fits with a certain piece of evidence. Remember the picture?”

“The one that fell down on its face? Yeah, we took that some time ago. It was a really precious memory…”

“Except it wouldn’t have been relevant at all if Hilda hadn’t hung it up, and she could only do that after you had left.”

“… Oh,” said Glimmer, in a very small voice. “To replace the clock.” 

“You said it yourself, Glimmer,” Adora continued. “She was usually the calm one. Maybe you still felt angry but she let it go.”

“I…” Glimmer looked down, better to hide the quivering in her eyes, though the same in her voice gave the game away. “Sorry, I really need to be alone now.”

With that she ran off. Rushing through the open door, she left the other three behind, all in silence. Adora in particular recalled the picture ––Glimmer and her friend together–– and the power that object had to speak the truth, even when there were no words left to say. 

“I helped her… with the evidence,” Adora told herself. “Maybe I can do the same for her.” 

Adora was not the only one who would ruminate on that trial deep into the night. Glimmer was another, of course, but there was also Shadow Weaver. She returned from the courthouse with feelings so dark that they were indescribable. But her mind was clear. She only thought of what she’d say when she’d get back to the office. 

Not far the courthouse, it was a tall building that imposed even upon the surrounding sky-rises.   The office at the top of the room was darkly lit, every light was glaring and the shadows sharp. A large man with ashen skin and a grim face poured over the documents on his desk. Behind him, Shadow Weaver arrived. Tentative, but with intent. 

Chief Prosecutor Hordak did not turn to face her as he spoke:

“The facilitator won’t cause us any problems, will it?”

“I assure you,” said Shadow Weaver, “She will be swiftly dealt with, and there will be no more questions. Certain affects of hers have already been placed in the vault. There will be no further problems.”

“Yes there will,” Hordak said. “The Sword was supposed to join us in evidence.” 

“That… was an unfortunate turn in circumstances. But as I recall it was only going to join the collection. Unless… you had a more personal use for it in mind.”

Almost immediately after she said that, Shadow Weaver cursed her tongue. The air turned cold, as Hordak’s broad shoulders tensed in fury. He slammed the table with a fist.

“Watch yourself, prosecutor,” he growled. “I can easily dispose of you if you further displease me. I wanted that defence attorney’s reputation in tatters, not this.” 

“M-my student proved herself even in––”

“I don’t care what she proved,” he snapped. “The fact is that this is another failure on record.” He turned to face her with glowing red eyes. “Where is the girl now? Has she turned for good?” 

“Sometimes children resist their path,” she crooned, “only to mature later on. Time is our best bet. Reality will beat Adora back until she returns to us. She won’t be gone too long.” 

“I do not have time. I had a role in mind for Adora, one that is now vacant.”

“She will come back––”

“You have another student, prosecutor,” Hordak stated. “I shall appoint her instead.”

Shadow Weaver paused. A pithy retort came to mind first but she shelved it. 

“I have no other students worth mentioning,” she said. 

She spoke in a low flat monotone. Placing careful emphasis on each syllable, she made herself clear.

“I disagree,” said Hordak, equally emphatic. 

Shadow Weaver grimaced from behind her mask. And, perhaps wanting to express her annoyance, she brought up her arms in a motion to cross them.

“Chief Prosecutor, I––”

There was a loud crack. Something caught one of Shadow Weaver’s arms before it could fold into the other. She looked to it.  Restraining her by the wrist was the end of a whip. Suddenly it pulled her, twisting her around to face it’s wielder.

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed.

“You,” she said, injecting the word with as much acid as she could. 

Small, lithe, the silhouetted figure skulked just in the entrance way. But it was clear by the shape of her mane and pointed ears who it was. She grinned. A demonic sort of grin, illuminated just so the whites of her sharp teeth hovered in the shadows.

 “Hey, Shadow Weaver,” said Catra. 

Chapter Text

Buried under a cityscape awash in concrete, the Brightmoon estate was a world apart, a viridian realm onto itself. Entering it was to pass from tarmac to pale cobblestones, from busy streets to calming trails. The cacophony of cars and crowds thawed into a soft bird’s song. Chirping insects joined. That and the trickle of a stream, which itself ran parallel to the path, where orderly vines wrapped around the surrounding trees the same as roses did to every passing archway. All leading up, and giving way, to the open terrace.

The broad Brightmoon Manor stood, magnificent in view. 

Adora, having come through the trail, was stopped by the sight. Her eyes wandered down to the doorway where she anticipated a crescent moon engraved on the lintel –– and there it was, suspended above the sleek mahogany and arched door. When Glimmer had mentioned a manor, Adora had envisioned something fanciful: columns and golden plinths and other features she must have picked up from fairy tales or movies deep in her memory. Her second guess was that it would be a simple but stately complex slotted into the affluent side of city. 

Brightmoon Manor looked just like she had first imagined it, not what she had expected. 

But for Glimmer ––who was inside the building––, it was just home. It was also the last place she wanted to be right now. She had just woken up in her plush third-story room, spying immediately the window, still ajar from the night before. Although the makeshift rope ladder she had used was tucked underneath the inside windowsill, the window still posed a problem. 

She got up and stumbled towards it. But then, just as she was pushing the window panes shut, a warm and cheery voice called from outside:

“Glimmer! Hey, down here!” 

She looked down, upon a garden covered in shade. Since the morning sun was rising low on the manor’s opposite face, the figure down in this back area was but a silhouette. But it obvious who it was.

“Bow, shh,” Glimmer said in an urgent hush, “come up, quickly!”

Taking the ropes with the woodblock steps from under the windowsill, she threw it down for Bow to climb. He promptly came up, landing into her bedroom with a jump, and coming into the full light. He was a tall man with a high cropped haircut ––dark brown with an purple sheen as the top reflected light. Dressed in a blue uniform with high polished boots and white gloves, he would have had an authoritarian aura had he not folded the hem of his jacket up to bare his lower midriff. And of course he wore a smile ––wide and matched with a twinkling eye–– that struck Glimmer with a feeling of sudden calm. Although she quickly began to fritter again. 

“Bow! You weren’t seen were you?”

“It’s fine, no-one saw me come in,” he said.

“It’s not you that’s the problem….” 

She rushed over to the door, pushed it a slither ajar, and watched the dark corridor beyond. As it remained quiet and undisturbed, Glimmer sighed in relief. She turned back to Bow:

“Can you do something for me?” 

“Hey, I only just got here,” Bow slanted his mouth, “is everything alright, Glimmer? I was really worried about yesterday, I should’ve come to court with you.”

“You…,” she let out a brief huff, “you couldn’t. You had the mid-term.” 

“Which I know I flunked,” Bow confessed, his voice creaking, “How was I supposed to focus on chemical analysis and striation matching when my best friend was on trial for murder? I could barely write a sentence without thinking you were about to be sentenced!”

“Bow,” she raised her hand to stay his panic, and found a strange smile on her lips. It wasn’t often that it was her calming him down. “I’m alright. I was declared innocent.”

“Mr Wright pulled through, right?” asked Bow. “Man, I knew it was right to turn to him. I need to thank Ema for the recommendation.”

“It wasn’t just him,” said Glimmer. “Speaking of which… I need you to head to the front garden.”

Just as Glimmer and Bow were conspiring inside, Adora had winded her way up to the manor’s broad front door. The crescent symbol on the lintel glowered down at her from a height. She rustled her fingers against her palm as she looked from the sleek mahogany woodwork, to a silver handle and its anterior knocker. But as she finally plucked the nerve to go knock, her hand hesitated, hovering just over the silver. 

Shouldn’t it be higher? 

Adora paused, and pulled her cheek.

“Why… did I think that?” she muttered. 

She shook herself, and pulled the knocker. There was no response. 

Undeterred, she knocked again, before finally pushing the door open and calling, “Glimmer, you home?” 

Stepping forward onto oak panelled floors, she came into the foyer and marvelled. A wide staircase faced her, lacquered to the last step. Hallways going off both upstairs and on ground floor were laden with doors to everywhere. And the room itself was big. Spacious was the word. Lots of space.

Way too much space. Dead space eery along the walls. Furniture was missing, such as a mantle removed and its fireplace boarded up, just under a patch of misapplied paint where a mirror once hung. 

“Glimmer?” Adora called again, and this time the sound seemed to bounce off the wall and echo down a corridor. 

Starting to squirm at a jittering in her stomach, Adora turned to leave. Perhaps she could try tomorrow. Yet as she opened the door, a high voice ––but not Glimmer’s–– responded.

“Yes?”

Adora turned around again. Out of nowhere, there she was. Slender, tall and dressed in a casual gown so pastel it was hard to see where it ended and the loose locks of her pink hair began. Her face was pale, long and thin and with a scrutinising glaze in her eye; one she bore down onto the girl. 

“Oh… hi,” said Adora, “are you Glimmer’s mom?” 

“I am,” the woman said. “Angella. She’s not here at the moment. She’s… AWOL.” 

“Huh,” Adora blinked. “Well, I saw her yesterday and she told me to come here––”

“Hey, Adora! There you are!” 

Bow was now jumping in down the stairs, and quickly lodging himself between the other two. Despite the absolutely puzzled look Adora gave, he just smiled and continued. 

“Glimmer tell you to come here? She must be having us, I can’t find her in her room.”

“Bow?” said Angella. “I didn’t know you were here.” 

“Sorry, mrs. Angella. Just let myself in,” Bow laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t wanna bother you and all.” 

“And you know this one?” she gestured to Adora. 

“Oh yeah, Glimmer knows Adora from her paralegal classes,” Bow said steadily, keeping his voice as natural as he could manage, “but she, uh, lives out of town, y’know. So it’s no wonder she’s never had her over before.”

Bow threw Adora some pleading looks, and nudged his head the tiniest of millimetres to signal her without Angella noticing. Adora’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, forcing a smile, “paralegal classes. Me and Glimmer go way back, mrs. A.” 

Bow stifled a cringe. Yet he he turned with hope to watch Angella’s reaction. 

The woman was wearing a strange smile. 

“Paralegal, eh?” she said. “A strange class to take for someone admitted to the bar.”

“The…bar?” Bow’s shoulders slackened. 

“You must be thinking of someone else!” Adora stammered. Her thoughts were slipping by, and she was speaking before she could handle them. “I’m––I’m not a prosecutor.”

“Interesting,” Angella smiled further, “I don’t remember saying you were.” 

Adora’s heart fell with a thud. 

“I just meant,” she choked, “uh, I know you and Glimmer don’t like prosecutors, right? Just assumed that’s why you were concerned that I’d passed the bar.” 

“Well I’m more concerned that you’re lying,” said Angella. “It’s true that Glimmer having a prosecutor as a friend all this time is unlikely; so that’s why I know it’s not true. She keeps secrets, yes, but if she knew a student of Shadow Weaver all this time, she would have told me by now.” 

“Wait, Shadow Weaver? I’m not––”

But before Adora could either talk her way out of or further into this mess, Angella let out a long groan.

“Glimmer’s here, isn’t she?” she looked to Bow. 

Bow had barely broken into a pained half-smiled before Angella whisked around and went up the stairs. After sharing a look, the other two rushed after. The woman fled down the corridor, her gown fluttering in tow like a royal train. She came up to a door, and started banging. 

“Glimmer! Did you think I wouldn’t see through this ruse? You have a lot of explaining to do!” 

The door slithered open. Glimmer, still mostly obscured, looked past her mother to shoot a dead eye at Bow.

“Hey, I tried,” he protested. 

Angella wrenched the door open, revealing Glimmer in full. The girl had a look half guilty and half defiant with perhaps a hint of fear. Adora looked to Angella with sudden wide eyes and felt a tremor herself.

But then Angella ducked down. Scooping Glimmer up, she brought her into the tightest of hugs.

“Where were you?” she said, “you’ve been gone for days. I was worried half to death.” 

“Mom, I’m fine,” Glimmer insisted, although there was a certain softness to her protest; a weakness in the voice, and even as she tried to push Angella away, her arms were slack as she did so. “I was… I was in court.”

“In court!?” Angella exclaimed. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Mom, it’s alright,” Glimmer tried saying again, “it’s all sorted now.” 

“I’m your mother, I should have been told about this earlier!” Angella was starting to simmer with balled up fists and even stamping her foot, but her expression was one of aching. “You’re still a child, you can’t be expected to handle these things on your own.” 

“I did handle it on my own––”

“You should have come to me for help––”

“What help?” Glimmer shouted, “the help we gave mr. Treble or ms. Andrews? ‘Take a plea bargain or wait for an appeal, but just don’t ever fight back in the district court?’”

That sent a lopsided grimace across Angella’s face. But Glimmer kept on going:

“Are we suppose to run from the initial trial forever? No,” she suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Adora by the arm, “we took on the prosecutor and won!”

“And this…?” Angella spluttered, “what, why do you have Shadow’s Weaver’s apprentice with you?”

“Uh, it’s a bit of a long story,” Adora mumbled, “but I was Glimmer’s defence attorney by the end of the trial. But you were right earlier, I am a prosecutor.”

“I brought her here to meet you,” Glimmer explained. “You could train her to be every bit as good as you were. A real defence attorney.” 

“I can’t,” Angella said, “Glimmer, you know why I can’t.”

“Uh, why can’t you?” asked Adora.

“That’s no concern of yours,” she said in a terse voice. “Although I’m sure your tutor already told you everything.”

“Um, no,” Adora rubbed her arm, “I hadn’t even heard of you.”

“Mom, it’s okay, she’s genuine,” Glimmer said. “She switched sides to defend my innocence… because she’s She-Ra.”

Bemusement and disbelief broke at once over Angella’s face and she looked from Glimmer to Adora and back again. Finally, she slid her hand down her face and sighed. 

“I need a glass of water,” she said. “And you, young lady,” she said her daughter in a soft but still authoritative tone, “need breakfast. We should discuss… things further.”

Glimmer acquiesced, and the two left, leaving Adora along with Glimmer’s friend Bow to wait in the room until their return. It was a nice room, round with a high-vaulted roof and serene walls of lilac and lavender. The bed was a golden polonaise suspended from the room with a series of steps leading up to it. Bow went to sit at the foot of the bottom step. Adora stood stiff in the room’s centre. Neither spoke at first. 

But when silence became too much to bare, Adora asked, “are they… gonna be alright?”

“I hope so,” Bow said. “They’ve had worse. I think they can get through this one.”

“I don’t understand why Glimmer brought me here to meet her mother, but she didn’t even want her to know she was here….?”

“I’m sure she hoped to create a game plan once we were all in here.” Bow smacked his fist into his other palm, “if only I was a little slicker back there.”

“I mean I was the one who fumbled,” Adora admitted, coming down to perch herself on Bow’s step, but angled facing away from him. “She really put me on the spot. Cross-examined me, I guess.”

“Angella was quite a lawyer back in her day, I hear,” Bow explained. “She went toe to toe with the likes of Debeste and Von Karma.”`

“If she was so good, why did she stop?”

“I don’t really know,” Bow said, rubbing his arm, “but things changed a few years ago. Angella’s career ended just about the same time Glimmer lost her dad.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah. It’s just been the two of them here ever since.” He let out a long deep sigh. “I’ve been really worried about Glimmer. Losing Hilda and then going to trial. I just kept thinking ‘they’re gonna make her talk through every detail’ and it’d be like having her die all over again.”

Adora just tugged a single knee into her chest and fidgeted with her wrist around it. 

“For the longest time it’s just been me and her,” Bow continued to explain, “we go to college and Glimmer meets someone she really hits it off with…. She’s never been particularly outgoing but’s fine, you know. She’s Glimmer, she’s happy with the people’s she got. But then to lose half of your friends in one fell swoop….” 

“You really care about her huh?” asked Adora.

“Course I do!” Bow said, tensing up his balled hands, “I’m gonna have to really keep an eye on her for now.” He took on a resigned half-smile, full of knowing, “but then, well, she’s gonna start feeling guilty that I’m spending my time to make sure she’s okay. Story my life, I guess: convincing Glimmer that it’s not wrong to want support from her friends.” 

“Wow, you seem to know her inside out.”

Bow shrugged, “when you know a person for that long, you start to know how they tick. Best thing is that you know all their buttons. Comes in handy when you want to mess with them,” he grinned, but the warmth far outweighed the malice. “But more importantly, you know when it’s right to step in and help, and what to do.” 

A tingle, birthed in Adora’s chest, spread upwards until it sat in the back of her throat. She let her leg fall and sat a little more inward-facing to Bow.

“What did Glimmer mean with that stuff she was telling Angella? The thing about not running away from the court?”

“Oh that?” said Bow, “well sometimes people still approach Angella for help with legal trouble. But she almost always tries to turn them away. Thing is Glimmer keeps bringing them to her. The most Angella really says is that going through the initial trial is futile, since the system is so broken.”

“Glimmer said something like that as well,” Adora recalled. “So Angella wants Glimmer to be a paralegal to try and reform things on the inside?”

Bow gave out a chuckle, “Angella does not want Glimmer anywhere near it. She hoped Glimmer would take history classes.”

“History? Didn’t her friend do history?”

“Yeah, they met in lectures there, but Glimmer only had it as a minor in the end,” Bow elaborated. “Against all of Angella’s warnings, Glimmer really wants to get into the legal profession. Heh, my dads wanted me to do history too but I only took it as a minor as well. But I always knew my true calling was Forensics.” 

Adora raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you want to go into that?” She gave wry smirk, “I mean it’s just a little dusting here and there, most of the real work is done by us prosecutors.”

Bow pouted.

“That is absolutely a myth,” he said, “forensics is a fine science! You have to discern whole movements from the trace-iest of fibre samples. We eliminate whole possibilities and make the work for you lawyers possible!”

“Hey, hey, I was only teasing,” Adora laughed. “I guess that’s one of your buttons.” 

He smiled, “hey, I don’t mind an opportunity to rep the gig. I tell you with today’s technology there’s no circumstance we can’t predict or alibi we can’t bust.” 

Pulling it out from his inside jacket pocket, Bow brandished an elongated digital pad with all sorts of glowing buttons. 

“I’m proud to say I’ll be a forensic investigator at the forefront of this technological revolution.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you out in the field.” She looked back at her knees, her smile not quite fading, as she asked, “so, how did your dads feel about not taking history?”

“Oh they understood in the end,” he said, “although I, uh, might have tried to hide it for a whole year.”

“Shadow Weaver would have flipped if I didn’t want to become a prosecutor,” Adora said a little quieter.

“Why did you want to become a prosecutor?” 

“Well I was always going to be one,” she stated, “Shadow Weaver trained me to be the very best there could ever be.”

“I dunno Adora,” Bow furrowed his brow, “I know we’ve just met but you don’t strike me as the person to, uh, ‘stick with the plan’ if you get me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot him a scandalised look.

“What I mean is you’re now seriously considering switching teams this late in the game. If there was something else you wanted to be growing up I think you would have taken it.”

“I mean I considered other stuff, sure.”

“Becoming a prosecutor must have been really intense, right? You must have really wanted it yourself,” he shrugged. “At least, that’s what I think.” 

“You weren’t lying, you really are forensic,” Adora remarked. She then sighed and said, “I don’t really know how to explain it. I’m sure there was a calling because I really did want to be a prosecutor… I kinda still do. But things really got turned upside down in that trial.” 

She fell silent for a few seconds, staring into the back of her hands laid lazy by her knees. She screwed up her eyebrows. Shaking her head, she added:

“No, I’m not telling the truth. There was something else.”

“What?” asked Bow.

“A few years ago… ah, it’s too much to explain now. Point is I used to… know someone.”

“A friend?”

“Best friend,” Adora smiled, “but this was way back when; not sure if I’d even recognise her now. But I always thought she was in trouble and that’s why she disappeared.”

“Do you know she’s in trouble?

Adora shrugged. “She was always getting in trouble, frankly. I guess I just thought if I became a top prosecutor and I ever found her again, I’d be in a position to help. Don’t ask how, by the way,” she quickly preempted, “I know it’s not logical. This wasn’t even a conscious thought or plan, I just kinda felt it. And suddenly that feeling came back big during the trial.” She let out a low half-laugh, half-sigh, “I guess that’s what makes me tick, huh. Some weird feeling, chock-full of nostalgia.”

“I think it’s really sweet,” Bow said, “I’m sure you’ll find her again someday.” 

“Like that’ll ever happen.” 

The door opened, and Glimmer slowly marched in, followed by Angella. The two came together but stood a good metres distance from one another once in. Bow and Adora stood up, the latter fixing as much firmness in her posture as she could manage. The tall woman approached and studied her. Perhaps for the first time she looked at Adora without reproach. 

“You helped my daughter, and for that I’m grateful.” She took in a deep breath, then let out in a long sigh. “But I can’t give you what you seek. I never want to step inside another courtroom again. I can’t think about anything to do with it without feeling faint, the world spinning around me. What you want… well I don’t know what it is. I find it hard to believe a student of Shadow Weaver would sway so easily anyway. But I’m sure your reasons are your own, but they will just have to remain your own.” 

“I…,” Adora rubbed the side of her arm, “very well. I can’t really think of anything to say.”

Glimmer’s eyes fell, and even Angella wore a look of pain and guilt. The tall women just shuffled away.  The other three were left to themselves. 

“I guess that’s that,” said Adora.

“I’m sorry for dragging you here,” Glimmer said, and added with a grumble, “all for this. Why does she have to be like this!”

“Hey, you heard her,” said Bow, “it sounds like the whole situation would make her uncomfortable.”

“It’s not discomfort! It’s cowardice, it’s––” Glimmer suddenly held up her hands and shook her head, “nope, I’m not gonna get into it.” 

“Probably for the best,” said Bow.

“What are you two going to do now?” asked Adora.

“I could do with a drink and maybe another bite to eat.

“You just had breakfast,” Bow gave a teasing smirk.

“Didn’t get much yesterday between almost getting convicted, Bow. Not that you’d remember.”

Bow chuckled, “alright, to make up for not being there yesterday I’ll buy. Sushi Salinity?”

Glimmer nodded. 

Bow looked to Adora and asked, “you coming?”

Adora looked around, then back at Bow, asking, “what, me?” 

“Yeah, might as well not have this day be a total waste.”

“I should probably go,” Adora mumbled, “I mean I don’t even know what Sushi… Salty… whatever that place is.”

Bow’s eyes grew to disks: “You’ve never been to Sushi Salinity?!”

“…no?”

Adora didn’t have a choice after that. Somehow within the next hour she was out in the thick of the city, crossing perilous junctions to get to peopled streets, hurriedly following Bow and Glimmer. They passed into the Tiny Tokyo district. Even under the morning sun they were barraged with dazzling neon light. It was a world almost as unfamiliar as the secluded spot of the manor. Innumerable people and unreadable signs. It overloaded Adora’s senses, yet being close to the other two ––although basically strangers to her–– filled her with comfort enough to weather it. 

Sushi Salinity itself was a cross between a modern bar and an olde tavern. It was a long joint with an equally long bar facing tightly packed alcove-booths. Low hanging lights and dark-palette interior design gave the place an enticing atmosphere, while rustic wood panelling and a fur carpet rounded off the vibe with warmth. The trio placed their order. They sat down and the blue-haired waitress brought the food. They dug in and were treated to delight. 

“Wow this is,” Adora managed to say between jostling nigiri into her mouth two at a time, “amazing!” 

“Isn’t it?” Bow enthused.

Glimmer however just poked at her box with her chopsticks.

“I just don’t get what will get through to mom,” she opined, “she’ll even pass up the chance to train She-Ra of all people!”

“I mean,” said Adora, “I’m still not sure what She-Ra is. I know I can use the sword. That’s pretty cool, I guess. But who––what is She … Ra. She-Ra… that–– her! Damnit,” she slapped her forehead with her palm. 

Glimmer raised an eyebrow, “how did you pass the bar exam again?”

“Hey!”

“Look, all you need to know is that She-Ra was a legendary lawgiver and defender of the wrongfully accused in ancient times. She is the embodiment of the goddess of law, and you are probably this generation’s incarnation.” 

“Oh,” Adora furrowed her brow and trailed the floor with her gaze, “do I… have to do something in particular?”

Glimmer gave a wry smile, “only restore balance to the legal world and expunge it of all corruption.”

“Right… easy….” 

“I was hoping you could start by taking on cases as a defence attorney.” 

“I mean, I could still do that if I wanted to,” Adora suggested.

“You do want to, right?” 

Adora fell silent. 

She wasn’t trying to hide anything. If she had clear feelings on the matter she would have blurted it out by now.

She just didn’t have an answer yet. 

“Hey, it’s not like a case is going to fall out of the sky,” Bow offered, “and we know Angella won’t budge. Maybe we should give the legal talk a rest and just relax.” 

It was at that point that the waitress from before sauntered up to them. She wore a rather dull expression, and spoke in an even dryer tone.

“I’m obligated to make sure that you’re having a good time.”

“I thought you owned the place, Mermista?” said Bow. “Why so dour?”

“I practically own the place,” she clarified. “As in I manage everything, do all the work around here and have to maintain the premises. In a sense of actually getting the right to do anything or being paid enough to care, not so much. And either way I still do customer service so what do you expect?.” 

Bow folded his legs and nonchalantly took a sip of his drink, before asking, “have you seen Sea Hawk recently?”

Glimmer let out a small groan although attempted to stifle it. Mermista, however, did not.

“Uggghh, why did you have to remind me of his general existence?” 

“He’s usually hanging around here,” said Bow.

“Well he’s… busy, and I don’t think I’m actually allowed to say what’s going on.”

Adora leaned a little sideways to peak into the conversation:

“Uh, who are we talking about?”

“Oh, just Bow’s local celebrity crush,” Glimmer said with a pained grin. 

Sensing the wind of the topic, the waitress wandered off, just sparing herself from Bow’s gushing about the man whom Adora could guess was part folk-hero and part someone at least acquainted with him. This was a figure of much daring and do, getting into scraps with ruffians, charting the high seas (or charting as much as one could between commercial cross-pacific liners) and generally exuding a charming confidence.

“And wow, that guy can sing,” Bow added, “I wish he was here. You need to hear his shanties.” 

“Oh goddess,” Glimmer buried her head in her hands, drenched in second-hand embarrassment. 

“Not your kind of guy?” asked Adora with a half-nervous laugh.

“I…,” Glimmer stole a glance at Bow, “prefer softer men. Manliness comes out of action, not words. And Bow’s friend certainly talks a big game.”

“He’s a man of action,” Bow insisted, “and adventure! Look:” 

Bow went to one of the square wooden columns ––chipped for the authentic tavern look–– on which was pinned a poster. He tore it down and handed it to Adora.

“Surprised Mermista allowed it to stay up,” Glimmer remarked.

Adora looked at it. The man certainly had glamour. A light linen shirt with a red handkerchief about his neck, blue jacket, black buckle boots and rousers that perfectly slimmed his waist and puffed out his broad chest. His face bore a devilish smile, and a shiny moustache. Superimposed on his image was the caption. It promised a recital of his own daring adventures fighting pirates off the coast of Zheng Fa. 

Adora gently placed the poster down and just remarked: 

“Manliness… is not my thing. Girls are better anyway.” 

“They’re less showy, that’s for sure,” Glimmer said, folding her arms.

“Ohoho, that’s definitely wrong,” Adora said. “I’ve known girls who could eat this Sea Hawk for lunch.”

And lunch, -–or the closest approximation one could get in the late-morning–– they had just finished. Adora lingered at her seat as the other two slipped off. Her mind was digesting quite a lot as she realised quite a lot had happened in the last few hours. Then she also realised that she had been in the presence of either Bow, Glimmer or both for most of the time she’d been awake today. 

No-one would judge her if she said she had to go home now. She hadn’t seen Shadow Weaver since the trial and it’s not like she had anywhere else to go. And Bow and Glimmer were enough for each other. Adora watched them from behind. She smiled. 

Sliding off her seat as well, she came along with them, and they never noticed that she had lagged. It wasn’t as if they said something about her joining them only for the Sushi. She might as well tag along until they told her to leave. If ever. 

They left the building and were back into the Tiny Tokyo streets, yet as they turned the corner, however, they bumped into a man in blue uniform, just the same cut as Bow’s own. He stared at them ––at Bow in particular–– and blinked. Finally, he took on an angry expression.

“Investigator! No slacking on the job! Report to Detective Scorpia right now!” 

“Uh,” Bow creaked. His entire body froze. 

“We’ll do that, sir!” Adora blurted out, and she pushed Bow past the man and down the way he had just pointed.

There was a buildup of police at the entrance to an alleyway barely a metre wide. Instinct turned to curiosity as the three went down it. Adora’s especially mentally switched track from getting out of trouble –by way of avoiding a shouty man–– to ignoring whatever trouble they’d get into by going deeper into the alley. There was just something about ‘keep out’ tape that made her want to get in.

 At the end, they found a dingy square, occupying the dead space behind the surrounding buildings, including the Sushi Salinity.

“Hey,” came a booming voice, “what are you all doing here?” 

The voice had belonged to a tall woman. A very tall woman, and well-built, with cropped white hair under a red fedora; a shabby suit loose in the tie and high in the pant’s waist, and with an overbearing red trench coat. She also had pincers.  

“This is a crime scene. This area’s off for civilians,” the tall woman explained by way of pointing the large sharp tips of her claws in their faces. 

“We’re lawyers,” Glimmer suddenly said.

“Oh,” the woman’s face softened. Then she smiled, “okay, then!” 

“Hey wait a minute,” said Adora, “shouldn’t you be keeping all but the prosecution out?” 

“Oh huh,” the woman tapped her chin, “that is true, actually.”

“Why would you say that?” asked Glimmer in an agitated hush.

Adora gave a sheepish hug, “it’s standard! At least that’s what Shadow Weaver always said..” 

“Hmm,” the Detective ––the one called Scorpia–– continued to ponder, “the boss did warn not to leak any of the investigation. Ooh, she’s a feisty one. She’d be mad if she learned of this. But if you are the defendant’s lawyer… oh, I got it!” She looked at them, excitement breaking across her softly butch face, “I won’t tell you squat, right? But if you want to do your own investigation of the scene, I won’t stop you. Deal?”

“I dunno, guys,” Bow whispered, “is this ethical? We don’t even know who the defendant is. Let alone whether they’d ask us to help.”

“Come on, Bow,” Glimmer grinned, “do you want to pass up the opportunity to show off your kit?” 

“Well,” Bow’s gaze wandered over to the crime scene behind him, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look.” 

In the centre of the alley was a line of white tape, demarcating the silhouette of the victim’s body as it was found dead. A patch of blood, only half a day fresh, spattered the surrounding tarmac. Trash and the cans that had borne them were strewn about. Some were beaten and bent out of shape with scuffs in the cheap metal, imprints of boots on others. 

“Perhaps there was a fight?” said Adora. 

“Almost definitely,” said Glimmer, herself having gone to one of the back walls which seemed on the verge of falling down. She squatted down to look at a large brick that had fallen from it. “Quite a ferocious one.”

“I’m not sure what we’re going to find,” said Adora, “the prosecution is usually very thorough.”

“Oh this one is, sir!” Scorpia offered with enthusiasm. “She left no stone unturned.”

“The problem isn’t with individual prosecutors,” Glimmer knitted her pink brow, “think about how their work is structured. They have a guilty party and look for all the evidence to build their case. When you get into that mindset, even the most logical of people are going to overlook something.”

Adora shook her head, “that’s ridiculous, how about when––”

“Adora,” Glimmer said deadpan, “are you telling me you never overlooked something yourself?”

“I…,” her gaze fell. She just remembered everything from the day before. “Oh, yeah. Okay, never mind.” 

“Found anything interesting, Bow?” asked Glimmer, turning around. 

Bow was crouched down, just between the tight alley entrance and the white tape. He was running his finger along the ground.

“Well, there is one thing,” he said, “the floor is wet. Was it raining last night.”

“Nope,” said the detective, “I can say personally there wasn’t a drop all night.” 

“Why were you out all night?” asked Adora.

The big woman shrugged, “I just like to go on long walks when the sun is down. It’s real quiet, soothing. Good for the soul you know.” 

The three others blinked at her.

“Oh,” she blushed, and, as she rubbed her neck with her pincer, said, “not supposed to leak secrets, am I. Right! From now on, my lips are absolutely sealed. No more words from me. Starting now. Just don’t tell the prosecutor I said anything, okay?”  

“Who is the prosecutor, by the way?” Bow asked. 

But Detective Scorpia, eyes closed and arms folded, merely shook her head and didn’t say another word. 

“It won’t matter, I can handle most anyone from the office,” said Adora. “Klav and Simon are basically rookies like me, and there isn’t exactly much talent among the old guard.”

“Still, if we knew for certain it could help us prepare a real plan,” Bow said.

“Let’s just start with the evidence and work from there,” Glimmer folded her arms, “now what’s the significance of the water?” 

“Well let’s find out.” 

Bow produced a slim bottle of a clear liquid. It had a spray cap, and Bow proceeded to bend down and spritz the entire stretch of tarmac up to the alley entrance. 

Adora raised an eyebrow, “um, Bow, I think you just made it more wet…?” 

Chuckling, Bow chucked over strange pairs of goggles to the girls and said, “wear these, it’ll make sense.” 

Adora put them on. The world became a haze of pink. That is except for bright swathes of blue, luminous along the path that Bow had sprayed. Studying the glowing patches for more than a split second revealed a spread texture, somewhat like if the colour has brushed watercolour. 

“What am I looking at?” 

“Blood,” said Bow,” or rather the chemical reaction that happens when luminol testing fluid contacts with blood.”

“But the ground is clear?” said Glimmer.

“No, the ground is clean,” said Bow, “someone went and mopped away the blood.” 

 “Why?”

Adora took off the goggles and stared at the slight glisten of the wet ground. 

“I guess someone didn’t want us to find the blood.” She looked back at the crime scene proper, “which means that this is what they wanted us to see. There is something here we were meant to overlook….” 

The three continued to comb through the scene, with Bow in particular taking photographs on his digital pad. But there was nothing else of note. They considered going to to the entrance to the alley to see if more could be found there, but the police who had cordoned the area gave them a much harder time than Scorpia did. Ultimately, they gave up, and at last they were about to go.

Then, whirring its way up to the curb, a sleek and hot pink car drove up and parked exactly parallel. The door sprung open. Out came a dapper tall man dressed in red. 

Adora gasped. Across them now was he, his red coat on black waistcoat, with greying hair despite his thin youthful face. Sprouting from his neck, an iconic white jabot (yes that’s what it’s called.) This was Miles Edgeworth ––the greatest prosecutor in the entire district. 

“P-prosecutor Edgeworth?” Adora spluttered in a winded voice. 

“You’re… Adora, correct?” the man’s tone was deep and his dictation delicately crisp. “It’s been a while.” 

“You remembered?”

“I try to keep track on all the up and coming talent in the office,” he had a small but restrained smile, “I heard about your run-in with Wright as well.” 

“You know mr. Wright?”

He looked off to the side, saying vaguely, “the two of us are… acquainted.”

“Mr Edgeworth, sir!” Detective Scorpia came bounding in from the alley, holding onto her hat as she rushed past the layabout police.

“Wait,” Adora’s heart suddenly jumped like mad, “y-you’re not the prosecutor on this case, are you, mr. Edgeworth?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said, “rather, I was in the area and I wanted to check up on the investigation. The detective is rather wet-behind-the-ears, as is the prosecutor. And it appears the defence is as well. You are the defence correct?”

“… Yeah?”

Edgeworth peered down at her, and then asked, “do you have a letter of request?’

“…no?”

“Don’t tell them that,” Glimmer hushed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Scorpia, “are you saying you lied to me about being the defence attorney? I can’t you’d do that. That’s just not on. And I trusted you guys!” 

The crestfallen look on Scorpia’s face stabbed all three of Adora, Bow and Glimmer with wretched guilt. 

“I’m sure there’s no real foul,” Edgeworth suggested, “the suspect can’t get a willing lawyer. And there’s still time for you to get to the detention centre. Although for future reference, you should really know who you’re defending before you stick your noses in crime scenes.”

“I’ll remember that sir,” said Adora, making a salute. Then realising that Edgeworth wasn’t her boss let alone a captain, she quickly snapped her arm down.  

Edgeworth had a quick examination of the scene himself, and, being satisfied, offered to drive the trio up the centre. Adora rode up with front, still reeling with a rapid heart rate being in the presence of he who had essentially been her idol for the past half-decade. 

“So, Adora,” said Edgeworth, “why did you decide to defect?”

“I’m not sure I did,” Adora sighed, “I still… I dunno, I kinda think of myself as a prosecutor even now.”

“Understandable.”

“The trial, well that was a specific circumstance.”

“I heard,” Edgeworth let out a tut, “leave it to Wright to royally screw things up.” 

“I mean it was the sword really,” Adora explained, “it was like it was talking to me and it suddenly just knocked Phoenix out. Maybe it was contrived by fate. Would lend credence to me being She-Ra.”

“She-Ra?”

Glimmer quickly explained what she had told Adora. To compound, Adora let out her arm, to which the golden bracelet still clung. She spoke ‘for the honour of Grayskull’ and with a flash of light the heavy sword lay across her arms. 

“Ah… right,” Edgeworth’s brow furrowed to many lines as he tried to see the sword while maintaining his driving, “well I don’t go for all that mystical nonsense. I trust what I can see with my eyes.”

“Uh, you just saw that sword transform yourself,” Bow noted.

“Yes, well…,” the man flustered before shaking his head and saying definitively, “fate or no, it all comes down to one thing. What do you think you should do, Adora? Prosecutor, or defence attorney, the path is yours.” 

“But if I really am She-Ra, doesn’t that mean I’m meant to only take one of those paths? She-Ra defends people. That’s what she does, so that’s what I should do.”

Edgeworth raised and eyebrow, briefly looking at her. But then returned his view forward. They had just arrived at the station and he quickly and cleanly parked them to the sidewalk. 

“Thanks for the lift, prosecutor Edgeworth,” said Bow as he and Glimmer exited the vehicle. 

Adora also opened her door and got out. Edgeworth however leaned over to give a parting word:

“Maybe you are She-Ra, and maybe defending the weak is what she does. But when people start watching, it’ll be rather less who you are and more what you do what counts. But I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision when you go in there.”

He sat back up and started to reverse.

“How do you know I’ll make the right call?” Adora called after him.

Edgeworth let out a wayward smile. 

“Because it’ll be the one you choose,” he responded.

“Come on, Adora,” Glimmer said, “we should meet the client.”

Inside the detention centre and they came upon the visitor’s room, divided in two by a separating acrylic window. The client was already there, laying his head back on his hands, and his boots kicked up to the windowsill. 

Bow was already stunned, and Glimmer quickly recognised him as well. Adora however took a few seconds, blinking at the man. Her eyebrows alternated raised positions. Then she pulled out the poster she still had on her and unfolded it. Raising it to her face, then dropping it again, the image did not change. It was Sea Hawk.

“Well,” he said in a voice like velvet, “I hope this isn’t a social call.”

“You’re the suspect?” said Bow.

“Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. I just woke up.” He pulled a fast grin, “but don’t worry, my lovelies. I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” Bow leaned in, a sparkle in his eye.

“Well, Bow, my fellow, you help provide a distraction. I have a little experience sawing through bars and can fight myself the rest the way out!”

“You can do that?” Bow clasped his hands, “amazing!”

“Except,” Glimmer jabbed some sanity back into Bow’s ribs with her elbow, “we’re legal professionals, and not going to condone any criminality.”

“Right,” Bow said said, nursing his sore spot, “sorry, Sea Hawk. Perhaps you can tell us why you were arrested instead?”

The man shrugged, “that I’m afraid I cannot say.”

“I think I know why,” said Adora. “Mr. Hawk, were you found in the alley behind the Sushi Salinity?” 

“I… do recall seeing something like that. But I was quite bleary eyed, and most of this day has been a strange whir to me.” 

“Well please remember as much as possible because we’re gonna need it.”

“How did you guess he was found in the alley?” asked Bow. 

“I mean, it sounds like he woke up there and was carted away by the police,” Glimmer said, “It makes sense that’s why they’d suspect him. That’s not unreasonable to suppose.”

“No there is something else,” Adora knitted her brow, “a trail of blood was wiped away. For whatever reason, someone wanted the police to think the alley was the only place connected to the crime. If they were trying to set someone up,” she looked at straight at Sea Hawk, “they would be found there.” 

The man’s eye’s widened, slightly shining under the harsh detention light. But there was a gleam there nonetheless.

“You believe I’m innocent, don’t you, stranger.”

“Yeah.” 

Adora felt a chill ripple through her body. Yet there was a buzz to it, and her head felt clear for the first time this day. 

“Yeah, you’re innocent.” She smiled. “So I’m going to be your defence attorney, mr. Hawk.” 

Chapter Text

The Defence lobby wasn’t at good as the prosecution’s. Not to say it was a trash heap –– it was virtually indistinguishable. But Adora noticed. A few more chips in the floor-tiles, some pockets of dust between chair and wall, it all enough to bring Adora to a sigh. She quickly stifled it though. She’d made her decision and she didn’t want Bow, standing straight just next to her, to think she was having second-thoughts.

Glimmer and Sea Hawk were missing. The latter had been brought in for last-minute questioning, so they resigned to the fact there would be no chance to prep him before his ‘debut.’ Glimmer was… well, she had said she was going to tell her mother what was going on in the morning. 

Indeed, as she finally arrived, Glimmer had a stiff expression, tensed up from her shoulders to her fists. As he watched her, a frown broke across Bows face. He imagined the argument the two must have had; locked heads, equal in their stubbornness. 

Any natural order between mother and daughter had long disintegrated at Brightmoon manor. There were mornings Glimmer awoke at the peep of twilight, just to pre-empt Angella to the kitchen. Some years back ––after the grim incident that started this all–– the woman could scarce find the will to move from her bed for weeks at a time. Glimmer had learned to look after herself. Although Angella never let herself fall into those languid episodes these days, she couldn’t undo what had been done to Glimmer. Now, both wanted to make breakfast for the other in the morning… even though both sucked at cooking.

That was the thing, Bow silently reckoned. The anger between them had nothing to do with hate. 

“How’d it… go?” Adora asked Glimmer as the latter came up to them. 

“Not great,” said Glimmer, “it was more of what you saw yesterday really. She just won’t,” Glimmer sucked in a breath through her teeth, “see reason. She disapproves of this, of course.” 

“I’m sorry,” Adora scratched her head, gathering her ponytail in her hand as she did, “I kinda feel like I’ve brought this about.” 

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry,” Glimmer gave a pained half-smile, “what happened nine years ago shattered her.”

Nine years? The number struck Adora with a familiar feeling. She had been counting the years back recently, lying awake one night. 

Things changed nine years ago ––was that a coincidence?

The court doors opened and the three went in. Adora started heading left, only for Glimmer to quickly turn her about ––to the defence bench. The prosecutor’s bench remained empty. As the gallery continued to chatter, Bow leant over to whisper:

“Right, do we have a game plan?”

Adora  shrugged, “with so little info, I don’t know how we can plan.” 

“Just roll with the punches,” said Glimmer, “the prosecution gets to control everything in the early stage. They’ll bamboozle you with their accusations and evidence. You just need to survive until the opportunities come your way.”

“Right,” Adora said, breathing in, “I got this. And hey, not much chance of the prosecution rolling us if they’re not even here––”

Adora was cut off by a sound that went crack. Before she could decipher what it was her hand yanked back, and she was met with a sharp pain.

“Ow!” she yelled, “was that a… wait, was that a whip?”

It was a whip, the thin end now trailing along the floor as it was gathered up, wrapped around an arm. The wielder strode in, their cape flapping about their maroon knee-length jacket. The cape had a high collar and was fastened around a jabot similar in ruffles to prosecutor Edgeworth’s. No shoes they wore but skin-tight leggings, toeless so as to not obstruct the claws tapping on tiles.  

This woman took the prosecution’s stand. A twist of their head and a whole mane of bister brown hair rustled about her broad ears. She looked at Adora, penetrating her with thin eyes –– one blue, one green. 

Adora was sucked of breath. Could it be?

“Prosecutor, I try to run a tight ship here,” the Judge said, “what is the meaning of––”

A twang, as the feline prosecutor snapped her whip taut between her fists, claws curled around handle and the now-gathered thin end. The Judge fell silent. 

Adora’s hand still stung, but it was a numb pain quickly forgotten. Her mind was blank, filled with nothing but the sight of the other girl. Lithe, ginger in complexion, and with a sea of freckles across her cheeks. There couldn’t be any mistake now. But Adora’s head began to swim. That and a sweat came on. If she put a name to it, it became real. Maybe even now she had been mistaken and this wasn’t the same person.

Then the prosecutor grinned.

“Hey… Adora.”

“…Catra?” 

It was barely even a whisper. Yet Glimmer and Bow both turned to look at Adora, both with puzzled and questioning expressions.

“I’m not familiar with you,” said the Judge, “this is your first trial, correct?”

“First one in LA,” prosecutor Catra spoke in a dancing tone, somehow always on the cusp of disinterest but also mockery, “I was recommended for this position by the Chief Prosecutor himself. I hope you find me acceptable, your honour.” 

  The Judge nodded, “of course, of course. I’m always impressed by the level of talent from our young people.” 

Adora stared at Catra. Her thoughts, once blank, were now racing, trying to read, trying to comprehend. All question of how… this person could be here had to be thrown aside. What really mattered was this: did she recognise her? Nine years had passed. They were children back then. But Adora remembered her –– sometimes it was just associations, freckles, the sound of a laugh, but other times there were whole memories, so vivid they were like a time only yesterday. 

But they were two different people now. Adora had changed. Now doubt she had too. They’d both grown up. Whatever Catra remembered, it wasn’t Adora as she was now.

Catra, however, faced her directly and said:

“I have to thank you, defence attorney .”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Adora said, trying to remain as still as she could. 

“You made space for me. You know, at the office. Except,” though not losing her sardonic smile, Catra’s brow lowered, “I’m not going to throw this opportunity like you did. I wonder what changed for you? To make you wanna throw away all you’d worked for.” She laughed, “I bet nothing has changed. You just lack conviction, don’t you.”

“Hey,” Glimmer slammed the desk with both hands and almost toppled over the table to shout, “I don’t know who you think you are but you have no right to insult the defence. You’re supposed to be giving us an opening statement!”

“Oh I see you’re all sparks,” Catra gave a malicious smile as Bow restrained Glimmer from falling off the edge, “is that why you switched, defence attorney? To have a few underlings to fight your corner.”

“They’re my… friends,” Adora muttered, still giving a fixed stare.

“Friends, eh?” the prosecutor’s smile seemed to waver for a second, but then she kept on going, “here’s my opening statement. I’ll tell you exactly how this trial is gonna go. You get distracted and confused way too easy. You’ll have no idea what you’re doing until it’s too late. And then when you lose you’ll start to blame yourself ––how could you not even a rookie have the place of a real attorney and risked your client’s freedom. It’s going to be great! Watching you tear yourself up after this. If only I had the time to stay and watch.” 

“Well, uh,” the Judge mumbled, “that’s an unusual opening statement, but if you’ll willing to call your first witness then so be it.”

As the bailiffs went on Catra’s command (the whip was involved in a few places), Adora continued to stare bereft of words and breath. Glimmer was grumbling incessantly:

“What’s her problem? And what sort of opening statement was that, it told us nothing about the case!”

“I think that was the point,” said Adora in a distant voice. 

“What’s going on, Adora?” asked Bow, “do you… I mean, maybe I was imagining things but it almost felt like you two have met. Do you know that girl?”

“No,” said Adora, “but she knows me.”

Somehow, it was true. Prosecutor Catra knew everything about Adora. And even now, years later, knew just how to get inside her head. 

Detective Scorpia looked particularly big against the witness stand, especially as she lay her cumbersome pincers on it. When she saw the trio at the defence stand, she gave a broad smile and a little wave. This was met by a whip. That and a scowl by the prosecutor sent Scorpia straight into her testimony:

“The victim was a man called Amir Scurvy. He was stabbed and died of significant haemorrhage in the back alley of a joint called the Sushi Salinity, where we found the defendant.”

“You’re certain that was the scene of the crime?” Catra asked lazily as she focused on readjusting her whip. 

“Absolutely, sir!” said Scorpia, “the blood loss was significant, and we found a large stain around the body as it was found.”

Glimmer grit her teeth, and muttered under her breath: “So show us the autopsy…?” 

The Detective however mere continued listing details of the crime scene, including the weapon which was found nearby; a rapier, belonging to Sea Hawk. Adora wondered if this one was magic as well.

Scorpia then said, “our background check confirmed that the defendant is a smuggler, well-connected with the maritime black market. The victim was a former colleague of his, but they had fallen out. The defendant even had a substantial debt to him. Seems like enough to establish motive, if ya ask me.”

“Hold on,” Adora interjected, “a smuggler? This guy’s a pretty well known performer. Are we really to believe he’s involved in illegal activities?” 

“Tut, tut,” said Catra, “Poor naive defence attorney.”

“What’s naive about what I said?” Adora snapped.

“He’s a smuggler, not the ripper. Criminal affairs have kept tabs on him for a while without the need for an arrest for ages. Not to mention bribes to the particular customs office he deals with are notoriously common. Combine that with a histrionic personality, what’s so implausible about his fanciful double-life?”

“I… I….” Adora looked over to Bow and asked, “did you know anything about this?”

“Don’t look at me,” he threw up his hands, “I just thought the pirate thing was for show too!” 

“Unless you have a little something called evidence,” Catra said in a derisive purr, “don’t waste the court’s time. By the way, you do realise this testimony means your client is guilty of murder in the first degree? He’s facing the worst punishment when he gets that guilty verdict.”

“No!” now it was Adora leaning over the bench, “you can’t deduce that!”

“All you have is a motive,” Glimmer added, “what about intent?”

“It’s obvious, sparkles,” came Catra’s retort, “the defendant led the victim out of the bar and to a back alley, taking the murder weapon with him. And we have a witness who saw everything up to what transpired at the actual scene. Your honour, we have what they’ve said in writing.”

The Judge nodded, “of course. Well if––”

“Is that it?” Adora shouted, “that’s what you arrested him on? It could easily have been, I dunno, that very same witness who did it!”

Catra let out a cold laugh. “Oh my god, you’re so predictable even to your little outbursts. Come on, defence attorney, have you already forgotten that the good detective here said they found the defendant at the scene.”

“That’s right,” said Scorpia, “as the only other person present we suspected him right away, especially with his sword being the weapon. And he was unconscious after being bludgeoned on the forehead. No doubt got that from the fight. Here we got a picture.” 

‘I…,” Adora was gripping the table, still leaning over it, and panting. For her alone it seemed to have risen twenty degrees higher in the chamber. “Ughh.”

“You wanna stand up straight there, attorney?” said Catra. “Perhaps not, you’ll just fall over again. It’s time to end this.”

Catra stepped out from her bench and prowled over to the evidence table. There she picked up the sword, covered to the hilt in blood. Nothing happened. Of course that’s the usual thing with swords, but Adora braced for another explosion as had happened with Phoenix Wright, and at this point Glimmer was half-hoping it did. Instead, Catra merely twirled it between her clawed fingers as she strolled over to the defendant’s chair. 

Then, without a word, she tossed it over to Sea Hawk, who by instinct caught it in one hand. Upon the first touch of skin, a bolt of energy burst out. From the hilt, electrifying the rim of the steel it went up the body of the blade, until it had enveloped the whole thing in a whirring aura of yellow. 

“The wound on the victim’s chest has a burn mark consistent with this energy.” Catra came right to the defence, glancing at Adora with a side eye. “Oh, perhaps you’d like to have a look a the autopsy report and check for yourselves?” 

She dropped the manila folder just before Glimmer, who regarded Catra, now walking back to her own bench, with a bitter look. But she shook herself, opened the report and slid it to Adora.

“Give it as thorough a rundown as possible,” she hushed. 

There wasn’t much. Just the same details Scorpia and Catra had told them. But with the tautness in her throat and woozy feeling in her head, it was harder for Adora to parse anything they might have overlooked ––or intentionally missed out. Blood loss ––copious, cause of death, between 2 and 3:30 am. Stab wound ––shallow. Burn marks ––energy pattern. 

Meanwhile Bow was looking at a photograph ––the one of an unconscious Sea Hawk Scorpia had given them just a few minutes ago. Between his perusal and Adora’s, with Glimmer just generally seething, the defence bench had fallen quite silent. 

“Well,” the Judge ventured, “if there are no questions from the defence, I will stand the Detective down. And it seems to me that this case is clear enough, so it might be time for me to hand––”

“Wait,” said Glimmer, “the defence requests that they be allowed to question the eyewitness testimony the prosecution mentioned.” 

“That’s unnecessary, your honour,” Catra fired back, “the witness in question is both very busy and was quite distressed by the events. We feel her written testimony would do.”

“A written document cannot be questioned thoroughly, and the defence has a right to cross-examine all testimony given!”

Though she gave Glimmer a hard stare for a moment, Catra turned to smile at Adora:

“She’s got a better grasp of the legal system than you do. Perhaps you should switch?”

“Yeah well,” Adora spluttered, “I’d gladly!” She blinked. “Wait, I mean ––urgh, shut up!”

Glimmer buried her face in her hands. At the very least, she had convinced the court, and the Judge summoned their witness –––who turned out to be a very familiar someone. 

With hair the colour of the sea and dark skin, the barmaid from yesterday came up to the stand. She wore the same dull expression. She even held a large dinner plate and a menu against her chest. And most of all she ignored the friendly waves and air kisses the defendant was throwing her way. 

“Name and occupation,” said Catra.

“Mermista, I’m in the never-ending torture that is customer service. Specifically I work at the Sushi Salinity.”

“Was the defendant Sea Hawk at the bar two nights ago?”

“Yeah.”

“And the victim Amir Scurvy?”

“…yeah.”

“Tell us all that you saw of them that night.”

The trial continue with Mermista’s testimony. Sea Hawk and his colleague had given her headaches from the start, although this was more through their general presence rather than causing any trouble. In fact, most of the evening they spoke in low tones and she could ignore them. However, as evening went into night and the hours past midnight, recriminations over missed payments and burned ships came to the fore. Anger had swelled ––particularly that of Sea Hawk towards the soon-to-be victim. 

After visiting her staff office for a few minutes, Mermista returned to find them gone. Later, after closing up, she saw the two men head into the alleyway, one never to come out alive. 

“Can you identify when this was?” asked Catra.

“Well I didn’t have a watch on me,” Mermista admitted, “but the lamppost outside the venue is broken and goes off for like an hour from three onwards. So the last glimpse I got before total darkness was Sea Hawk and Scurvy going into that alley.”

Adora’s cross-examination did not go well. Already angsty, every snide look the prosecution gave her made her grit her teeth and stumble over her words. It didn’t help that the witness spoke in such a bored flat voice. Few of Adora’s questions got more than a one-word answer. The others just went around in circles. Catra didn’t even need to make a single counterpoint.

Eventually Mermista was so disengaged from the actual moment that she produced a sharp knife and honing tool, and started scraping the two together. By that point, Adora just collapsed on the bench in defeat.

“I think that’s enough,” said the Judge, “it’s clear that there’s little more the defence can get out of this witness, and I see no misinterpretation of any of the other facts. Now can I––”

It was Bow’s turn to interject,  “wait a minute, your honour.”

“Clearly I cannot,” the Judge said, ruffled. “What is it, co-counsel?”

“The prosecution gave us this picture earlier but we didn’t get time to discuss it,” Bow said, “I think it might be worth circling back.”

“Well this is quite irregular! Why wasn’t a point registered earlier?”

Something lit up in Adora’s eyes and she pushed herself up, quickly saying “the prosecution moved on too quickly. A-and you can’t accept that evidence until its been examined.” She forced a grin directed at Catra, “anyone with a basic grasp of the legal system should know that.” 

Catra bared her sharp teeth. “This is a waste of time. Stand down the witness and hand down the verdict, already.” 

“Shadow Weaver said the same thing in my last trial, and she turned out wrong!”

The feline eyes of the prosecutor widened, the pupils drawing thin. She began digging her claws into the woodwork of her bench, but didn’t say another word. 

Meanwhile, Adora turned to Bow.

“So what are we looking for?” 

“I think you should compare these two images,” he said, handing her the prosecution’s picture and the one he’d brought up on his pad. 

They both showed the same spot. One had Sea Hawk in a slump, the other was just of the wall. Of course the difference beyond that was clear. Adora had her first contradiction.

“Well, defence?” the Judge peered down at her, “is there something wrong with the photograph?”

“There is, your honour,” she said. “Earlier the detective said that the defendant was bludgeoned from the fight. The question I have is how this brick fits into that story.”

“Brick?” Catra tilted her head, “what brick?”

“The brick on the floor just next to where Sea Hawk was found.”

“Clearly he was knocked into the wall from his blow. That’s why he was found slumped there. The force must have knocked the––”

“OBJECTION!” Adora thrust her finger out, “I’m sorry but that just can’t be the case. Have another look at the two pictures. In the one Bow took, there’s the brick. But in the one the Detective took some time before that ––there isn’t anything at all!”

“What?!”

“Oh I see,” the Judge said, eyes widening, “quite a conundrum.”

“What does it matter,” Catra protested, “it’s just a stupid brick. I… Detective get back in here right now!” 

On the prosecutor’s command, Detective Scorpia came rushing back into the fore, squeezing into Mermista’s space behind the witness’ stand. 

“Sorry about that.” She scratched her cheek with the thin end of her pincer. “I think I might have an explanation for all this.”

“Explain. Quickly.”

“I… mighta accidentally… knocked the wall and some bricks came tumbling down. It wasn’t a big mess I swear!” she tried pre-empt Catra who, fire bursting in her eyes, had drawn up her whip, “I put most of it back together good as new. But… maybe one of those bricks did hit the defendant.”

“If what you say is true,” said Adora, seizing upon the new testimony, “and not just one but several bricks fell, then it’s unconceivable it didn’t!”

“Oh so what?” Catra hissed, “so he got hit afterward? It doesn’t change any of the facts of the case.”

“Uh, it does.”

“No it doesn’t!” 

“Can I leave?” Mermista said in a drone, “since you don’t seem to need me.” 

“Ah yes,” said the Judge, “you and the Detective can both leave the stand.” After they had, the Judge turned to Adora again. “Well the prosecution has posed a relevant question to you. What is the significance of the brick? Think carefully. Your answer will decide whether this case proceeds or not.” 

“Surely you guys had something with this?” Glimmer asked, leaning over to Adora and Bow. 

“I mean I was basically just bluffing,” Adora admitted, “but I think there is something here. I don’t know if it will turn the case around but it should keep things going.” She turned and spoke up for the Judge. “Your honour, this leave open a big question. If Sea Hawk wasn’t bludgeoned on the forehead, then why was he found unconscious?” 

“Heh, I can think of many reasons,” Catra said, “maybe he was thrown to the wall, maybe he passed out from seeing all the blood. Whatever. It all leads to the same conclusion. He fought the victim. He killed the victim.” 

“We’ll see about that. The defence requests that Sea Hawk be placed on the stand.”

“Wait, Adora,” Glimmer knitted her brow, “he already told us he can’t remember anything.” 

“It’s the best chance we’ve got,” Adora argued, “he’s the only one who could possibly know what happened, unless we can prove the presence of a third person.” 

Catra twisted her cheek, and then said, “the prosecution….accepts this request. But only because the defence will regret it.” She met Adora’s eye, “a defendant can easily incriminate themselves, y’know, but if he refuses to answer a question this whole trial’s over for you.” 

Adora fixed her stare right back at her. “Bring him onto the stand.” 

Sea-Hawk did not need ushering by the bailiffs. He waltzed up the stand, gave a small performative cough, and then burst out with:

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court! The pirate has been caught in the law’s trap, but through his wiles may escape yet. Just another day of danger for one such as myself. I believe there’s a shanty to be had here––aieee!”

Sea Hawk just dodged the strike of Catra’ s whip on the stand.

“One note out of you and you’ll be fish bait,” she snarled. “Testify to the court about that night. Now.” 

“Well, I uh,” he straightened out, “I don’t remember all too much, now that you mention it. I,” his eyes darted to Adora and with a pained look pursued, “might have gotten into a fight. I’m a master fencer as I’m sure you all well know. If ––and I say if!–– I were to dispatch with someone, I’d go for the light hit. Perhaps in my haste I lost my balance and stabbed to the hilt…..”

“Hold it,” said Adora, “what are you talking about? Stabbed to the hilt?”

“Sounds like a confession to me,” Catra interjected.

Sea Hawk shook his head, “well I don’t remember that happening, but you can see the sword. It’s covered in blood.”

“That’s not what’s in the autopsy report,” Adora mused.

A few seconds of silence passed. Adora looked up. The realisation made her take a short step back, but then moved forward again and slammed the bench.

“Wait a minute, that’s a contradiction! OBJECTION!” 

“The blood got on the sword, so what?” said Catra.

“If it stabbed the victim all the way to the hilt then there should have been an exit wound, but the wound was shallow!” 

“Maybe the blood trickled down, who cares? Those burn marks mean that only the defendant could have stabbed the victim with that sword.” 

“We have to understand every fact on the case until we can say for certain that this man I guilty,” Adora pointed her finger again, “this contradiction needs resolving.”

“Then resolve it!” 

“Okay, I will! Sea Hawk,” she turned to the defendant, “do you possibly have any other wounds?”

“Another wound?” he looked back, slightly agape, “why would you suppose…?”

“I have a hunch, so just tell me. Something must have knocked you unconscious if it wasn’t that brick.”

The man hesitated for a second, slowly nestling his lower mouth closed under his moustache. Then he undid his vambrace, and lifted his sleeve. A darkly-strained wrap of linen was tucked around his elbow. A tourniquet. 

”That––“ the gobsmacked Catra dug her claws into the table again. Then she groaned, “the detective and I will be having a word after this, believe me. But there, your contradiction’s resolved. Nothing’s changed, defence attorney.”

“What do you mean?” Adora shot back.

“Clearly the victim fought back and took the defendant’s sword. He stabbed him but the defendant got the weapon back and dealt the killing blow. This is still consistent with all the evidence and the only explanation.” 

“Yes, I agree,” said the Judge.

“Finally,” sighed Catra.

“Although…”

“Ugh!”

“Hmm,” the Judge thought, “there’s just one thing on my mind. Before we thought only the victim had been stabbed and lost a lot of blood.”

“Yes, it was found around his body in the alley way,” Catra rambled quickly, hoping the Judge would get wise and wrap this up soon.

The Judge continued to mull his words slowly, “but then, if the defendant was also stabbed.”

Adora leaned forward, “then where’s his blood?”

“Indeed. Where is the other patch of blood?”

“We know that your honour,” Adora said, almost shouting. “Bow show him the luminol scans!”

Bow provided the court a copy of hidden blood traces they had found. Adora was alert. Filled with the feeling of being more awake than she had throughout the trial. Tingles reached the ends of her fingertips. This was her court now.

“This evidence throws everything into a new light,” she said, “it shows that one, this crime might not have happened in the alley at all, and two, someone covered it up. Since the victim was dead and the defendant was fast running out of consciousness, this clearly points to the existence of a third party!”

Though she had grimaced at the unfurling of this new argument, Catra had become suddenly calm again. But then she started to break. First into a sneer, then a chuckle. Finally she burst into a maniacal laugh, high and mocking, with each ‘ha’ making Adora falter a little more until she was completely sapped of the confidence she had only just found. 

“Wha… what are you…?”

“Oh come on, Adora, did you really think you’d turned this trial around? You think your forensic assistant was the only one to think to use luminol?”

“I don’t understand,” said the Judge, “are you telling me you knew of this wiped blood? And you didn’t tell the court.” 

Catra shrugged, “it wasn’t relevant. It isn’t relevant. That blood only goes up to the entrance of the alleyway. So maybe the fight started there and ended up at the eventual crime scene. After killing the victim, the defendant realised his blood could be traced back to him so he goes to clear it up, but by the time he’s done it he’s lost enough that he passes out.”

“You,” Adora’s hands were shaking as she stared across the chamber to that prosecutor, “you hid the evidence!” 

“I didn’t hide anything. You just weren’t particularly thorough. So unprofessional, these new defence attorneys are.” 

But before Adora could lash out again, Glimmer gripped her by the arm. 

“Adora,” she hushed, “she wants you to get unfocused remember.”

“But I don’t know what to do now she undermined my whole argument––”

“No, think about it! You don’t think Catra’s actually right, do you?”

“No, but––”

“Then you must be getting close to the truth. Someone covered those tracks. They wanted to   hide where the actual crime scene was.”

The Judge all the while was rubbing his temple with his palm “It seems we’re back where we were before. The evidence is still in contention. Perhaps the defence or prosecution could propose some more testimony to shed some light?” 

“The washed blood is irrelevant,” Catra restated, “no more testimony.”

“Defence?”

“Think,” Glimmer insisted, “there must be someone who would know about the real crime scene whereever it is.” 

“Well there can’t be too many places for that to be,” Bow added, “it was somewhere near or in the Sushi bar.” 

“Then,” Adora was trying to keep up with her own thoughts, “the only person who would know is…. Your honour,” she called out, “the defence requests we hear from the barmaid Mermista again!”

“Her?” 

“M-Mermista?” stammered Sea Hawk.

“Really?” Catra raised an eyebrow.

“Your honour there is precedence here,” Glimmer quickly cut in, “if important questioning was neglected then we have a right to recall a witness.”

“I suppose that is so,” said the Judge. “But do you have the right question?”

“Give us a recess. We’ll need to access the court record and we’ll have it when we return.”

Quite miraculously, the Judge allowed it. Adora was soon pacing up and down the lobby, streaming her fingers through her hair and muttering:

“What the hell am I doing. What the hell am I doing! She was right. How was she so right? I’m going to get an innocent man locked up!”

“Adora, calm down,” Bow said, although through a creaking voice.

“I think you all need to stop being so jittery,” said Sea Hawk, gently leaning against the wall by the door. “A real adventure requires a steely nerve.”

“Look, Sea Hawk. You’re amazing but you could have told us a lot more before we went in there,” Bow frowned at him, “why didn’t you even tell us about your wound?”

The pirate shrugged, “I don’t remember patching myself up. But whoever helped me two nights ago didn’t want to be found in the morning. Guess I felt I was honouring their wish to be remain anonymous.”

“You’re telling me there’s a fourth party?” said Adora, “we don’t even know who this third one could be. Come on Glimmer tell me you have something?”

“No, no! There’s nothing in the record,” Glimmer said, madly flipping through pages. “Maybe…. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this.”

At that moment, a hand, light but sure, was placed on Glimmer’s shoulder. She flinched and turned to see who its bearer was. Her mother’s face greeted her.

“M-mom?”

“Angella, what are you doing here?” Adora finally stopped pacing and gawked. 

Angella, dressed in a pastel pantsuit, turned away from the many eyes looking up at her as she said:

“I… had a change of perspective. And since you were all so intent on going forward with this anyway,” she looked back at them, “I thought you could use my help.” 

She walked up to Adora and looked her in the eye, but not close enough that looking down would seem imposing. Adora mouthed a stammer but then felt silent and calm. Finally a half-smile touched Angella’s lips.

“You’ve done well,” she said, “far better than anyone would have guessed. Do you still want me as a mentor?” 

“… Yeah?”

“Then this is lesson number one. A lawyer is someone who is brave. That’s the first thing you must be. And a brave person doesn’t let those who depend on you see fear. They depend on you. So show a brave face.”

“That’s um…,” Adora restrained the urge to squirm, “all well and good but right now I need to get a witness back on the stand or this is all over.” 

“Adora, your back is to the wall, but that’s okay. Just use the time to look at everything and see the possibilities. Review all your base assumptions and leave nothing unturned. And you’ve already started haven’t you ––with the crime scene not being in the alley. I think Glimmer was right about you, you have a real knack for this. Glimmer?”

Glimmer perked up, although her head still swam with this sudden turn of events. “Y-yeah?” 

“Go back to the witness’s first testimony and find any reference to the Sushi Salinity’s layout, and then tell me the progression of the victim and defendant’s movements.”

“Uh, okay,” Glimmer flicked through the pages again, “she didn’t say much other than she had her own office she was in for a bit. As for the movements… oh hey she said something about them being missing for a few minutes before she saw them again in the alley.”

“Thank you, Glimmer, that should be enough.” 

Bow frowned, and said, “mrs. Angella, I don’t see how this is going to help––”

“No, it’s okay, Bow,” said Adora. “I think I got it.” 

Angella nodded, “then I’ll see you after the not guilty verdict.” 

They returned to the court and to the bench; Sea Hawk to the dock. Catra was waiting with a bored expression, twisting her whip in her hands. Although upon seeing Adora she let out the smallest of smirks.

“Has the defence found a question that will warrant recalling the witness?” asked the Judge.

“We have your honour,” said Adora.

“And it is?”

Adora leant one hand on the bench and explained, “I’d rather ask the witness herself.”

The Judge stumbled for a second, and turned to look at Adora. She looked back at him, not breaking from her calm. The Judge acquiesced. 

Mermista, as sedate as ever, returned to the stand. 

“Why am I back here again?” she said in her drone.

“I have a question for you,” Adora stated.

“Ugh, what is it?”

“What… is your alibi?”

That did the trick. Mermista’s eyes fully opened and she stood unusually straight. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, slowly.

“Well, you admit you were close to the scene on the night that the murder happened. There must be some reason the police didn’t consider you for arrest.” 

“Well, obviously I was very busy,” Mermista creased her brow, “I’m always pretty busy you know. Like I’m supposed to be at work right now but you keep dragging back here.” 

“The witness provided us with an airtight alibi when we questioned her,” Catra said, in a voice almost as scathing as Mermista’s. “She was in her office for when the altercation took place. Only she has a key to the room and entering and exit is recorded. Your honour, this is a meaningless line of questioning. Can we just call it a day, now?” 

“Catra!” Adora slammed her hands on the desk, “that’s the key! Everything starts to make sense when we turn around one of our base assumptions –– the scene of the crime!”

“So you’re really saying the crime scene was a place other than the alley?” the Judge asked. “Then where was it?”

“Mermista told us already. She said that Scurvy and Sea Hawk left their booths before they supposedly headed to the alley. The place they went was Mermista’s office.”

“That’s––”

“Ridiculous!” Catra shouted, “I knew you were naive, I knew you would flail about. But I didn’t realise you would actually be embarrassing to watch.” 

“But it makes sense,” said Adora, “the fight began in the office, and Scurvy gave Sea Hawk the wound that knocked him out. Then the real killer stabbed Scurvy. But they couldn’t have the crime scene be in the office it would draw too much suspicion, so they changed everything to make it look like it happened in the alley. Tell me, Catra, who is the only person who could have worried about the crime scene being Mermista’s office?”

“I… urhgh,” Catra stared with the grimmest of snarls and smallest of pupils. She looked ready to spit back a counterargument, ––or fire off with her whip. 

But it was Mermista who spoke up next. Once again she had her very sharp kitchen knife in one hand, and the honing tool in the other, and glowered at Adora as she said, “that’s… a really interesting story you’ve got there, attorney. So I’m the killer now? Never heard anything so far-fetched.”

“Well,” Glimmer swallowed, “you do have a somewhat misanthropic personality, and a knife.” 

“Yeah, but a murderer make me it does not. What motive do I have to kill some pirate?” 

“Maybe to frame Sea Hawk,” Bow suggested, “you don’t seem to like him very much.”

“Ugh, he’s annoying but he’s still a frequent customer. Not like I’d have an incentive there.”

“Self-defence,” said Adora, “Scurvy attacked Sea Hawk and still had a weapon. You saw what happened and he must have gone for you next.” 

“Then why am I still alive?” the barmaid said, letting out a mirthless half-laugh, “I couldn’t overpower Scurvy, not when he had a sword. If this actually happened then why am I not skewered; let alone how did I stab him.” 

“You had a different weapon. In fact that makes sense,” Adora grinned, “you kept the weapon in and then pulled it out to release the blood at the alley. So it must be small. Maybe that knife?”

“Oh come on, Adora,” said Catra, “do you really think that knife matches the entrance wound?”

 “It’s a wide thin blade,” Bow reported, “the wound is small and circular. Fitting Sea Hawk’s rapier.”

“What I want to know is why the police would have missed this,” the Judge added, “didn’t they search the inside of the building for clues?”

“That’s the whole point,” Adora said, “the killer made the fake crime scene so they wouldn’t even check near the real one.”

“So many problems with that,” came Catra’s cold chuckle “For one we checked the whole ground with luminal. There was no blood anywhere outside of the alley. And are you telling me that this supposed real killer would just risk being seen with two limp bodies across the street?”

Adora slammed the desk, “Mermista knew it was dark! She knew that every time it hits 3 in the morning the lamps goes out. As for the blood, I think it was just luck that nothing fell onto the street itself. But send detective Scorpia or Bow to the witness’s office right now and I’ll bet you there’s blood.” 

“No.”

Adora’s grin faltered. 

“What do you mean no.”

“No,” now Catra’s grin grew. “I’m not gonna sanction that. This trial ends right now.”

“You can’t do this––”

“Either you do what a lawyer does and produce some evidence ––hard evidence that shows that this witness is the killer as you say ––or you shut up and let the Judge hand down a guilty verdict. I told you things would end this way. You’re too predictable.” 

“Adora, what do we do now?” Bow was gripping the sides of his head, and looking desperately at the attorney. 

“Adora?” Glimmer’s eyes were quivering. 

Adora looked to the backs of her hands, laid flat against the table. She fell quiet and just whispered to herself:

“My back’s to the wall… need every possibility.” She looked up and said aloud, “we have everything we need.”

“But Adora, we can’t do a luminol sweep of her office and if we can’t do––”

“We don’t need the office,” said Adora, “we just need the weapon.” 

“Ugggggggh,” groaned Mermista, “can I go already?”

“Not yet,” said Adora, “I just want to have a look at something.”

The barmaid smirked, “you already know the knife won’t save your argument, so why don’t you––”

“Not the knife. The other thing. Uh… what is it?” 

“It’s a honing tool, Adora,” Bow said. 

“Yeah, that thing.” 

Mermista seized up. Her eyes slowly tracked down until she looked straight at the metal tool in her hand; long, thin, and with a small circular footprint. She tried to smirk again, although it was pained and weak.

“Yeah…, sure. I mean, I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t proof––”

“Bow, the luminol?” 

As the witness watched in a horror just restrained by the passiveness of her face, Bow took the tool into hand and sprayed it with his bottle of testing fluid. He put on his goggles. Bright it glowed, no doubt the marking of blood. 

“It reacted!” Bow exclaimed. “Guys it reacted!”

Glimmer and Adora quickly took turns to verify. The three burst in uncontrolled cheering and whooping. Glimmer pulled Bow down into a hug, and Adora turned to face the court.

“TAKE THAT!” she said, her heart frantically leaping as she thrust her finger into the again, “take that, Catra! How’d you like that for evidence.”

“That… that….” 

Catra was holding back a furious bellow. Instead she hurled her whip, whacking the witness stand, finally breaking Mermista from her own horrified spell.

“Explain yourself!” Catra demanded.

“Why?” Mermista spat back, “it’s all over. There’s no point now.” 

“Mermista… dear.” 

It was a voice as smooth as silk that had spoken, and Mermista turned to see the defendant reaching out from the dock. 

“I think I know a little of what you did,” he gestured towards his arm, “it seems my lawyers were a little wrong. There was no fourth party was there.” 

“I… I…,” Mermista hung her head, “it wasn’t self-defence. It was revenge.”

The ecstasy that had swept through the defence team died down, and Adora shoulders fell as she looked upon the crushed killer.

“What happened?” 

“Scurvy attacked Sea Hawk. Not a fatal wound, but in the moment I lost any sense of judgement. I thought… I thought he was…. Well he’s fine, isn’t he, it doesn’t matter.”

“You thought Sea Hawk was dead so you attacked Scurvy?”

“Yep,” Mermista wiped away a sudden tear, “drove the tool right through his chest.”

“But that was a defence of a third party!” Glimmer protested, “you should’ve gone to the police… although…. Huh.” 

Having regained her composure, Catra wore a disinterested look again and was stroking her whip. Although she deigned to comment:

“So you decided to frame the defendant anyway, once you realised he lived. You dragged the bodies under the cover of darkness than wiped away the tracks. For good measure, you put the sword in Sea Hawk’s hand and had him stab the victim too. But in that darkness you could not see inconsistencies like the blood on the sword. You undid yourself.” 

“Well I helped,” Adora muttered, although more to herself, “and you weren’t exactly pointing out the inconsistencies, Catra.”

Though she did not turn her now hanged head, Mermista spoke out for Sea Hawk:

“I’m sorry…. I really screwed you over.”

“You don’t need to say anything now,” said Sea Hawk, in a calm breath. “I still owe you for my life. Heh, what’s a little framing compared to that.” 

“Still, you’ve been a great customer over the years,” her voice shook, “and I’ve served you poorly.” 

“I cannot understand it,” said the Judge, “but it seems to me that all the facts of this case are laid bare. To the defendant Sea Hawk I can finally hand down my verdict.”

NOT GUILTY.

The feel of exhilaration was full and thriving as Adora, Glimmer and Bow returned to the lobby where they were shortly greeted by Angella and Sea Hawk. But there was a touch of reservation, especially for Adora, who could not get Mermista’s revelation out of her head. 

“I don’t understand why she did it,” said Adora, “killing in the heat of the moment I get. But then to try and frame the person you wanted to save?” 

“It doesn’t matter so much,” Sea Hawk made a smile although his words sounded stiff, “I’m no saint, not particularly worth saving.” 

“Even now you can forgive her?” Bow seemed on the verge of tears, “you’re such a great guy, Sea Hawk!” 

The pirate grinned, “well, I’m always happy to hear your praise in particular, Bow. But I speak from the heart –– I feel sorry for Mermista more than anything.” 

“I don’t blame her too much,” Glimmer said, looking out to one of the windows, “when she realised what she’d done she must have known there was a risk of her being accused of murder ––and that’s almost a guaranteed guilty verdict.”

“Almost,” Angella smiled, glancing at Adora.

“And even if she had confessed, defence of a third party is… well, even self-defence isn’t always the strongest plea in this broken courthouse. She shouldn’t have framed Sea Hawk, but any system that forces people to choose between honesty and survival is rotten to its core.” 

“Will you visit her at the detention centre?” Angella asked Sea Hawk.

“Whenever the winds return me to the shore, there I will be!” 

“Come by to Brightmoon Manor some time,” she said, “Glimmer and I can give you advice to help her.”

“We can?” Glimmer’s eyes darted between the two, then widened, “oh, yeah. We can.”

“But I will be busier these days,” said Angella, “with my new student.”

On that note, Adora turned to Angella, picking up on a question that had been on her mind ever since her mentor had shown up. 

“How did you know such much about the case? You seemed to know exactly where to push me. And what made you change your mind about helping us?” 

“Well the wisdom I gave you was elementary,” Angella let out a titter, “although yes you’re correct in that I had some foreknowledge. I still keep contact with one of the High Prosectors here ––his father was an old colleague of mine. I believe you met yesterday. We talked about you and your potential ––especially your choice to forge this new path. And with what Glimmer said yesterday I just thought–––” 

“Oh, prosecutor,” Sea Hawk said, looking up across the room.

Every head turned to follow. Catra stood there, cape, whip and all. Somehow Adora had expected a sullen look, maybe even a pout. In fact, Catra seemed quite smug as she approached. 

Still, being out of the courtroom, seeing her face to face for the first time in so long, something tremulated throughout Adora’s body. She resisted the urge to drop her eyes or look away. But she couldn’t quite look this girl in the eyes. Scared perhaps, but of what? That she’d see someone who didn’t remember her? Or was it worse if it were the reverse? 

“Not bad out there,” said the prosecutor in a cool tone, “not bad for your first real go.”

“Not bad yourself,” was Adora’s mere reply.

“Heh,” Catra uttered, “I’ll get you next time.”

She turned, and was ready to prowl away, when she lingered. Turning back, but not face Adora, rather she looked up at Angella. 

“Haven’t seen you in a long time,” she said, “What’s it been? Nine years since you were disbarred?”

Angella maintained a flat expression and just said, “I’m not banned from coming to court.” 

“Heh, well.” Catra turned to give Adora one last passing look, and muttered, “see ya, Adora.” 

Adora watched as the girl walked away. Her eyes even lingered till the last flick of Catra’s tail disappeared behind a door. All the happiness of victory, the joy of gaining a mentor, the somber note about Mermista; it was all gone. All that remained was Catra, who had now left.

That had been Adora’s best friend in the whole world. Once. 

Chapter Text

Having spent several weeks getting lost again and again, Adora was starting to figure her way around Brightmoon manor. She had been late to things a lot recently, especially her tutorials with Angella, but this was no fault of her own. Hallways were long, desolate and monotonous. But she pushed herself to learn the layout by rote. Soon she was timing herself, trying to shave travel time by the minutes and then by the seconds on each lap. And at long last she could make it to breakfast before noon. 

Adora came into the kitchen, finding Glimmer already there. A full set prepared comprising bacon, eggs, sausages all sizzling and adorned roasted mushrooms was spread across the table towards the far side of the elongated room. Adora instead hovered by the door.

“Hey can I grab a breadroll or something?” she called over to Glimmer, “I wanna do a few laps around the gardens.” 

Glimmer frowned, “sure… they’re in the high cabinet behind you.”

There it was as said ––a large box up by the wall with a vertical lid. Adora reached up to it, grabbing the handle. She pulled, yet it wouldn’t budge.

“Next one over,” Glimmer said with a half-smile, “that one’s been busted for as long as I can remember.” 

“Angella never got it fixed?” Adora said as she found the more pliable cabinet door.

“She’s against the idea, I guess.”

Adora would have asked more on such a strange thing, but was cut off by the arrival of Bow.

“Glimmer it’s–– oh, this actually looks good,” he grabbed a side of bacon. 

The paralegal harrumphed, undecided as to whether Adora or Bow had been more rude about her cooking. Sensing this, Bow lay a hand on her shoulder and disarmed her with a warm grin. Glimmer let slip a flustered smile before turning away again and putting her focus decidedly on her breakfast, although it wouldn’t stay there for long.

“We’re on!” Bow said.

“Really?” Glimmer bounded up from her seat, finding her arms around him as he still hand his about her shoulders, “Bow, you’re brilliant!”

“What’s going on?” asked Adora.

“Oh you’re coming too,” said Bow, “or at least you better be.” 

“Coming to what? Come on guys, I can read contradictions but I can’t read minds… yet.” 

“We’ve got confirmed invites to the Princess Promenade,” he explained.

“What’s that? Some sort of ball?” Adora looked at the two of them while taking a bite from her roll, and muffled, “You gotta be royalty or something to get in?”

“It’s not like that,” Bow chuckled.

“That’s the name of the bar,” said Glimmer, “it’s a Jazz club. But you kinda have to know people to get in. We’ve been meaning to get in for ages. I can’t believe this is actually happening!” 

“Wow. I mean I probably shouldn’t get between you two, y’know…,” she threw Glimmer in particular a look with the smallest shifts of her eyebrows ––one Bow would not see. 

Glimmer squirmed at the recognition, fidgeting and biting her lip. But it was oblivious Bow who said, “we can go as a squad! I’m meeting up with Sea Hawk there anyway. You know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “for a dance to the Moonlight Serenade.” 

“Oh,” said Adora. “Well, I still have a lot of case files Angella wants me to read.”

“Adora,” Glimmer said, pleading in her tone, “you’ve already gotten two clients off charges at the age of seventeen! You don’t have to rush. Really.” 

“In fact that’s more reason to come,” said Bow, “you’ve missed way too many of these kind of things to get where you are. You deserve a break.”

Scratching at her elbow, Adora didn’t quite meet the others’ eyes. “I’d like to come, it sounds fun but…. I am She-Ra, right? There’s something big I have to do, I have to train myself. And you can bet the prosecutors won’t rest to make things difficult.”

Bow and Glimmer shared a glance. It was clear that by ‘Prosecutors’, Adora meant one. 

Adora had been dedicating every moment of the past few weeks to furthering herself as a lawyer. If she wasn’t pouring over Angella’s texts, then she was exercising, but even that was just to keep her mind sharp. She hadn’t neglected her newfound friendship with the ‘squad’ of course. Glimmer was instructing her on the historical context of She-Ra herself, and Bow organised outings into the city to get their minds away from all the lawyering every once in a while. And Adora loved every second of it.

But it was hard to escape from that feeling. The urge to be doing the right thing, getting herself ready for whatever her big test would be. And every session with Angella just fed this even more.

“What is the second rule of evidence law.”

Adora didn’t answer. A moment passed, and Angella gave a puzzled look to her student.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Adora shook herself, “the second rule of evidence law is… uh, police, police, ––no that’s number one ––it’s… it’s that any unregistered evidence may not be permitted in court unless directly relevant to the trial at hand.”

“Correct,” Angella said. She paused for a second, then asked, “did you just need a minute to think or is something bothering you, Adora?”

“It’s just…,” Adora looked around, as if the words would be appear in the sitting room in which they trained, “this doesn’t feel like the best use of my time.” 

Angella raised her brow, “well if you’re certain you know what you need to know, why do you need me?” 

“Hey!” Adora grimaced, “look, it’s like… it’s not the law that’s causing me any trouble in there. I think if I’m going to keep an edge in court we need to strategise about the prosecutors. The one in the Sea Hawk trial threw me off my game in the first salvo and it took me the whole trial to figure out where I was. I need to know how to fight her.”

“Prosecutor Catra?”

“Y-yes I… you know her, right?” Adora recalled the mocking sneer Catra had given the former lawyer. 

“We’ve crossed paths,” Angella said, lower than a murmur, “it was…” she shut her eyes, mouthing something. Then she looked to Adora in a flat expression again. “You don’t need to know about my past with prosecutor Catra. I have met many up and coming prosecutors in my time. There isn’t anything significant about her. Now, back to evidence law.” 

Out of the secluded enclave of Brightmoon Manor, and far fast across the high-rise city, prosecutor Catra was also spending most of her time preparing. She had a good office, with a sleek panelled floor and an even sleeker desk, yet she hadn’t done much with it. The shelves were empty. The desk carried no happy effects. She didn’t intend to stay here long. All she had was whip to one side, and a laptop in front of her on which to work. 

Of course, she’d work a lot better if detective Scorpia wasn’t making as much noise moving a simple box. Carrying the weight wasn’t the problem ––she was a beefy woman–– but her pincers lacked in finessed. Still she landed it on the desk with a crash, and only a choice few files had fallen onto the floor in the process. 

Worse was that the detective was yapping off on something. Catra gave a curt sigh and continued typing away.

The detective had not been her decision. Prosecutors were assigned one for investigations, but the Chief Prosecutor was much too busy a man to deal with personnel issues, so he’d designated it to one of the High Prosecutors ––to Shadow Weaver. Clearly she thought it apt. No doubt she’d gotten what she wanted as Catra, upon the first meeting with her new partner lost all the air in her lungs, being lifted up and pulled into that bone-cracking hug. Scorpia was far too affectionate. Catra didn’t do affectionate. 

Catra sighed again and looked at the detective, still talking. The thought to dismiss her crossed her mind. Better yet she could shut her up with a crack of her whip. Instead she just let Scorpia talk. She had gotten used to her, after all.

“Oh man, I don’t know how I can even think about working today,” Scorpia was saying.

“A real change, huh,” Catra said in a dry tone.

“I’m just buzzing, sir! They’ve got a legend booked for the Princess Promenade tonight. Chas Singer himself. Heh, a singer called Singer. Just noticed that, funny.” 

“Right….”

“You should come too,” Scorpia suddenly knelt by the table and looked with shining eyes, “you’ve done more paperwork than half the prosecutor’s office and criminal affairs put together, you can take the night off. And, you know,” she tilted her head as her gaze fell away, “we could, kinda, use the opportunity to hang out maybe.” 

Catra regarded her with glazed eyes. Then she flicked her attention back to her laptop, its contents scattered across the screen ––all the work she had been doing, yes, just as Scorpia said. Yet no victory in court. On the other hand, Scorpia’s pleading eyes bored right into her, such that her skin started to prickle with the rising heat, to the point that to say no felt impossible.

“Ugh, alright,” she said, “could do with the r and r. But I want overtime from you tomorrow!”

Scorpia beamed with a “yes sir!” before yanking Catra across the desk into another suffocating squeeze.

“Hey, watch it!” 

So the evening came, with a gentle patter of drizzle. The Princess Promenade was down by the seafront, yet tucked away behind a winding alley. The door was unassuming, rusted and metal. The facade was like a warehouse long forgot. Yet it gave way to luxury. Low light punctuated the dim moody glow of velvet tufted walls and a polished chequer floor. The sounds of rain and the busy outside world were drowned in the sea of brass, the warm wash of saxophones and the crashing waves of a hi-hat and bass. There was a piano too, tinkling away through the chords, finding new colours and chromaticism through thirds and thirds, and a double bass that wasn’t doing much but did it was style. 

And a voice sang above it all. Deep, with a slight husk and yet magnificently controlled on the vibrato:

We’re in the Money

We’re in the Money

Let’s Lend, Spend it, send it rolling along~~

Adora, dressed in a bright red dress, came to the bar. There Glimmer was sat with a lemonade in hand (old enough for a legal profession, not old enough to drink; it was a strange world theirs) and watching the singer on stage, now in the middle of a muted trumpet bridge. Adora ordered her own drink and took a stool next to her. 

“You were right,” she said leaning over, “this place it’s like wow, fancy.” 

“Yeah,” said Glimmer in a vacant voice, before taking a sip from her glass. 

Adora was blown back by this, and felt her own enthusiasm diminish, as if slipping into Glimmer’s black hole of gloom. She thought to ask what was wrong but that seemed like it would just make things worse. Glimmer had been so excited earlier that it was sort of perverse that she wasn’t now ––and to point that out, even implicitly, would just throw more guilt onto her. 

But the answer was standing only a few metres from the bar where they sat. Bow was with Sea Hawk, quite close side by side as they were chatting to some others. By his wild gesticulations and booming voice it was clear Sea Hawk was in the middle of one of his daring tales. Bow was conspicuously enjoying himself. 

“You could be happy for him,” Adora said, trying her most nonchalant non-offensive voice possible. “Or not, but then just forget him for tonight. You gotta enjoy yourself, right?” 

Glimmer just pouted and took a large swig from her lemonade, wishing that it were alcohol. Adora frowned. So much for not making things worse. 

Then Glimmer’s eye widened and she straightened up.

“God, they’re coming this way.”

Turning her neck, Adora caught the briefest of glimpses of Bow and Sea Hawk turning, before her head was lurched back again. Suddenly she found herself right up against Glimmer, who pushed her lips into hers. A series of garbled thoughts rushed across her head. First ascertaining that this was in fact real life. Second she realised her urge to break away struggling with the soft warm feeling against her mouth, spreading warmth across her cheeks and down into her chest. Third she was assessing how she felt about this situation and her friendship with Glimmer ––wondering how cute she thought she was and how well they might work as a couple ––and fourth, the context of this whole situation slapping all sense out of the other thoughts as she realised what this actually was. 

They broke away. Both looked to Bow to see his reaction. He was turned away, as it happened, since the song had ended and he was giving a hearty clap to the performers. Despite Glimmer’s intention, he hadn’t seen anything. 

Adora shoved Glimmer away.

“What the hell! You can’t use me like that.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” a now blushing Glimmer spluttered, “I just––”

“Hey guys,” said Bow, who was now reaching them. “How are we enjoying tonight?”

“I’m gonna go,” Adora jumped from her stool.

“W-what?” Bow was taken aback, “but we just got here.” 

“I need some air,” Adora muttered, “I can brace the rain.” 

Adora left Bow completely confused, and Glimmer so red that she let Bow returned to Sea Hawk without another word. 

Dripping with fury all the while, Adora strayed across the room, repeatedly folding her arms then letting them fall as she silently castigated Glimmer. Yet contrary to her words she didn’t make it to the exit. Catching sight of two heads, one spiky black, one adorned with grey wings, made Adora turn. 

Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth were there, sitting at their own table facing the dancers and the stage beyond. They weren’t focused on any of that, however, instead being preoccupied with a game. Adora approached. 

“Hey,” she said. 

Edgeworth looked up first and gave a small smile, “ah, Adora. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you either, especially together,” Adora chuckled. 

“Oh,” said Phoenix, now looking up from his cards, “hey, good to see you again. Yeah, Edgeworth invited me.” 

“I don’t see why two old friends can’t meet up every once in a while,” the prosecutor murmured. 

“Are you… playing poker?” asked Adora, suddenly catching sight of the red and blue chips across the table.

“Not my idea,” said Edgeworth, a little ruffled. “It’s a rather nonsense game. Blind luck and bluffing wins, rather than any application of logic.”

“Heh, you’re only saying that because I beat you,” Phoenix chuckled. 

“I–,” Edgeworth grimaced, “well I concede that this sort of game fits your skillset more than mine.”

“You wanna sit down?” Phoenix directed at Adora, “I hear enough of this guy at court. How do you know him, by the way?” 

“At the prosecutors office,” Adora explained as she took a seat, “I worked there a bit as you know, but I also went there a lot growing up because of Shadow Weaver.” 

That struck Adora with a thought. Edgeworth would know about the people at the office now. Perhaps she could ask him about Catra. She silently shook herself though. She came here to get away from all that. 

“Angella tells me you’re training has been progressing well,” Edgeworth noted, “so I take if you’re certain on your path now? No lingering doubts?”

“Yes,” said Adora. It was the truth, or at least, the one she assumed. But then she found herself saying, “well, maybe. It’s… hard to explain.”

“What do you mean?” asked Phoenix. 

“I don’t want to go back to the prosecutor’s office, and I know I’m doing the right thing by training to be She-Ra ––uh, a defence attorney. But there was this… big thing guiding me for so long, the reason I was doing any of this ––prosecutor or lawyer–– and it’s suddenly not as clear as I thought it was.” She let out a sigh, “I wasn’t supposed to get hung up on this, not tonight.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Phoenix, “just get some coffee, listen to the jazz. I hear that’s a great way to push past the pain.” 

Edgeworth raise a solitary brow, “what sort of counsel are you getting?” 

“Well clearly better than yours, considering your hang-ups.”

“Wright, my acute anxiety about elevators is a trigger, not a hang-up. If you have a psychiatrist you should fire them immediately.” 

Phoenix laughed, “come on, Edgeworth, raise or fold?” 

“This is still an illogical game,” he muttered. 

“Tell you what, you beat me in a single game, then I’ll agree to play you at chess.” 

Edgeworth smirked, “interesting proposal. You’re on.”

Adora remained at the table, drawn into conversation with the other attorneys. The music and crowd swept around her such that nothing in particular could distract her. She didn’t even notice when Catra arrived. 

Scorpia and the prosecutor arrived together. Catra’s gaze tracked across the room. Her nose wrinkled. There were many people, each in fantastic suits and dresses, well combed and well groomed all of them in their high manner. She had not bothered to change. She was already sharper than them all. 

Not so much with the detective. She had given up her grungy police garb for something quite fetching; a dark dress of sequins, reflecting light with a iridescent glitter. Smiling always was Scorpia, who was warm to having Catra hanging her arm against her own, however lazily. 

“Detective, glad you could come,” a bass-baritone voice called their attention. A black grey-haired man in a tuxedo and white gloves was approaching them and quickly took Scorpia’s claw for a firm handshake. “And prosecutor Catra no doubt. With so much law enforcement, should I be worried?”

“We’re off duty, mr. Singer!” Scorpia insisted. “We’re headed to the bar first. What do you recommend?”

“Order the single malt, they’ve got a good 17 year old number from Oregon. Aged in four barrels, cask strength, pungent on the nose with the taste of ripe berries,” he inhaled as if tasting it in the moment, then smiled, “but go easy on your first swig, it’s 57% alcohol. But worry about that later. Catra, has the detective ever told you about that little business down at the Fright Zone club?”

Seeing the sudden sheepish look striking across Scorpia’s face, Catra smirked and said, “no, she’s failed to mention it. Should it have come up in the background checks?”

“Oh nothing to be ashamed of, quite the opposite,” Singer laughed, “I worry our big friend here sells herself short. Come on, detective, why don’t you sing our next piece.”

“M-me?” still blushing, Scorpia almost fell back.

“You’re a singer?” asked Catra.

“I, uh, dabble,” Scorpia scratched her cheek, “but not in front of all these people when they’re expecting the Chas Singer!” 

“You’re capable of it,” Singer beamed up at her, “anyway I need to rest my voice. The upcoming “I Remember You” has some really adventurous trills, and a real tough one in my trumpet break.”

“Why not,” teased Catra, giving Scorpia a shove forward, “I wanna see what you’ve been holding out on.” 

Arms snapped to her side, Scorpia regarded the stage ahead of her, and gulped. However, brave as she was, she took a step forward and made her way up. She stood herself by the microphone. Saxaphones then began to hum at a fast pace, followed by a punctuated shake of brass. This cue was repeated, and suddenly the shaking detective murmured the opening lines.

It’s too darn hot

It’s too darn hot

I’d like to sup with my baby tonight. 

Scorpia quickly looked to the side, perhaps hoping there was an emergency exit to run away. The bar or two of instrumental break fled by in a second and she found herself continuing her song. Catra watched smirking all the while.

Refill the cup with my baby tonight. 

I’d like to sup with my baby tonight.  

But I ain’t up to my baby tonight. 

‘Cause it’s too darn hot

A quick brass shake threw Scorpia into the second verse. Nerves seemed to have settled as she began to sway her arms and sing just a little louder. Even Catra started to tap her feet to the rhythm. Then the second verse ended with a shake, throwing the whole band into something raucous, and a new soul birthed from Scorpia voice as she sang:

According to the Kinsey Report, every average gal you know

Much prefers her lovey-dovey to court

When the temperature is low

But then the thermometer goes way up

And the weather is sizzling hot 

Ms. Sweetling, for a swing, is not

Her voice was soaring now, and she threw some heavy-eyelid looks Catra’s way. For the prosecutor’s part, she was entranced in the scene, laughing and cheering at the performance. She calmed down into the third and fourth verse and considered grabbing drinks for her and Scorpia for when the song ended. 

Then she saw the blonde girl.

All her previous thoughts left her. Even the song faded into white noise. Catra took on a new grin, but a much more inward one, the meaning of which only she would ever know. 

She was going to have a lot of fun this evening. 

As the song played, Chas Singer bobbed his way over to the bar, his fingers snapping without thought to the rhythm. Glimmer was still where she had been all night, and after getting his drink, the man frowned to see her. 

“Everything alright, ms. Glimmer?” he asked. 

“It’s fine.” 

He shook his head, “I can tell when the mood is not with the music.”

“I shouldn’t be like this,” Glimmer sighed, “it’s not right.”

“Is this about the young gentlemen you came here with?” 

“He came with someone else.”

“Ah, well, these things happen. It’s fine to feel a little guilty, you know. You just learn to take these things in stride.” 

“But I should be happy for him,” she said, “he’s my best friend. For the longest time he was my only friend.” 

“Well, no doubt you’re a little protective. Wasn’t there another one recently?”

Glimmer shook her head, feeling her throat dry up, “she’s dead.”

“That’s horrible. I think events have been stirring you up. That would make even a night like this hard to enjoy. I think losing her must make you want to hold tighter him, and that’s okay, even in friendship. He’ll understand.”

“I know,” she said, “but still I can’t help but want it to be… different from friendship.” 

“Well let’s say things were different. Would that be good for you now? After losing someone so soon?” 

Glimmer fell silent, staring into her empty cup.

“You’re punishing yourself. Just like me kicking back from the last song, you’ve gotta take a breather. And who knows, things are never set in stone. When you’re ready, maybe mr or mrs perfect will be right there waiting, whoever they may be.” 

Rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand, Glimmer nodded. She didn’t feel much better. She didn’t think anything could make her feel much better. But her chest was noticeably less tight, and she could bare to look up now. Singer was smiling a warm smile.

“I think you need a drink,” he said.

“I’m too young.”

“You’re a professional. I don’t care how old you are, you can take one drink. Anyway the detective is,” he gestured to the woman coming to the close of her song, “a little distracted. So you don’t tell anyone, and neither shall I. Then you go and have a great evening with your friends.”

“Okay,” Glimmer smiled weakly, “thanks, mr. Singer.” 

Indeed, Adora had either decided she had forgiven Glimmer, or by now had forgotten about the kissing thing. She was wading through the floor crowd, trying to get a visual on her. But by now the amount of tipsy revellers and dancing couples was obscuring most everything from view. 

Then a voice spoke from behind, “hey Adora,” and her heart stopped. 

She whisked around. Catra was standing there, smile wide but eyebrows creased. The girl was unfastening her collar. Adora was stunned for words, frozen down to her fingertips, that she just watched without saying anything until Catra finished. She swept her hand to the side, throwing away her cape and jabot both, and leaving her jacket unbuttoned to show her gracile décolletage. 

“ Wh-what are you doing?” Adora stammered. 

“Haven’t you heard?” Catra crooned, “it’s really damn hot in here.” 

As if an incantation, Catra’s words became truth. Sweat caught on Adora’s brow, and fire flashed beneath her cheeks. She grimaced. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she spat, “back in that trial you… you… you were horrible!” 

Strings. Slow and soothing, they played a strange melody, wafting through uncertain chords and semitonal drops. There was no singing. The band was just playing, strings joined in with warm saxophones and a gentle piano. 

Catra didn’t respond to Adora’s outburst. Instead, still wearing a smirk, she lay out her hand with a flourish. Adora didn’t know why she took it, but she did. Catra pulled her in close, so their feet rested against one another, hands were clasped in each other’s grip, with the other arm rested on the other’s body. 

They danced to the wordless song. 

“What’s your deal?” Adora asked again, quieter but between grit teeth. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Catra said cooly. 

“Manipulating the trial, hiding the evidence,” she listed off, “the whip!” 

“Well I wasn’t going to go easy on you. I did what I needed to win.” 

“This isn’t a game, Catra,” Adora said as they twirled about one another, “Sea Hawk was innocent. You were trying to put him in jail!”

“That’s my job, didn’t you know?” Catra tutted, “and I didn’t know he was innocent at the time. That’s what the court is for. Hey, I’m sorry if we got off the wrong foot here, but I don’t see why we can’t have a productive relationship as colleagues.” 

“What about those things you said,” a taut pain tugged at Adora’s chest, “trying to undermine me.”

“Well I have to play up the ruthless prosecutor thing to the crowd. You’ve got to do your little underdog thing. That’s how it always is. No hard feelings?”

Suddenly the brass was in uproar. Trumpets in hazy thirds blared the melody as shaky trombones and crash cymbals punctuated the off-beats. Catra tugged Adora along, swinging her around. Adora’s legs seemed to be giving way, losing her footing, losing control. Yet the rhythm seemed to be filling her with movement, directed along by Catra, with one clawed hand enmeshed in her own, and the other gripping along the small of Adora’s back. 

“But… how did you know?” Adora asked. 

“Know what?” 

“The…ugh,” Adora felt silly trying to recall, “you know what I’m talking about! Your whole opening testimony was directed at me.” 

Catra shrugged, “not really. You defence attorney types are all the same. I prodded you the same I would any other. It’s not like I could do otherwise, I barely know you.”

“Barely know…,” Adora’s voice weakened, but she held it from cracking, “we were best friends, Catra!” 

“That… was nine years ago,” Catra stated. “People change, Adora.” 

“So you don’t know me?” 

“I know one thing about you and one thing alone.”

She pulled Adora in with a sudden yank, bringing their faces together but for an inch of space. Her teasing purr mixed with Adora’s raggedy breath, and the latter girl watched with wide quivering eyes and a thumping heart. 

Then Catra leaned forward and to the side, her hair brushing across Adora’s cheek. Reaching up to her ear, she whispered:

“You’re sooo easily wound up.”

Adora shoved her, pushing her away. She turned and walked off, followed only by the sound of Catra’s laughter. The sound of it was like an icy dagger stabbing her in the back, even though she was hot by the halter-collar of her dress. Her throat was tight, and her temples ached as if something were pressing them inwards, drilling into her skull.

She made it back to the bar where Glimmer and Bow sat. Falling onto a stool next to them in a slump, she stayed there scowling out to the stage, planting her head into a propped hand.

“What’s it with girls and toying with me?” she muttered, massaging her head. 

“Look I’m sorry about earlier!” Glimmer said with pleading tone.

Bow looked from one to the other.

“Uh did something happen?”

“N-nothing,” Glimmer said, suddenly sitting up straight and a blush come upon her face. 

The double bass plucked up. With harmony picking up on every off-beat, a piano improvised above it all. Another song began. It was Chas Singer, back on stage and singing deep, quiet, both dirge-y and rhythmic.

When Israel was in Egypt’s land

Let my people go!

Oppressed so hard they could not stand

Let my people go!

Adora calmed down and soon explained what had just happened to the others. It served plenty distraction from Glimmer’s own troubles and Bow listened with an unsure expression.

“Perhaps she was being sincere?” he suggested, “if she wants to work better with you that can’t hurt right?”

“No, she can’t be trusted,” Glimmer said, “the only reason she’d approach you is if she had some ulterior motive.” 

And the Lord Said Go down,

“But what would it even be?” asked Bow, “she’s just a prosecutor, she’s not some mastermind.” 

Moses

“She said it herself,” Glimmer argued, “she’s trying to screw Adora over by exploiting her confused feelings.”

Way down in Egypt land!

Tell old,

“Wait, hang on,” Adora stood up abruptly, for reasons even she didn’t understand, “I don’t have confused feelings for Catra––over Catra! Wait, I mean––” She sat herself down, “I said over Catra.”

Pharoah

To Let My People Go!

Go Down––

Before either Glimmer, Bow, Adora or even the players nor Singer himself could continue, there was a loud crash. Something above had splintered and cracked. A black mass plummeted and struck the stage. Singer fell backwards. 

Music was replaced with mutters and confusion from the crowd. Then someone screamed. 

They had seen the dead body.

Chapter Text

“Alright nobody panic!” Scorpia said a loud, gruff voice, having commandeered the microphone. “I’ve called backup and emergency services. Everything is under control.” 

Worry held a firm grip over the crowd at the Princess Promenade. It spilled over into fear when what was happening became clear. A man had fallen from rafters. He was dead. Most assumed it was accident, but that didn’t mean the shock of it was any less. Chas Singer had passed out and was currently being nursed by his bandmates. Collectively people seemed willing to sit quiet until the services arrived. 

Others was dissatisfied, however. Edgeworth for one went up to check the body, and called over Bow to assist him. 

“I want to you to ascertain the time of death as best as you can.”

“You don’t think it was the fall, prosecutor?” 

“I think nothing until we have the right evidence,” Edgeworth affirmed, “let’s make sure we have every detail right.” 

Adora meanwhile rushed to the exit. Opening the door she was greeted to a barrage of rain.  Storm clouds had gathered and the evening air was so grey she couldn’t make out most of the alley ahead of her. She peered to the end, trying to make out the opening to the street. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a groan.

“Damnit.” 

“What do you read?” came the voice of Scorpia behind her, raised to be heard over the downpour. 

“The road’s blocked by a tree,” Adora shouted back, “I think the storm must have knocked it over,” she looked up at  the big detective, “we could go over and try budge it?” 

Scorpia shook her head, “just got word from the squads. The roads are blocked anyway and I don’t think we’re getting help for an hour or so.”

“So no-one’s coming in?”

“And no-one’s getting out. I guess we gotta do what we can in the meantime.” 

The two returned to the floor, thankfully warmer and quieter than the outside. There they were met by the other prosecutor, who had put back on her ruffles and cape. 

“This is a murder,” Catra said. “Detective, round up everyone and make sure every individual is accounted for. Then block off the exits.” 

With that, she swirled around and left. Apprehensive, Adora watched her go. It was hard to push away what had just happened from her mind, even with a murder on their hands. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that things fell into a whir. Scorpia was to do as Catra ordered, but before she did she sent Adora and Glimmer to go check behind the stage area for anyone not in the main hall. The two went, and found a few stragglers, sending them back as asked. 

The backstage corridor had no tufted walls or dark ambience. It was lit by harsh cool light, bright grey by the hard concrete floor, and a chill bit the air. No-one was back here. 

Adora and Glimmer were about to turn back, when something dark caught on the latter’s shoe, and she picked it up. It was a sheathe of fine velvet. 

“What is it?” 

“I think it’s a cloak,” said Glimmer, spreading the fabric out, “maybe it belongs to one of the players.”

“Or maybe the murderer,” Adora mused. “Anything could be a clue. And we’re stuck in with whoever did it. It’s like uh, a Sherlock Holmes, right?” 

“Herlock,” Glimmer correct, “Sherlock is the public domain character, since the Wilson estate still owns the rights. Anyway, this is more like Inspector Voirot.” 

Adora furrowed her brow, wondering if this was Glimmer being the know-it-all or Adora being out of touch again. But then the sound of a yawn from behind one of the doors cut the conversation short. 

The two girls shared a look. They hadn’t checked that room. Adora went ahead and turned the handle. It wouldn’t shift. She yanked it to the side and slammed herself into the door. With that, it gave way and Adora stumbled into the room. But she quickly hoisted herself up again, having come face to face with the occupant, a person who was now watching them with an amused look.

“Well it was about time someone came looking for me,” they said in a delectable manner of speaking. 

“Who are you?” Glimmer said coming in after Adora.

“Oh my name is long and hard to remember, but I’m sure my stage name will stay with you. I’m Double Trouble.”

‘Double Trouble’ was a lanky green fellow with wide yellow eyes and eldritch ears, and an imperishable smile hanging on their mouth. They wore an elegant black bodysuit with heels, and had windswept peroxide hair which they gave a flick as they came to stand. 

“You’re a performer?” asked Adora, “why weren’t you on tonight?”

“I was supposed to be on after ‘Go Down Moses’, but I seem to have missed that. Well, the door was stuck, as you just saw. Could never open it from the inside so I was waiting for some intrepid rescuers. Then you came along.” 

“So you don’t know about the murder?”

Double Trouble gaped and held their hand to their mouth. Although then they let out a groaning sound and what might have passed for a gasp quickly became a yawn. 

“Oh dear. Well I don’t know anything about that. I’ve been here the whole time. Chas was supposed to come get me out, but he never showed.” 

“Mr. Singer?” Glimmer said, concern creeping into her voice. 

“Maybe he’s woken by now,” said Adora, “we should check with him. Maybe he saw something.” 

“He might have,” Double Trouble chimed in, “Charles is always getting into places where he shouldn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Glimmer. 

The person grinned, “oh, just insider gossip.”

Adora and Glimmer shared a look, before looking back at them decidedly unimpressed.

“Come on, diva,” said Glimmer, “into the main hall with everyone else.” 

 They themselves went there as well, greeted again by the low-lit ambience of the hall ––although this was unsettling rather than soothing by now. Glimmer checked on Bow, who was still looking over the body. Chas Singer was still out cold nearby. Meanwhile, Adora’s attention was drawn to the sounds of arguing by the tables. 

“I’m telling you, we don’t need more hands on this! Butt out.” 

“Hold your tone, prosecutor, I can pull rank if I must.”

Adora asked, “what’s going on?” as she came up to the two prosecutors staring each other off. 

Before Catra could tell Adora to butt out as well, Edgeworth quickly explained:

“I don’t take kindly to being frozen out of an investigation, especially for a murder that took place before my very eyes.”

“I can handle this without meddling,” Catra fired back. 

“No way am I letting you look at everything unsupervised,” Adora blurted out, so fast and so sudden that it caught Catra’s tongue in her mouth. 

The other girl stared back at Adora with a look of fury first but then morphing into one of sullen calm. 

“Hmm,” Edgeworth looked at the two of them, though he kept his thoughts of the pair to himself. Instead he said, “if Adora were keeping an eye on your investigation, making sure everything’s thorough, then perhaps I can be satisfied with that.”

Catra growled, though she did not look at either Adora or Edgeworth directly.

“I’m a prosecutor, she’s a defence attorney,” she said, marvelling that she had to explain such obviousness. 

“I’m aware,” Edgeworth said, “but she was a prosecutor until recently. I know her quality, and the quality of her mentor.”

There was a lot that Catra would like to say to that. Even just to vent the gnawing fire in her chest by talking to herself, with no-one to listen. But she kept these words to herself.

“Fine.Tthe blonde girl can come. But this is my investigation,” she shot at Adora. 

“Permit me to at least check the victim’s background,” said Edgeworth, “the crime scene is yours.” 

Adora remained silent for the most part in the following ten minutes. She merely watched as Catra ordered Scorpia to check the alibis of those who were in the hall. The prosecutor herself then cycled through those stragglers that Adora and Glimmer had found in the backstage area. She moved through them with efficiency, menacing them into talking even with her whip left back at home. 

Then they went to Bow. From somewhere he had conjured tape and was just finishing lining it around the body when Catra demanded his preliminary report.

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” he cited, “multiple contusions, although quite precise. I don’t think the victim had much time to resist, and the killer knew what they were doing. There is some extra bruising from the fall but those were after death.”

“Time of death?” asked Catra.

“A while before the fall, though not too long. Main thing is he didn’t die during the ‘Go Down Moses’ but during ‘I Remember You’.” 

A prickling sensation burned across Adora’s face at that. The memory of Catra pulling her into the dance was seared on her mind. She looked up to the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. She stared up for a while, as the sound of Catra consulting with Scorpia’s findings blurred into the background. 

There were beams of wood. They lined the whole upper space of the hall, intersected with rods of steel from which the lights hung. Though it was hard to make out fully, one of the beams in the rafters looked askew. The sound of splintering and cracking echoed in her mind, and she suddenly looked down again, eyes wide and clarity filling her head. 

“Catra,” she said, “we should check the rafters. The body fell from there so the crime scene must be there too.” 

Catra craned her neck and surveyed the beams. 

“You got a ladder?” she remarked. 

“There must be a way up. Let’s check backstage.” 

The prosecutor looked at Adora with narrow eyes, but followed with an acquiescent shrug. They went through the backstage corridor and indeed found a well of metal-grate stairs that led up to the rafters. 

Chill gave way to literal frost. In her sleeveless red dress Adora shivered violently and the clattering of her teeth resounded inside her skull. 

“H-h-how can it be so hot down there and freezing here?” she managed to say. 

“Maybe it’s so cold up here because it is hot down there.”

“Why can’t it be warm? What’s wrong with warm?”

Catra looked at Adora and the two met eyes. Adora was pathetic, shaking, rubbing her hands against her arms. With a short sigh, Catra reached for her neck and unhooked her cape. Then she swept it around wrapping it about Adora’s arms. It wasn’t fur or anything, but it did stave off the bite. 

Adora stopped shaking but her eyes remained with a quiver as they regarded the other girl. 

“Ugh,” groaned Catra, “don’t make a big thing about it. Let’s just look at this crime scene.” 

The first thing to catch their eye was a loose iron pipe, laid across a small patch of frost. It was bone cold to the touch, but Catra gripped it nonetheless and brought it up for a closer view. She gave it a swing in the air, landing it clean into her other palm with a satisfying clap. 

“We have our murder weapon,” she smiled. 

“How did no-one notice?” Adora wondered, sizing the pipe up, “just the thunk or the victim’s scream and someone would have looked up and see the murder happen.” 

“I remember you.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“The song, remember. It had a big middle section. Loud enough to cover any distant sound, clearly. Thing is,” Catra slid a finger down the length of the pipe, “that song doesn’t usually have a bombastic middle. This was a specific rendition. It was written that way for this night only.”

Pulling her cheek, Adora looked around the rafters. 

“Was everything planned?” she muttered, mostly to herself, “but why would they… unless....” 

She saw it. The beam out of place she’d seen not a few minutes before from the other angle. It was broken and splintered. Kneeling down, Adora went to have a look.

“If the victim died during I remember you, why was there a delay until he fell?” she wondered aloud.

“As if you’re going to find anything,” Catra snorted. “You look ridiculous.” 

“At least I’m not wearing ruffles,” Adora retorted.

“It’s a jabot, it’s dignified.”

“Catra, you’re a whole world away from dignif––aagh!” 

“Adora!” 

Catra had almost screamed it. Feline reflexes took hold of her every nerve and she pounced forward. The beam lurched down. Adora slipped. 

Eyes shut, Adora braced for the fall. But she had stopped, mid air. She looked up, daring to open her eyes again, and saw Catra. The other girl had her grabbed by the arm, with her feet dug into the remaining beam, and her tail held out for counterbalance. Then she took Adora with her other hand and pulled her up, until she was safely back onto the rafter. Stood, safely, in Catra’s arms. 

They stared into each others’ eyes for just a few moments. Then Catra shoved her away and shouted:

“Idiot! What the hell were you doing?” 

But her face was not one of anger, but the leftover terror that her flurried through her during that brief danger. And even that was breaking into smiles as the adrenaline rushed through her. Adora matched it. Suddenly they were just laughing. 

They were laughing! Adora didn’t even know what happened, it had all flown by so quickly. Even this was just a fleeting moment as the two girls remembered who they were, who the other was, and the situation they were in. They stifled themselves, although the cold air could not undo the warm feeling inside them both. 

“Maybe we should––”

“Do you remember the stuff we got up to?” Adora asked rapidly, “like, like, that time I fell from a tree because I thought I could land on my feet like you?”

Catra spat out laughing. She had remembered, and now the memory appeared to her, strikingly vivid. 

“No,” she wheezed, “no, I don’t.”

“You do!” Adora smiled. 

“Okay,” Catra conceded. “Didn’t I break my arm too one time?”

“I think you were trying to break my fall.”

“Then we went back home as a pile of fractures and Shadow Weaver was mad.” 

“We were grounded for months at a time,” Adora chuckled, “but that just wouldn’t stop us.” She paused for a second. Then she threw Catra a wistful smile and said, “I really miss those times, you know?”

“I…,” Catra caught herself on her words and mouthed for a second before shoving Adora again and looking decidedly the other way, “shut up. I don’t miss you at all. And things are way better now.” 

At this height, the heavy patter of rain as it hit the roof was clear, although muffled through the layers of ceiling. Adora sat down on one of the more secure beams, letting her legs dangle in the air. Her head was still a little dizzy, and her heart pumped from the near-miss fall. Catra came to sit ––or rather perch herself with knees hugged in tight–– by Adora’s side, though angled outwards so as not to face her. 

“Would...,” Catra drew in a sharp intake of breath and spoke again, “would you have stayed? At the prosecutor’s office. If you knew I was coming?”

The obvious answer would have been no. People didn’t shift careers or not because of friends they hadn’t seen in a decade. But Adora couldn’t say anything right away. The truth was she didn’t know. Over the past few weeks, ever since Catra reappeared in her life, confusing feelings had surrounded Adora, submerging her, distracting her from every present moment and replacing every certainty with a question. 

But then, Adora said, “probably not.”

Catra was taken aback. So was Adora. Even she hadn’t expected herself to say that. 

The other girl buried her head into her arms so her mouth was muffled when she asked, “why’d you even make the change anyway?” 

“I had to,” Adora said, “I almost put an innocent woman in jail. She’s now my friend.”

“Your friend….” 

“Now I know how corrupt the justice system is here, I can’t go back. Especially since I’m this She-Ra thing. This must be what I’m meant to do.”

“Ugh,” Catra groaned, “why’d you always have to be so perfect.”

“I’m not perfect.”

But she was. Catra’s face darkened though Adora could not see it. She tightened her grip on her own arms, claws digging into the fabric of her jacket. 

Why did Adora have to be perfect?

“What about you?” Adora said, looking up with a sudden starlight in her eyes, “you could always… I mean, what if you joined me? You don’t have to be a prosecutor.”

“What?” Catra looked up at her, twisting her face into bemusement, “don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous!”

“Come on, you blundered through you’re last two trials and got lucky. I’m good but I’m never gonna win as a defence attorney.”

“But––”

“Look,” said Catra, “you wanna throw away a great opportunity, fine. But I don’t have to be like you.” 

“Okay, okay, forget I asked!”Adora stood up, “we should probably get back to the investigation anyway.”

Catra gave a sullen nod, said “sure,” and then they were making their way back downstairs. 

After the freeze up in the rafters, the main hall was blistering, and Adora handed Catra her cape back. Just well that she did, since Catra reassumed her menacing demeanour, and the high collar of the cape worked well for that. 

“Detective, report on those alibis,” she barked at Scorpia, who was stood near the stage with Bow.

“Nearly everyone is accounted for, sir. Mr. Singer hasn’t woken up so we haven’t talked to him.”

“Has anyone seen anything?” asked Adora, “potential witnesses?”

“Mr. Wright saw someone with a velvet cloak pass down the corridor while going to the bathroom. I’ve just had the forensic investigator look for any skin samples on the cloak, but nothing.”

“There are some hairs,” Bow chimed in, “but I can’t seem to get any positives on them.” 

“Tell him the check the murder weapon,” Catra said, tossing the pipe over. It bounced between Scorpia’s clumsy claws but she was able to just catch it between them. “I don’t expect any prints, though. Our murderer has been very thorough.”

Adora scanned the room. Most people were calm now, although nervousness drenched the air. The killer was still among them. That fact wasn’t lost on any of them, although one in particular seemed quite as ease with the whole situation. 

Feet kicked up and sipping from a martini glass, Double Trouble was unfazed by the general mood. Adora knitted her brow.

“Did you ask any questions to that performer, detective?” she asked, looking to Scorpia.

“Uh, no,” said Scorpia, “they were locked in their dressing room so their alibi seemed pretty strong.”

“Yet that means they were backstage the whole time,” Catra mused, “we should make sure they didn’t hear anything of interest.” 

So Catra went forward, with Adora following, and they sat themselves across the green minstrel. 

Eyeing them, Double Trouble gave a broad sharp-tooth smile and said, “I hope you don’t mind me hitting bar,” they shook their glass, “didn’t get much chance earlier.” 

“You were backstage all night?” Catra enquired. 

“I believe I was in there from 9:20 until little blondey here rescued me. But I don’t complain. Makeup is so laborious.” 

“What exactly were you here for?” asked Adora, “you’re not part of the band, right?”

Double Trouble tittered, “oh, Charles had me in to to give a comedy routine. Dreadful really, I’m much better for drama. But hey, it’s good pay so I wasn’t going to turn it down.”

“You’re a comic?” Catra raised her brow.

“I’m very good at impressions,” they said. Then, taking on a sudden stern face, they said in a voice unlike their own, “ugh, I’m running an investigation and I don’t know if this get-up is poncey enough to be taken seriously as a prosecutor!” 

Adora couldn’t help but laugh. Catra was scandalised by having to hear her own voice thrown back at her.

“Hey! Stop that,” she protested so loudly her voice broke. 

“Just don’t ask me to do that other prosecutor right now,” Double Trouble said, back in their own sultry voice, “I’m not sure yet if it’s meant to be an English accent or Mid-Atlantic. And I prefer to be precise.” 

“And you’re saying you couldn’t leave at all throughout the evening?” Adora leaned over the table as if it were her court bench. 

“That’s right.”

“No-one can corroborate, though, can they. For all we know someone might have let you out, and then you went back in before we found you?” 

“Fancy idea,” Double Trouble grinned, “although I wonder what you’re getting at. Still, that’s not what happened. Ask any of the band, ask anyone here. No-one will say they let me out, because it was Chas who was supposed to. Unfortunately he never showed.”

“Wait, what?” 

The mimic shrugged, “the plan was that he was supposed to open the door and let me out before he went on to do ‘I Remember You.’ Then I get ready to do my set after ‘Go Down Moses.’” 

“Objection,” the word sprung from her mouth automatically, “‘I Remember you ‘ didn’t have a singer, it was an instrumental.” 

“It usually does have a singer,” Catra murmured, “I thought it kinda strange when it played without one.”

Double Trouble leaned their head on their hand, and crooned, “sounds like our prosecutor here knows her jazz.”

Catra sat a little straighter and said, “no. Singer told me he was going to be singing that song earlier. That’s how I knew.” 

“Well either way, you have a little mystery. Where was Charles? He didn’t show up for me or for the song.”

Adora stared at the person with narrowing eyes. They just looked with that lingering smile. Then they added:

“Perhaps he went to his own dressing room?” 

“Did you hear him? Footsteps?”

“Not really, the backstage speakers blare out the live recording from the hall. But it’s the only place I can imagine he’d go. No reason to go up to the rafters, right?” 

“We’ll go check his dressing room then,” Catra said, standing up, “thank you for your time.”

“Wait, Catra,” Adora stood up, as Catra was now heading off. “You don’t actually think it was Singer, do you? This witness is clearly… well, I don’t know, but it’s not gonna be Singer. He was more shocked than anyone with what happened. 

Without turning back, Catra just said, “we don’t have many leads, we have to follow every one.” 

Adora sighed, but followed. The path took them back into the backstage corridor, going past Double Trouble’s dresser but short of the stairwell. Taking the left, they ended up in another dressing room. It was still lit by the row of bulbs around the mirror, and a lineup of pressed tuxedos hung on the wall, each as fine as the last. 

“Okay,” said Adora, “so we just need some evidence to show he was here, right? So what if he didn’t show up for the song, he still couldn’t beat a man from a different room.” 

“There’ll be plenty to show he was here,” Catra noted, “but timing him to ‘I remember you’ won’t be so easy. If there’s nothing… well, we’ll get to that later.”

Suddenly, Catra dropped to the floor. Adora watched with blinking eyes as the feline started tracking along the carpet, incessantly sniffing. Her mouth twisted a little:

“Uh, remember what I said about dignified?”

“Yeah, just before you fell off a beam,” Catra retorted.

“And you saved me,” Adora admitted, “I guess I didn’t even thank you for that.”

“Heh, how rude of you.”

“Well, thanks for catching me,” Adora said, finding that saying this brought back a little of that warm feeling in her gullet from earlier. 

She turned and started to trawl along the walls, marvelling at the tuxes, and eventually making her way to the counter, adorned with brushes and salves ––though little in the way of hard evidence. Catra meanwhile continued her scouring of the floor, though it was too spotless to note.

Then a glint caught her eye. It came from the shadow beneath the counter. She crawled over and took it into hand. It was a watch, gold, and weighty to the touch. She was about to inspect it, but then Adora spoke again, asking a question that ripped Catra’s full attention away:

“What happened nine years ago?” Adora’s breath grew heavy as she asked the question, but she persisted, “just, one day you disappeared. Shadow Weaver refused to say anything about it, like you never even existed.”

Catra stood up. She faced Adora, and upon her brow was a heavy feeling, and her lip could almost quiver. Her gaze couldn’t quite meet Adora’s, so she just stared ahead at her neck. 

But then she shrugged, and muttered, “eh, she would like that.” 

Adora tilted her head, “would? You’re still in contact with Shadow Weaver?”

“Obviously, Adora!” Catra raised her voice, “I didn’t stop being her ward.” 

“But I thought she sent you away….”

“She did, but no matter how much she wanted it she couldn’t get rid of me. I did everything I could to prove myself. Studying, law school, the bar, everything I could so I’d be a worthy prosecutor.” She shot a look directly at Adora. Thin pupils and a twisted cheek, and the shadow of a sneer. “Then there’s you. I can’t even believe it, that you’d leave everything when you didn’t even have to fight that hard to get it. Just to be some sort of hero. Why! Why did you do it?”

“I meant what I said,” Adora shouted back, “it was the right thing to do!” 

Catra’s grimace flashed deeper across her face. Though Adora didn’t quite realise it, ‘right thing’ was the wrong thing to say. 

Then Adora took a deep breath to steady herself, and added, “there was one other thing I didn’t tell you. I wanted to become a defence attorney because of a promise I made. I promised I’d help someone and I thought I could better do it as a defence attorney ––I know it doesn’t make sense, it’s more of a feeling than anything logical. But I promised.”

What Catra would have liked to say was ‘what are your promises worth’ but she held back. Indeed, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t let any of this happen. She shouldn’t have allowed Adora to come with her on this investigation. She couldn’t be unravelled like this.

So instead, Catra hoisted a smirk, and said, “there it is. Hopelessly naive, that’s just so you.”

“Wh-what?” said Adora, “what do you mean?”

“The only way to help anyone is to make sure every criminal you find is put behind bars.” 

Adora watched Catra for a few moments, expectant. But there was no further discussion. The room was clean anyway, so it was time to go. 

They returned to the main hall once again, which had started to thin out on people, and those that remained were in uniform ––the police who had just arrived. Singer was awake although holding an icepack to his head. Adora thought to approach but they were cut off by an inquisitive Edgeworth. 

“What have you found?”

“Little,” Adora said, “Bow’s got the murder weapon and Scorpia’s checked for alibis. Only one unaccounted for is Singer. Did you get anything on the victim?” 

“Yes, ID’d as Ma-Nan Jia. He runs the Princess Promenade from out of the limelight. Usually only comes during the day, so it’s odd that he was here tonight at all.”

Catra wasn’t contributing to this discussion. She hovered a little ways back from Adora, silent and without thought until she remembered the gold clutched in her hand. Laying it out on her palm, she looked at it. It had a rippled, segmented look, apart from the face of some black quartz. The glass was cracked, now that she saw it. The hands were stopped. 9:33 was the time. That would have been during the ‘I remember you.’ When she and Adora were dancing. 

A smile touched her lips. 

“The trombonist saw him I believe,” Edgeworth was saying, “last night, during an argument with mr. Singer over contract negotiations. No-one had seen him since.”

“They had an argument?” said Adora.

“More of a shouting session from Ma-Nan’s end. Consensus is he was a rather contentious person.” 

Edgeworth and Adora. Adora and Edgeworth. They were both even wearing a similar shade of red. Catra’s face fell flat watching them talk. They were both as naive as the other. 

Indeed, whispers flurried fast at the prosecutor’s office, such that even a newbie like Catra could hear them. Edgeworth’s working relationship with Phoenix Wright was all too well-known. They had a bond. Even across court, they trusted one another. 

Edgeworth was weak. How many times had he left a perfect case flee his hands? Given the defence leeway to bluff and bluster their client out of trouble. 

Because of his dumb trusting nature. 

Catra slipped the watch deep, deep into her pocket. 

Then she said, “I know what happened now. We can wrap this investigation up.” She looked over to Scorpia among the other police who had gathered. “Arrest Chas Singer on suspicion for the murder of Ma-Nan Jia.”

Scorpia mouthed for a second, blinking. But she got her poise and sent the officers to grab the still-dazed singer. He offered little resistance. Adora meanwhile gaped as the scene unfolded.

“On what grounds are you basing this suspicion?” Edgeworth said, folding his arms. 

“I’m not getting into one of your arguments, high prosecutor,” said Catra in a cool tone, “the time for it is the court.”

“You must have some reason for an arrest, I just want to hear it.”

“It’s easy,” she said, “he has no alibi for when the murder took place, virtually the only one here who doesn’t. You have just described a valid motivation ––contract disagreements. Oh, and that cloak you picked up,” she directed at Adora, “the one from Mr. Wright’s mystery person? That belongs to Singer as well.”

“What!” Adora exclaimed, “but there weren’t any skin traces. You couldn’t possibly know who it belongs! to”

Catra merely tapped the end of her nose and said, “I’ve got a good sense of smell.” 

Adora held a fixed clenched look at Catra. As she tried but failed to read what was going on beneath Catra’s smug smile, Catra saw every confused thought and feeling from the subtleties of the Adora’s face, and reading it all began to chuckle:

“Well, see ya in court.”

“What?” Adora shrunk backward, “how did you know I was going to––”

“Just a guess,” Catra shrugged, not letting her mocking smile falter, “after all,” she turned and began to walk away, “I don’t know you at all.” 

Chapter Text

Detention did not suit Chas Singer. The man was made for the stage, projecting out in his bass-baritone, or fingering away on a trumpet. Now his fingers rustled against one another, or rubbed at his wrists or neck. It was a sore sight for Adora, Glimmer and Bow. 

“Are you holding up well?” asked Glimmer.

“No worse than when I have to play Detroit,” he said, cracking a heroic but ultimately weak smile. “At least I can make a career move. Prison work songs ain’t so different from jazz.”

“You didn’t kill Ma-Nan Jia, right?” Adora took the seat directly facing the accused across the glass-pane. 

“I’m no killer,” Singer said, in a deep solemn voice, “I may have had disagreements with the man but Jia paid me, to kill him served me no end. And more than that, he was another human with a soul. That’s something no anger in me could compel to destroy.”

“R-right,” said Adora, “well, I believe you. But I need you to answer some questions before I can defend you. Why didn’t you free Double Trouble from their dressing room like you promised?”

“I was in a rush,” he explained, “I had to get back to my own dressing room, and it all pushed that obligation out of my mind. I hope they ain’t too displeased with me over that.” 

“We checked your room,” Adora hung her head, “we couldn’t find anything. Catra thinks that means you weren’t there.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” Singer waved a hand away, “I don’t always go dropping evidence to prove I’m in every room I’m ever in. Surely you’ve got something to prove my innocence?”

Adora wouldn’t meet his eye. Singer’s expression fell, and he looked to Bow.

“Brother, you were looking at the pipe, right? The real murderer’s prints must be on there!”

Bow shook his head, “I couldn’t find any prints. The prosecution thinks that means it was you wearing gloves.” 

As if to believe the words he was hearing, Singer looked to his own gloved palms. Brow furrowed, he looked like he was on the verge on some terrible collapse. But then laughter, albeit a strained one, broke across his face. 

“You know I don’t usually wear these. Jia wanted me to put them on for last night’s performance. He came up just before the show began ––very unusual, you know.”

“Why would he do that?” Glimmer wondered. 

“Perhaps we’ll never know now,” he sighed, “fate is a strange game of dice.” 

Adora turned to Bow, and asked, “what about those hair traces? Was there anything there?’

Bow shook his head, “negatives. Not Singer nor anyone else. They might just be dust caught while it was on the floor.”

“It couldn’t be anything else?” 

“My pad is pretty good at picking up dna, although hair tends to have very little in itself. Bleaching is enough to destroy it.”

“Slightly reassuring,” said Singer, stroking his low grizzled hair, “all natural colouring here.” 

“Not enough to prove it wasn’t you in the cloak, I’m afraid.” 

Indeed, despite all their wrangling, none of the four of them could think of a good angle. Before they knew, it was time to go. Detention would be closing up soon, so the three said their farewell and promised what they could to Singer before turning to leave. Yet as they reached the door, the man called back.

“Adora? Could you wait, I’d like to speak to you alone for a second.”

Adora shared a look with the others, who nodded and took their leave. She returned to the seat. There was a twinkling look caught in Singer’s eye as he watched her. Tentative, he asked:

“The prosecution… it’s that Catra girl, isn’t it?”

Adora nodded. 

“I met her briefly that night. Now I don’t mind uncomplicated people, but you meet them and you’re like ‘yeah, this person is exactly as they read.’ But then there are people you meet and you know there’s so much more underneath, buried that maybe they don’t know what’s going on.”

Adora’s eyes lit up. But then the weight of her limbs pulled her shoulders down and she could not sustain a fool’s hope. 

“I don’t know, mr. Singer. Catra wants to win. We’re going to have to give it our all to beat her.” 

“You have a thing for each other, right?”

“What?” a familiar prickle itched her cheek, “what do you mean?”

“I saw you two dancing,” he wore a knowing grin, “just before I left the hall. Man those were some sparks ––fireworks! You could see it a mile away.” 

“Those were sparks alright,” Adora muttered, “she’s got a drive. She’s determined to defeat me. But I won’t go down quickly.” 

“There’s more to it, isn’t there? You carry the weight of an old friendship.” 

“That was a long time ago. It shouldn’t matter.” She sighed, “and yet it feels like she’s known me my whole life. I don’t know why this is so… so….”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yeah,” said Adora. “You know, Glimmer and Bow don’t know. I haven’t told anyone that I used to know Catra. She wasn’t… she wasn’t like that back then, right? The Catra from my past, and the Catra I see now… how can one person be someone else?”

“You think she’s not the same person anymore?” 

Adora couldn’t answer. 

Singer shook his head, “it would certainly be easier that way. But easy isn’t always right. You might find she’s every bit as confused and scared as you are.” 

“Maybe,” Adora whispered, “but she is a prosecutor. I’m a defence attorney. That’s how things are now.” 

Singer smiled. Not a weak or queasy smile but deep and warm. 

He shook his head, saying, “those are but titles. The battles lines are not between forces of good or evil, but between our better and worse natures. Maybe your friend is gone. Who knows? But if her memory remains in your heart, then that’s good enough, I say. ”

Night passed, rough and with another bout of the rain such as had held them locked in at the Promenade. Yet the next day hastened and it was no time at all before Adora found herself behind the defence bench. Catra was facing across from her.  

“The trial for Charles Singer is now in session,” the Judge was saying, “are the defence and prosecution ready?”

“The prosecution is always ready,” said Catra, stroking her whip now in hand, “I wouldn’t be so sure about the defence.” 

“I’m–– I mean the defence is ready!” 

The Judge looked ponderously at Catra, saying, “I hope your opening statement will be a little more illuminating this time. I’ve heard so many good things about the defendant. I find it hard to believe he would murder someone.”

“The evidence is clear,” she said, “Chas Singer struck his own manager with a lead pipe. He did it during the performance of ‘I Remember you, ‘specifically written to cover the sound of his crime. Here’s the lead-sheet.”

She provided the court with a scrap of paper, etched with many small rounded notes. Across the middle eight was scratched a whole new section. So Catra had been right about the expanded brass. 

“This was pre-meditated murder, and the world will only be safer once the criminal is locked away.” She shot a look directly at Adora, “this trial will be decided in only an hour or so.” 

Adora gripped the table. She stared back as fierce in eye as she could. But Catra merely tittered and turned to called the first witness. 

Detective Scorpia took the stand. Expression stony, Scorpia just about concealed the glum that otherwise weighed down her shoulders. Yet she went through her testimony all the same:

“There were four songs performed between 9:15 and 9:45. ‘We’re in the Money,’ ‘It’s Too Darn Hot,’ ‘I Remember You’ and ‘Go Down Moses.’ The body fell onto the stage during the last song.” 

“Hold it,” interjected Adora, “are you sure about that order of events? Maybe the body fell during a different song?”

“I mean… you were there?”

“Interesting new strategy,” Catra laughed, “but tell us, since you were witness to the same events. What song did the body fall down in?”

“….the ‘Go Down Moses,’” Adora conceded in a small voice. 

“Adora, think before you press on the statements,” Glimmer sighed. 

“It’s important to note,” Scorpia continued, “that mr. Singer only performed the first and last song of this set. After a conversation with one of the attendees at the bar, his movements aren’t accounted for.” 

“Hold it,” Adora said again, “if he didn’t sing the middle two songs, who did?”

“Adora,” Glimmer groaned. 

“Uh, well the I Remember You was an instrumental,” Scorpia recounted, “and I sang the It’s Too Darn Hot.” 

“Well,” Adora said in a loud frayed voice. Stuck for words, she blurted, “well you were real good at it!”

Scorpia smiled, “aw, thanks.”

“Is this exactly relevant?” raising an eyebrow, Catra glared at the detective.

“Well can we verify this?” asked the Judge, looking to the prosecutor, “you were there, weren’t you ms. Catra. Was the detective’s performance good?” 

“I––” Catra stammered, “I, well, sure. Yeah, it was lovely, you really nailed it.”

“Aww!” Scorpia held their pincers to their mouth as their eyes sparkled with adoration, “you really mean that, boss?”

Blushing, Catra shouted, “get on the testimony, what am I paying you for?”

Scorpia regained herself and continued, reiterating the fact about the edited score. Only a few performers saw the forte section, so only they could have timed a murder to happen during it. Among them, only Singer was absent from the stage during the song.

“But to throw off suspicion, he set it up so the victim would fall off the rafters during the Go Down Moses, where he’d more clearly have an alibi.” 

“We know for certain he died during the ‘I Remember you?’” asked Adora.

“Your friend did the initial look-over, and our forensic team confirmed the time in the report,” Scorpia drew out the manila folder as she explained this.

The Judge nodded and accepted the autopsy report into the court record. But Adora was left in thought. The notated music sheet was on the evidence bench and it drew her eye, followed by what was just said about the order of events and the wheels of her mind began to turn.

“Isn’t it strange?” she wondered aloud now, “the killer went through all this trouble to screen the murder itself, and make it look like he had an alibi, but it was figured out with a simple forensic analysis? Why didn’t he plan for the time of death?”

“Criminals screw up all the time,” said Catra, “and Singer is a musician, not an expert in forensics.” She pull a wry grin, “should we ask him how autopsies are done?”

“Pfft, everyone knows that.”

“Really?” Catra grinned wider, “wanna explain then?”

“Well, it’s… uh, it’s… Bow, help me out,” she muttered.

“It’s to do with body heat––”

“It’s to do with bod–!”

But before Adora could finish cutting Bow off, Glimmer cut her off:

“The defence will take up your offer,” she said, drowning out Adora’s faux-confidence. “Let’s ask the defendant what he knows.” 

“Well, I suppose you can,” said the Judge, before directing his next comment to the dock, “mr. Singer, do you know how time of death is established for an autopsy report. 

Catra shook her head, “I was being rhetorical, you don’t actually have to ask him that.”

But Singer had stood, hands awkwardly together by his front, and eyes shifting about the room. “I’m a little lost, here, but you want me to answer that question? I believe it has something to do with… body heat?”

Then both defence and prosecution watch in total surprise as the defendant delved into an explanation ––the fact that body heat decreases at a constant rate, and so time of death could be calculated by temperature.

“Of course, if you froze the body,” he mused, “that throws the time off. So I suppose if I was gonna do any of this, that’s what I’d do.”

“You knew all that?” asked a gaping Adora.

“I’m a bit of a crime thriller afficianado,” Singer chuckled, “you learn these things.” 

“Well, I guess Catra, you were wrong,” Adora pointed, half confused but still taking the vindication where she could. “If mr. Singer were the killer and had planned this murder from the beginning, he would have taken care of the time of death!”

Catra just laughed. Whatever light feeling Adora had, it faltered. Always Catra had something to laugh about.

“Don’t you remember?” said the prosecutor, “that attic was a icebox. The perfect place to throw off the time of death, just as the defendant said.”

“Could that work?” said Adora, crushed. “The air was cold, but it wasn’t like he was surrounded by snow or something.” 

“Frost,” Catra recalled, “there was a patch of it on the rafters remember.” 

“Why does that matter?”

“If the body was there, then perhaps it was on the body as well. By the time anyone looked in the hot main hall, it would have thawed away. My guess is that the killer threw liquid on the body just after they struck him. And there was no shortage of drinks at the Promenade.”

“So the murderer did seek to throw off the time,” said the Judge, “although not successfully, I might add.”

It was at the moment, that Bow whipped out his pad and started typing away some calculations. Adora leaned over, wondering what he had come upon, but Glimmer pulled her back.

“Focus,” she said, “if Bow has something he’ll say.”

Bow gave an acknowledging thumbs up and continued. Adora turned back to Scorpia, but found that there was nothing left to press her on. Thus the detective left the stand. 

Next, Catra called Phoenix Wright to the stand. He held himself well, used to the blaring lights of the courtroom, though it had been many years now since he last took the stand. Upon Catra’s prompting, he recalled what he’d said in the investigation ––that he had seen a figure scurrying down the backstage hall under a velvet cloak.

“We have confirmed,” Catra explained, “that this cloak belongs to Chas Singer.”

“Sure,” Phoenix frowned, “but just because the article of clothing someone wears belongs to someone doesn’t mean that they are that person.”

“The court does not need to hear your opinion, mr. Wright,” said the Judge, “you are a witness now. Testify only what you saw.”

“You didn’t see the person’s face, right?” Adora said, perking up, “that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I didn’t see their face. However, I did hear something. It sounded like grunting, a kinda deep voice. Probably male.” 

“Hold it! You couldn’t have heard that clearly,” Adora argued, “the backstage had speakers playing the music from the hall.”

“I guess,” he said. 

“So there was music as well?” the Judge said, “mr. Wright, why didn’t you put that in your testimony?”

Taken aback, Phoenix replied, “noone asked and I didn’t think I needed to mention it. I’m sorry.” 

“Well, consider this a warning,” the Judge puffed.

His brow furrowed, but Phoenix didn’t respond. Just a few more questions and he was sure to be let down. 

“The point is,” Adora continued, “we can’t be sure from this testimony that the figure was Chas Singer at all!”

“Oh please,” Catra scoffed, “Singer was the only one not accounted for, and it’s his cloak. Maybe it could have been worn by someone else, but it was very likely him, and it was impossible that it anyone else. No-one else was backstage, save for the witness who returned to the main hall to play cards.”

“That’s not true, remember,” Adora smiled, “Double Trouble was backstage.”

“Locked. You’re the one who seems to be forgetting things. And consider what the witness just said. Deep grunts, that of a man. You may think it would be hard to hear, but the witness identified it nonetheless.” 

“Well, this Double Trouble person might not have a deep voice,” the Judge considered, “but can someone state for the record what range of voice they have?”

“It was mid-register,” Catra granted, “nowhere near Singer’s voice.” 

“Well,” Adora twisted her mouth, “they were able to go into your range.”

Catra stiffened, “my voice isn’t particularly high.”

“It gets high.”

“No it doesn’t,” she growled.

“But still, Double Trouble was able to mimic you pretty close.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“They said they were an impressionist. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that they could have pretended to have Singer’s voice.”

“Well it’s irrelevant,” Catra said, forcing a note of finality in her voice, “they were locked! The door was broken, and Singer never came to free them.” 

Adora lowered her head, and fixed her expression. Glimmer leant over and asked in a whisper:

“What are you thinking, Adora?”

“This testimony can’t stand, right? If the court accepts that the person mr. Wright saw was Singer, it’s over.”

“So you need to show that Double Trouble could have been out of their room by that time?”

“Right! But how? I mean, I guess they could have been lying.”

“The door was busted, Chas told us so,” Glimmer said, knitting her brow, “but they could have entered anytime before you found them, right?”

“But we don’t have any proof. I mean if this was before the ‘I remember you’ then they’d have no alibi.”

Adora blinked. Her face screwed up in confusion, as if staring at something beyond comprehension. But she wasn’t looking at something baffling, but thinking it. A thought, rattling around in her head. It was ridiculous.

“Yeah, that’s ridiculous,” she muttered.

“What?” said Glimmer.

“Nothing. I mean, unless….” Suddenly she lost all filter and blurted out the question to the witness, “what was the song that was playing while you were in the backstage corridor?”

“The song?” 

“Adora,” Glimmer was cringing, “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Trust me,” said Adora, even though she didn’t, in fact, know what she was doing. But she just wanted to see for certain. “You confirmed that was music on the speakers. So what were they playing?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he said, looking around, “it was just music, my mind wasn’t on it. Okay, just give me a sec, I’ll try to remember. It was soothing, lots of strings, you know.”

“The ‘I remember you,’” Adora’s shoulders began to fall. “It wasn’t even worth the try,” she quietly castigated herself, “Why’d I even ask something so stupid?”

“Uh, the guy sang something about angels and bells. Wasn’t quite following it but it sounded nice.” 

Adora stared at the bench. Her ears muffled out the sound of Phoenix, confused as he described the song he only just about remembered. A light sparse feelings caught in her lungs, filling her to her brim to the point she let out a small laugh. She knew what she was doing now.

“Objection!” she threw out her finger, “we have a serious contradiction on our hands.” 

“Really?” said the Judge, “I don’t see a contradiction. The witness heard the song ‘I remember you,’ which I believe was the song during which the murder happened? So he saw the murderer as they sneaked across the corridor to reach the scene of the crime. It’s so airtight I might give my verdict soon.”

“Then you’d have to resign your judge-ship in shame!” Adora laughed. 

“Why I––”

“Catra, do you remember when the band played ‘I remember you?’”

The prosecutor smirked, “yeah. What about it?” 

“Do you remember Chas Singer singing at all during that?” 

“I… no, but––”

“In fact, doesn’t it seem strange that Phoenix Wright supposedly saw Chas Singer under the velvet cloak while also hearing him sing on the speakers?” 

“I… wait, what?” Catra flinched as realisation struck her. She slapped her whip against her bench and shouted, “what’s going on here? Singer was absent from the stage during that time, that was the whole point!” 

“Well this is a strange situation indeed,” the Judge’s eyes widened. “How can we resolve it?” 

“You wanna know what I think?” said Adora, still holding her point, an electric feeling shooting across her limbs, “someone tampered with the speakers on purpose! To throw off the time the witness would think he saw the murderer running past! Mr. Wright,” she turned to the witness again, “try to remember: when you returned to the hall, what was happening? Anything at all that would suggest what time it was?”

“Again, I don’t really remember ––oh ,wait,” Phoenix said, “that detective, she was just wrapping up her own song when I got back.”

“The witness is clearly confused,” Catra argued with a sneer, “a defence attorney’s mind is obviously addled easily by a defence attorney’s tricks.”

A slump fell in Phoenix’s shoulders as he complained, “hey, you didn’t need to make it personal. That’s just what I saw.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Catra spat, “the murder happened during the ‘I remember you’ why would they go to such lengths just to make people think it happened at the same time?” 

At this, Bow looked up and said, “I think maybe I have the answer to this. The murder didn’t happened during ‘I remember you!’”

Catra cracked her whip, reaching all the way across the chamber and spooking Bow into dropping his pad.

“Aagh!”

“It was your own damn report!” 

“I know,” he said, with a genuinely apologetic look, “but that was before I realised someone tried to throw off the time. So I just did the calculations,” he picked up his pad and revealed, “and I think the actual time of death should be a little before. During ‘It’s Too Darn Hot.’”

It was the Judge who exploded next, “It’s Too Darn Hot’? Mr. Wright,” he brought down a grim look onto the witness, “you said it was during the ‘I Remember You!’”

“Wait, your honour––”

“There’s a serious question here as to whether you’ve perjured yourself.”

“P-perjury!” Phoenix’s was hit with a look so scandalised his eyes almost turned white, “your honour, you can’t be serious. I’ve seen you let a calvacade of liars and murderers get away with far worse on the witness stand, but now you care about perjury?”

“I don’t care for your tone, mr. Wright,” the Judge retorted, “if you continue I’ll have to write you up on contempt of court?”

“Contempt of court?” Phoenix shouted, “ngggghAAAAAARGH” 

The poor defence attorney slammed his head to the stand, and sagged to the floor.

The Judge leaned over his high bench to peer down, and then shook his head. 

“What a display. Anyway, where does that leave us?”

“Simple,” Adora said, “the whole premise for the prosecution is that only Chas Singer could have murdered Ma-Nan Jia. That was because we don’t know where he was during the ‘I remember you.’ But now we know that the murder happened during an earlier song, and that someone tried to make it look like it happened later. The defence believes that the murderer was trying to pin the blame on Singer.” 

“Maybe,” Catra murmured, “but maybe not. Singer was still free during that other song. In fact, he was the one who called Scorpia up to replace him.” 

“What about your argument that he changed the ‘I Remember you’ to specifically hide the sound of the murder?”

“Well, ‘It’s Too Darn Hot’ has a pretty loud chorus anyway, so maybe that worked for him too.” 

Catra was leant over her bench, her mane of hair fraying, and a bead of bitter sweat trickling down her temple. Her blue and yellow eyes stared ahead at Adora with fury as she bared her grit fangs. The urge to fight was brewing inside her, and if she didn’t turn this case around soon, she didn’t know where that fight would go.

“Noone else could have done it,” she said.

“That’s not true,” Adora said, breezy in her smile, “one other was free in the backstage area. The defence requests we bring them to the stand.” 

Catra stood up, “very well,” she said, “I call Double Trouble to the stand.” 

Standing up straight did not suit Double Trouble. Instead they propped themselves against an elbow, and let their legs stand diagonal. With their free hand, they waved one finger at a time, and gave a deep, delightful smile to the crowd. 

“Name. Occupation,” said Catra.

“I am called Double Trouble, of course, and occupation? I’d say I am an artist of the highest order.”

“You’re a mimic,” said Adora, “you said so yourself.” 

“Imitation is a part of my wide and varied skillset.” They suddenly stood at a straight angle, and shot out a finger to the Judge, shouting, in a rather shrill voice “objection, your honour. I find a contradiction between your bald head and beard!” 

“My what?” the Judge sat back as if punched in the face. 

“Who’s that supposed to be?” Adora folded her arms.

But then the sound of giggles from her left and right sent heat creeping up her cheeks.

“…guys?”

“Nothing, nothing,” said Glimmer, covering her mouth. 

“It was pretty accurate,” Bow said.

“Wait, that was me?” Adora whined, “I don’t sound like that!”

While Catra might have otherwise taken joy in a moment like that, she was not having it right now.

“Witness, testify on your movements during the performances of ‘It’s Too Darn Hot’ and ‘I Remember You.’”

“I was in the audience earlier on in the show,” Double Trouble said, returning to their usual pose and voice, “knowing that I had to be in my dressing by the second song, still I went for a bit of a walkabout. Had to stretch my legs, you know.” 

“I don’t remember seeing you,” Adora noted, “did you, Catra?”

“Not that I recall.” 

Nodding, Adora directed her question to the witness, “did you go backstage then?”

“Oh, quite good. Yes, I had a pass to so I ventured that way.”

“Well, then you must have come across a certain someone.”

“Oh?”

“Phoenix Wright. He was coming out that from the bathroom. I find it difficult to believe he’d miss you.” 

“You’re right of course,” Double Trouble grinned out their sharp teeth, “no-one who meets me can ever forget me. But perhaps we simply didn’t cross paths?”

“No,” Adora said, slamming her hand on the bench, “you were there, weren’t you. You were wearing the cloak and imitating Singer’s voice!”

“Honey, isn’t a court? If you don’t have evidence to prove that, can’t I sue you for defamation or something?”

Adora straightened up, and replied, “there was a trace of hair found on the cloak. It should belong to our mystery person.”

“Oh please,” scoffed Catra, “we tested that trace there was no DNA. It was just a piece of dust caught on the cloak when it was on the floor.”

“Looks like hair to me,” Adora fired back, “and I can explain why noone could be identified… and how that identified the person in front of me!” Adora grinned, “did you know that bleaching destroys what little DNA is there?” She looked to Double Trouble, “your hair is peroxide, isn’t it, witness.”

Tittering, they retorted, “as if you’re innocent, blondes.” They stood up straight, with a little stretch, before saying, “fine, you got me.” 

“If that––” Adora blinked. “Wait, I did?”

“I was the one who stole Charles’ cloak and pretended to be him for a bit. Even switched out the song on the speakers.”

“So you admit to trying to tampering with the evidence?” asked the Judge.

“It wasn’t evidence at the time. How was I supposed to know there was a murder?” They shrugged, “I just wanted to have some fun. Mess with people. And uh,” they chuckled as they flitted their eyes down to the floor where an unconscious body had been a few minutes prior, “seeing the consequence, it really paid off.” 

“But why pretend to be Singer?” asked Adora, “I mean look at the trouble you’ve gotten him in because of it.”

Double Trouble’s smiled waveerd. “well, we aren’t exactly the best of friends. I never really liked working with him. Always had me doing the comedy routines, when I’m clearly meant for dramatic roles!” 

“You headed towards the stairwell,” Catra stated, “assuming Wright’s testimony is correct.”

“I headed that way, but I didn’t go up. I swerved off at the last second and went into Singer’s room to hide. Waited for the coast to clear and then headed back to my own dressing room.”

“You were in Singer’s dressing room?” Adora’s mouth dropped. 

“I was, for quite a while actually,” Double Trouble rambled, “it such a nicer room than my own. I played with a few things, he has so many trinkets you know. Ah and it was nicely scented,” they sighed, “anyway, eventually I returned to my own, locking myself in.” 

“But you didn’t say any of this before,” said the Judge, with a ruffle in his beard, “I can’t believe you’d omit this fact during a murder investigation.”

“It looked suspicious,” they softened, “I didn’t want to cause any extra trouble. But my alibi remains the same, I’m pretty sure I was locked in my room for most of the song if not all of it. But I was just being silly and a bit nosy. I didn’t murder anyone.”

“You don’t have an alibi anymore,” said Adora, “the murder didn’t happen during ‘I remember you.’ But the fact you insisted that you were there the whole time while now admitting that you confused the witness makes you look more suspicious than anyone.”

“But I didn’t go up to the rafters at all that night,” Double Trouble shrugged, “I was in Singer’s room, and then my own.”

“We can’t verify that,” said Adora, “for all we know you’re lying and you did go up. There’s no evidence to help you.” 

Catra’s ears pricked up. For the first time in twenty minutes, a tightness in her jaw that she didn’t even realise she had loosened. Her hand slid down to her pocket, feeling the cold rippled metal within. A grin of her own touched her lips. Now she could fight. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she suddenly called out, in a dancing, breathy voice, “sweet, naive Adora,” 

“What are you on about now, Catra,” said Adora back at her, quite unfazed. 

“The prosecution has new evidence.”

Adora raised a single eyebrow. 

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“What is this new evidence, prosecutor Catra?” asked the Judge.

“Double Trouble claims they were in Singer’s dressing room. They claim they played with some certain objects. I believe they are telling the truth, and that they dropped one of these.”

The witness watched the prosecutor with a vacant, but intrigued smile.

Catra continued, “this is the object in question. A watch, belonging to Chas Singer.”

She drew it out. The watch. Cracked, with the hands stuck at 9:33. Broken during the performance of ‘I remember you.’ 

“Witness, you were wrong on one thing. You missed most of ‘I remember you.’ You probably reached your dressing room by ‘Go Down Moses.’”

“Oh really,” they said, tapping with mouth with a long finger, “I suppose that means that Singer didn’t go to his dressing room like I thought he did. I wonder where he was all night.” 

Adora was just staring. The significance of the watch hadn’t settled in. It was just a lump of gold. Just a cracked piece of glass. Just a piece of evidence, that told the time. Just a piece of evidence, that Catra had found. 

“Wait, didn’t you and Catra search the room together?” asked Glimmer in an agitated hush, “why didn’t you mention a watch.”

“I… I didn’t see a watch. Catra didn’t mention….” realisation was shattering across her face, a look of horror that began trembling in her eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” said the Judge, “what is the meaning of this watch?”

“The witness dropped this halfway between ‘I remember you,’” said Catra, “meaning we know they were there at the time as they said. And that Singer wasn’t––”

“Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” Adora cried out, “that could have helped us establish his alibi!”

“Don’t you remember the second rule of evidence law?” Catra said, twirling the watch around her fingers, “Sparkles, you should know.”

Glimmer recited, “evidence not approve by the police must be––”

“I know what the second rule of evidence law is,” a scowl flashed across Adora’s face. “How isn’t the watch relevant?”

“Well it is now,” Catra spoke in a dancing tone, “because we know the witness dropped it. Before then there was no telling who did.”

“You––” involuntary heaves puffed in her chest, as she tried to restrain the urge to splutter. 

Catra, with her lowered eyelids and evil smile, was an image to bring bile to her mouth. To think Adora had been sucked in, even momentarily, by the hope that she was the same person as her old friend. 

“They could still be lying,” she spoke in a low, hot breath behind clenched teeth, “it could have been Singer who dropped that watch!” 

“Then let’s bring him up,” said Catra, “and cross-examine his account of things. If it’s as you say, there should be no contradictions with the facts.” 

“Fine! Bring him up.”

“Adora are you sure this is a great idea?” asked Bow, “Catra seems really confident about this.” 

“Yeah, which is why I want to wipe her smug face with a not guilty verdict. She won’t be so confident then!” 

Bow and Glimmer shared a look. Adora wouldn’t notice, huddled forward, staring fixedly at the stand. 

Double Trouble let out a short titter, shrugged, and departed, as Chas Singer was now called up. His nerves were settled now. He didn’t rustle with his gloves, but rather clasped them together, beaming as he looked from defence to prosecution.

“Well, what a fantastic show this has been,” he said, “I was wrong about sparks. This is a firestorm between you two. And to think you can go home with no hard feelings and have a dance together.”

“Shut up,” Catra grumbled, “it’s nothing like that.”

“Defendant,” the Judge looked down on him, “the prosecution believes you have no alibi for the murder of Ma-Nan Jia. The defence asserts that you do, having went to your own dressing room around that time. Can you testify to your movements.” 

“That I can do, but…” Singer tugged a little at his collar, “it’s going to be a little difficult to explain.” He then turned to look at Adora. Her insides were still churning, but met with his stoic expression she softened her own. “You must not let your heart be hardened like pharaoh.”

“Wh-what?” she said.

“This is going to hurt. And it’s going to get harder before it gets any easier. But you must forgive those who know not what they do, or rather why they do.” 

She shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I do know something.” She lifted her arm, raising her fist, where just below it the golden brace of She-Ra gleamed.

“I’m going to prove you innocent. That’s a promise.”

“Heh,” tutted Catra, “what are your promises worth.”

Singer meanwhile just gave a soft, pained smile. He turned back to the Judge.

“I’m going to tell the court everything I did and saw, as truthfully as possible. Even though I fear it condemns me:

“I went backstage halfway during the Detective’s performance. I went to my dressing room, yes as the defence believes. It was my intention to go free Double Trouble from their own room and then go sing ‘I Remember You,’ but I was delayed.”

“Why?” Catra enquired.

“I had a visitor.” 

Adora’s eyes lifted, “Double Trouble?”  

Singer just shook his head. “No. It was my boss. Ma-Nan Jia.”

“Wh…. WHAAAT?”

There was a rumble of murmurs from around the room, as the gallery wondered how this could be.

“You do realise,” said Catra with a raised brow, “this doesn’t fit anything we’ve heard before?”

“I know,” Singer said, continuing, “but there he was. We talked for a while, and nothing pleasant. But it was  him. I can’t have mistaken it. When he came down dead during the next song it was a real shock, I tell you.” 

“I… I…,” every thought fled Adora’s head. 

Glimmer looked over with an intense eye and hushed, “Adora, you need to question him. You have to make sense of it.”

“I don’t even know what to ask,” said Adora, her voice frantic, “I mean what do I ask? None of this makes sense.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” said Bow, “it would mean Double Trouble didn’t go to the room for one.”

“But if the victim was there and Double Trouble was away then––”

“If the defence isn’t gonna do its job,” Catra called out, “then the prosecution will supply the cross-examination. Witness,” she turned her gleaming eye onto Singer, “you do realise what you’ve claimed is in direct contradiction with the evidence.” 

The witness didn’t respond, but merely gave a vague smile to the prosecution.

Catra swept from behind the bench. Heading to the evidence table, she snatched up the manila folder containing the autopsy report and flipped it open:

“Updated, thanks to the forensic investigator over there,” she explained, “but we now know the time of death was during the performance of ‘It’s too darn hot.’ Ma-Nan Jia could not have been with you in your dressing room, especially since he was being frozen in the rafters as part of the cover up!” 

Singer nodded. 

“I don’t understand it.”

“Recant it then,” Adora slammed her hands on her desk, pleading in her eyes, “just recant it and say something else!”

“Mr. Singer,” the Judge said with furrowed brow, “I must remind you that you are under oath. I cannot permit lying in my courtroom.”

“That is why I cannot recant, your honour,” Singer explained, “I do not lie. I am telling what I saw.”

“Evidence does not lie,” said Catra, “murderers do.”

“What about the watch?” asked a desperate Adora, “please tell me you at least were the one who dropped the watch!”

“I’m sorry, Adora,” he shook his head, “I take it off for performances, I don’t remember even seeing it after I started my set.” 

“This is bizarre,” the Judge said, closed eyes, lowering his head, “let’s see if I can make sense of this. The evidence tells us that Double Trouble was in the room at the time. The defendant has no proof of time, but is certain he met the manager. Perhaps it happened earlier than he thought. In which case, the most likely order of events are that he met the manager, killed him, and took him to the rafters while the other witness entered his dressing room and dropped his watch. It’s the only scenario consistent with all the evidence.” He nodded, opening his eyes to say, “yes, this is my conclusion. Otherwise, how else could the defendant and witness both be in the same place and not cross paths?” 

“M-maybe they did?” Adora threw out the first thing that came to mind, anything to keep the trial going. The racing of her heart was telling it to her plainly. The clock was running out. “The defence proposes that it remains a possibility.” 

“Oh this is too good,” Catra laughed. “The prosecution has no objections to letting the defence try and explain this one.” 

“Well, nonetheless,” the Judge frowned, “I do not take kindly to frivolously drawing out the court’s time.” 

“Please, hear me out,” Adora pleaded, “just give me this one.”

She was shaking. Her voice was dying, cracking up by the weight of it all. She looked to Bow and Glimmer but both looked crushed of all air. Adora looked back to the Judge.

“Chas Singer and Double Trouble crossed paths that evening because… because,” the thought hit, and she was so stripped for time she couldn’t even consider if it was something brilliant or stunningly foolish. She just said it, “Double Trouble was disguised as Ma-Nan Jia!”

Catra folded her arms. The grin was not yet wiped from her face.

“They’re a mimic,” Adora continued, “we saw their ability to impersonate earlier. Who’s to say they couldn’t have disguised themselves too?”

“But Adora,” said Chas Singer with a resigned expression, “they don’t have kind of skill. No one does, surely? I saw him. It was Ma-Nan Jia’s body, his face, down to the last wrinkle. His skin wasn’t green to start with. Perhaps there’s some makeup out there in the world to pull that off, but not that quickly.” 

“Why are you arguing with me?” Adora said in a squeak, “I’m trying to help you!”

“Adora, I just see how it can work. How can one person be someone else?” He shook his head, “I’m sorry. I think it’s over.”

“No! It makes sense, it’s the only explanation!”

A sharp sound of a crack forced Adora backwards with a yelp. Having grabbed her attention, Catra was now pointing at her, middle and ring finger holding the handle of her whip, index gently outstretched. 

“This is a courtroom. If you want to make a claim such as that… show me the evidence.”

Adora thought back. Across the last few days, everything they looked over at the Princess Promenade to today’s trial. Everything she had seen flashed before her eyes, and yet there was nothing. The final piece that could make sense of it all. Did it exist? Did it matter if it existed? Perhaps the evidence had been there all along, but like the watch, had been snatched away. Taken by a prosecutor bent to hell to defeat her. 

How was she supposed to win against someone like that? 

“I…,” to speak was a great effort, finding the strength to push the air from her lungs lest she croak or whisper, “I have… no evidence.” 

She slumped upon her bench. Face down into her arms, she surrounded herself in darkness. The trial wrapped up, so seamlessly, with such speed and with all the voices merging into one slurred echo in Adora’s mind. Then the memory of someone speaking ––in a purring tone that seemed to twist her heart, even though it was a voice that once made her laugh and smile. 

And then when you lose you’ll start to blame yourself ––how could you not even a rookie have the place of a real attorney and risked your client’s freedom. It’s going to be great! Watching you tear yourself up after this. If only I had the time to stay and watch.

A guilty verdict. Catra was dripping with glee, as she almost tiptoed her way out through the court lobby and onto the street. Soon, detective Scorpia emerged and hurried up to walk with her. 

“Aw man, great job today, sir,” she said, giving Catra a pat on the shoulder that almost knocked her over.

“Hey, watch with the claws,” she protested, although it could not dampen her mood and she fell to laughing.

“Sorry sir, but I’m just real happy for you. I knew you’d show them all the stuff you’re made of.” 

“You’re not bothered?” asked Catra, surprising herself with the considerate tone she struck, “I know you liked the defendant.” 

“Yeah, well if he’s a guilty man, that’s on him” Scorpia said with a harrumph, “I just wished I could have seen him for what he really was.”

“Yeah well,” Catra rustled, “you gotta be careful with who you trust. It’s a dangerous thing, you know.” 

Arriving at the prosecutor’s office, they took an elevator until they reached a level midway up the block. Catra took a step out.

“I’m going up to the High Prosecutor,” Scorpia called after her, “I need to file a report with her. Do you… want to speak with her at all?”

Catra didn’t turn around. “Just tell her I won, I don’t need anything more than that.”

With that she kept on walking, until she reached her own office. She sat down on her chair with a long exhale, letting out a victory-drunk breath. 

“This is what winning feels like,” she said to herself with a grin.

The room was quiet. It was dark, blinds down even in the afternoon, and it was somewhat cold. 

“This is… what winning is like,” Catra said again, a little muter this time. 

She shook herself, and drew up her chair to the desk so she could begin filing her report. There was work to be done, always, not just completing this case and sending the guilty party to jail, but future cases she’d need to prosecute. She was ready. She would beat them all. 

It was quiet. She sighed. 

Perhaps it wasn’t a conscious thing, although maybe she had wanted to do it: her hand went to press a few keys, opening a second tab. A few more button presses and she returned to her work. The strings perforated the air, followed by the trumpets and saxophones. And this time, someone sang:

I Remember You

You’re the one who made my dreams come true

A few

Kisses ago

Leaning back, she let out another sigh. The were no thoughts going through her head, and later she wouldn’t even recall this moment. A good thing too, for she would not like to dwell on the meaning. But memory, absent from her mind, was caught in her fingers. Hand against hand, the other gripped into the red dress. 

When my time is through

And the Angels 

Ask me to recall

The thrill of them all

Then I shall say that 

I Remember You!

Chapter Text

Catra had been to the Chief Prosecutor’s office only once before. It was just as dark, with shadows creeping along the walls under the dim lights. Catra stood, resolute, facing the man at the desk, just sitting there. Just writing. 

Ashen faced, with long pointed ears and thin but dark hair, Chief Prosecutor Hordak drew to an impressive height even when sat down. The silence and the waiting was his idea, meant to set Catra on edge. She liked to think it didn’t work. With only the smallest shudder in her hand as she brought it up to her mouth, she gave a deliberate cough. 

The scribbling of his pen stopped, at least. 

“Prosecutor Catra,” said Hordak. His cold voice bounced off the room’s ambience, “I have brought you here to discuss your recent victories. They have not gone unnoticed. I am impressed.” 

“Of course, chief prosecutor. But it’s only natural,” a wry smile touched her lips, “those cases weren’t even hard.”

“Curb the arrogance,” he said in a suddenly curt voice, “I have not forgotten your first failure.”

Her cheek twitched at the mention, but she didn’t let her smile fade.

Hordak continued, “a prosecutor must be perfect in every way. But I grant that Adora was a match for you. She was supposed to be here in your place, after all. She is skilled, but unreliable, clearly.”

“She’s not that impressive,” Catra said cooly. 

“That’s also true. Three times, is it? That you have bested her.”

“The Chas Singer case, the Tom Fulery case, and the Thaymor incident. All guilty verdicts.” 

“Which is more than I can say for any other rookie. In fact, to call you such is improper.” 

The man gave a certain nod. It had a strong, decisive movement to it. Following this, he stood and turned to face the blinded window.

“ In light of your consecutive wins,” he said, “you will be awarded as this year’s ‘King of Prosecutors.’” 

Catra’s eyes widened, blinked, then opened full again. Her bemused grin was spilling into a genuine smile.

“R-really?” she said, “King of prosecutors?” She restrained her enthusiasm, stating “I mean, very good. I appreciate this recognition of my talents.” 

“There will be a small ceremony at the precinct tomorrow,” Hordak explained, “now, you are dismissed.” 

Catra left the Chief Prosecutor’s office and made her way down to her own. Her arms swung loosely by her side in her strut. There was a clacking of her claws against floor, as each step she propelled off the balls of her feet at high angles. The consequence of this was that she bobbed up and down with each stride.

Soon Scorpia emerged, overburden with files slipping from her arms. As she rushed to join by Catra’s side, she started babbling:

“I got those reports from the last case sir, the evidence receipts, the uh, what’s this one,” she attempted to pull the paper out from her own clutch with the thin end of her pincers. She ripped it. “Ah, no! Wait, phew, that was just a dud from the printer. Okay I think this one is the victim profile you wanted, and down here’s the stuff from the QT-5––” 

“It’s okay, detective, just give them here,” Catra said, lending out a hand to relieve Scorpia of her carry, “I’ll put them away myself.”

“Really? You don’t want me to…,” Scorpia peered over at the smaller woman, and saw her clearly for the first time. “Sir, are you… in a good mood?” 

“Guess you could say that,” Catra smiled. “You’re looking at the youngest King of Prosecutors recipient in history.” 

“King of Prosecutors?” Scorpia’s jaw went slack, “was that what Chief Prosecutor Hordak wanted to talk to you about? That’s amazing!”

“Amazing? It’s more than that,” Catra said, unable to stop the warmth in her chest from gushing out, “this award has the names of Von Karma, Edgeworth, Skye, all these famous prosecutors. I’m getting it in my first year! It’s awesome.” 

“I can’t remember ever seeing you this happy before, sir. I’m glad for you. You thinking of celebrating?” 

Catra’s ears fell an inch, “hadn’t thought about it, really. There’s still a lot of work to get through.” 

“Man, you’re always saying that,” Scorpia said, shaking her head, “if anything this award shows you’re way ahead. You can at least take an evening off.” 

“I don’t…,” Catra wasn’t even watching where her mouth was going. She was puzzled as to why she was admitting it, but she was, “I don’t really know what I’d do if I did have the evening off.” 

“Well, what do you do to have fun?”

Catra couldn’t answer. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have fun, but it usually involved someone else distinctly not having fun. And sure, there were things that gave her thrills. Running around, climbing up trees, hiding. As much as she’d never dare admit it to a breathing soul, she’d never really outgrown that kind of play. The kind of fun she’d had as a child. 

Before the incident. Before Brightmoon. 

“Well you can’t not do something,” Scorpia argued, puffing out her chest, “I won’t allow it. We should go out this evening, find some place to bunker down, have a few drinks.” 

“What… what would you have in mind?”

Scorpia tapped her chin, “well, I heard some things about the Lordly Tailor.”

“Heh, as if you could afford that on a detective’s salary.”

Bowing her head, Scorpia shaded her eyes with the brim of her hat, “yeah, well it keeps getting cut.” 

Catra gave a curt sniff, “yeah well I don’t want to go to a place like that anyway. Who needs fancy people, let’s go somewhere rough.”

“Oh, I dunno, sir. Rough parts of town can get real dangerous that time of day.”

“Come on, detective, you’re not scared of a little risk, are you? Hey how about that place you mentioned. What was it, ‘Crimson Wastes?’ Now that sounds like a bar with some action.”

“Oh I did let that slip, didn’t I,” Scorpia said, a frown deepening into her face.But it was one she quickly plastered over with a smile, “well, if that’s what you want, then I’d be happy to tag along!” 

A day light on work wrapped up sooner than Catra would have expected. Soon she and Scorpia were heading out of the prosecutor’s office together. A vehicle branded police-blue waited for them in B block, down in the depths of underground parking. Catra clambered into the front passenger seat, where she became flushed to learn her feet didn’t quite reach the floor. Scorpia drove. 

It was not long ––about fifteen minutes–– when Scorpia turned the wheel and said, “I’m gonna park around here. Think there might be a riot if I bring this old girl right up the Wastes.”

She stopped them at the small driveway adjunct to a lush green park, so they’d know where to find it again. They walked the rest of the way. The green quickly dissolved into dry beige, as they came upon dilapidated mid-rises of a semi-arid corner of LA. The Crimson Waste bar greeted them like a watering hole in a dustbowl. 

Inside was dark and dingy. The walls were mustard, with torn wallpaper, on one hung an old television set from the 70s ––currently playing an inaudible advertisement for Prime Industries with severe static. The bar was barren, but for a lonely tender and a bunch of foggy glasses, as the bar’s clientele all seemed to cling to the shadows on the far side of the room. 

Catra strode up to the counter and rapped it with her knuckles. Once the sole man saw her she jerked a pouring motion with her hand. He nodded, and went to pour a shot of whiskey. 

“Oh, I’ll have a cider, please,” Scorpia said, nudging her pincer up. Catra stared at her, but she shrugged, “I like the taste, okay.” 

The tender slid the shot glass across the counter, right into Catra’s hand whereupon she snatched it up. She downed it in one. By now, the other customers were eyeing them. They were big, mean people, many reptilian, and all wearing matching jackets of ripped leather. A few stood and sidled over to the visitors, keeping close formation with one another, and drawing to their full height.

“You don’t belong here, kitty,” the ring-leader bore down upon Catra, though she remained quite unmoved. “We know who you are.”

“Hey, back off, Sally,” Scorpia shot them a look, with a coldness in her eye she rarely ever had. 

“We’ve got your number, Scorp,” another one of the reptiles said, “we don’t take kindly to prosecutors, or their Quisling friends.” 

“That’s like way too highbrow a reference for you,” Scorpia retorted, “anyway, what are you gonna do? Lay a hand on officers of the law.” She leaned over to Catra and said, “come on, Catra, let’s go. We can find somewhere.”

But Catra merely held up a hand, and finally turned to face the thugs. 

She looked them up and down and then asked, “you got a problem with me?”

“You got our boss locked up,” said the ring-leader. “No-one touches Tung Lashor!” 

Catra spat out a giggle to their face, “heh, still can’t believe that’s their actual name.”

Even Scorpia let out a smile at that. Catra had spent much of the Thaymor incident trial in fits of laughter. It was probably just a new strategy to undermine the defence, but Scorpia, having never like Tung Lashor that much, had been quite tickled by it.

“Look,” said Catra, “if your boss didn’t want to see the inside of a cell, he should have hired a better lawyer.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” conceded one of the thugs, “I saw the trial myself, that girl really flubbed it.” 

Another agreed, “I ain’t no law-person, but even I could have given a better defence. Who’s idea was it to hire her!”

As the jacketed reptiles started conversing with themselves, Catra called for a second shot and went to drink it. The fiery brew raged through her gullet, leaving a pungent taste wafting through the back of her mouth. Bitter, but followed by something sweet. After the second flood of alcohol, her head was started to grow a little light. A fuzziness pulsed through her head, and the conversation was blurring across her ears, although she did hear the name now, ‘Adora,’ and all the other bad things they were saying about her.

She mostly agreed, of course. But the feeling of fire in her chest was lingering. In fact, it seemed to expand. Enough that heat was creeping up her neck and into her face. Her hands were shaking, even after gripping them into the counter. 

Adora was hers to torment. No-one else’s. 

“Yeah, that girl, scum,” one of them was saying, “perhaps we should find her and teach her a lesson about––”

With a thwack, he fell. Before the ring-leader could respond, Catra punched him too. Dead silence engulfed the room. The reptiles all stared. Even Scorpia had to blink a few times to gather what was happening. 

Then the people in jackets jumped to their feet, raising fists, producing knifes, withdrawing chains and bats and whatever else they had on them. There were shouts as mayhem grew. The closest one to Catra lurched forward to grab her. 

They were caught mid-air by a large red claw. It was Scorpia, now holding him in a tight grip, before hurling him five feet across the air and crashing into three or so thugs now charging them. Catra pounced. Jumping off one poor man’s head she threw herself into the crowd, and started scratching away. 

A few minutes later, mayhem became pandemonium. Still, Catra and Scorpia managed to crawl up to the bar and over the blaring din called for another round of drinks. They clinked their glasses together and downed them, just in time to hurl their fists at another column of thugs attacking. 

By the hour’s end, their heads were swimming. Catra had a cut on her jaw, Scorpia a few bruises. Nothing compared to the pile of groaning bodies scattered across the floor. They had to stumble their way to the exit, and Scorpia possibly broke the handle trying to manipulate it between her cumbersome pincers. Yet they made it out, suddenly washed with the cool air of night. 

Laughing, they crossed the street and said farewell to the Crimson Wastes. 

“Right, where’s the car?” asked Catra between giggles and hiccups.

“Oh, it’s this way I think,” Scorpia slurred, “just gotta find the park.” 

“Your old friends certainly know how to treat guests.” 

“They’re just hot air. Nothing to be worried about. B-but, you know, you, you,” Scorpia shook her head, trying to find her misplaced words, “yours is one wild cat, sir.” 

“I like the sound of that,” grinned Catra.

“I mean, you shouldn’t really be starting fights.” Scorpia shook her head as if to throw off the torpor. Then she looked at Catra with eyes that quivered by the lamplight. “But even if you do, you know I’ll always have your back, right? I’m loyal like that.”

“Can you give me your back?” 

“What?”

“I wanna see what it’s like up there,” Catra said, suddenly pawing up at Scorpia’s broad shoulders, “lend me a ride.” 

Scorpia stared for a few seconds, before givng a laugh. She lifted the lithe girl without effort. Then, with Catra seeing the world from the perspective of a very tall scorpion, the two made they way over to the park, barely lit in its low greens by the occasional lamppost, although given a general blue haze by the cool light of the moon. 

They might have overshot the car. Scorpia was following the patio path, which took them deeper into the park, until she decided to make a stop at a bench. Placing Catra down on one end, she took the other. They rested there for a time.

Eventually, Scorpia pulled up her pincers and starting babbling again:

“Oh man, did you see us back there? What a rush, huh?”

“Yeah,” Catra said in a low but amused tone. 

Her eyelids were lowered and she felt a yawn coming. Head still awash in spirits, she could very easily take to bed soon. She’d rather stay. 

“I was like this, woah, and you were like that,” Scorpia was recounting the recent battle, thrusting out her pincers to hit imaginary thugs. “Oh, and the way that guy went for you like hyaah!”

She poked her claw into Catra’s belly, and the cat clutched it with both arms, laughing. 

“Mine now,” she said.

“Hey, give it back, I only have the two.”

Thoughts slowing, Catra didn’t respond with words but merely slid her hand down, rubbing the length of the claw. Although she did ask, “can you feel with these things?”

“I mean, faintly,” said Scorpia, “not as clear as skin but the feeling’s there. Why?” 

Catra leaned her head to the side, until her cheek lay against the red face of the claw, and a soft blush grew red in Scorpia’s face. 

“What was it you called me?” Catra asked in a vacant voice, “wildcat?”

“Something like that.”

Reaching up a hand to lay on the detective’s high shoulder, Catra then gently towed her down, while lifting herself up. Her vision was a little faint. The black gloss of Scorpia’s upper lip guided her.

Her aim was off. She pressed her mouth into the corner of Scorpia’s own, although she quickly slid to the side so lips brushed against one another. The big woman’s eyes were wide all the while, but she made no motion to resist. Lifting herself up, coming to her knees on the bench, Catra pushed the kiss deeper. It was masked by the slightly sickly taste of alcohol, but it couldn’t ruin the soft texture, or the warmth of skin or breath. 

Catra broke away, quite quickly. Scorpia remained still, watching as Catra shifted in her seat, pulled her knees into her chest, and stared steadfast at the tarmac below. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” Scorpia said, as if she had been the one to do it. Indeed, she felt like she made it happen. 

There was a cold silence. The nighttime wind, calm but nippy, was the only sound that disturbed it. That was, until Catra spoke again:

“Why are you so friendly towards me?”

Scorpia blinked, then buried her brow, asking, “why shouldn’t I be?”

“No-one else is.”

“Well, everyone else gets the wrong idea about you. You got that edge, you know, the sniding sneer–– the sneering snide, the–– you know what I mean. But you do that to be cool, to keep people on their guard, to put wrongdoers at unease. You’re bad cop, I’m good cop! But I know the real you, you’re great gal!” 

“No,” said Catra. “I’m not.”

Scorpia’s whole body slunk. She had no reply but to look crestfallen. Catra just let out a tired, spirit-stained sigh:

“I’m not cool, I’m not putting on a show,” she said, “I’m just like this. All the time.” 

There was nothing more to say after that. With Catra on the verge of sleep, and with a whirlpool of emptiness and confusion inside, Scorpia couldn’t find any more words. They soon found the car and drove away. 

The day that followed started normally, although there was a distant mist. It didn’t quite engulf streets in fog, notrhold any portents of rain, but it was always at the road’s end, obscuring the far-away. Always threatening to descend in full. 

Having functional but sleek architecture, the police department seemed far less grungy than anticipated for a building with its budget. That said, the mess of paper documents and bullpen office space, only just cleared away to make space in criminal affairs, had not outgrown the mid-2000s. 

Prosecutors, police, and a few other law enforcement staff were gathered. Between the memories of last night, parasitic on her mind, and the eyes of everyone in the room watching her, Catra was hot all throughout the ceremony. Yet she remained focused. She kept a flat expression and proud poise. Came to the front, shook hands with the Chief Prosecutor and Chief of Police,  received the trophy –– a large K emblazoned on a broken shield. Her picture was taken, and finally the crowd dispersed into smaller groups for mingling and champagne. 

“Well done, sir!” Scorpia gave an enthusiastic salute as Catra came down from the head of the room. She clutched the trophy in both hands. “We’re all proud of you down in the precinct here. I just saw Bobby crying, although he does that a lot now I think about it.” 

“Thanks,” Catra said. 

She couldn’t look Scorpia in eye without blushing, and certainly couldn’t look at her lips. Instead she kept her gaze off face, looking at the doorway just in the line of sight behind the detective. A few latecomers were arriving. A couple were rookie prosecutors she neither knew nor cared to. The third was a tall woman, with voluminous and flowing black hair, and decked in red. 

Catra tightened her jaw. It was Shadow Weaver. She was crawling over to them. 

“What do you want?” Catra said, causing Scorpia to turn and realise the woman’s arrival. 

“I just came to say…,” Shadow Weaver began in that low, dancing tone of hers, “congratulations.”

“Con–– really?” Catra said, suddenly finding her tight grip loosening. 

“You have exceeded my expectations. Very few have ever shown the skill or determination you have over the past few months, especially at such a young age. I agree with the Chief Prosecutor’s decision –– you’ve earned that award.” 

Ears falling flat, Catra reached to scratch at one arm with the other. For a few moments, she was bereft of words. That was until Scorpia gave her a gentle nudge, forcing Catra to stammer out:

“Well, uh, thanks, Shadow Weaver.” 

Though with everything going on making her feel hot, for the first time she was struck with a tingling warmth, growing deep within her. She quickly gestured to someone serving a platter.

“Um, have something to drink,” she told Shadow Weaver, who gladly took a tall glass of champagne. Then Catra turned to Scorpia, “a-anyway, you were going to introduce me to your colleagues.”

“Oh yeah,” said Scorpia, “there’s some great guys you’ve gotta meet. We’ve got some real characters here.” 

Despite all this sudden rushing, Catra was caught with an unprecedented ease. Perhaps she was accelerating things because she thought if she didn’t, she’d lose good feeling. She tried to tell herself it was fine, and she could slow down to enjoy herself. But something deep within her was urging. Anxious. 

With good reason too.

“It can’t last, of course.” 

Shadow Weaver had finished her drink. It was her who had called out.

Catra froze. Dead still, even as Scorpia, shortly oblivious, kept walking. But even she stopped upon realising what had been said. She turned with a concerned look to see Catra immobilised. 

“C-come on, wildcat,” she said, forcing a pained smile, “let’s meet Dick. He’s got a lot of juicy stories about mr. Edgeworth––”

“What do you mean by that,” Catra said, slowly turning to face Shadow Weaver. 

The woman in red had taken another glass however and was taking a few slips underneath her mask. Whatever warmth there was washed away, replaced by a constriction in Catra’s chest as she grit her teeth. Once again, she asked:

“What do you mean by ‘it won’t last’?”

“Merely,” Shadow Weaver said as she lowered her mask over the bare sliver of face she’d revealed, “that you’ve hit the peak of your journey. More significant than I would have guessed, but ultimately, just an obstacle to overcome.” 

Only one word crossed Catra’s mind, but it came repeatedly; the word ‘no.’ Shadow Weaver couldn’t possibly be saying what she suspected she was. Not here, not surrounded by all these people; certainly not now?

“Now you compare with someone like,” Shadow Weaver took another sip, before saying, “Adora. She’s just getting off the ground. Take these past few cases ––they weren’t quite as decisive as you pretend. I’d argue the Chas Singer case was only one hurdle away from a victory for her.” 

“But she didn’t win,” Catra growled, “I beat her. I’ve beaten her three times!”

“True,” Shadow Weaver conceded, “but you have one advantage over her, and only her. Against any other competent lawyer you’d have no hope of winning.”

“What?” Catra’s voice cracked.

“Adora is confused now, partly because of her straying, but mostly because of you. But as I said, you’re the obstacle she has to overcome, and then she’ll be ready.” 

“You’re a joke,” Catra spat, although as she continued she found herself short of breath, “you’re just… a pathetic… I can’t believe you’re still putting her on a pedestal! Just because you thought that through her you could get the glory you never could under Von Karma’s shadow,” she waved the trophy in front of Shadow Weaver, “even now you’re so delusional! Adora’s gone, but you still put all your hopes on her.”

Now the attention of the whole room was on them. Everyone watched in silence, even the Chief Prosecutor, grim in face as he saw his top operative arguing with the woman he’d just commended. Catra cared not for what thoughts or judgements passed around the crowd. She just saw Shadow Weaver.

“But I’m better than her!” she shouted, “You didn’t give me anything, so I took it for myself! I fought every step of the way to get here, and I didn’t throw it all away for some dumb noble quest or magic sword!” Catra laughed, a mad cackle, although still disrupted by her gasps for breath. “But you can’t see it.”

If she thought a high, derisive laugh would be enough to unnerve Shadow Weaver, she was gravely wrong. The woman simply bore down on her a look, narrowing her white eyes from behind her mask. Despite her previous gusto, Catra now shrunk back in a flinch. 

“Why would Adora have to fight for every step?” she said, “when she’s naturally perfect. Just look at her temperament compared to you. She can be a little unpredictable, sure, but she’s a marvel under pressure, when cornered. You on the other hand,” though no-one could see it, a smile crept along the woman’s mouth, “quarrelsome, unbalanced. Adora might be gung-ho, but she doesn’t go and start petty brawls in bars. ” 

Catra’s eyes quivered, though a twitch in her fists urged her to pounce. The mentioning of the brawl brought back the satisfying feeling of smashing bones and wrecking a stupid face. But Shadow Weaver’s narrowed eyes held her back.

“Adora will soon be back in her proper place, and reach her potential as a prosecutor.” 

With that, Shadow Weaver turned. But no longer restrained by her glare, everything within Catra let loose. 

She leapt forward, and screamed:

“That’ll never happen!” 

But she stopped long before reaching Shadow Weaver. Scorpia caught her mid-air. Despite the girl’s bellows, and mad kicking, the grip held Catra firmly back. Shadow Weaver did not turn around, but she gave a tut nonetheless. Then she left. 

Catra didn’t know what happened next. Places and people were blurred, but she definitely did not stay at the department for very long. Perhaps she had stormed the whole of Los Angeles, reaching the Prosecutor’s Office and her own desk, followed all the way by a concerned Scorpia. 

Slamming the table, Catra yelled again, a long shout that echoed in the room and began to scratch her throat before she could shout no more. 

“I know how you must feel,” Scorpia ventured to say, “look, what Shadow Weaver said… she was terrible, I think everyone must have agreed. Hey, do you wanna talk––”

Scorpia gently extended a pincer to lay on Catra’s shoulder. But just as she grazed it, the prosecutor whipped around, and batted the claw away.

“Get out!” she shouted, “I don’t want you here, just leave!” 

Scorpia cringed. There was hurt in her face. But seeing the utter wretch before her, she stood up and gave a calm nod. Turning, she went to the door, and was about to leave. However, she lingered, and said:

“I’ll give you space, but please know I’m in your corner… wildcat.” 

Scorpia had spoken too softly, not feeling the strength to speak any louder lest Catra snap again. In the end, Catra didn’t hear what she said, as she could only hear the sound of her own, repeated muttering. 

“Adora,” she said, “Adora, Adora, Adora.”

Again she said it, and again. She kept saying the word until, once she was alone in the room, she was speaking it loudly. Then she was shouting it. She kept saying it until ‘Adora’ was the only word in the world. A world that only knew hate.

Chapter Text

Adora was buried, face first, in a much too soft bed. Her bedroom was bare. She hadn’t had many effects to laden it to begin with, and never felt it right to do so. It wasn’t right to even call it her room. With the shutters down, she didn’t even fill it with light. The only thing she had really put in there was the sword. The sword was in its bracelet form right now, far out of sight.

She wouldn’t be needing it. 

Just outside was Bow and Glimmer. They’d figured out how to open the door just a slither so they could see her, buried away, without disturbance. With a forlorn look, Bow closed the door again.

“Do you think she’s starving herself?” he wondered.

“No, she goes down to grab food,” said Glimmer, “it’s just she does it at night so she doesn’t have to see anyone.” 

He shook his head, “it’s not like her last client was a saint.”

“Yeah but he was still clearly innocent,” she sighed, “it was my fault for convincing her it’d be an easy one. I just thought it could help her regain her confidence.” 

“You did good, Glimmer, don’t be hard on yourself,” Bow said, “I think Catra showing up at the last minute really threw her off that time.”

At the mention of the prosecutor, Glimmer’s face hardened. 

“She shouldn’t have trusted her.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bow.

“Adora and Catra,” she said, “they were doing the Chas Singer investigation practically together. I think Adora must have let her guard down for some reason and Catra used it.”

“Now that you mention it,” Bow stroked his chin, “she seemed real shocked when Catra hid that evidence. Maybe… Adora wanted to think Catra was okay? They’re both kinda similar.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Glimmer protested, “Catra is ruthless. Adora’s a good person.” 

Bow shrugged, “they’re both pretty young. Hard-working prodigies, stubbornly determined. And they were both prosecutors, so maybe Adora saw a lot of herself in Catra?” 

“Well whatever it was, she shouldn’t have trusted her. Still, she shouldn’t blame herself. It was Catra who did that terrible stuff, not her.” 

Bow stared at the door.

“If only we could turn this around….”

“We have to redouble our efforts. We need to move on and move forward, and––”

“No, we can’t stress her out anymore. You’ve been overworking her for weeks now, and that’s on top of Angella’s training.”

“But––”

“But nothing,” Bow said, quite forcefully.

Glimmer fell silent. She wore a look of hurt, though she did well to hide it.

“Then what do you think we should do?”

“Adora is naturally an overachiever. If she’s going to work herself to exhaustion, she’ll do it. But right now she just feels bad. So we need to do whatever we can to lift her spirits.”

Then something lit up in his eyes.

“We’ll plan a perfect day for her. No care, no worry; no stress. And certainly no Catra.”

“You think that can work?”

“Hey, if the two of us can do it, we can make it work for her!”

Glimmer smiled, although it quickly faltered when she looked away from him.

“Yeah….”

Adora barely left the grounds these days, so Bow and Glimmer had found themselves hanging out without her. It wasn’t all bad. The two hadn’t spent much time just in each other’s company ever since Adora came into their lives. Not that they ever resented her, but they’d forgotten the simple joy of a quiet moment together outside by an umber dusk. Only last week they’d gone to the pier, intent on just an hour there. They lost themselves in conversation until it was the tired evening and they were left leaning into one another on a bench drenched in the glow of sunset. Bow liked these moments.

But Adora was still their friend, and this situation could not stand. So he spent every minute he could spare over three days planning for the outing. It wasn’t so much he needed to stuff the day with endless activity. In fact, just as much time was dedicated to trimming, questioning whether a certain point in the itinerary was worth the time. He considered logistics ––Los Angeles was a broad city that had declared war on pedestrians generations ago, so finding the least strenuous routes between locations would be key. But in the end he had the schedule.

A grand day out ––all fun, no stress, no problems. 

Of course, the problems started before he even left Brightmoon manor. The doorway was closed off by the presence of a small yet remarkably space-taking woman, with enormous pink bunches and dressed in heavy overalls. She looked up at Bow with a toothy grin.

“Hey, Bow!”

“Entrapta? What are you doing here?” 

“Ooh, your place is nice… and big.”

Entrapta bounded past Bow, coming into the broad foyer and giving it a sweep with her eyes.

“Although,” she said, with one of her bunches forming a finger to slide against a dusty console table, “it’s a little threadbare, dontcha think? You should install some lasers, a loudspeaker, try and make entrances a bit more exciting.”

“Uh, thanks for the advice but it’s not actually my place,” said Bow. “I just spend a lot of time here cause of Glimmer. Are you looking for her? Is this about the sword?” 

“The sword?” Entrapta tapped her chin with a heavily gloved hand, before her eyes lit up. “Oh! The sword. Nah, I don’t need that for now. I have the notes from Sverdhild.”

His shoulders slumping at the mention, Bow asked, “did you hear about her…?” 

Entrapta didn’t seem to hear, instead continuing to look around the hall with a vacant smile. Bow didn’t push it. Thinking about Hilda only served to remind him of how bad things had been for Glimmer. 

Though he didn’t know, Entrapta had heard. She knew her acquaintance was gone. But she preferred to shelve thoughts on that for later. 

“I’m here because I need legal help,” she explained, lifting herself up by her hair and placing herself cross-legged upon the console. “My work colleague is under arrest. They said he killed someone. A murder that happened in our lab only a few days ago.” 

“Oh really?” said Bow, “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Should I not be?” Entrapta said, still in a chipper voice, her smile having never faded even with the turn of conversation.

“Uh,” Bow’s face twinged, “your friend is in trouble and could be sent to jail for life. I thought you might be worried for him.”

Entrapta knocked her knuckles together while looking up with a ponderous look. Then she seemed struck as if coming upon a brilliant idea. “Oh, I see. Makes sense when you put it like that. Thank you, Bow!”

“Uh, sure,” Bow smiled. 

Perhaps it was for the best Glimmer had already headed out. She didn’t quite have the same patience for Entrapta’s unique way of looking at the world. 

“So can you help up?” Entrapta asked, leaning forward with an expectant gleam in her eye.

“Well, I wish we could but,” Bow looked down, “Adora’s the one who can take trials and she’s not accepting cases right now. Plus we’re busy today. Angella should be around but the most she can do is give you advice.”

Entrapta’s smile did fade there. 

“Oh, I see. Caught you at a bad time.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bow, and feeling like he hadn’t explained to satisfaction continued, “Adora isn’t on her game right now. This day needs to work so she can defend people like your friend.”

“Ooh, then send her over to my lab anyway,” Entrapta was suddenly smiling again, “whenever I’m stressed I work on science! We could work on a few breakthroughs and she’ll be up to peak efficiency again!”

“That… would be a bit too taxing for her,” Bow said with a small pained laugh, “but I’m sure she’d appreciate the offer. Anyway, I’ve planned things perfectly to set her at ease. We need to do everything right. ” He blinked. The last word slightly rebounded off the walls of the Brightmoon halls, though not so much as it did within the confines of his own head. “Right… Wright! Entrapta, you don’t need Adora, you just need a damn good attorney. Maybe even better than that.” 

He took Entrapta by the arm and launched her off the console, with such sudden speed that she yelled a warbly yell in confusion. 

“W-wait,” she said, “we’re heading off to find another lawyer? But what about your planned day?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Bow said back with a confident grin plastered on his face, “he’s down by People Park. Glimmer and Adora should be near there already.” 

Glimmer was questioning Bow’s judgement. The place they arrived to was a dilapidated shack in the middle of a tight street. Sure, the building next door looked respectable, but the loose barrel in front of them, joined by a mangy dog under its ramshackle kennel and washing-lines haphazardly above, certainly was not going to lift anyone’s spirits. 

That said, Adora didn’t seem quite as put out as before. Getting the sun and the breeze might  have helped. Not that she was glowing or the picture of joy. But she at least held herself with poise and wore a neutral expression. 

There was a noodle stand in front of the shack, with the title “ELDOON” written out on cloth banners. Adora and Glimmer took their stools and weren’t waiting long before Bow arrived to join them. The man had a doubly satisfied expression now, which to Glimmer meant he’d probably just figured out a way to help someone else. She smiled.

“Glad to see you finally arrive,” she teased, “wouldn’t want everything thrown off before we’d begun.”

“Why are we starting with noodles?” asked Adora. “It’s a bit… I dunno, simple after you’ve been talking up this day for a while.”

“It’s about simple joys, Adora,” said Bow, “they’re filling, but not too complex. Even the way it’s from a vendor is about the virtue of simplicity.” 

Adora shrugged, “I’ve never had them, to be fair.” 

“Did… Did Shadow Weaver let you do anything growing up?” asked Glimmer. “Or did she just grow you in a box –– “lawyer-in-progress, do not open until court case” 

That made Adora chuckle, “something like that.” 

The vendor gave them their broths and Bow and Glimmer were quick to dig in. Adora poked it with her chopsticks. 

“What do we have planned for today then, Bow?” 

“A good amount,” he said, “but don’t worry about what’s ahead. Today is about living in the moment, and enjoying how calm things can be.” 

Glimmer nudged Adora and murmured, “he booked us a pretty expensive spa for later on.” 

“Wow, sounds nice,” said Adora. 

She looked back at her bowl. Finally she shrugged again, and threw some ramen into her mouth. The taste overloaded her senses. Resisting the urge to cough, she swallowed, before panting for air. 

“How is it that… salty.” 

“You don’t like it––”

But before Bow could finish the question, Adora had gone right back in for a second bite. He watched with a half-smile. 

“See, there’s always a reward for trying new experiences,” he said. “I think today will be the best we’ve had in a while. Just a slow, nice, relaxing––”

“Hey, what’s that sound?” Adora shot up, suddenly looking back to a street. 

A galloping sort of noise had caught the air, although it was more distinctly the sound of feet as it got closer. A whole group of people were now streaming down the road. From their seats by the noodle stand, the three of them watched as this whole group of fifty or so runners rushed them by and turned the corner onto the next road. 

Adora jumped up.

“I wanna know what that’s about.”

“Wait, Adora!”

But protests failed. Adora had kicked off with amazing speed, sprinting down the road before either Bow could react or Glimmer could catch her. In a blink, she was gone. 

“Damnit, what happened?” Bow said upon a voice crack. 

“Don’t think she does calm,” muttered Glimmer. 

“Oh this is not good,” Bow fretted.

“Hey at least she’s thinking about something other than Catra. This might be her way of dealing with things.”

“But constant activity isn’t going to deal with her stress it’s just gonna delay it. She’s needs to learn how to switch off.” 

“Hey guys!”

They turned. It was Adora, having just arrived from the other side. She’d done a full lap around the block. Glimmer and Bow shared a look but didn’t say anything. Adora meanwhile hopped back onto her stool and wolfed down the rest of her bowl. 

“Did you guys know Phoenix Wright works nearby here?”

“Yeah, I came around this way to find him back for my trial,” said Glimmer. 

“I just saw him going out of his office.”

“A-alone?” said Bow, a terseness springing into his back. 

“Yeah, or maybe. Well, I didn’t see him for very long. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Bow, fixing his attention back onto his own bowl, nearly finished. “I’m sure he’s having a quiet day too.” 

Phoenix Wright was not having a quiet day. Entrapta did not have very much in terms of volume control, and there was a lot she needed to explain to him, especially as they were now approaching the big grey building known as the Dryl Institute. 

“My work partner is Ron Guy,” she explained, “I don’t think he’d even hurt a fly, not even a really small one like a member of mymaridae. So logically it’s super unlikely he’d ever kill a person. Sure it’s not materially impossible, but statistically is a whole different matter. You know I figure out a way to chart in percentages the chance that a person would commit a crime, but the Department of Justice wouldn’t give me funding –– plus, Ron tells me it would violate several constitutional rights, so that’s a bad thing.” 

“R-right,” said Phoenix, “well if you’re certain he didn’t do it, then I’ll believe you. Do you know anything about the victim?” 

“Nellie McRaker. A journalist, I think. Someone always looking for the next exposé.”

“And she thought it would be found at your lab?”

“Maybe she wanted to write a piece on all the new discoveries we’ve been making!”

“Maybe…,” Phoenix knitted his brow, “or maybe she found something she wasn’t meant to.” 

The Dryl Institute was laid out like a labyrinth. If it hadn’t been for Entrapta, Phoenix was certain he would have gotten irretrievably lost ––and even then they were still having to double back along the dark hallways to continuously get back on track. 

“Here we are,” Entrapta announced as they came to triangular-shaped room. It was loaded with chrome countertops on which various trinkets of iron and copper and cord were strewn. To the undiscerning eye, it looked like junk. 

Entrapta however pulled a small recorder to her mouth by her prehensile hair and noted, “workstation 3b has been rediscovered, that brings one of our longest-running mysteries to an end.” 

“This isn’t the crime scene, is it,” said Phoenix.

“Nope, but not all failure is a setback!” Entrapta rushed up to one of the counters, rummaged through the junk, and pulled out a small green card, “I’ve been looking for Emily’s original isomatrix for five months now! Finally I can run those comparisons with her beta version.”

“What’s an isomatrix?” asked Phoenix.

Entrapta’s eyes filled with starlight, and Phoenix soon regretted he asked. He was given a long, highly technical and somewhat tangential explanation to explain cognitive-mapping in robots. The girl never seemed more alive when explaining detail upon detail of this process. It was like Ema all over again, except a version who actually knew the science. 

“So it’s about…,” Phoenix felt his brain about to burst trying to keep up, “calculating human-style decisions within a computer’s software? God and I thought law was complicated.” 

“Robots fascinate me,” Entrapta said in a dreamy voice, “so many potential paths, so much potential. Plus, they can be switched off and back on again; it’s not the end….” She trailed off. 

“Entrapta?”

“I find robots easier than people than sometimes. Even with an isomatrix, they’re more logical. Inputs have defined outputs. People meanwhile have a lot of variables.”

“Hey, I feel you there,” Phoenix said, quite softly. “But we should probably go and find the actual crime scene now.”

It was only a few more twisting corridors before they finally came upon a huge cavernous chamber. Blue lights were built into the wall which rose vertically to a high point, and they lit it so it wasn’t quite as dark as the rest of the building ––although they flickered weakly.

“What’s with the lighting here?” Phoenix asked. “You don’t always work in the dark do you?”

“We’ve been having electricity problems for years,” Entrapta explained, “we’re constantly rerouting power to new subsystems for our experiments. It’s not healthy, I’m told, but we’ve gotten used to it.” 

A few police were about, but scattered. Notably, Detective Scorpia in her heavy red coat and hat was squatting by the white tape that demarcated where the body fell. Phoenix approached.

“Hello detective. We met briefly before–– I’m Phoenix Wright.”

“Oh hello,” she said, quickly standing up, “no I remember you. You’re pretty famous at the precinct.”

“No doubt Gumshoe’s mentioned me.”

“Calls you a pain,” Scorpia smirked, “although he’s fond of ya.” 

“Feeling’s mutual. Anyway, I’m here to defend Ron Guy. I don’t suppose you could tell me why you arrested him.” 

Scorpia shook her head, “I’m sorry, mister, but this is the tightest case I’ve been on yet. This facility is locked down every night, patrolled only by a robot staff.”

“This true, Entrapta?”

Entrapta nodded, “I’ve yet to figure out their sleep functions, and it’s easier than hiring a security company.” 

“The victim sneaked in before the lockdown was operable. Then they were thrown down this whole chasm,” Scorpia gestured up to the ceiling of the chamber, so high up it was barely visible. “The impact killed them.”

“Can you rule out suicide or an accident?” asked Phoenix. 

“They didn’t have any reported tendencies, and despite the, uh…,” she shot a look at the smiling girl in overalls, and carefully said, “post-modern architecture, the building isn’t hazardous. The railings up there are absolutely secure. You’d have to physically lift and throw someone off that edge.” 

“And Ron Guy’s your suspect?”

“He was the only other living person in the building. And we found it locked up there in the upper levels. It couldn’t have been anybody else.” 

Scorpia seemed to take no pleasure in saying this. She had a heavy expression, and half-tired eyes that wandered off a lot. 

“Are things alright, detective?” asked Phoenix.

“Oh, nothing,” Scorpia said, suddenly standing up stiff, “just got up really early, and the prosecutor has us running things real tight.”

“The prosecutor? Is that Catra?”

Scorpia rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah….” 

“I heard a rumour about her. Some sort of incident?”

“Uh, it was nothing serious!”

Phoenix raised a single eyebrow.

“There was a thing, some drinks, provocation –––no-one was hurt anyway, just a conduct issue…,” Scorpia’s trail fell to a barely audible mumble. Then, looking away, she wondered allowed, “you ever… care about someone yet they always seem so distant no matter how close you try to get?”

“I know what that’s like exactly,” said Phoenix.

“How did you handle it?”

“Not really sure in the end. Things just sort of changed.” He gave a smile, “the other person had to figure things out for themselves. All I had to do was be there when he needed me.” 

Entrapta was watching Phoenix. Though with her goggles down he wouldn’t have seen her thoughts behind her eyes if he were looking. Scorpia however hoisted her shoulders and managed at the very least a half-smile.

“You know, I can do that,” she said, “I’m loyal, me. Hey, there’s only so much I can give you ––not helping the defence and all–– but I can let you look at some evidence.” She rummaged around in her coat pocket, before drawing out a picture, “this was taken by McRaker. Her camera was one of those, uh, y’know one of those print-y camera things. She dropped it down by one of the corridors.”

Phoenix took it. It depicted a white-faced man, though mostly shrouded in shadow. He seemed tall and gaunt, with long ears and thin hair, and an expression that could not possibly be any more stony. 

“That looks like Ron alright,” said Entrapta. 

“There could be a contradiction here,” Phoenix pondered.

“I dunno,” said Scorpia, “thing is, Catra already said she doesn’t want to use this one. It helped confirm our suspicions but she thinks the other evidence is stronger. Anyway it’s the photo that’s missing that’s of interest.”

“What about it?”

“Well the fact that the victim definitely took it, and yet we can’t find it. It was probably destroyed, but Catra thinks that it shows the defendant’s motivation. McRaker caught something mr. Guy didn’t want anyone to see.”

Phoenix turned back to the picture with a grimace, “well there must be something I can use here. What’s this down by his hand?”

It was hard to make, fuzzy and dark as it was. In the man’s hinter hand, there appeared to be some sort of black block, tightly gripped within his fingers. But there was so little they could draw from for an answer. Meanwhile, Phoenix’s attention was taken by the more clear hand in the fore.

“Hey’s he got a cut,” he noticed, “does this match the victim as you caught him?”

“The scar of on his left hand?” said Scorpia, “yeah he had one.”

“Oh I can explain that,” Entrapta lifted up to Phoenix’s height to look at the photograph too, “some of our doors have a security mechanism that punishes people trying to break in. Essentially you have to get the puzzle right to show you’re allowed inside. Thing is… Ron has a habit of getting it wrong.”

Phoenix looked at her with a horrified side-eye.

“Hey, it’s not serious,” Entrapta shrugged, “but it can hurt.” 

“There was something like that up where we found the suspect, but…,” Scorpia looked to her pincers, “I wasn’t able to figure it out.” 

“Was there anything you found up there?” asked Phoenix.

“Nothing but the man.”

“Still, could be worth a look.”

“Then let’s go,” Entrapta said, grabbing Phoenix by the arm and tugging him away, “there’s a secret path up, I’ll show you!” 

Outside, and many blocks away, the path Bow, Glimmer and Adora took was long and leisurely, winding its way through People Park under a shower of glorious sun rays. Bow hoped that this would have soothed her by now, but even here Adora was finding a way to pace her stroll. There was jitter to her, some sort of urge itching to work its way to something active. And there was only one thing that could touch her mind.

“You think if we head to the detention centre we could find a case?” 

Bow briefly froze. But thankfully he was at the head of the group so noone saw the flash of panic on his face.

“I-I’m pretty sure it’s a slow day,” he bluffed, “I heard, uh, from the forensics team that there just aren’t any crimes these days.” 

Glimmer rolled her eyes, but thankfully she was second behind him, so Adora couldn’t see that either. 

“Angella hasn’t been getting any requests either,” she said, although with less enthusiasm in her lie. 

“You and your mom are still doing advice then?” asked Adora, “I wonder why she doesn’t try and get her right to practice again.”

Glimmer ruffled, but quickly said, “well, once disbarred it’s not easy overturning that. It’s a… mark of shame. Theoretically permanent. And Angella wouldn’t want to even if I asked.” 

“Oh?”

“She’s been getting moodier recently. Your defeats haven’t exactly helped.”

“Though noone’s really at fault there!” Bow cut in, trying to preempt the slump in Adora’s back. 

“She keeps asking me where I’ve been if I haven’t told her I’m going out. As if I still need her permission,” Glimmer sighed. “But yeah, you guys know what’s she’s like. It’s nothing really.” 

“Uh, speaking of the team,” Bow said in a suddenly loud voice, “did I tell you guys of our DNA sequencer? It’s amazing, we can actually simulate the PCR process for blood analysis, at least partially.” Though he’d started to distract the conversation, soon Bow was away explaining the new piece of kit, “so long as we’ve already denaturated the acids the old-fashioned way most of the actual reproduction can be done by a computer, and it’s already connected to a databank of our profiles so we can do the analysis there too. I’ve been thinking about trying to hook up my pad to the software but it’s been difficult.” 

“Um, what’s that in English?” asked Adora. 

“It’ll be a revolution in forensics!” said Bow, “we can identify blood samples with greater efficiency and reliability!” 

“Bow and his toys,” Glimmer grinned, “always on about the white heat of technology.” 

Throwing her a sullen pout, Bow protested, “this can decide cases!”

“The prosecution already has most of the forensics done for us anyway. It’s not like having She-Ra on side.” 

Adora chuckled, “and Glimmer’s read all the legal books. When you gonna start pulling your weight, Bow?”

“I mean… the fact you haven’t read your books is a bit concerning,” said Bow.

“Hey why worry, I already got Glimmer.” 

“You two––,” Bow gave a short huff, but then he smiled, “I’ll prove to you the importance of forensic technology, someday.” 

“Well before that happens,” said Glimmer, turning in the direction of a chiming sound, to where a kiosk on the park common stood, “anyone want anything?” 

Bow and Adora were happy to give Glimmer orders and she went off to join a queue. Yet as the mirth from teasing Bow fell away, Adora’s expression fell to her neutral, somewhat tired gaze. She stood, cross-armed, and staring down at the paved ground. It provoked a frown from Bow, although one he quickly suppressed. 

If a sunny day in the park wouldn’t cut it, then the situation called for drastic measures. Directly addressing the problem:

“You know, Adora, we are your friends,” he said.

“I know that––”

“No, what I mean is, you know you can talk to us if you’re not feeling great.”

She looked up quickly and said, “wait, I am enjoying. I don’t want us to stop hanging out. It’s just––”

“Adora, please,” he stressed, “the whole of point of this is for you to feel comfortable. You don’t need to prove you appreciate us, because we know that. But you know,” he started rubbing one wrist with the other other hand, pulling the white fabric of his glove down and up again as he said, “things might be easier if you told someone about what you’re feeling. I think there’s something you’re hiding, and it’s been eating away at you. You can tell me, right?”

Something glowed within Adora’s eyes, even though they still hung low, staring at the floor. Still, she turned to face him again, and taking in a deep breath, spoke:

“I… Glimmer kissed me to make you feel jealous!”

“See, it’s –– wait, what?” 

He watched her, even as she fixed her expression back at him. The seconds passed with heat rising in her face until she could manage to look at him no more, and broke away to stare down again. Bow was left confused more than anything. He hadn’t even comprehended what Adora just said because he had been so certain that her problems concerned the prosecutor she’d seemed so hung up on; he hadn’t even considered it was about Glimmer… and him. 

Then her words actually hit him, with quite an impact. He almost fell over backwards. 

“Glimmer… what?”

“At the Princess Promenade. Because you were with Sea Hawk.”

“I knew she was bothered but… that much? Wait, ah my head….”

He pressed his palm against his forehead, beneath which his mind was a-swirl and a faintness swept through him. 

But before he could think any more about it, Glimmer returned with cones. They continued out of the park, with Bow unsteadily trailing behind. 

“So where next?” asked Adora as they were passing along a residential block.

“Just keep walking along here,” Bow said, “we’ll… we’ll get there. No more distractions, today is going to be a day of calm. A day of rest. Just a relaxing day where nothing––”

Sirens. Blaring away, in the distance, but still approaching, and sudden enough to cut Bow off. Then, jumping out from an alleyway, a man in green hurtled into them. He crashed into Adora. She fell down just as he regained his footing and chased off, hauling something heavy and silver under his arm. 

“What was that?” cried Glimmer. 

“It’s a robber, he’s running from the police!” exclaimed Bow. “We’ve should go tell them where he went.”

But Adora, having fallen to her knees, palm slightly grazed at they landed flat on the tarmac, was in the best position she could be. With a kick-off, she sprinted. 

“Adora, wait!”

“Not again!”

Glimmer and Bow were far behind her now. Adora’s eyes were dead ahead, on the man in green. He had jumped onto one of the black-grate outside stairs on the block, and was swinging his way up to the rooftops. She followed. 

Once atop the building, she saw the man in his broad hat with two white plumes running. He made a leap across the slim crevice to the next building. She matched him, keeping to just a few metres on his tail. With another leap, he made it to the third building across an even wider gap. She jumped too, but landed just on the edge. Almost losing her footing, she could feel gravity tug her backwards ––and a terrified scream of one Glimmer seeing her from below. 

With a swing of her arms, she stabilised. The thief was on the far side of the roof.

“Urgh, get back here!” she shouted, before chasing him down again, just as he slipped from view.

Once on the other edge, she looked down. He was swining down some more grate-stairwells. Though she rushed down, she was less nimble than she would have liked. She slipped her footing once, then twice. Then she lost it all together and made a short plummet the last few feet down. With a crash, she planted the ground with a sharp pain across her face. 

“Nngh,” she shifted herself back onto her knees. “Where are you?!”

He wasn’t far. Facing her down from the end of this alley with a sword brandished, he leered. 

“You’ll never catch Mask ☆ DeMasque,” the man boomed at her.

“Oh yeah, well,” she stood to face him, “you’ll never escape She-Ra! For the Honour of Grayskull!”

The man’s sword faltered a second. He blinked and so did she as the alley fell silent.

“Oh,” said Adora, “I don’t…,” she groaned, “the one time I need the sword and I don’t have it!” 

“You are defenceless, so I shall leave that you may live to recount this day!”

“Nah,” Adora raised her fists, “you’re not going anywhere.” 

Huffing, sweating, and drenched with panic, Bow and Glimmer finally reached the alley, whereupon they found Adora, who was just as worn out as they were. Her forehead was wet and strands of hair were loose from her ponytail. Her jacket was off and her white shirt was ripped in a few places. But she was grinning and gleam rested in her eyes, especially as she had her foot down, binding the unconscious criminal in place.

“You actually caught him?” Glimmer marvelled between a breathy heave.

“Pretty cool huh,” Adora said with a laugh, “perhaps I should quite the law and become a full-time hero.” 

Bow started laughing too, although a strained one and matched only by wide vacant eyes. 

“Aah,” he muttered in a breaking voice, “this day….” 

“What should we do with him?” Glimmer asked, looking at the fallen Mask. 

“Maybe we can find detective Scorpia and return this,” Adora said, picking up the silver trinket ––a glittering and carved orb. “We can find her at the precinct right?”

“She won’t be there, will she,” muttered Bow.

“Why not?”

Bow clamped his mouth shut, realising what he’d just said.

“U-uh, actually,” he stammered, “well, it’s more that she’s got a lot of procedural work. Very busy.”

“I thought you said there wasn’t much crime––”

Bow suddenly snatched the orb and loudly said, “let’s just find the owner and give it back directly. I’m sure there’s something on here I can use to identify the owner.” He started turning the object in his hand, searching, “maybe a fingerprint or…”

“Bow,” said Glimmer.

“Wait, I can find it and then do a quick analysis on––”

“Bow, underneath!”

Bow gave her a blank look. Then he lifted up the orb where on its underside was a tag. ‘Fragile: Handle with care’ it read, shortly followed by a brand logo ‘PRIME HOLDINGS.’

“Are you alright Bow?” a frown fell on Adora’s face, “you seem jittery.”

“I’m fine,” Bow said through gritted teeth, “come on, let’s find Prime Holdings and then, hopefully, finally, get back to this day I had planned!” 

Back at Dryl, the investigation continued. A huge iron-bolted door now stood before Phoenix Wright and Entrapta, although the latter gave it no regard. 

“Now I just need to find the entrance,” she said.

“I mean I’m seeing a rather big one in front of me….”

“That door was locked all night, remember. We want the secret path.”

“I can’t imagine all these hidden paths help with your research,” Phoenix noted in a dry voice.

“Science is problem-solving. A mind must always be up to solve problems!”

“So is law in a way. Maybe I should refurbish Mia’s office. Don’t think Maya would like it though, unless she thought she could use it to bother me.”

“I found it!” 

Entrapta pushed two metal panels of wall inward, and both receded into the floor. Then the whole wall began to open up, giving way to a tight corridor that led, winding, until they reached another laboratory room. This wasn’t quite as overborne with loose technology, although it did have a large metal ball on segmented stilts. Phoenix walked up to it, looking it up and down, pulling a cheek as he tried to figure just what it was meant to be. Perhaps it a new type of sculpture? 

A light, purple, began to glow from a crevice in an upper latitude of the sphere. Again, Phoenix assumed it was some sort of display, although that thought quickly fled him when the contraption started to move. 

Heart racing and a bead of sweat glistening at his temple, Phoenix asked, “uh, Entrapta, what’s going on?”

“It’s Emily! Say hello.”

“Uh, hi?” he said in a weak voice, “you’re Emily?”

“YES,” the machine recited, its voice harsh, high and sibilant with digital screech, although still carrying a bit of girlish inflection, “HELLO!”

“Emily, I found your original isomatrix,” said Entrapta, “when this is over we can do some broad metrical analyses together!”

Emily gave out a ringing sound, though it conveyed her glee. Still, Phoenix was a bit shaken by this whole experience.

“So, this robot is consciousI?”

“I already told you about her cognition-mapping, but I got the personality-mainframe technology from some of my colleagues in the robotics community. A robotics engineer and psychologist duo who really should be married by now.” She shrugged. “But yeah, I took their research further by incorporating Kurainist spiritual power.”

Phoenix was absently nodding until he heard those last few words, which stopped him.

“Wait, you know about the Kurain channelling technique?”

“Well it started coming back in vogue a few years ago but I got wind of it even earlier.”

“I didn’t even know there was a science behind it.” 

Entrapta’s eyes glowed.

“Every phenomenon has a scientific explanation,” she hushed, “the difference between magic and science is perspective. Look!” 

She rushed over to one of the benches, scrabbled between some of the pieces until she came upon what she was seeking. Pulling it up, she showed the metallic object to Phoenix, and his face broke into understanding. The shape was that of a 9. 

“A magatama?” he said.

“An artificial magatama,” Entrapta clarified, “with it, I was able to bind a fully developed continuous consciousness, bringing together cognition, personality and sensory function into a fully realised living being.”

She then went over to Emily, holding the magatama close to her. Despite its metal frame, light filled the object, causing the metal to glow with heat, such that Phoenix had to shield his eyes. But he understood.

“You gave her a soul?” 

Entrapta nodded, smiling in the afterglow of the magatama’s reaction. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to make Phoenix doubt whether what he was seeing was even real, the next room had a winged horse.

“Wh-what?” Phoenix could barely even lift his eyebrow as he stared at the improbable equine.

“Yeah…, Entrapta vocalised, “I’m not sure how he got in here. We did make a stable for him but he seems really resistant to the idea.”

“Oh, don’t tell me he talks too!”

“Of course not, horses can’t talk. Only humans and robots can.”

“Why does he have wings?” asked Phoenix.

“That particular phenomenon remains unexplained. Further research needed. But the cause was something we did involving the Sword of She-Ra.” 

“Oh, that thing. I heard it came from the Dryl Institute.”

“We were doing a few tests on it on the side, but couldn’t make any breakthroughs apart from…,” she looked at the horse, “well, ‘magical transformation’ is the preferred term for now. When ms. Studley asked to run some tests on her own we were really hoping she’d make progress where we couldn’t.” 

Phoenix took a survey of the room. It was about as threadbare as the last, save for a few shedded sheathes of horse-fur. There was however a computer by some sort of large container. He was about to go up to it and take a closer look when one of Entrapta’s hair bunches physically grabbed him and lifted him all the way back to her side.

“Don’t… look at that.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Blood.”

“Oh. Well that’s…ominous.” 

“It’s connected to sensitive research. I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Entrapta, someone was murdered and potentially over secrets at the facility. I might need to know what those were to help best defend mr. Guy.”

Entrapta didn’t look at him, rather blankly staring away, her eyes hidden. It seemed whenever he wanted to get a read on her she had her goggles down. 

“Let’s go to where they found Ron,” she decided at last, and said nothing more on the matter. 

Phoenix sighed, but ultimately he was powerless but to acquiesce. They continued on and it wasn’t a few more winding paths until they reached the large chasm of a chamber once again, but this time viewing it from the near-top. Scorpia had been right. The guard-rail was fool proof, and would require a serious effort to throw someone over. No doubt Ron Guy was a tall man. 

Going up the guard-rail, Phoenix was able to see down through its acrylic glass shielding. Even with the safety precautious, his heart jumped at the sight. The distance down seemed to stretch as he looked at it. The people on the ground level were insignificant to view. 

“Poor McRaker,” he said, “to fall from such a height.”

He looked up, trying to see the ceiling although it was receding into darkness.

“What is this place for?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not?” he turned to gape at her, “it’s your facility.”

“We run a lot of tests here and we haven’t worked on this project for a few years. Not since… uh, well not since a while. I don’t think Ron even ever worked on this, so it’s weird he’d come up here.”

“You just forget tests you’ve worked on?”

“I record things,” she produced her voice recorder, “although that’s just to keep things ordered in my mind. If I could just get this thing working I’d bet everything would come back to me in a snap.” 

With her hair, she started pressing a series of buttons on a nearby panel. She grabbed two levers with her hands as well, sliding them forward as she gave a joyful cackle. 

“Let’s see what this does!”

“Wait, is this safe?”

But whether it was or no, they would never find out. Instead, the lights burst with mad flashing, before going out entirely with a flicker. 

“Aagh!” Entrapta panicked, “activate emergency power!”

A low ambient light sprang up. 

“Note to self, main chasm chamber remains inoperable,” Entrapta began muttering to her device, “still unsure about function, will have to check records.”

“Well we’re not going to find anything with this lighting,” said Phoenix. “Is there somewhere we can check the electricity in this place?”

“I can restore everything from the office just a few floors up from here,” Entrapta noted, “plus we can grab a record of the electricity usage to see what happened last night.”

Phoenix nodded. Now he thought about it, such a thing could come in useful. So they agreed to go back through the large iron-bolted door rather than the winding path. Then they took another flight of stairs to come to one of the top floors in the building. 

The office was actually rather cosy, though darkly lit but for the crackling fire of the hearth. Entrapta found her computer and started tapping away, not just dealing with the current energy supply but printing off a record as she’d said. Phoenix meanwhile began pacing around the room. Sliding his hand off the mantle by the fire gathered dust to his fingers, the same as when he found an antique globe on the desk. 

Though she wasn’t looking at him, Entrapta picked up her recorder with a free bunch and spoke into it, “lawyers appear to touch everything they can as to utilise sensory learning in their evidence gathering process.”

“Hey, don’t study me,” he protested, “just thought there might be something worthwhile for the case.” 

Then, a oval-shaped picture frame on the desk caught his eye. By the low light it was hard to make out who it was, though the distinct feeling he recognised the person was gripping him. They had a rather fixed, stony expression, a pale face, dark hair, and long pointed ears. The shape of his head was similar to the person in that other photograph.

“Is this Ron Guy then?” he asked. “I guess he must be pretty important for you to have in your office.”

Entrapta didn’t say anything. She was engrossed in her activity and even Phoenix’s incessant investigating wouldn’t shift that. Still, he was cognisant of a light but determined feeling in his chest, one he only ever felt when he took on cases. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll prove him innocent.” 

It wasn’t far ––not far at all–– from the Dryl Institute to where Bow, Glimmer and Adora were walking to. Prime Holdings headquarters was one of those buildings that prided itself on being the most flashy and glassy places that reached further and further into the sky that it became quite impossible to comprehend just how it was until you stood at the very base. 

“Do we just go in?” Glimmer rubbed her shoulder, “or, do we like, need to make an appointment?”

Adora just strode forward and pushed through the door, and the others just accepted it and followed. Inside, they had to climb a good fifty steps in the lobby just to reach the reception desk, where a woman was completely engrossed in her computer. 

“Uh,” said Adora, “we have your––”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re not accepting business today unless you’re with the police.” The receptionist looked up, scanning Bow’s uniform, “are you with the police?”

“We’re just civilians today,” he said.

“Then I must ask you to please leave.”

Adora would not move, “listen lady. We’ve got your stolen artefact thingy, just let us return it and we’ll be going.”

The woman shot up a foul look, such that Bow instinctively grabbed Adora’s arm and tried to tug her away. Adora ripped it free, and was unmoved from her spot. She stared the woman down. 

“It’s alright,” came a soft but cool, high voice. It perforated the air with a strange ring. “Let me deal with them.” 

A man, tall and pale in both skin and suit and with long white hair proceed towards them. He bore down on them a look with glowing green eyes and a small but invading smile. 

“I am Prime, the CEO of this conglomerate. I assure you I am burdened with much important work but I can make a short time to deal with you. Your name,” he looked down at the lawyer in particular, “is Adora, is it not?”

“Yeah,” she stammered, “how do you know me?”

“It is in my interests to know about everyone of any significance in this city,” said Prime, “a prosecutor, protege to Shadow Weaver, defecting is quite newsworthy in my books. But what brings such a person to my door?”

Adora held out the silver orb, which was enough to provoke the lights to flicker in the man’s eyes and his smile to deepen.

“Ah, the Heirloom of Saint Jacinta, an early Borginian masterpiece, and utterly priceless. I was quite worried when that thief stole it.” 

Suddenly, Prime turned, although leaving a hand with long spindly fingers outstretched, enough to wave at the three behind him. They understood to follow as he walked. He led them to a large elevator, framed in gold and with baroque patterns on its face. Hauling them up through the skyscraper, it delivered them to the fiftieth floor, which comprised a single but large room that contained nothing less than the greatest collection of treasure any of them had or would ever see. 

Rows of rows of plinths holding gold, silver, pearls, glittering jewels, old rocks from ancient civilisations, statues and paintings and on and on this vault went. All else was forgotten as Bow, Glimmer and Adora were silently struck with awe as they followed the man through his obscenely opulent collection. 

“Just here, Adora,” he said, pointing to one notably empty stand. 

With now shaking hands, Adora placed the orb onto its ‘rightful’ place. 

“What is all this?” asked Glimmer.

“This is the Prime collection,” said Prime, “one must make something of untold billions in wealth. Asset valuation is ultimately just numbers but this,” his eyes swept around his treasures, “this is how I measure success.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket, and pulled out a series of photographs, “every masterpiece from every medium, of course. Take for example this,” he showed them one from the pile, “one of the earliest pictures of Piccadilly Circus, from the time of the old empire. And this,” another, “just a wonderful shot of Eagle mountain that I purchased from a amateur.”

“You like to keep some of your treasures in jacket?” Bow said.

“Would that I could keep all of my treasures on my person, but alas, most must remain here in the collection.” 

He turned back to look at the three fully, and said, “now as to your reward for helping me in this matter.”

“Oh we just wanted to help, we don’t need much,” said Bow, quickly, “just let us go and we can get back with our day.”

“Nonsense, you must stay, I insist.” Although he was smiling there was a darkness under the man’s deep-set eyes, under the harsh light of the treasury. 

“We had this whole day for relaxation planned out we can’t afford any more distractions.”

Prime clasped his hands, “if it’s relaxation you need, then by all means make use of the penthouse suite! It’ll far more luxurious then even the best facilities across the city.” 

“That… does kinda sound nice,” admitted Glimmer. 

Bow could offer no more objections after that and so resigned. Prime directed them to use the elevator up, and once more they rose through the tower. Once they arrived, Bow quickly realised this was better than anything he could have planned. The walls were mostly glass and the ambient colour of the rooms white, so it seemed as if they were on clouds floating in the sky. They were bathed in broad natural light, that glittered off the water of the hot baths. Staff attended their every needs once the notification from Prime came through, and they were treated better than guests, better than gods. Soothing oils, deep massages, enmeshed in calming scents, soon it was Bow more than anyone else who had forgotten the stresses of not just this hectic day but just everything in general. 

That said, Adora was loosened up too. At long last, she was just laying on a reclining chair, not fidgeting, not urging to rush, or even consumed in dark thoughts about a persecuting prosecutor. She was just lying there, calm, even happy. Bow was warmed just to see that

By now, he was by the window with the suite’s telescope. The supreme height of Prime Holdings gave the best views of Los Angeles ––its dense cityscape, its golden waters and its rolling hills–– than any other. Glimmer meanwhile came down to sit by him. 

“So, today ended up a success after all.”

“Yeah,” Bow chuckled, “I guess in the end I just needed to let things happen rather than worry about everything. I think Adora’s all runned out.”

“Think mom would kill me if she knew I was here,” Glimmer said, looking out to the scene. The Brightmoon estate was just a speck in the depths of the city below.

“She worries too much,” said Bow.

“I know it comes from a place of love….”

“Right, but you’re still your own person, she should understand that by now,” Bow gave a half-smile, “of course, you can still afford to empathise, you know.” 

“I know. I’m trying.”

“Good.”

“Mom got destroyed by the legal system,” Glimmer ruminated, “we couldn’t get justice for dad. I don’t want to see anything similar happen to Adora.”

Bow didn’t say anything.

“Things are getting tough but she’ll need to stick to the right path. She has to do things right… right?”

“Of course she does,” said Bow, “and she will.”

“But we can’t keep letting Catra get the better of us,” Glimmer said, suddenly perching up, agitated, “we need to take her down before she does some damage we can’t undo.”

“Glimmer––”

“How many lives does she need to destroy before we––”

“Come on Glimmer, I say you’re right for once and you immediately start saying the opposite?” 

Glimmer stopped herself. She looked at Bow, a fixedness in her stare that was half defiant, half guilty. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Bow said, a little softer this time, “I guess now you’re the anxious one today.”

Glimmer gave a weak chuckle, “yeah I guess.”

“Is this really about Angella or Adora then?” asked Bow. 

“It is!” Glimmer insisted, “but I guess maybe it’s not just about them….” 

“It’ll all be okay. You don’t have to do this alone. Neither does Adora. We’ll face whatever’s next together.”

Glimmer smiled, as she looked up into Bow’s eyes. They were dark and wonderful. Bow however was struck with a sudden memory as his eyes wondered onto Glimmer’s lips, and he quickly turned away to fidget with the telescope some more. Looking through it, he saw the docks area, some of it quite familiar to him.

“Hey I think I see the Princess Promenade,” he muttered, “oh and that ship’s on fire. Probably Sea Hawk.” 

Glimmer’s insides sightly squirmed. But she pushed the feeling away and asked:

“How are you and Sea Hawk?”

“Oh we still text a little. But his work takes him out to sea most of the time. And when he’s back it’s more important that he checks up on Mermista’s legal situation.”

“So you’re not seeing each other anymore? That’s kinda sad.”

Blow glanced over, “really, you didn’t mind.”

She shifted. 

“Well, uh….”

“You know,” Bow tentatively mulled, before deciding to throw himself into the problem, “Glimmer, I know you kissed Adora.”

“You, wait, you do?” Glimmer flashed scarlet, “oh god I thought you didn’t notice. I just wanted to pretend it never happened.”

“So you did mind.”

“I was… being possessive. But I was wrong to be.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“I know that!” Glimmer insisted. “Please, it doesn’t matter. See, I even wanted you and Sea Hawk to be happy. And I just want to cherish what we have.”

“I mean, you are the most important person in my life,” Bow said, letting the truth fill into his words, “have been for a while.”

“Yeah, well you were the same for me.”

“Well that’s no excuse to get jealous when I spend time with others.” 

“I know that now, I was being stupid.”

“I mean kissing Adora out of nowhere does sound pretty drastic.” 

“Look, I’m trying to forget about that okay,” Glimmer said. “I just want to enjoy being with you without getting possessive.” 

“Sure, but it’s,” now he was thinking about it, he was sure he was approaching something. A clarity, he knew was close, just a little way ahead. He talked it through, “we don’t keep many secrets from one another. We’re comfortable enough talking about our vulnerabilities. In fact, we really know each other, even how stupid we can be and we don’t mind that so much. And recently, I want Adora back to her old self but the two of us going out to places has reminded me how much I really like you. I comfort you, you comfort me. Emotionally, physically, we’re comfortable with one another.”

“What are you— what are you saying?” asked Glimmer, watching Bow with barely a blink now.

“I… I don’t really know what I’m trying to get at anymore. I guess I wonder why you feel so anxious about me when we can’t really get any closer.”

“Well that’s not true,” Glimmer furrowed her brow, “We can get closer. We could always––” then she blushed. “Ah, never mind!”

“What?” Bow blinked.

Quickly changing tack, Glimmer stammered, “but like, even if we are so close, we don’t have a name on it.”

“A name?”

“We’re just friends… going out to places.”

Bow just laughed. 

“Come on, it’s not funny,” Glimmer growled. “It’s the way you frame it. Naming it gives it meaning.”

“Okay, how about this,” said Bow, “next time we go out ––just you and me. We’ll call it a date.”

Glimmer’s eyes lit up.

“R-really?”

“But,” Bow said, “on the condition that you take back what you said about forensic science.” 

The girl blinked for a few seconds. Her head was swimming having just drunk in the last few things Bow had said. But then a grin spread across her face, and she lurched forward to shove Bow:

“Oh so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“I’m serious!” Bow laughed, “if you we’re gonna do this, you’ve got to make peace with my profession. Unless, I dunno, you want me to be a house-husband or something.” 

The smile quickly washed from Glimmer’s face.

“U-uh, let’s not get that far ahead, Bow.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Bow said, “we’ve gone steady enough all this time, no need to rush.”

“But you mean it, right?” asked Glimmer. “About you… and me....”

“No reason why we can’t give it a go,” said Bow, looking her straight in the eyes. Her eyes, glittering pink, his eyes dark and wonderful. “But we’ll, um,” he said, feeling hot now, “we’ll discuss that another time, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” she whispered.

And, not quite knowing what to say or do next, Bow turned to look into the telescope once again, which was now pointed almost straight down to the building next door. Some people were coming out onto the street. The first was tall, dressed in red, followed by descending height a man with black hair and a woman with very large purple. 

“Hey it’s Phoenix and Entrapta,” he muttered, “and I guess that’s detective Scorpia.”

“What are they doing?”

Bow turned, expecting to see Glimmer. But it had actually been Adora, having wandered over to join them. Bow froze.

“Uh-uh,” he said, “nothing. Guess they’re just hanging out!”

Adora raised an eyebrow, “are mr. Wright and Scorpia friends?” 

“…maybe?”

“Bow, are you hiding something?” 

Then, realisation smacking her a few times over before it really sunk it, Adora’s eyes widened. 

“Wait, they’re investigating a case, aren’t they!” she exclaimed, “Bow, you said there weren’t any cases.”

“I–I,” Bow was sweating, and he looked to Glimmer for help. She just gave him a face that counselled him to come clean. “I lied,” he said, “I didn’t want you to think about law stuff today.”

“So there is a case?” 

“A friend of ours, Entrapta, came to me this morning about a murder trial. I passed it along to Phoenix Wright because today was supposed to be about rest.” 

“You…,” Adora’s fists curled into tight balls, shaking. 

Her breaths turned into heated heaves, and she looked down that her eyes were covered in shade. 

But then she loosened her hands, and sighed, “you were right. I can’t go to trial.”

Bow let out a sigh of relief. But Adora continued:

“I can’t… defeat Catra.”

“This isn’t about Catra,” Bow said. “You just needed to clear your head.”

“No, I can’t beat her,” Adora said. “She knows everything about me, exactly what I’ll do, exactly how to take me out.” Her voice began to quaver, “And everytime I go against her, someone’s life is ruined because of me.”

She shook her head, barely keeping back the tears. 

“It’s better this way. Mr. Wright has never lost a case. Catra won’t know how to beat him, at least at first. He’ll have a better chance.” 

Bow and Glimmer shared another look. They had both known things were bad. Both had worried for weeks about their friend, but neither could have guessed that Adora ––Adora of all people–– had truly given up.

When they looked to Adora again, she had turned away and taken a few paces from them. Yet even in this she couldn’t fully execute a decision. She just stood still, awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Adora?” said Bow.

“Thanks for today,” she said in a small voice, still facing the opposite wall. “It was… real fun.”

But Bow couldn’t help but feel, despite everything, that this was a total failure. 

Chapter Text

The court was arranged no different from usual. A prosecutor ––Catra–– at one end, a defence attorney in Phoenix Wright at the other ––Entrapta as assistant by his side. The Judge looked down from his high bench and was surrounded by raised galleries containing a crowd of noisy onlookers, while down at the dock was the defendant. It looked like a normal trial. It was a simple thing ––a locked box mystery, one the prosecutor would try to prove, one the defence would try to foil. Nothing that couldn’t be wrapped up in a day. 

Ron Guy, the defendant, was sat straight on the edge of his seat, hands on his knees which were closed and rustling together . Being accused of murder had been an ordeal for him, and he’d been just as jumpy when Phoenix and Entrapta visited him in detention the day before. At least he was calm today. Phoenix had had some difficult witnesses before, but one who was prone to existential crises and wailing beyond hope was not going to win him any favours with the court. 

With a bang of his gavel, Jhe judge dispelled the din of the crowd and began:

“We may now proceed with the trial of Ron Guy. Are the defence and prosecution ready?”

“I’m ready, your honour,” said Phoenix. 

Catra didn’t say anything.

“Prosecutor, are you read––aghow!” 

A wayward whip had sharply struck his hand. 

“Silence, I need this moment,” said Catra. 

The Judge just gave a mournful look but withdrew any further complaints. Phoenix bit back a remark. So much for contempt of court. 

“Many,” Catra finally started, “have underestimated the man opposite me. I’m not going to be one of them. Phoenix Wright, I’m gonna be the woman who finally beats you.” 

Phoenix watched her, his mouth slightly parting as he saw the unrelenting look in her two-coloured eyes. 

But he set his brow and retorted, “my client is innocent, prosecutor. That’s all that matters here.” 

“Then I hope you have evidence to show that,” Catra said in a croon, “I sure hope you don’t have to rely on an attorney’s tricks to keep this trial going.”

Phoenix only registered an objection to that in his head: they weren’t tricks per se; more tactics.

Catra called the first witness to the stand ––detective Scorpia––, who started giving details of the case. Mostly they were a recap of what they’d learned yesterday, gleaning through the victim profile ––Nellie McRaker, investigative journalist–– the lockdown system of the building, and finding the defendant at the scene of the crime. There were a few more details. The autopsy report noted bruising on both sides of the victim’s body as a consequence of her fall. 

“And most conclusively,” Scorpia was finishing, “we did a fingerprint analysis on the victim’s jacket. Since it was leather it held a super accurate imprint where the murderer must have grappled her. The results were the same as Ron Guy’s.”

Phoenix flinched, “seriously?! Why didn’t you mention that sooner!” 

“Uh,” Scorpia gave a nervous smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about….”

Catra snapped her whip taut, “I sure hope you’re not suggesting the police should be leaking information to the defence?” 

“O-of course not,” said Phoenix. “How stupid of me....” 

Still, it was up to Phoenix to find a good contradiction from that testimony, and he’d need a good one fast. But having not even expected the fingerprints, he had no clue as to how to contest that evidence, even though it was the most incriminating. For now, he thought to just press around on a few other statements. 

Unfortunately, the details were trifling. Sure, Scorpia could be caught slightly unawares at some of the probing, but Catra usually had a good response. Phoenix was soon at the end of his rope, and starting to manifest it in a heavy slump across his back. 

“What about,” he searched, “what you said about the murderer throwing the victim to the ground?” 

“Uh, what about it?”

“Well, do we know for certain that’s how it happened?” asked Phoenix. “Perhaps he was tossed?”

“Tossed?” the Judge scoffed, “mr. Wright, is this line of question even relevant?” 

“Well, the claim that Ron Guy killed the victim is dependant on a couple thins. Her being up in the room where he was found, and then ending up the floor of the chamber, right? If that’s not necessarily how it happened––”

“Perhaps stop right there before you make a bigger fool out of yourself,” Catra laughed, “the prosecution can easily provide evidence to show that the victim fell.”

“More evidence?” 

Catra produced a electronic disc, “the chamber was fitted with a high-speed camera to record results from its tests. It shows the body falling from a great height.” 

Entrapta reached out with her hair and snatched the disc. Catra grimaced and was about to protest, although she held back. Instead she watched as the defence placed the disc into a portable screen the scientist carried in her overalls. As promised, it showed the body hurtling down, striking the ground, with most of the shock absorbed by the floor so that there was only a slight rebound before it lay flat on its back. The video played. Falling, hitting the floor flat, slight rebound, landing flat. 

“I guess the prosecutor really foresaw all possibilities,” Entrapta murmured. 

“I dunno,” Phoenix stroked his chin, “she didn’t show us this earlier so it wasn’t much help on its own.”

Entrapta shrugged, “guess she didn’t need it. Like when we purged the whole east wing at the Institute because we had enough particle accelerators in the west.” 

“Uh, sure,” said Phoenix, “but at the very least I can’t let this opportunity for a contradiction slide. There must be another side to this evidence… another side?” 

“Well, this seems to put the defence’s question to rest,” the Judge noted. “The victim fell, clearly having been pushed. If that’s clear then––”

“OBJECTION!” Phoenix shouted, “prosecutor Catra. This evidence shows that there’s something wrong with your version of events. And if you looked at the autopsy report, you’d see what I’m talking about.” 

Catra didn’t respond but to look back at him with a slight twitch her in lip. Scorpia however picked her copy of the autopsy report and scrolled through it, best as she could with her pincers.

“Oh, is it this thing, wait, nah,” she grunted, “sorry, could you just explain it for me uh, mr. Wright?” 

“The body had bruising from the fall, of course,” said Phoenix with a grin, “on both sides in the report. But in video… we only see the victim fall flat on her back!” 

There was a small though rather lax flurry of murmuring from the court. The Judge was quick to dispel it with his gavel.

Catra bared her teeth. Although she merely said, “this is more of an inconsistency than a contradiction. I fail to see how it proves anything.”

“The victim has bruises she shouldn’t according to the evidence as you’ve presented them,” Phoenix argued, “how do you explain this?”

“How do you explain this. You’re the one bringing this up and I fail to see its relevance.” 

Frowning, Phoenix glared at Catra. The prosecution was playing tricky, but that wasn’t going to stop him now he had his first foothold. 

“Let’s see,” he thought aloud, “perhaps I was right earlier? She was thrown into the wall but then fell?”

“Oh,” Catra said in a mocking purr, “so you agree Ron Guy threw the victim to her death?”

“Wait no! Okay, how about this. She was dropped before Ron Guy even arrived, then set up to fall again when he was about to frame him!” 

“Ron Guy was always present, this isn’t going to work for you,” Catra grinned, “not to mention that there was only one bloodstain on the floor of the chamber, unless you mean to tell me the second drop perfectly matched the first?”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t at the chamber,” Phoenix suggested. “Maybe it happened elsewhere.”

“The autopsy report is very specific about when the victim died, down to the hour. You’re telling me someone was able to kill the victim and then sneak them into the building without being noticed by any of the guards? Plus take a number of pictures with the victim’s camera?”

“You might be on the wrong track,” Entrapta muttered.

“B-but,” Phoenix whined.

“When a theory fails to stand up with the evidence, you’ve gotta change the theory,” Entrapta said with a broad smile, “adaptation is the core of the scientific method!” 

“Yeah, well the lawyer’s method means I can’t give up on this contradiction.” 

“Well, consider the options.”

Phoenix let out a low hum, and ran through it in his head. The two drops idea was faulty, but how could it be explained in one drop? McRaker landed flat on her back, so there shouldn’t be any bruising on the other side of her body. Going down doesn’t explain it. Going sideways, thrown into the wall, doesn’t change anything for him. So what about going up…. 

“Maybe… the direction of the fall was reversed?” he said in perhaps the weakest voice he’d ever offered an explanation. 

Catra let out a spurt of laughter, “yeah, sounds nice if it were possible.”

“Well…,” Phoenix said, “I thought it was weird that there was such a small amount of blood where the body impacted. The only place we wouldn’t have been able to see a larger stain of blood would be the ceiling because of the lighting.”

“Again, a nice notion but you can’t argue for something physically impossible,” Catra cocked her head with an toying smile, “or do want me to prove gravity to you, lawyer?” 

“Gravity….,” Phoenix stared. His eyes were dull for a second, no thought behind them as so often happened when he was stumped. But then something glowed in them. A realisation. “It was a long vertical chamber, right? Maybe it was… well, I’m not a scientist, but I saw a lot of weird contraptions in that facility. Maybe it was an anti-gravity chamber?”

The court was silent. No-one had anything to say to that among the gallery. They all just looked at Phoenix, wondering if this was finally the day that mr. Wright had slipped from active imagination to actual delusion. The Judge in particular was shaking his head.

“That’s a ridiculous idea,” he said, “I know you wish to keep an open mind for the sake of your clients, but I worry that you’ve let in the air.” 

“Look at this electrical usage record,” Phoenix said, suddenly producing the print-out Entrapta had given him the day before, “the chamber was drawing massive amounts of power at the same time the autopsy gives as the time of death! Can anyone else explain what was going on in that chamber?” 

“Well, I––,” the Judge spluttered, not used to being posed questions so directly.

Catra however was just laughing. It had started off as an amused chuckle but it was quite higher now, both derisive but somehow not at the same time. 

“I mean, wow,” she finally said, “I heard about your ability to bluff, but that was something else.”

“Do you deny the possibility?” Phoenix asked.

“No, it’s possible. In fact, it’s true.”

“It’s… wait, wHAAA!?”

“I knew there was something strange about the scene of the crime so I took some data and left to find a… well, I know a very skilled scientist myself. He verified that it was an anti-gravity chamber.”

“So I was right?” mouth slackened, Phoenix gazed at his own hands on the bench. “it was an anti-gravity chamber.”

“Note to self,” Entrapta spoke into her recorder, “lab 12-3 is the graviton-reversal and hyperacting experiment. P.S, lawyers are good at figuring things out, consider getting one as a permanent assistant.” 

“When I learned that,” Catra continued, “I suspected that the victim possibly fell both ways.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this?” asked the Judge, although cautious in tone and keeping an eye on Catra’s currently resting whip.

“Well, we could have tried to look at the ceiling but the effort to do so wouldn’t have been worth it. So what if the antigravity chamber was used? It doesn’t change the fingerprints, or the video recording. The victim was thrown down.”

“But this changes everything!” pronounced Phoenix, “because this means it’s possible the victim started on the ground level. Someone murdered her with the gravity without ever having to touch her!” 

“OBJECTION!” Catra cracked her whip to stop Phoenix’s drivel, “first, tell me who you propose did this? No-one else has been identified as present at the facility, there’s no way we could have missed them! Second,” she grinned, “do you know where the controls for the anti-grav chamber are?”

“The controls? Uh,” he looked to Entrapta, “you remember it now, right? Where were the controls?”

Entrapta looked at him with a nervous smile, “uh, Phoenix, we saw the controls.” 

“Oh right, you tried to activate them. They were up at the… oh no.”

“It seems the defence,” Catra said, delight in her tone, “have finally realised why this whole line of argument has been worthless. The controls were up on the platform where Ron Guy was locked in alone. The only person who could have activated the controls to kill the victim was the same as the only person who could have grabbed her and thrown her down ––the person we know grabbed her, Ron Guy!”

 Phoenix flinched with a loud, “nggghaaargh,” and felt so heavy as to collapse. 

“That seems conclusive,” said the Judge, “on multiple accounts.”

“Wait, you can’t call a verdict now,” Phoenix protested, “we’ve not even had any witnesses or cross-examination yet!”

The Judge shook his head, “I just don’t see how there can be any misinterpretation of the facts, mr. Wright. Ron Guy was the only man in the room, the only person capable of dealing the killing action.”

“Wait, the room!” Phoenix seized upon a thought, “we glossed over that fact too quickly, but the prosecution is wrong to assert that only Ron Guy could have accessed it.”

“But I thought the door was locked?” the Judge frowned, beard ruffling, “was I misinformed?”

“They omitted a key fact,” said Phoenix, slamming the desk with both hands, “one concerning a secret tunnel––”

“Oh please,” Catra laughed again, “you think we didn’t notice that?”

Phoenix felt his chest deflate again, “you know about it…?”

“We have a witness deposition that confirms no-one entered through that pathway.”

“A witness,” Phoenix perked up, “yes, a witness. The defence requests that we cross-examine that witness.”

It was the only way to keep the trial going. If this witness claimed that no-one sneaked onto the platform, then that witness must be lying, and a contradiction Phoenix would find. 

“From the look on your face,” Catra teased, “I’m guessing you’re hoping the witness is lying.”

Phoenix went immobile, caught in Catra’s mocking gleam.

“Unfortunately, we’ve got a witness who cannot lie,” she said. “I know you like theatrics, mr. Wright. Cross-examining a parrot, and a radio. Well enjoy cross-examining a robot. The prosecution calls the automaton designated as ‘Emily.’”

Entrapta smiled gleefully and gave a wave. Phoenix just watched with a deeply confused expression. The large ball stood about twice as wide as the witness stand, but only came up high enough that their gleaming purple eye was visible above it. Designed as it was, reading an expression was difficult, but it was tilted horizontally, looking with pleasant expectation from the defence to the prosecution. 

“Name and occupation,” Catra began, although she was quickly cut off by the Judge:

“Uh, excuse me. I don’t know if I’m able to allow this testimony.”

“You can, your honour. If anything this witness is more reliable than the usual. As a machine, its power of recall will be accurate, and with a programmed mind, it must tell the truth.” 

“Hmm, well, very well. Proceed.”

Catra asked what Emily was doing on the night of the murder, to which the robot explained. She was patrolling the room Phoenix and Entrapta had found her in, although that mostly consisted of occasionally pacing from one end to the other. If a person had walked in, it was inconceivable that they would have missed it. To drive the point home, Catra asked a number of questions. Did she see anyone? Did she hear anything? Were there any vibrations recorded that could suggest the passing of someone nearby. On and on, Catra asked, and down and down, Phoenix’s heart sank. The testimony was simple. No-one passed by Emily. 

How was he going to take this down?

“Maybe I can look through my notes?” suggested Entrapta, “there might be some way to pass by and leave no trace. Perhaps some sort of phasic shift ––no wait, that was proven theoretically impossible in 2003 –– okay what about–– nah, that wouldn’t work either–––”

“Emily,” Phoenix struck up, “can I ask about your functionality as a robot?”

“Mr. Wright,” the Judge widened his eyes, “don’t you want to cross-examine her testimony?” 

“I think the testimony is airtight, but we can’t accept evidence if it hasn’t been thoroughly examined in itself. She may be a witness, but in a way, Emily is like a recorder or a video.”

“Very well, what do you want to ask her then?”

“Emily,” Phoenix said again, “you have an, uh, isomatrix that maps your decision making. You also have a personality core. So your mind is quite human-like.”

“OH, YES,” said Emily, and she seemed to lower herself, as if bashful, “T-THANK YOU!”

“Why can’t you lie then?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“You’re telling me there’s no context in which the most logical thing to do is lie?”

Emily swung forward in a nodding motion.

“LYING ISN’T IN MY FUNCTIONALITY, I CANNOT CREATE FALSE INFORMATION. LOGIC CANNOT CHANGE THAT PREMISE.”

“Well then not logic,” Phoenix said, “what about your emotions? Emotions can make people do irrational things.”

“She’s not a person,” Catra retorted, “ultimately she can’t go against her programming; even with all her little add-ons.” 

“I wouldn’t put it so rudely,” Entrapta said, folding her arms, “but she is right. I don’t think Emily could lie even if something provoked her emotions.”

“I disagree,” said Phoenix, “Emily is really advanced. Look at some of the ways she’s reacted already. You’re telling me she couldn’t be threatened.”

“THREATENED?” the ball perked, “N-NO, I WOULDN’T CHANGE UNDER THOSE PARAMETERS. PLEASE DON’T QUESTION FURTHER ON THIS.”

“Well, why not? Even if an animal thought something could destroy it, it would feel frightened.” 

“F-F-FRIGHTENED! NO, I CAN’T BE FRIGHTENED.”

“You sure?” Phoenix leaned forward, pushing further. “Nothing in the twisting hallways as you were patrolling? Lights going out intermittently, leaving you in the dark? No-one showed up and said they would tear you apart plate by plate if you said anything?”

“I-I-I,” the static stuttering was accompanied by sparks, “PLEASE STOP ASKING ME. PLEASE STOP ASKING––”

“She’s scared!” a fretful Entrapta shouted. 

“Maybe so,” Catra growled, “but so what. She can’t lie, that would go against her programming.”

“What if there was a way for her to ignore her programming… to make a decision for herself? She already has the isomatrix––”

“So what?”

“Well, a person might have instincts but they can always choose. I mean that’s why we’re here right? A person can be judged for their choices in a court of law!”

Catra grimaced, and looked down for a moment, shadowing her eyes. 

Phoenix continued, “if someone threatened her, then she might have deliberately overcome her programming as a way of choosing self-preservation.”

“Hmm, well this is getting awfully philosophical,” said the Judge, “but for someone to choose, surely they must be conscious, uh, self-aware. An animal might fight or flee to preserve themselves but that’s just part of their nature. For a robot to overcome a specific program to preserve themselves, surely they must have, I guess, a consciousness?”

“Or a soul,” said Phoenix, suddenly smacked by the full implication of his reasoning. “Of course,” he whispered, breath tinged with a gentle spark. He spoke loudly again, “the defence would like to provide evidence that would show the witness has a soul.”

There was no response, but for stares from around the room. The Judge merely watched, mouth slightly parted, eyes fixed on Phoenix. Taking that as enough, Phoenix brought out the evidence:

“TAKE THAT!” he retrieved the metal 9-shaped object, “this is an artificial magatama, a piece of technology that can channel the same energy as used in Kurainist spiritual practice.”

“Really?” said Catra, “you’re trying to tell me this thing is alive?”

“Not just that, I’m saying that Emily is able to lie to preserve herself. It’s true right,” he looked at the robot, “you were threatened. Who threatened you?”

Emily was shuddering, as if her internal machinery were about to burst. 

“NOOOOOooooOOOzzz~,” the witness’s screech declined into static, and briefly her lights went out. 

It was the detective who went up to her and checked up on her. With some words of comfort and a soft smile, Scorpia seemed to calm Emily down, and the large ball was able to push itself up again. 

“IT’S TRUE,” she admitted, “I WAS SCARED.”

“Why?” asked Phoenix, “who scared you?”

“A MAN. HE TOLD ME TO SAY NOTHING.” 

“Can you identify him to the court?” asked the Judge.

“THERE WAS NO LIGHT,” Emily tilted down, “I’M SORRY.”

“No light at all? But you just said he was a man, maybe you saw his silhouette?”

“At the very least you heard a voice,” said Catra.

“YES, A SILHOUETTE AND VOICE. RETRIEVING….,” Emily paused as a clattering sound signified the swift processing of data, “THE SHAPE OF THE SILHOUETTE AND SOUND OF THE VOICE MOST CLOSELY MATCHES THOSE OF RON GUY.”

Catra smiled, “oh, what a surprise.”

“Wait,” Phoenix said in panic, “that doesn’t make any sense!”

“It seems consistent with all else we know,” said the Judge, “the defendant passed by the patrolling witness on his way to the platform, at which point he activated the gravity and killed the victim.”

“But think about it! We now know someone threatened the witness––yeOOW”

A thwack had left a sharp welt on his outstretched hand. 

“The defendant threatened the witness,” Catra said, “that’s what it just said.” 

“The witness couldn’t clearly identify them though––”

“You were the one who insisted she judge from his silhouette, and you seemed ready to accept it before she called out your client.”

“Let me finish!” Phoenix wined, still nursing his hand, “the witness was telling us before that no-one passed through. But she was only doing that because someone threatened her.”

“What’s does that matter? Either way the defendant is implicated.”

“Because before there was no chance that anyone else could have done it. But if someone were out to frame him, they’d tell her to keep quiet about them moving through the secret passage!”

“I’m a little lost here,” said the Judge, “if that’s true, then why would the witness identify this the defendant anyway?”

“I don’t know your honour,” Phoenix said between clenched teeth, his mind whirring, “maybe it was a precaution. He disguised himself as Ron?”

“Down to his voice?” 

“We’ve seen in this very court people who could change their voice.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “but not their appearance as well. How do you propose that one person could be someone else, mr. Wright? Do you have any evidence?”

The Judge gave a nod. 

“Yes, I believe this trial has come to its end, unless the defence can prove that the person the witness identified could have been anyone other than Ron Guy.” 

With his hands closed tight upon the woodwork, Phoenix dug his knuckles into the bench. He thought. No, there was nothing, surely, he was stumped for good this time. And unless Entrapta had suddenly engineered a way to channel Mia, he’d be getting no help from beyond the grave this time. 

He mentally scoured through the evidence. The autopsy report, the video, the photograph of Ron Guy, the electrical data, the photograph of Ron Guy. 

No, that was more of a picture. 

Phoenix stood up slightly straighter. The picture, and the photograph, supposedly of the same person. But they didn’t look quite the same. But he was certain he had seen the exact person before. That same fixed expression, long ears, and dark hair.

Ron Guy had been sitting in the dock the whole time, constantly rustling but quiet in his terror. His hair was white. 

Memory shot, not fit to pull any name out of a hat to put to the face, Phoenix had to do this, he had to try. It was a bluff. There were a hundred ways he could be wrong. But his head took the backseat now to the driving force of energy that shot up through him, filling his chest with a light air and propelling his arm forward to a point:

“HOLD IT! Your honour, I have the evidence!”

The Judge stopped. Entrapta looked up with a gasp. Catra sneered. 

“I direct the court to look at this framed picture,” said Phoenix, “I think it shows quite clearly how one person can seem to be someone else.” 

“I don’t understand,” the Judge rubbed the side of his bald head, “how does this show anything?”

“First, let me ask the witness,” Phoenix turned to Emily, “who do you see in this picture.”

“IT LOOKS LIKE RON GUY,” she said, “ALTHOUGH RON USUALLY LOOKS A LOT HAPPIER.”

“Right, and your honour, why don’t you have a look.”

“Well, I’ve only just met the fellow, but I’m sure if its him I should––,” the Judge’s expression went blank. He stared at the picture that had just been delivered to him. “I say,” he murmured, quite amazed, “I know this man. He’s the Chief Prosecutor. But… where did you get such a picture?” 

“OBJECTION!” Catra struck her bench with the whip, “what the hell does this have to do with anything? So you have a picture of Hordak. So what?”

“You don’t think the fact that Emily identified him as Ron says something?”

“So they look similar. But whatever, she wasn’t prepared to think of anyone else so that’s the person who came to mind.”

“But she would have far more expected him than Hordak anyway––”

“This is ridiculous!” Catra said through clenched teeth, “you’re talking about the Chief Prosecutor, you don’t just throw his name around in a murder trial.”

“She is right,” said the Judge, “you’re treading on dangerous ground. I don’t see how I can allow this evidence to be accepted into the record unless it’s more clearly tied to the case.” 

Phoenix placed his hands on his hips and grinned. Sure, he hadn’t fully explained it to them yet, but it was still quite a marvel to see both the Judge and the Prosecution so far behind. It gave him a bit of a tingly feeling. But it was time to lay the heavy blow:

“You must let me finish, your honour,” he said, “for I was just about to say how relevant this picture is. Do you not wonder why I have a portrait of the Chief Prosecutor in my hand?”

“Hmm… perhaps as a mark of respect for such an eminent man?”

Phoenix stifled what might have been either a groan or sigh. What did he think he was, a bootlicker? 

“No,” he said, “I found this picture at the Dryl Institute.”

“Th-the… the Dryl Institute!” the Judge was shaken, and by the agitated sounds from above, many others were too. “But what was it doing there?”

“I don’t know, your honour, but clearly the Chief Prosecutor has some connection with it. And considering how the witness just mistook him for the defendant, then we can’t end this trial until we know what it is!” 

“OBJECTION!” Catra now just slammed the bench with a fist, “this is completely irrelevant! Hordak has nothing to do with this case, so whatever connection he might have to the place has nothing to do with it!” 

“I’m sorry, prosecutor Catra, but you have no basis to make that kind of argument anymore,” said Phoenix. “We deserve to know what the connection is!”

Catra snarled. She threw her gaze to the side for a few seconds, and after a quick rumination, looked back at Phoenix with spite. Then she turned to Emily.

“Witness, answer the question.”

“M-ME?” Emily said with a sudden shudder.

Catra bared both whip and fangs, and it seemed to be enough. Emily quickly rattled off:

“HORDAK WAS THE NAME OF A PREVIOUS EMPLOYEE OF THE INSTITUTE. THAT IS PROBABLY WHY A PICTURE OF HIM EXISTED THERE!”

“An employee?” Phoenix repeated. 

He quickly turned to Entrapta, although she was just staring ahead. She wouldn’t be meeting his eye the rest of this trial.

“The prosecution was already well aware of this,” said Catra. “We investigated it. and can confirm there is no relevant information for establishing the facts of this case.”

“HORDAK LEFT ON UNFRIENDLY TERMS,” Emily continued, “I CANNOT RETRIEVE ALL MY MEMORY BECAUSE HE REMOVED FILES OF HIS TIME AT THE INSTITUTE. PERSONNEL FILES RELATING TO HIS RESEARCH ARE… GONE. THEY WERE VERY IMPORTANT.”

“His research?” said Phoenix, “why did he want to delete the files on that?’

“METADATA SUGGESTS HE DIDN’T WANT THEM TO BE SEEN BY ANYONE?”

“Your honour,” Phoenix whipped around to look up at the Judge, “we need to see those files. They could reveal motivation for breaking into the facility. If McRaker learned anything about his research, that could explain why he killed her!”

“Mr. Wright, I don’t like any of this.” Deep concern was wrinkling into the Judge;s face, “this is the Chief Prosecutor we’re talking about. To indict him is… this is a grave matter.”

“Dismiss it,” Catra demanded, “don’t drag the court through the mud for the sake of his bluffs!”

“Hmm, I am inclined to agree, but,” the Judge paused, “the resemblance is striking. I can’t discount the possibility. I will grant the request. Bailiff, go to the prosecutor’s office and get those files.”

Phoenix could breathe. The trial was turning about before his very eyes, and it filled him to the brim with a buzz that only a lawyer knew. Across from him, Catra rapped her claws on the bench, scowling. The main door swung open and shut to admit the bailiff, now gone. The chamber was silent.

Ten terse minutes marched on with the trial at a complete standstill, with such anticipation caught in the air that the Judge dare not call for a recess lest the bailiff made sudden return. Finally there was a sound of footsteps, clacking with echo from the lobby beyond. But it wasn’t with any rush, such as a man hurtling to get back from the prosecutor’s office with the evidence he’d retrieved. No, instead it was a stride, hurried but still of the pace of someone who knew they had time. Then the door burst open.

Tall, white faced, long ears, dark in hair and with the firmest foulest expression dug into his harshly angled face, Chief Prosecutor Hordak stepped into the berth of the chamber. There was shock but no murmurs. Even Catra stood up a little straighter. Entrapta however, seemed to shrink behind Phoenix, who was staring ahead at the man with an unbroken gaze. 

The Judge, like all others, was most perturbed, “Chief Prosecutor Hordak? You’re here?” 

“These are sensitive matters,” Hordak said, coming up to the stand. “This court has no right to discuss them. I am calling for an immediate end to these day’s proceedings.”

“OBJECTION!” Phoenix slammed the bench, “on what grounds?” 

“On those grounds,” Hordak snapped. He glared with glowing red eyes, “and on my authority.” 

The blood drained from Phoenix’s head, and his arms began to shake. But he held his grip, and maintained his look forward. He just needed to stall until those documents arrived. 

But before he could object again, Catra spoke:

“Chief Prosecutor, you don’t need to do this. I’ve seen the documents in question, there’s nothing incriminating about them. Just let the defence look them over and then the trial will end with a guilty verdict.”

“I cannot allow––”

“I’m so close!” Catra pleaded, “and it’s Phoenix Wright! You wanted him beaten, didn’t you?”

“I, nnrgh,” the Chief Prosecutor made a snarling face, but he couldn’t repudiate Catra in that second. He folded his arms and looked down for a moment, in bitter thought. Then he looked again and said, “no, it simply will not do.”

“Hordak, please––”

“ENOUGH!” 

He had bellowed. Catra, shrinking and ears flitting back, fell silent. 

Phoenix wasn’t going to bend so easily, “Chief Prosecutor, I have evidence that connects you to the Dryl Institute. We can’t discount you from being involved in the murder of Nellie McRaker.”

“You have no power to offer evidence.”

“I’m a lawyer, and I must defend my client. It is my prerogative––”

“Phoenix Wright,” Hordak said with a loud declaratory ring. He produced a sheet of paper, “I have obtained confirmation for you to be disbarred. You are a lawyer no longer, and cannot offer evidence!”

“D-disbarred?” Phoenix almost fell back. “You can’t do that!”

“As a member of the Prosecutorial Investigation Committee,” Hordak explained, “I have the right to make the request to the Bar Association. But they’re the ones who made the decision. They have noted your long service of improper conduct and violation of discovery protocol. Now,” he turned to the Judge, “with no lawyer present to represent the defendant, this trial cannot proceed until tomorrow.”

A blunted ringing filled Phoenix’s ears. It seemed as if the walls were collapsing in on him, and he fell to the bench, head in hands. Disbarred? The trial delayed when he was so close. The fate of Ron Guy now lost to an indeterminate future. How had everything turned about in such a short time?

The doors opened again, and this time it was the bailiff who returned, with a folder under his arm. Though worn out from rushing, he wore a smile of satisfaction from having completed his task. But he looked upon the scene ahead of him and it washed away. The Judge looked with a rather defeated, fallen look.

“I… cannot accept this evidence, I’m afraid,” he explained. “Even I cannot give leeway to allow a disbarred lawyer to continue in court. I will have to suspend today’s proceedings.”

He banged his gavel. 

Chapter Text

Of the first day of the Ron Guy’s trial ––gravity chambers, living robots, Catra’s tricks and Chief Prosecutor Hordak’s entrance –– Adora and the others had seen it all. Bow might have objected to their going: if it been before their day out, he’d worry that even just seeing a trial with Catra would send her further down her spiral. But now he felt it was a step up. When Adora had told him and Glimmer that she didn’t believe she could ever win against the prosecutor, they realised the scale of the problem was far deeper than they could have imagined. At that point, Bow assumed seeing Phoenix put her in her place would at least give Adora a boost of nerve. 

They hadn’t expected what they saw. 

It was parasitic on Adora’s heart as they returned to Brightmoon, eating away at her, hollowing her out. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what a sham it all was. To think there was someone who could even make Catra look ethical. Everything Glimmer had ever said about the corruption within that they needed to fight, it all seemed so real now. And having seen it so clearly, it left her wondering. It left her numb. 

She went straight to her room, and threw herself into the bed. It was harder now. She’d replaced the mattress at last. But now she regretted doing so. Why couldn’t she just fall away and forget about this whole law thing for good. 

“Adora?”

Looking up, she expected Glimmer or Bow. It was Angella. The woman wore a face of concern.

“You didn’t show up to training… again.” 

“Sorry,” Adora muttered. 

“It doesn’t really matter, although I’d prefer forewarning. In this case… is something wrong?”

“Yeah. Quite a lot.”

Unable to stop herself, Adora delved into it all. She was quite thorough, and if the situation described hadn’t been so grave, Angella might have remarked on Adora’s ability to absorb everything that had happened, down to listing every piece of evidence debated in the trial ––even she had struggled to keep on top of her own court record back in her best trials. But instead she listened with patience. Although, she couldn’t contain her shock when she learned of Hordak’s entrance.

“I’d never think they’d get so brazen,” she said in a marvel.

“He took mr. Wright’s badge,” Adora said, feeling hot steam fill her lungs as she recalled the injustice, “just so he wouldn’t uncover his wrongdoing!” 

“That’s terrible. I can speak from experience,” a shadow of pain crept along Angella’s face, “although in my case it was deserved.”

Adora let out a heavy sigh. Her glance tracked over the drawer on the other side of the bedroom. “I’m She-Ra. This is what I’m meant to do, isn’t it? Take on Hordak, end the corruption… something.”

“I wouldn’t know, that’s more Glimmer’s area of knowledge.”

“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I can’t just go fight him with a sword, he has power. He has the law on his side, all I have is some stupid prophecy.”

“Adora, I think you’re letting everything get ahead of you,” Angella said. She came to sit by Adora’s side, and continued, “we aren’t heroes, at the end of the day. We’re only human.”

“But I can’t just… not do something.”

“Coming to your room to hide because the problem is too big seems a lot like doing nothing,” Angella said, a little dryly. But she was more tender when she said, “I know that because that’s been me for the past decade.”

Angella held out a hand, laying her palm on Adora’s cheek. It was cold to the touch, but it sparked her with a wave of warmth. 

“Adora, I want you to succeed where I couldn’t,” Angella said, “not because I think I can live some glory through you, but because I want you to be happy. And I want you to help people, not least because I know you want to help people. Glimmer does too, and I’ve made the mistake of trying to protect her when all it’s done is hinder her.”  

“Angella, I….”

The woman let her hand slip from Adora’s face and looked forward again, “so I think you need to focus on that. Who is it that most needs help?.”

“Well, Phoenix is in trouble but I think he can handle himself. It’s the defendant, Ron Guy. He’s innocent, isn’t he.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to go find out yourself, but if you come to believe that he is, then what you should do next will be clear.” 

“And Hordak?” 

“That’s trickier, but he can’t disbar every lawyer in the world. They stopped the trial today because Ron Guy doesn’t have a representative.”

Adora stood. 

“Then…, that’s what I should do, isn’t it.”

“You’ll have to make that choice for yourself. If it were me, well, perhaps I wouldn’t.” Angella gave a weak smile. “But I’m a coward, so what does that matter.”

Adora steadily stepped forward. She came up to the dresser, opening the draw to find the bracelet, which she retrieved. Holding it in her hand, the gold hummed, vibration emanating from the jewel in its centre. 

“I….” 

Adora’s insides were twisting, half going one way, the other the opposite. But she fixed her brow, and slid the bracelet on. It felt right.

“What about Prosecutor Catra?” asked Angella.

“Catra…,” Adora repeated.

“You’ll have to face her again.” 

“I know. But I guess it was always going to come to this.” Adora breathed in, “but I’m an attorney who must defend her client. I’ll try to prove his innocence and if Catra beats me well…. If I’m going to lose either way, it’s better to lose having tried.” 

Angella didn’t respond but to give an encouraging smile. She knew Adora would need nothing more from her. 

Across the city, near People Park, Phoenix Wright was not quite as stoical about the whole situation. He was still convulsing with anger as he returned to the Wright and Co. office, Entrapta on his heel. 

“I have been whipped, I have been tasered, accused of murder; I’ve had the Chief of Police threatened to sue me, but I don’t think anyone has ever had the gall to stop me from pursuing the case as a lawyer before!”

With a groan, he collapsed onto a chair behind the desk. He almost knocked Charley the plant over, and quickly sent a hand to stabilise it. If he lost his badge and the lily, the ghost of Mia would probably haunt him for the rest of time. 

Entrapta was just stood. She had a welding mask down, completely obscuring her face. The two circles for eyes in the metal placing just stared out forlorn.

“How come you didn’t say anything?” asked Phoenix, “about Hordak working at Dryl?”

“I didn’t want to bring it up,” Entrapta said in a small voice. 

“It’s important. I need to know everything, anything that could give me a clue.”

Suddenly a hair lifted Entrapta’s mask, revealing a smile, “okay!” 

She jumped onto the chair opposite Phoenix, sitting cross-legged and throwing herself into an explanation. She and Hordak had indeed worked together. Prosthetics, portal technology, even the early research into Kurainism, the two had enjoyed a productive partnership. They had broken new scientific ground every other day. 

“But we had different approaches to the research,” said Entrapta. “I believe in the scientific method. You try every option and test every theory ––negatives are part of that experience. You eliminate the possibilities to narrow in on the truth. Hordak,” her head fell, “he was always different. When he got attached to an idea, he’d never give it up, even when evidence seemed to run contrary to his hypotheses. I’m not saying he was wrong ––some of our greatest breakthroughs came through his inabilities to let a notion go; we just needed to modify his proposal to hone in on the truth. But… he couldn’t take failure well. He could get emotional about it.” Entrapta looked up to the ceiling, smile lingering, but a weakness held within. “His was the way of perfection, mine was of imperfection. Maybe it was those creative different that led him away?” 

“So Emily was right?” asked Phoenix, “he left on bad terms?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t… I don’t know really,” she said. “It was sudden. I couldn’t understand… well, I don’t understand. Or maybe he wasn’t very communicative about it ––he could be reticent at the best of times. But I don’t know. People sometimes get angry with me and I don’t know why unless I get them to explain clearly… and people don’t want to explain things in logical terms when they’re emotional.” 

“Then why did you want to make your robots more like people?” Phoenix said, Emily’s episode resurfacing to his mind, “wouldn’t that make them harder for you?” 

Entrapta shrugged, “I don’t really know. In a way, maybe it was because of Hordak that I did.” 

Phoenix was about to question further, when there was a knock on the door. It opened, as in came Miles Edgeworth. A serious look bore heavy on his furrowed brow, although there was a touch of irony to his lips.

“I turn my attention away for, what, five minutes?” he began. “What the hell happened, Wright?” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Phoenix said, standing up to greet him, “how much have you heard?”

“Enough. The Chief Prosecutor had your badge removed while your trial was still going. I’ve never known the Bar Association to act with such efficiency.” 

“Can you believe this?”

“Wright, you need to stay calm,” Edgeworth said, laying his hands on Phoenix’s arms, “I’ve opened my channel of communication with the Bar. We can smooth this over. I––”

Voluminous pink hair caught Edgeworth’s notice by the corner of his eye. He looked to Entrapta, and then back to Phoenix.

“Wright, have you adopted yet another teenager?” 

“Uh, she’s not a teenager,” Phoenix gave a silly grin as he rubbed his neck, “if anything, she’s adopted me.” 

Entrapta whispered into her recorder:

“Members of defence and the prosecution collude behind closed doors. These two greet one another as old friends… or, judging by their proximity to one another, perhaps more?”

Phoenix and Edgeworth shared a look, then quickly each took a pace back.

“Look, Wright,” he said, “I can get you your badge back as soon as possible but I can’t guarantee less than a few days. In the meantime you can’t approach the crime scene, and you certainly can’t represent mr. Guy in court.” 

“But he’s my client,” said Phoenix, stressing the last word, “I can’t just do nothing.” 

“Nothing is precisely what you must and will do,” Edgeworth said back. “But I believe a solution will present itself to us. In fact, I believe it will present itself shortly.” 

Phoenix barely had time to raise an eyebrow. There was another knock on the door, although this was more of a frantic banging.

“Mr. Wright, Mr. Wright? Are you there?” came a familiar voice.

Phoenix went and opened it. Two girls, one in her red jacket, one in her pastel skirt suit, and a boy in his blue uniform. All were huffing, although each had a determined look in the eye as they looked up at Phoenix. 

“Adora? Glimmer, Bow?” he said. “Is something up?”

“By all means, come in,” said Edgeworth, “Wright is certainly not going anywhere soon.”

The squad entered, standing in trio by the door as Phoenix went to lean on his desk. 

“Mr. Wright, I saw everything,” said Adora, “I want to help.”

“I mean, damn, Adora,” Phoenix gave a chuckle, “at this rate you’ll be finishing all my cases.” 

“I’ve studied the court record and I’ve considered–– wait, what?”

“Keep pace, Attorney,” said Edgeworth with a cool tone, “Wright isn’t quite as slow as he lets on.”

“Hey!” Phoenix gave his protest to Edgeworth, before turning back to the three, “but yeah, you want to take the case, right? It’s the most logical solution.”

Entrapta propelled herself up by her hair, and climbed her way to the door.

“I’ll go update Ron,” she said, “you three find us at the detention centre when you’re ready.” 

After she left, Edgeworth was the next stepped forward.

“It would be improper for me to aid the defence in any capacity, so I’ll take my leave too. But I suggest you overview your plan and investigate quickly. Who knows what the opposition is up to as we speak.”

With that, he followed Entrapta out, and it was just the four remaining. 

“So, you guys know the case?” asked Phoenix. 

Bow nodded and listed off, “Nellie McRaker, death by blunt force trauma, bruising both sides, manipulated to fall both up and down by a gravity chamber; Ron Guy the defendant was supposedly the only person at the platform, but potentially an imposter was seen by a witness entering as well.”

“And that guy is Hordak,” said Adora, “why else would he force the trial to end like that?”

“It does seem like it,” said Phoenix, “he worked for the Dryl Institute, that has to mean something.”

“We should check it out ourselves,” suggested Glimmer, “but we also need those documents you requested.” 

“The Judge wouldn’t admit them because I wasn’t an attorney anymore. But if you guys go to the prosecutor’s office, maybe you can request them yourselves?” 

“Then we should go right away.”

 Adora turned and yanked the door open. There were only so many hours left in the day, and they would need to make effective use of them. As the three slipped through, Phoenix called out after them:

“Make sure you get some hard evidence!” he said. “I’ll just be here. Alone. Without my badge….” 

It was no easy route to the Prosecutor’s office. The path took them to some of Los Angeles’ most human-hostile roads, and with busy traffic enmeshing them in the harsh noise of motor vehicles. But they moved speedily along. Adora headed them, walking such a pace that it was almost a run. Though they certainly didn’t enjoy it, the other two kept up and refrained from complaint. 

Finally they reached the office, and did not tarry getting in. Adora knew her way, and led them through the lobby as if they were meant to be there, finding an elevator, and going up. When they reached the level, they streamed past along a carpeted floor. A few people were around. Many of them turned their heads at Adora, wearing wary faces. She just gave them back an awkward smile.

“Old friends of yours?” asked Glimmer.

“It was bound to happen,” Adora said, “and I guess no-one’s happy about me leaving. But it should be fine so long as we don’t bump into––”

“ Hey, Adora .”

Adora grimaced.

It was Catra. She stood across the hallway, facing them. Facing Adora. Holding a series of files under arm, she wore a smug look. Adora could guess what those were.

But she quite forgot about the reason she was here for a second. The sight of Catra filled her with apprehension. The other regarded her with thin pupils. Her eyes were far colder, far more on edge than her smile would suggest, and even that seemed to falter the more she looked at Adora.

“What do you want?” Adora asked. 

“Nothing,” said Catra, looking away with a sudden bored air, “apart from getting this trial over as quickly as possible.”

“Maybe you should take that up with your boss?” said Glimmer, watching Catra with a foul look.

“I have no idea what’s going on with Hordak. And I don’t care.”

Adora closed her fist, though it was out of sight.

“Not even if it turns out he’s guilty?” she asked.

 Catra narrowed her eyes. 

“I’ve been thorough. Phoenix Wright can rattle off about the documents all he wants, they don’t reveal anything incriminating.” A grin then split across her face, and she lobbed the folder, soaring the space between them, landing right into Adora’s clutch. “So I don’t mind you having a look. That’s even the hard paper copy which Hordak took from the facility.”

Adora marvelled at the papers in her hand, and her face lit as she looked up at Catra again. But then she knit her brow, and accused Catra with a glare.

“Oh come on,” Catra scoffed, “how tacky do you think I am?”

“You’ve hidden evidence before.”

“Yeah but not tampered with anything.” She smirked at Glimmer, “I’m not Angella, am I.”

”You––“ 

Glimmer made a sudden lurch forward, but Bow restrained her. Catra laughed. 

“Why are you all so easily ruffled?” 

“Catra…,” Adora grit her teeth. But she decided to hold back any more remarks. Instead she looked down and flipped though the documents. “‘Genetically similar blood,’… wait a minute, this is an experiment involving both Hordak and Guy!”

“If they’re genetically similar, then they must be related,” said Bow, “that explains why they look so similar.”

“Yeah, obviously,” said Catra.

“Why keep this a secret?” Adora asked her, “the defence could have shown the fingerprints were not necessarily Ron’s?”

Catra rolled her eyes, “okay, genius, do you not know how fingerprint’s work?”

“I… uh….”

“Fingerprints are more or less unique,” Bow quickly explained, “even between brothers.” 

“And we checked the all the records,” Catra continued, “there’s no match with Hordak.”

“Maybe…,” Adora muttered, “maybe he changed the data? He’s clearly using his power for his own ends, we can’t count off the possibility.”

“Whatever,” said Catra, “your can make all the claims you want. But without evidence, you have nothing.” 

Adora kept a wary eye on Catra for a second, before rummaging through the documents to see if there was anything else. There was little. The only other thing pertained to a research grant from Prime Industries, one that went directly through Hordak.

“Prime Holdings is involved in the Dryl Institute?” said Adora.

Catra shrugged, “maybe. They were at least.”

“Is there anything more to the connection?” 

“Obviously not. What would some investor have to do with Hordak and a journalist?”

“Maybe McRaker found something she wasn’t supposed to,” Adora wondered, “something to do with an illicit flow of money?”

Catra peered at her for a few seconds, only to break with chuckle, “ah yes, how nefarious. Science money, the new racket. Whatever, we’ll see how far your claim stands in court tomorrow.”

The prosecutor strode forward, ready to push through them and brush past. But Adora stopped her, holding her back by the wrist. Catra tried to wrest free, but Adora’s grip was too strong. For a moment, a flash of worry struck across her face. Then there was a tinge of awe as she met Adora’s gaze. Perhaps if they held like that for a second more it would have become a blush.

Instead, Adora spoke in an agitated whisper, “I know what you are now. Fine, that’s your problem. But you told me you hated criminals.”

“What, of course I––”

“If Hordak is a murderer, are you really comfortable letting him get away with it?”

Catra quarried for a retort. She thought to spit a laugh in Adora’s face for her naivety. But she couldn’t find either. Instead, she just glared, before finally ripping her arm free. Then she walked off at last. 

“Come on,” Adora said to the others in a curt manner, “let’s go to Dryl.”

Getting to the Institute wasn’t as hard a journey. They knew the way from yesterday when they had gone to the sister building of Prime Holdings. Scorpia was there to greet them at the entrance, accompanied by the robot Emily.

“Got a heads up that you’d be coming,” the detective hollered, waving her big pincer. “So you’re taking the case?’

“That’s right.”

“Detective, have you found anything more at the crime scene?” asked Bow.

Scorpia shook her head, “we’ve sifted every last particle of the place, I’m afraid. Both the chamber and the platform. There’s just nothing to suggest there was a third person that night.” 

“Do you still think it’s Ron Guy?” asked Glimmer.

“Well, Catra seems sure, and she’s got a good nose for things.”

The three looked at the detective, all with scepticism.

“I mean,” Scorpia nervously scratched her cheek, “not that she never gets things wrong of course. Personally,” she looked away, “I don’t know why the Chief Prosecutor would obstruct things if he didn’t have anything to hide. So I just don’t know what to think anymore.” 

“I DON’T THINK IT WAS GUY OR HORDAK,” Emily pined, “I DON’T WANT TO BELIEVE IT.”

“Aw,” Scorpia smiled, “you’re a good cookie, Emily.” 

The robot shook with glee at the compliment. Scorpia turned back to the others.

“We were just going to have a look down in the maze.”

“The maze?” 

“That’s what the team called the lower labyrinth. We weren’t able to go far because of how lost we’d get, but with Emily to guide me I thought I’d just have a look. What about you guys?” 

“If Hordak did come here that night,” said Adora, “then he went through the secret passage. That’s where we need to start.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Scorpia led them in. The detective and her new robot friend took them through the initial twisting ways of the Institute, and then gave them directions up, as they took a stairwell down. 

“Take this,” Scorpia gave them a walkie-talkie, “just in case we find anything big, we can communicate.” 

With that, Bow, Glimmer and Adora continued alone. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the same passage that Phoenix and Entrapta had investigated only a day prior. 

In the cluttered first room, they were greeted by the magic horse. Majestic, pure white in his coat down to the pinkish tips of the hooves, and with a luscious mane of orange and peach. His frame was strong but agile, it had the body of an Andalusian but the gracile nozzle of an Arabian. Adora overflowed with wonder. 

“Oh my god,” she said in a hush. 

She approached the beast, and it did not resist. With a careful hand, she placed a palm on the side of his cheek and gently brought his head into her chest, at which he playfully nudged.

“You like horses then,” Glimmer giggled.

“I could have been an equestrian,” said Adora, nostalgic for a life she never had. 

“With those wings, you could have been a pilot,” remarked Bow.

When they entered the second room, they found it empty but for the station at the far end. Glimmer went up to the computer and started typing some of the keys.

“What do you think it is?” asked Adora.

“Well, let’s open it up,” said Glimmer

She pressed something that caused a jet of steam to eject from some tubing. This was followed by the container at the computer’s side to open up, and its frigid blue interior was revealed. It was filled with a series of glass vials, each with a dark liquid inside.

“Blood,” said Bow, “maybe this is the experiment referenced in the document. Let me have a look.”

He took the folder and flipped to the record of the blood experiment. Yet as he did so, his brow furrowed, and he looked up half-resigned.

“What’s wrong?” asked Adora.

“This is incomplete. There should be a letter designation to identify it with one of these vials but it’s missing from the text.”

“Maybe it wasn’t part of the report,” said Glimmer.

“No, I mean it’s physically missing, there’s a space where it’s been rubbed out.”

“Damnit,” Adora scowled, “she did tamper with it!”

“It might not have been Catra,” said Bow, “more likely Hordak did it himself.”

“Then why get so anxious about someone seeing the documents if he already covered his tracks?”

“That’s it!” Bow said, realisation washing over him, “there’s something in his blood he doesn’t want found. The designation is on this paper.”

“But you said it was wiped off?” 

“Bow…,” said Glimmer, still clicking away at the computer.

“Forensics, Adora,” Bow said, quickly withdrawing his pad, a smile plastered across his face, “I can easily find the traces from when the ink was still on the paper. We can retrieve the letter designation.”

“Bow, just wait––”

Bow started tracking his pad over the white-out spot on the page. Then he tapped away on the screen, reconstructing the data from the trace elements of ink and the grooving from where it was printed. Soon the screen came up with the letters in succession, and Bow punched the air.

“We’ve got it! CXIPQRCS. Type that in Glimmer. Heh,” he chuckled, smug, “I bet you wanna retract what you said about the usefulness of forensics, don’t you, Glimmer.”

“Bow, I already found Hordak’s blood,” said Glimmer, showing him the vial, “and Ron Guy’s.”

“Wh-what?”

“It was labelled on the computer.”

Bow’s entire body slumped.

“B-but….”

“Wait, I thought Hordak removed all references to himself from Dryl’s computers?” Adora recalled. “How could it be labelled?”

“Well it’s deduction, isn’t it,” said Glimmer, “the only vial not labelled was the one that must have belonged to Hordak.”

“But my forensics….,” Bow whimpered.

“Maybe next time,” Glimmer said, with a conciliatory half-smile. “At the very least, we need to compare these. Hang on.” 

She slotted the vials back into their chambers, and pressed a few more keys. 

“For something designed by Entrapta, the interface is remarkably user-friendly.” 

“What’s happening?” Adora asked. There was a churning sound accompanied by digital scratching. 

“I’m guessing it’s the PCR?” Bow said, looking up and down the combined computer- container, “although I wonder.” He came up and leaned over Glimmer (who only half begrudged this) so he could type away on the keyboard. “I think this is an entirely simulated process, just like our station back at the lab. Although this code is much more streamlined.” 

“Look,” said Glimmer, shooting up in her seat that she came up cheek to cheek by Bow, “the results!”

The computer had stopped churning. The data was displayed. Hordak’s DNA on the one hand, Guy’s on the other. An absolute match. 

“They’re not just related,” said Adora, wide-eyed, “they must be twins.” 

“How close are fingerprints for twins?” asked Glimmer.

“Distinct, but pretty close,” Bow murmured, “it might give us leeway, at least.” 

“You think this is what McRaker found? Is this the motive?”

“Hordak tried his hardest to hide this information,” Adora noted, “it’d be stupid to pretend this doesn’t matter.” 

There was a buzz, and the muffled voice of Scorpia emerged from the walkie-talkie in Adora’s pocket.

“Hey, guys,” the detective said, “we’ve found something real interesting down here. Come to the bottom-most floor.”

Sharing a look, the three agreed. They closed up the container after taking a record of their findings, and headed back down. Scorpia guided them down the intricate path of corridors, walkways and stairways that descended deep into the lower levels of the building. There they were surrounded by utter darkness but for the glowing red lights of robots on patrol, and small flashes from various computers buttons and other spare technology in the labs. 

But when they found Emily and Scorpia, they were greeted by a huge atrium that was covered in flood-lights, so blaring that it burnt their eyes after the long trek in darkness. When their eyes acclimatised, they saw what the other two were looking at; a huge seam in the wall.

“I think it’s a gate or door or something,” Scorpia said, tapping her head with the thin end of her claw, “but how to open it? Not even Emily knows.” 

“I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THERE WAS SOMETHING DOWN HERE.”

Adora looked it up and down and gave a whistle.

“Don’t think we’ll be able to budge this.’

“Maybe Entrapta knows how to open it, we could go find her?” suggested Glimmer.

“Will we even be able to find this place again once we leave?” 

“Well unless we can open it there’s no point staying.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea,” said Bow.

He took forward and started feeling his way across the wall, as if trying to find a weak spot. Glimmer and Adora shared a look, exchanging knowing smiles. Bow however found what he was looking for. He started manipulating a thin sheet of transcluscent paper, pressing it into his pad. Then he pressed the same paper into the wall. 

“I wonder if… aha!” 

There was a rumbling. Even the ground was vibrating, although most of them kept a sure footing. With a great groan, the walls started to part.

“What did you do?” asked Glimmer.

“Just thought to replicate the fingerprint data we had,” he said, “Hordak must have tailored this room to his hand.” 

“Oh wow, good thinking.”

“See, told you forensics are useful.”

“Yes,” Glimmer grinned, “in some limited circumstances I can admit having a forensic scientist can come in handy. I am slightly impressed.”

The doors were fully parted, and the five of them stepped the threshold into another field of darkness. There was some light, but it was barely a glow from circles lining the perimeter of the floor. The room was broad. Yet it seemed completely empty. 

“THIS PLACE IS RUNNING ON BASIC POWER,” noticed Emily, “MAYBE IT ISN’T EVEN CONNECTED TO THE MAIN GRID.”

“It could have been operating unseen for years,” said Scorpia, “but… why?”

The answer was the thing that drew all their gazes as it its small gleam of illumination grew just enough to shape its outline. It was a tank, filled with viscous liquid, thick bubbles within iridescent as the light bounced off their edges. There was also a solid shape inside. A figure, small, hulked, and though hard to tell in the dim, pale. 

“Y’know,” Scorpia said, taking a few paces back, “I think I’m starting to get real weirded out by this place.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to know what that is,” remarked Adora, queazy in her expression.

The image was enough to burn in her eyes, and she was thankful to be rid of it when she looked away. The endless darkness of the floor was a pleasurable relief. Although she noticed something was by her feet. She bent down and picked it up.

“Paper?” she said vacantly, “no, card.”

“What you got there?” asked Scorpia.

“I think it might be one of the pictures printed from McRaker’s camera.”

“Let’s have a see!”

They went back into the atrium, where the floodlights, though searing to the eye, at least gave them better bearings on their surroundings. That and it showed the contents of the picture. It was blackness, though with what was unmistakably the tank in the view. But the luminosity was so poor and the vision so blurred it was no wonder that the piece was thrown away. 

“A dud,” Scorpia said, brow falling, “but at least we know the victim was down here. If that’s worth anything.” 

With that, there just didn’t appear to be anything else of value at the Institute. They were thankful to be free of the building. No more encroaching darkness and constricting mazes, the outside air a cool welcome friend. 

“So,” said Scorpia, “you think you guys have a case?”

“It’s… not as strong as I’d like,” Adora said. 

Tomorrow weighed heavy on her mind. She still had that obstacle to overcome. No doubt there were three or more ways she could undermine her new evidence, not to mention use her own doubts against her.

“But,” she said, through a slightly restricted throat, “I’m ready. I have to do this.” 

“We should go check with Entrapta and Ron Guy,” said Glimmer, “we may have a few questions for them.”

Adora nodded. After saying Scorpia farewell, they headed off. 

This left the detective alone, her coat flapping in the gentle breeze. Emily had stayed inside, there to remain until Entrapta and hopefully Ron returned. All other investigation had been wrapped up, so Scorpia was done for the day. 

She let out a great sigh, and surveyed the scene. A busy road lay out ahead, choked by the late afternoon rush. The sky was growing orange and the sun yawned its way down. The neighbouring skyscraper towered above her, its tip vanishing in the sky. At its base, a figure was walking up to the entrance. A figure in a flowing cape.

“Catra?” Scorpia murmured. Then she spoke more loudly, “Hey, Catra!”

The cat froze just at the first step. She turned, and saw her, Scorpia rushing up. 

“You’re doing a follow-up right? You sure you don’t need the team for this?” 

Catra just turned forward ahead.

“Ohh, I see,” said Scorpia, “this is a more subtle mission. Don’t worry, I can do subtle. What’re we looking for?”

“ We’re not looking for anything,” said Catra, “I’m the prosecutor. I can conduct this investigation how I see fit. This is something that requires me go in alone.” 

“Oh don’t be like, you can always use backup.” She reached out a claw to hold Catra by the shoulder. “Just tell me what to––”

Catra ripped away from Scorpia’s touch. She looked to her with minute pupils in her stare.

“What about ‘alone’ don’t you understand? Can’t you take a hint?”

“Hint?” Scorpia’s voice was small. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t….”

“God, why are you so,” Catra struggled for the word, “clingy?” 

“Hey,” Scorpia’s brow set deep and heavy over her eyes, “is this about last week? I know things have been really stressful… look if what happened made you uncomfortable we can forget about it. We can remain friends.”

“We’re not friends! We’re not even coworkers.” Catra spluttered, amazed that she even had to explain this, “you are my subordinate. You do what you’re told, and I’ve told you to beat it!” 

Scorpia was stumped for words. Pallor sunk into her face, down to a chin that hung with a tremble. Watching Catra, as the girl turned once more and entered the building without a further thought, Scorpia felt dizzy, almost sick and with a wrenched tautness in her chest. Admittedly, Catra didn’t feel much better. She was angry. Surely it was anger towards Scorpia. Fool was also bugging her. But that explanation didn’t quite scan in the back of her mind, especially at the writhing feeling was compounded with one of guilt. 

That didn’t matter now. She had a job to do.

The suite was nearly empty when she arrived. The chairs were folded up, many shutters closed –– even the pools were void. Prime, however, was there, standing by the window, and looking out through the telescope.

“Marvellous,” he said, “there’s nothing that quite beats a sight like this. Nothing that makes you feel  as in control as seeing the city minute before your feet.” 

“I know you’re connected to Hordak,” said Catra, bluntly. No point wasting time. “In fact, I’m guessing the reason he’s throwing a fit is he doesn’t want that connection found out. So, what is it?” she cocked her head, “cash for influence? Do you get insights to the legal world? Amnesty for illegal dealings. Rivals locked up?”

“This is… and interesting investigation method. I thought you were prosecuting someone already.” 

“I’m not here for you,” she said, “I just want to get ahead of the defence. A cornered lawyer will pull out all the stops just to keep things going. I need to be able to cut off every avenue. That’s how I win my guilty verdict.”

Prime never let go of the smile that hung upon his lips. Nor did he break attention from his vista.

“Have you considered,” he said, “that perhaps Ron Guy is innocent after all?”

“What?” breathed Catra, “no, that would mean… no, the evidence doesn’t fit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” the man said, nonchalant, “I have no knowledge of the case apart from what I read in the papers, you see. But you are right, I do know the Chief Prosecutor. What sort of man of importance would I be, if I didn’t know the most important people? And of course, I am with you. I want a guilty verdict, for the health of the prosecutor’s office is important for the city. If a criminal like that went free, well, what a shame that would be. And if Hordak were implicated in a crime,” he gave a mock shudder, “ that would leave chaos. But if that’s how things must go, then it must go.”

“What do you mean?” Catra said. Her stance was uncertain. She didn’t know where to place her hands, so she held one in the grip of another.

Prime meanwhile turned to face her.

“I wouldn’t have built Prime Holdings to be what it is if I hadn’t accounted for every possibility. I understand you’ve proven yourself as prosecutor for that exact same reason. Should Hordak fall, then we need to make sure such a well-proven prosecutor takes the role of chief.”

That gave Catra pause. Her mouth fell open, and when she closed it again it was dry. A lightness filled her chest. The implication was sinking in, and she hadn’t felt something like this since her private audience with Hordak the week prior. 

“R-really?” she said, “Chief Prosecutor… me?” 

“Well, it’s only a suggestion. I’m just saying that would be a fortuitous outcome to all of this.”

Catra lowered her brow, and regaining her composure, said, “right…. Look, I can read between the lines. I’m not looking for a handout, and I don’t need your help to get what I want.”

“You’d turn down the opportunity?” said Prime. “I wouldn’t be so quick. Do you truly believe skill alone is enough for advancement? Without recognition, you’ll be stuck where you are. I don’t want someone as good as you are to have peaked so soon.”

Catra’s gripped into her hand, claws digging enough to mark flesh. She turned to the side, vaguely looking at the shutters over the window. 

“You think someone at the office would hold me back without… recognition.”

“Possibly,” he said, “but that wouldn’t matter if you became Chief Prosecutor.”

Catra let slip a smile, although she quickly held it back. 

“But… what would you want from all this?” 

“I just expect the same amicable relationships with the new Chief Prosecutor as I had with the old one. And should Guy go free, well,” Prime let out a chuckle, cold as it filled the room, “I’d want to make sure certain effects of his were reviewed; for security, reasons of course.”

“I…,” clenching her jaw now, Catra was racked by throbbing in her temples. Simultaneously, the light feeling in her chest never fell. It was a torn moment. “I am not going to let Ador–– the defence win.” 

“You must seek out your guilty verdict of course,” Prime nodded, “but like you, I look out for contingencies. But even then, should Hordak’s name be cleared, his reign shan’t last that much longer, I should think. And then the issue of succession will come up again. And you’ll be glad for my friendship.” 

Chapter Text

Coming back to the defence lobby after so long possessed Adora with a wave of dread. But she had to be strong, forcing what might have been her weakest ever smile. Otherwise she’d be letting down her client, who standing a few feet from her, was a bundle of nerves. If it hadn’t been for Entrapta’s presence, no doubt Ron Guy would have broken in a heap on the floor by now. His shaky limbs and twitching expression wasn’t doing any good for Adora’s own constitution.

Bow and Glimmer were nearby. The latter was sat, in thought. Bow was pacing. Every minute or so someone would be hit with the sudden fear that the Chief Prosecutor would arrive and detain them at any moment. It was a testament to them all that they most of them kept resolve. 

What a trial this would be. 

The door opened, someone rushing into the room. Adora turned.

“Mr. Wright, what are you–– wait, what are you wearing?”

Phoenix was mostly in his usual blue suit. He had started putting it on by rote this morning, only to remember he didn’t have his badge and ran out of willpower in that very second. On top of his tie-less open collar shirt he had a drab grey hoodie zipped up half-way. 

“I am your future if you don’t get this right,” he said, in a rather hollow voice. 

“Okay, no pressure,” Adora turned away with a thin mouth and held back the urge to scream. 

“I don’t suppose you have anything?” asked Bow, “we’re going in. I think a few minutes now.”

“I wish I could hand over some real evidence, but,” he flared out his empty arms and let them fall. “But okay, we don’t have much time. Adora?”

She looked back at him.

“You’re all the client has, he’s depending on you. I’m sure you well know that. Because of that, it’s your duty to consider every option no matter how bold. His future may depend on it.” 

“So you’re telling me to bluff?”

“Well, not bluff per se,” Phoenix tilted his head, “but sometimes it’s possible to borrow against he future, if you know what I mean? When the prosecutor is trying everything to close every avenue, you’ve got to take from a time where everything is more clear to you, and that’s how you make that time happen.”

“…okay?” 

“Yeah, so you bluff. But it can work, I’m telling you. You feeling ready?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ve been where you’re standing,” Phoenix said, now gazing off to the stand. “I’ve faced my share of power and corruption.”

“The Chief of Police right? But you at least had Edgeworth on side.”

“I’m sure he didn’t see it that way,” Phoenix let slip a wry chuckle, “and hell he was making it hard enough to begin with.”

“But he came to help you. Catra…,” Adora shook her head, “she’s not going to give me a moment’s peace.” 

The bailiff called for them to come. Adora sighed and turned to the door. 

Phoenix began again, saying “You know with Edgeworth––” but he stopped, holding a fist and shaking himself. “No, don’t let me keep you. Just remember what I said about borrowing time.” 

Adora went in, followed by Bow and Glimmer. When she reached the bench, Adora slid her hand along the woodwork, refamiliarising her with the feel. Her head was light, being back here, but there was something else. A gentle electrifying underneath her breath. She looked up, and there the other girl was; already ready, and watching her.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra purred, “surprised to see you here. You must really like humiliation.”

Adora didn’t say anything.

“You ready for a fourth defeat?”

“Not this time,” said Adora. 

The Judge banged his gavel, bringing silence to the chamber. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again, as the contortions in his wrinkles and brow did the talking. 

“Should I just get on with my opening statement?” asked Catra.

“I feel like I should say something for the record,” the Judge admitted, “something to acknowledge how, uh, sensitive this trial has been. Yesterday the defence was appearing to indict the Chief Prosecutor of the district in having something to do with this case. Then the Chief Prosecutor himself arrived to reveal that the defence had been disbarred. But I have to assume he had good reason.”

“He did, your honour. Phoenix Wright is an incompetent lawyer, who should have lost his badge long ago.”

“OBJECTION!” Adora slammed the table, “you have no basis to make that kind of claim.”

“He’s defended two from your own office,” Glimmer added, “you could show a little gratitude.” 

“This trial isn’t about the skill of your predecessor, it’s about the guilt of your client. And because of the shenanigans of mr. Wright, we’ve wasted a whole day to decide what we already knew. Ron Guy is guilty of murdering Nellie McRaker. Of that there’s no doubt. All that remains is some contention about whether Chief Prosecutor Hordak could have had any involvement, to which the prosecution will show, is irrelevant.” She let slip a small grin. “To that, call Hordak to the stand to testify about the documents he retrieved from the Dryl Institute.”

“Hordak?” Catra breathed, “she’s bringing him out already?” 

“At least we don’t have to drag him out ourselves,” noted Glimmer. “But be careful.”

Hordak stood strong and resolute behind the stand. His red eyes glowed as he peered across the chamber, letting none who came across his gaze fall under the mistaken impression that he was any weaker for standing where he was ––not even the Judge, who shrank a little under his vision. 

“Uh, Chief Prosecutor. How… nice to see you again,” the old man mumbled. 

“Would you state your name and occupation for the record, sir,” said Catra.

“I am Hordak,” he stated, in a voice, small though carrying far across the room. “I am the Chief Prosecutor for Los Angeles. I retain the right to terminate this cross-examination at any time.” He sent a glower over at Adora, “so I expect no improper questioning.”

“Chief Prosecutor,” Catra savoured the words, flattering them, “yesterday we noted that you worked for the Dryl Institute at one time. Since leaving you removed some documents from them. Can you explain why?”

“They contained personal information. I had every right to remove them. I fail to see how this could possibly delay this particular case.”

“Chief Prosecutor, you share a resemblance to the defendant, Ron Guy,” Adora’s limbs were tense as she explained, “enough that a witness who thought she saw him mistook a picture of you when we showed her.”

“And what am I to say to that? I was not at the Institute on the night of the crime. You have no evidence to point to me.”

“It’s possible that your fingerprints were mistaken for those of Guy’s. If that’s true, then those fingerprints would tie you to the case!”

“Do I even need to object here?” Catra sneered, “I explained this to you yesterday but here we go again: the Chief Prosecutor’s fingerprints were not found on the victim’s body. Ron Guy’s were.”

“I wonder. Do we have the fingerprint data for the Chief Prosecutor?” asked the Judge. “Perhaps seeing it ourselves could help.”

“I took the liberty of procuring it,” said Catra, and she delivered the data to the court. 

Three fingerprint scans were shown. In the middle was the actual, discovered upon the victim’s jacket. To its left was one that was labelled as Guy. To its right was one labelled Hordak. The swirling lines and loops, thin and sweeping in a clockwise direction, were a pair to the left. On its own, the sample on the right was squat, with a counterclockwise movement. Completely different to the other two.

The Judge gave a nod.

“I see,” he said, “then this appears to put a firm lid on everything. Hordak’s connection to the Institute is entirely peripheral, and Ron Guy remains the most likely culprit. Does the defence have any other points to make?”

Smirking, Catra added, “make it quick though, we might be able to make it out by lunch.”

Adora looked ahead, watching Catra’s sly face, meeting her in the eye. Then she smiled herself.

“Come on,” she said in a low, playful voice, “we’re just getting started here. There’s a contradiction between this and another piece of evidence.”

The smile did not wash from Catra’s face, although it did tense a little. Adora was displaying the results from the PCR test. The one she and the others had done the day before.

“The personal data suggests that Hordak and Ron Guy are related.”

“Related? Oh, we didn’t know that,” said the Judge.

“Well that wouldn’t mean too much on its own,” Adora continued, “but we found samples of both his blood and Ron Guy’s at the facility. They’re a perfect match. Your honour, they’re not just related, they’re genetically identical!”

“Identical!” 

Catra struck her own bench with her whip.

“So what?” she challenged, “relatives don’t share fingerprints, not even twins.”

“But they should be really similar,” countered Adora, a gleam in her eye, “and these readings you’ve shown us are entirely different. Your honour, these fingerprints have been faked!”

Catra was ready to fire back. But then a loud, cold boom of a voice drowned her out:

“HOLD IT!” 

There was a slam. Hordak’s fist had landed on the stand, and he glared at Adora.

“I did not agree to come here to put up with this kind of insolence! You accuse me of forgery? I’ll submit my own fingers right here for a test. They will match the data.”

“You’ve a longstanding interest in genetics, don’t you,” Bow posed, “I think you’d have figured out how to change your own fingerprints, not just the data.”

“But hold on,” said the Judge in a fretting voice, “we’re talking about the Chief Prosecutor here! I can’t believe that he would do any forgery let alone something of this magnitude.” 

“Your honour, we have evidence,” said Adora. “You see, the documents Hordak had removed had a letter designation for the blood sample we found. The thing is, the designation was missing. A simple trace analysis discovered it.”

“Hmm. Well, perhaps you just had a faulty copy, or it was redacted by the prosecutor’s office.”

“Except this isn’t a copy,” Adora said, “this is the paper version Hordak removed himself! Isn’t that right, Catra?”

Snarling, Catra was stopped for words. She held back a biting retort, and regarded the other girl with a watching stare. Clearly her sabbatical had sharpened her lawyering skills. But Catra still held all the cards. There was no way for her lose. So she stood up straight, calm and merely said:

“Yes, this is the version I retrieved from Hordak’s own office. It would appear that he removed the designation himself.”

“What?!” Hordak looked at Catra, aghast. 

“This is significant,” Adora argued, “this explains why he was so frantic to have yesterday’s proceedings suspended. He didn’t want that document, or his forgery, found!”

“That is quite damning,” the Judge marveled. 

The crowd was alive with muttering, only fed more speculative and intrigued by the foul grimace on Hordak’s face, as the man hulked over the stand. Catra however, remained motionless and passive. 

“This proves very little in the end,” she said, “you can’t say for definite his fingerprints were edited. Nor would that mean that the fingerprints we found were more likely his or Ron Guy’s.”

“Still,” said the Judge, stretching the word in rumination, “I feel like we’re stumbling in the dark here. Chief Prosecutor, could you testify as to your time at the Dryl Institute? And your relation to the defendant. Perhaps it would help us understand these things better.” 

“That’s what we’re asking him about?” Adora groaned in a low voice.

“The trial’s moving forward. Just focus on that,” Glimmer reassured her. “It may even tell us why he was there at all.” 

“So we’re really doing this?” asked Bow, “we’re going after the Chief Prosecutor himself?”

“Not getting scared, are we?” teased Glimmer.

“Hey, I’m as ready for this as anyone,” he said. “Just can’t quite believe it is all. Anyway, noticed how my analysis on the paper helped us in the end? Not thinking about apologising, Glimmer?”

She grinned at him, “no, wasn’t thinking about it at all.”

Though smiling too, Adora cautioned them, “look alive, guys. We’ve got another testimony to crack.” 

Though filling every word with bitter hate, Hordak trawled through. He wasn’t making good on his threat to end the cross-examination yet, so that was good, though with the strain in his face it might come at any moment. He explained his time at the Institute: he joined, looking to put his varied scientific interests to use, came to work with Entrapta, and put to test his utter drive to achieving perfection. The blood test itself was a comparison of how genetically similar people react under the same stimuli, and where differences appear. 

“What about the gravity chamber?” asked Adora, “did you work on that?” 

“One of my earliest breakthroughs,” he said, allowing the smallest hint of pride to enter his voice. “Graviton-reversal is a precise art, one which most in the field had dismissed as unfeasible. Even Entrapta suspected it couldn’t work, though she continued to aid me in my efforts. Without her, it might have been impossible, so––,” he suddenly shook his head, “no, that was my success. A testament to perfection.” 

Adora raised her brow, but didn’t think to press further. Sure, it could show the man knew how to use the chamber; the murder weapon as it were. But it was probable that Ron Guy easily knew the controls as well. The thought still mulled in her head for a second. Did that make sense?

“Did… Ron Guy play a part in that experiment?” she posed her tentative question. 

“If you’re asking could he use it? I am certain we ran a test with him later on. He would understand the controls, which Entrapta insisted be intuitive.”

“Okay,” Adora said, slightly deflated, although she kept on asking, “but was he not involved earlier on.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He wasn’t at the facility at the time.”

“Again, why not,” Adora knitted her brow. Was this going somewhere?

“He was junior,” Hordak said, in a nonchalant voice. Far less angry now, the topic was boring him, “didn’t even start working full time until I had left.” 

“Your honour, can this statement be appended to the testimony?” Adora asked.

“This statement?” the Judge repeated.

“Yes,” Adora said, before quickly adding, “it’s very important.”

How, she wasn’t quite sure yet. But something within her was itching towards it. Her gut was screaming that it was the right track. But when Hordak repeated the statement, she sank. What relevance did Ron Guy’s age have to do with any of this? 

“Adora?” questioned Glimmer. “Are we just playing for time?”

“I feel there’s something here.”

“A contradiction? You can find it, Adora, just think it through.” 

Adora slammed her palms into the side of her head, “urgh, why did I have to take the thinking job. I could have been an equestrian, I could have punched bad guys. Why this!”

“Hordak doesn’t want us finding out the truth here. But he’s bound to have slipped up somewhere. Just focus on that. What doesn’t gel with the evidence?” 

“The main thing is the document,” said Adora, closing her eyes, “he didn’t want us to find it. What we found out was that he and Ron Guy are, what, twins? Twins… genetically identical, but––”

She opened her eyes. Ron Guy was sitting at the dock, calm, but holding his knees tight together. Hordak was grimacing at the stand. They did look very similar. 

“Objection!” Adora shouted. She hadn’t even finished her train of thought, but it was too late now. She would just have to go for it, “your honour, what the witness just said is a contradiction… against reality as we know it!”

“R-r-r-r” the Judge couldn’t quite fathom what had been said.

“Reality?” Catra raised an eyebrow.

“As we know it?” Glimmer and Bow said, practically together.

“Pretty egregious to allow that from the witness, I say,” Adora continued. “He just told us that Ron Guy is his junior. But how is that possible, when they’re genetically identical? I’ve never heard of twins being born years apart!”

Hordak spluttered as he gripped the stand. Any protest he wanted to make was caught up in his own throat. Astonishment was sweeping throughout the chamber. Catra, although scowling, kept her nerve still.

“I have file data,” she said, “we’re talking about an experienced Chief Prosecutor, former scientist with years behind him versus a lab assistant we can barely dig any records for. They aren’t the same age.”

“Then how do you explain the blood,” pointed Adora.

“This blood thing is a red herring.” 

“How can you say that?”

“It’s far more likely a clerical error. You probably just compared two vials of the same blood.”

Adora shook her head, “that doesn’t make any sense. Look at how the witness is acting, think about the lengths he went to hide this. How do you explain the missing designation on the document?”

“Maybe,” Catra spoke, leaning over with a coy smile, “I was the one who rubbed that off to mess with you.” 

“You––” Adora choked. 

“The point is, you don’t have enough to prove any wrongdoing.”

Adora held herself back from any more retorts, rather just staring sullen at the prosecutor. 

Catra laughed, continuing, “see, this is what you’re doing. You’re fighting just to prove that he could have been the one to touch the jacket. You don’t actually have any proof.”

“Emily was threatened by someone who looked by mr. Guy,” Adora argued. “I mean, look at them!” She gestured to the two men, one quite pleasant although a little shaken, the other hunched over and growling. “Which one is more likely to be threatening? And why would Ron Guy tell Emily to hide his movements? It would just implicate him anyway. Hordak has an incentive.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that just on probability alone it’s Hordak! If it’s equally possible that it’s either of them. At the very least we have to investigate the possibility.” 

“Hmm,” the Judge interceded at last, “I’m inclined to agree with the defence, although––”

“You what?” spat Hordak, looking up with eyes glowing red.

“B-b-but it’s still an extraordinarily claim,” the Judge concluded. “So what ms. Catra says will have to stand. Although, there’s still a matter of this contradiction.”

“The contradiction?” Adora repeated. “Oh, right.”

“Yes, are they twins, or aren’t they? The prosecution claims they aren’t and that the blood tests are at fault. That would mean the evidence clearly points to Ron Guy. But you still claim they’re twins?”

“Well,” muttered Adora, “unless those personnel records were faked…, maybe they aren’t twins.”

“Adora?” Glimmer said in an agitated hush, “you can’t give up your contradiction.”

Gritting her teeth, Adora said, “you’re right, but I don’t know… I mean, what do we know?”

“They’re genetically identical,” said Bow, “we can’t doubt that now.”

“But they’re not twins…?” said Glimmer.

Adora threw back her head. If there was something, it would have been in the investigation. She recalled the facility. The huge gravity chamber. The robots. That magical horse –– that the place was filled with weird wonder was undeniable. So maybe it was something that would otherwise seem impossible that was the answer. Not twins, but identical. Genetically identical.

“Oh,” she let out. She looked straight again, blinking. “No, that can’t be right. That’s…,” she was starting to laugh, “no, that can’t be right.”

“Adora, have you cracked?” asked Glimmer. “What’s so funny?”

“But it’s actually that!”

The whole chamber could hear her laughing now. Even Catra was disarmed by it, drawing back every so slight.

“What’s the matter with you,” she said.

“Oh Catra,” Adora said, finally containing her laughter, “you’ve really gotta start turning your thinking around.” 

“Ugh. You’re going to suggest something really stupid, aren’t you.”

“I have a solution to the identical twin problem. So it’s either really stupid or really genius.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Catra, snapping her whip.

“No, I’ll be the Judge of that,” the Judge postured. “What is this solution?”

“Ron Guy,” Adora threw out her pointer finger, directly at the witness stand, “is a clone of Chief Prosecutor Hordak!”

Catra seriously flinched now. Loud reactions sprung from the gallery, many of who were starting to fray against the twists of this trial. Even the expressions from Bow and Glimmer suggested real doubt. But Adora didn’t let her smile falter, nor her arm. Because right now, Hordak looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Adora had him.

“Of all the ridiculous,” Catra breathed, “are you delirious? I hope you get disbarred next for this mockery to the court!”

“I should say so,” added the Judge. “What is the meaning of this farfetched nonsense?”

“SILENCE!”

The order was obeyed. It had come in a bellow from the witness stand, where Hordak was finally straightening himself up and assuming a calm countenance. 

“I will speak the truth,” he said, “since the defence is so insistent on digging this up. Though she is wrong to claim I was anywhere near the facility, she is correct on this one thing. Ron Guy… is a clone, the product of Entrapta’s and my research at the Dryl Institute.”

“Wh-Wha,” the Judge babbled, “WHAAAAAT?”

Adora slammed the desk, “so you admit it? This is what you were hiding from the court?”

Hordak turned to face her. His eyes were the coldest they had ever been.

“This was personal information. You have violated my privacy and dragged my name through the dirt. You and your compatriots should expect punishment of the most severe kind. I’ll make you suffer for this!”

“Oh dear,” the Judge was saying, “Oh dear, Oh dear. This changes… well, this changes a lot. Then not only should yours and Ron Guy’s fingerprints be near identical… they should be the exact same! This means that, well, the defence is right. You could have be involved. Chief Prosecutor,” he directed to him, with a grave, although apologetic expression, “I must ask that you testify to your whereabouts on the night of the murder.”

“Of course,” said Hordak, “I can provide a clear alibi. You will find that I was at my home, on a long phone call.”

“What was the subject of this––”

But Adora barely got in these few words. Hordak cut her off with another frigid glare.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “this call was long and took me through the night, at which point I gained hunger. I went to the kitchen to prepare some food, but the knife slipped, and I cut my hand.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” said the Judge. “But I don’t see––”

“Then I shall explain. I can provide a phone record that shows I was having that call. The Hospital can confirm that I was taken there for a brief emergency. This is my alibi. I could not have been at the Institute that night.”

“What sort of person cuts their own hand?” posed Adora.

“Irrelevant,” Hordak gestured the back of his hand to show the scar, “what matters is that it happened.”

“Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“Irrelevant. That is none of your concern.”

“It might interest the court––”

“It doesn’t interest anyone,” Catra snapped, “you’re just wasting time. The witness’s alibi is tight.”

“No it isn’t,” Adora said, her voice fraying high. “Witness, how can we know for sure you didn’t get this cut while at the facility? You could have gone to the hospital after the crime!” 

“The phone record, as I just said,” Hordak responded with a dry spiting tone, “how likely is it that I was having a chat while sneaking into the institute?” 

“Let’s settle this, right now,” Catra said. “Come on, Adora, you say the witness cut his hand at the facility? Where’s your proof? Such a thing would obviously have left some sort of trace. So why haven’t you shown us anything yet?”

Adora stood up. She calmly said, “I have proof,” and waited for Catra’s response.

“Really,” Catra stretched out the word with a grin, “well why don’t you show it.”

With a tremor in her hand, Adora produced a photograph. 

“This… I don’t believe we’ve seen this,” said the Judge. “It appears to be Ron Guy, or perhaps it’s Chief Prosecutor Hordak, or… well, I don’t know.” 

“This is a picture McRaker took of the defendant,” Catra explained, “we didn’t think it was necessary for our case so it wasn’t added to the record.” 

“Look at his hand,” said Adora.

Catra let out a high dancing laugh. 

“His hand? Oh come on Adora, how slow are you? We checked that wound against the one on the defendant. He cut himself against the locking mechanism, not a kitchen knife. Is this really your best evidence? I knew you’d run out of tricks sooner or later, but this…?” Catra shook her head, still with that mocking grin, “I think it was less embarrassing when you just admitted you had no evidence in the Singer case. Come on, Adora, when are you just gonna give up?’

“Catra,” Adora merely said, “I meant the other hand.”

“The other… what?”

“Look at the other hand in the photograph.” 

Catra looked at the photo. Ron Guy ––she was certain–– prowling the darkly lit Dryl corridor. In the hand closest to the viewer, there was the scar. But as her eyes shifted along the picture, towards the other hand, they widened, and then her pupils thinned until they were slits. 

“Th-th-that’s….”

“Hmm,” said the Judge,” there appears to be something held there. A black block?”

“Wouldn’t you say, your honour,” a smile finally started to creep along Adora’s face, “that it’s look a whole lot like a––”

“No!” yelled Catra, “what is this? Why didn’t I notice this?”

“Come on, Catra, why don’t you tell the court?” 

Adora could barely stifle her giggles now, as excitement burst within her. Things were starting to turn around. She could feel the end was near.

“This…is…,” Catra’s teeth were ground together, as she stared at the photograph, disbelieving, but unable to change the truth. “It’s a phone. The person depicted here has a phone.” 

“Just like the witness said! He was having a chat while sneaking around the Institute!”

“That’s a lie!” shouted Hordak.

 But he was unable to cut Adora off as she kept on going, “the picture shows that the victim saw him. She must have seen something in the facility ––something he was trying hide. We already know he’s not above removing data he finds too sensitive.”

“But I would never––”

“He went to the anti-gravity chamber, and when she entered he activated it to kill her! He threatened Emily to not mention him passing through so it would look like it could only have been mr. Guy. The fingerprints are his. This picture is of him. The murderer of Nellie McRaker,” she thrust her point right in his direction, causing him to recoil, “is you, Chief Prosecutor Hordak!” 

Hordak screamed. A piercing shout that filled what else would have been a deafened crowd of stunned watchers. Then, slamming the stand with two fists, he fell slumped over it. The  silence remained. Catra was still stood fixed, stupefied in expression. Bow and Glimmer marveled without words. The Judge dare not even speak to move the trial forward, and so time itself seemed to stop in that room.

Until Entrapta, appearing almost from nowhere, came up to the stand and spoke:

“Is it true?” she asked Hordak, as if it were just the two of them alone, “did you kill someone and try to frame Ron?”

“No,” came Hordak’s voice, low and broken, “I would… never… no.” 

Breaking from his reverie, the Judge finally said, “this is a damning state of affairs. The Chief Prosecutor? A killer? I can’t imagine it. Does the prosecution have any thoughts?” 

There was no response. The Judge turned to look at her.

“Prosecutor Catra?”

But Catra was still motionless, but for her mouthing. Past and future were in conflict within her. The indignity of many years raging through her chest, versus the thoughts of promise in her mind should she play this right. She made a motion with her hand, placing it on the bench, letting it fall, then placing it back again. Finally, after a few false starts, she forced herself to speak:

“The prosecution would… the prosecution would,” she shook her head, trying to throw everything back into sense. At last, all she could say was,“… prosecution… rests.”

“You,” Adora blurted, “what?”

“The prosecution,” Catra said again, through grit teeth this time, “would like to rest its case.” 

“You’re giving up?” Adora was blinking, lest what she was seeing wasn’t real. 

“Well then,” the Judge said, streaming a hand through his grey beard, “this would mean, well, the facts clearly line up to indict the Chief Prosecutor. A picture that places him at the Dryl Institute, his threatening of the robot Emily so as to incriminate Ron Guy, and his fingerprints found on the jacket. I can’t say that this is an airtight case, but I think I can at least render my verdict on the defendant.”

Hordak looked to be crushed. He could not push himself straight by the stand, nor would he lift his head. He certainly wouldn’t look at Entrapta, who continued to woefully watch him. 

“Well then,” said the Judge, “I suppose it’s up to you, defence. Would you care to formally indict Chief Prosecutor Hordak?”

“Indict… yes, I, uh,” Adora’s mutters were too slight reach the Judge. The man leant over, trying to hear her words. 

But Adora was stuck for them. 

“What are you waiting for?” asked Glimmer. “This is it, you’ve won!”

“But… shouldn’t Hordak have confessed?” Adora said in a strained voice. Her head was swimming, drowning. She didn’t even understand why she didn’t understand. 

“It’s alright,” Bow said with an assuring smile, “he can argue his own case later. But what matters now is showing that Ron is innocent.”

“But have we done that?” asked Adora, “is it right to stop here when we don’t know all the answers?”

“Adora, you’ve done enough,” Glimmer insisted.

“No. No, I haven’t. I can’t stop here.”

“But it was obviously Hordak!”

“…and Catra thought it was obviously Guy.” Adora said this with a note of finality. She had made her decision, and so stood up and addressed the Judge, “You honour, we haven’t shown for certain who murdered the victim!”

“We haven’t?” the Judge blinked. 

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Catra, “just take the victory and be done!”

“No,” said Adora, “we’re not stopping until we’ve considered every angle! Does the witness agree that he was at the facility as we’ve shown? Does he recall threatening Emily as we assert? Witness, testify.” 

But Hordak did not look up from the stand. He remained collapsed against it, forbidden to shift by the painful gaze of his old colleague standing nearby. 

The Judge shook his head, “I do not believe the witness will speak again. Honestly, defence, I don’t see what you hope to gain out of this.”

“The prosecution doesn’t have any other witnesses,” Catra stated. “Just accept it Adora, we’re at our end here. Either indict Hordak now, or your client goes to prison. And me?” she smiled something cruel, “I’m fine with it either way.”

Adora gnashed her teeth. Heat was rising to flush through her face. She’d been in corners before, but never one of her own making. She looked to Glimmer and Bow.

“Is there any possibility of other witnesses?” she asked. 

“Of course not!” Glimmer said, streaming a hand down her face, “we would have been talking to them if there were, wouldn’t we? Unless you’ve forgotten, Adora, we didn’t think we had much chance of winning this until a few minutes ago!” 

“I don’t think you’re going to have much luck with this,” Bow said. Even he had a pained expression, torn between agreement with Glimmer and wanting to remain helpful. “Maybe there was someone we overlooked? It would have to have been someone we just didn’t think would fit the mold of a witness. I bet no-one would have guessed Emily would take the stand until yesterday?”

“Maybe another robot?” asked Adora. 

“I don’t know if any of them would have seen Hordak, though.” Bow shook his head. “I’m sorry, Adora.” 

“I don’t understand,” Glimmer moaned, “a few days ago you were down because you thought you couldn’t beat Catra. Now you have and you’re trying to throw it away?”

“Glimmer!” Adora almost yelled, although keeping it to a hush, “this isn’t about beating her. This is about…. Look, we need to keep going, we need a witness. I just need a pair of eyes that could have… could have seen.”

It was something. At this point, she would take anything, because every fibre in her body told her this wasn’t over. The trial needed to continue. She was vibrating with the need ––but perhaps that was stemming from a hum down by her golden vambrace. It was something. A bluff, sure––– no, it wasn’t. 

She was borrowing time against the future. Time she desperately needed. 

Holding out her arm ahead, she whispered, “for the honour of Grayskull,” and the sword emerged in her hand. 

Both Bow and Glimmer flinched at the suddenly appearing weapon. Most in the court were watching confused, and no-one knew her intentions. Even Adora wasn’t quite sure why she needed the sword, but it felt right to feel the leather grip in her fingers. She lay it against her shoulder, and continued:

“Your honour, there is one other person who saw our mysterious third party travel the secret passageway on the night of the murder. Someone other than Emily.”

“Who?” 

“The Horse,” said Adora, “the one known as Swift Wind.”

“What?” exclaimed Catra. Her voice cracked as confusion and anger mixed into one. 

“Horses,” the Judge’s voice wavered as he tried to figure out what he was saying as he was saying it, “don’t usually give testimonies. I’m not sure I can allow this.”

Adora pointed with the sword-tip, thrusting it out with a sharp ring.

“It’s critical for this trial to go forward that we cross-examine that witness. If I’m wrong, then I’ll gladly go along with whatever penalty you see fit.” 

“I, well,” the Judge mumbled, “you’re so insistent. Very well,” he sighed. “Bailiff, fetch the horse known as Swift Wind.”

The transition was quite quick. Despite having to head to the Institute, and wind through the many paths to find him ––not to mention figuring out the logistics of leading a winged horse through a busy city to come to a court house–– the Baillif managed bringing Swift Wind to the court with great efficiency. Now there was a horse tethered to the stand. 

“I’m starting to think you’re even dumber than I thought,” Catra told Adora, “and that’s saying something.”

Adora couldn’t really retort to that. She had been so certain that this was the right thing to do, but now having cooled down a bit, was being burdened by the torturous reproach of common sense. Even having the sword in her hand seemed ridiculous now. At this point, she could think that half the room suspected her of madness, and she’d be right. 

“There’s no way this is gonna work,” she muttered, “no, why did I do this. Why did I think this was going to work? Parrots and Robots can at least talk!” 

The horse was giving her a blank stare. At last, Adora just sighed.

“I don’t supposed you can talk?” she asked.

“Well sure, but what do you want me to say?”

Adora blinked. It had been a male voice that had spoken, somewhat deep, peppy in inflection. She looked to her side.

“Uh, Bow?” she asked, “did you say something?”

But Bow could not answer, for he was staring gormless at the horse. He wasn’t the only one. The Judge’s eyes had never been so wide. The man’s beard ruffled as he plied for the right words, but nothing but stammering came out. 

“Am I going crazy,” said Glimmer, “or did the horse just…?”

“W-witness?” the Judge managed to say, “that wasn’t you who just spoke right now, was it?”

“Of course it was me,” said the horse, apparently. It shook its mane with a sense of indignity, “why would I come to a witness stand if I wasn’t going to talk?”

“Uh… right,” said the Judge.

“It’s a talking horse,” Bow squeaked, dumbstruck. 

“Yeah, we established that,” said Swift Wind. He looked to Catra, who was madly gripping at her own bench. “Aren’t you going to ask for my name and occupation?”

“Why would I?” Catra snapped, “you’re an animal!.” 

“Well, so are you, ms. Kitty claws. So rude!” 

“Witness,” Adora spluttered, having finally regained her composure. “Tell the court what or who you saw on the night of the murder!”

The horse talked (we established that already, of course.) What he was saying slipped by most people, as the gallery was still trying to figure out if they were having a collective hallucination. Even Catra found it difficult to focus on the word. Containing a frothing rage inside, she dragged the sharp end of her claws against the woodwork in front of her. 

Adora listened though. Swift Wind saw a man sauntering through the secret passageway. He had been holding something in his hand, though the witness could not make it out. But it was dark, and the man was barely more than a silhouette. 

“I suppose,” said the Judge, “that the object in his hand was his phone? Or at least the object seen in the photograph.” 

“Are you sure you couldn’t recognise anything else?” asked Adora.

“Well, his general shape was familiar. Tall, with pointed ears. But he could have been Hordak or Ron Guy based on that. But I couldn’t really make out his face, although if they were both clones it would have been hard to tell them apart anyway, right?”

“Only one of them was a clone,” Adora corrected.

“Oh, okay. Well still, they’d both have the same face.”

Adora leaned against her bench. “You sure you didn’t see anything else? Don’t leave anything out.” 

The horse tapped his chin with the tip of his wing. 

“Well,” he mulled, “I believe I saw some lights… ah, the eyes.”

“Eyes?”

Swift Wind bowed his head, “yes, eyes. They glow, I guess, and I saw two lights around his face. They glowed green.”

“I don’t see how this gets us anywhere,” the Judge said. “Do the colour of his eyes really matter?”

“They matter, your honour,” Adora said by instinct, although her follow up was a little quieter, “but… hmm. The contradiction is there, but if I go for it….”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that last part.”

Adora shook her head. She’d come this far, knowing that it would have been expedient enough to quit while ahead. Nothing else mattered here but the truth, so it would be the truth she’d find.

“Your honour,” she said, in a loud clear voice, “you still have the picture of Hordak from yesterday’s proceeding’s, right?”

“Ah yes, it’s somewhere around here.”

“What colour are Hordak’s eyes?”

“Urrrrgh,” came the terrible and pained groan from the prosecution bench, “you’re leading us around in circles!”

“I don’t understand,” said the Judge, looking from one lawyer to the other.

“Hordak has red eyes,” Catra explained, “Ron Guy has green. So we’ve come back to Ron Guy as the murderer.”

“But why would the defence argue––”

“I’m not,” said Adora, quickly, “remember, Ron Guy wasn’t found with a phone.”

“But Hordak was.”

“Hordak’s eyes don’t glow green.”

“Ah, but Ron’s does!”

Adora shook her head, “it still makes no sense for Ron Guy to threaten Emily.” 

“Adora,” Glimmer looked with tired half-lowered eyes, “are we gonna be here all day?”

“I concur,” said the Judge rubbing his head, “this contradiction seems impassable. But we have to break the deadlock somehow.”

“Your honour, you’ve got to open your mind to a new possibility,” said Adora,” it wasn’t Ron Guy, and neither was it Hordak! Which means, logically, that there was a third person.”

“But who?”

“To be consistent with all the evidence, well,” Adora chuckled, “I was wrong then. There is a second clone!” 

“HOLD IT!”

The shout had been loud, deep, twisted and full of wroth. Hordak had shoved aside Swift Wind. The horse had ruffled his feathers and stamped his hooves, but ultimately cowered in the face of Hordak’s bellow. The man looked upon the court with a grim expression not yet seen.

“I…,” he said, tentative, hesitating, and then finally conceding, “confess.”

“You ––what?” Adora took a step back. 

“No!” 

It was Entrapta. She almost went up to Hordak, but held herself back. Instead she just pleaded:

“It might not be you! Weren’t you listening?”

“Silence,” Hordak ordered, though unable to look at her still. “I was never like you… I cannot handle these imperfections. The trial must end now.”

Adora was about to object, but the sound of the surprised crowd drowned her out. Before she could try again, Glimmer held her by the arm.

“Adora, he’s confessed. It’s over.”

“How is it over?” Adora asked with an indignant scowl. 

“It’s–– Adora you only kept things going because he hadn’t.”

“No, I kept things going because we don’t know the whole truth yet. Think about it,” she gestured to the defiant witness, “he’s hiding something. But what’s there to hide if he’s confessing a murder? No, there’s something more that he doesn’t want us to find out, and we’ve gotta know. Your honour,” she called out, “have Hordak testify again!”

“He refused, remember,” said Catra “and he’s already confessed. This trial’s over, unless you think you’ve got another talking horse.” 

“We don’t need another eyewitness,” Adora said, suddenly standing straight and with a clear head. “We just need someone with knowledge of Hordak’s genetic research.”

Catra held an uneasy look as she took a pace back from her bench.

“You mean… him ?”

“You saw the document yourself, Catra,” said Adora. “We can’t finish this trial until we’ve talked to him.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Judge, “but I’m not following. Is there another witness you wish to call, defence.” 

“Yes, your honour. Please call the CEO of Prime Holdings.”

“Prime–– wait, what does a businessman have to do with any of this?” 

“I think we’ll have to see how much,” said Adora, “but I’m guessing with the money he was giving to their research, he knows something about the cloning.”

“And,” the Judge looked over to Catra, who was still reeling, “the prosecution accepts this?”

“I’ll… allow it,” she said. “The prosecution believes that Prime has some knowledge of the situation.”

“Very well. Baillif, go retrieve this Prime of Prime Holdings.”

“Where’s that sir?” asked the same bailiff as before.

“It’s right next to the Dryl Institute,” Adora explained.

“But…,” the man slumped, giving off a groan, “I was just there!” 

With that, as the bailiff was rushing off, the Judge called for a ten minute recess while they waited for the arrival of their new witness. But even as others were streaming out of the room, Adora and Catra remained at their respective stations. One was gripping the hilt of her sword, the other her whip. They locked eyes for a fleeting moment. Both knew that what came next would be the endgame for this trial. Both tried to read the other in their eyes. Neither could fully guess what thoughts flowed within the other’s mind.

Chapter Text

“Why are you doing this?” Glimmer interrogated Adora as soon as the defence team had reached the lobby. “I just don’t–– Adora we had it! We could get the not guilty right now if we just let the trial end.”

“It was the right thing,” was all the other could say, in a small voice, seeming distant. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Adora, we’re trying to help you in there. We deserve a better explanation than that.”

“Well, what if Hordak didn’t do it?” asked Adora. “What sort of defence attorney would I be if I put one innocent life in for another? That’s not justice. I wouldn’t be worthy of this sword,” she gave the heavy steel a sharp swing in the air, letting out a short growl, “nnrgh! Look, I’m sorry, and I know it’s not great, making an already difficult task harder for us. But this isn’t a game. We have to do this right.” 

“Adora––”

But before Glimmer could voice any more frustration, Bow lay a gently touch on her arm. It was enough to hold her back, and she looked at his face. He yielded a certain expression, both reminding her of something important, but also waiting for her lead.  She sighed, and turned back to Adora.

“You… defended me even though it would have been easier to get me declared guilty.”

“We’re with you, Adora,” Bow said, mere but conclusive. “That said, are you sure that Prime is the key?”

“Key? I mean,” Adora turned to the pale Ron Guy, just coming in with Entrapta, and soon joined by Phoenix Wright. “They look kinda similar…. It’s a long shot, I know, but maybe Prime is the second clone?” 

“That’d make a lot of sense,” came a male voice.

Expecting it to be Phoenix, Adora jumped when she found the horse Swift Wind standing right behind her. 

“This guy is a billionaire, right?” he continued, “makes money of blood diamonds and underpaying stafd. Course he’s evil.” 

“Hey, Entrapta? Can I keep him?” Adora asked with a fast grin. 

But the scientist seemed completely away. She held onto Ron’s eye, nominally to reassure him, but mostly was using it to anchor herself lest her knees give way. A smile waited on her face, but never had she worn something so pained and vague. 

“Prime aside, you guys uncovered a lot,” it was Phoenix this time, chiming in. “I didn’t even think of cloning yesterday.” He turned to Entrapta, “although it would have been nice if we were told earlier.”

“I…,” Entrapta said, “I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to betray Hordak’s trust.”

“But, he was the one who left the institute. On bad terms, you said yourself.”

“Why would that change anything?”

“Hmm, I guess it shouldn’t.”

“But I didn’t know anything about a second clone,” Entrapta insisted, “only Ron here. Earlier attempts didn’t work.” 

“What happened?” asked Bow.

As she talked in recall of old research notes, a little of her old energy returned to her, “well, every attempt resulted in cognitively unresponsive specimens. Uh, that’s to say, empty vessels if you want. Even with fully functioning brainstems, they just wouldn’t react to any stimuli. I tried substituting their nervous systems with the personality technology, but they just acted like early versions of Emily.”

“So you used the artificial magatama,” Phoenix guessed. 

“Yeah, and that’s why Ron is alive and well today!”

“Well he won’t be for long unless Adora gets him a not guilty. If only I was quicker yesterday we could have avoided this whole thing. Now I don’t even have my badge.”

“You can still make yourself useful,” Adora said, caught by a thought. “Hordak gave us this phone data, but we didn’t have any time to analyse it. Maybe there’s a clue in who he was talking to.” 

“Good thinking. Time’s nearly up so you better get in there.” He looked to the squad collectively, “You guy’s ready.”

“We can do this,” said Glimmer. 

“Of course we can,” Bow gestured to the sword, “we’ve got She-Ra on our side.”

Glimmer smiled. “More than that, we’ve got Adora .” 

Recess ceased, and everyone returned to the chamber. Adora was right where she had been, behind her bench, but this time Catra would not meet her eye. It was a little irregular, but Hordak had confessed and so had submitted to arrest. He was sat next to Ron Guy in the dock. They were now all joined by the witness when, the doors swinging wide open ––and the baillif leading him in––– Prime waltzed forward and took his spot behind the stand. Tall, pale, with thin white hair and long pointed ears, the man even had a faint scar on the back of his hand. He laid his eyes upon the surroundings and its people as if he were king and this were his court. Always he wore that smile.

“Name and profession,” said Catra.

“I am Prime,” he said, “CEO of Prime Holdings. That is to say I manage a vast conglomerate, a media empire, retail chains, that sort of things. I am a very busy man but I can always make time for our cherished court system. But I must say, I’m confused as to why I have been summoned here.”

“We won’t detain too much of your time,” said the Judge in a chipper voice, flattered by the man’s pleasant demeanour, “but the defence has some questions related to your dealings with the Dryl Institute.”

“You must imagine I have so many assets to deal with that I cannot easily recall everything,” Prime said, “but I will try my best.”

“We have a document that suggests your funding was involved in the Institute’s cloning research,” said Catra, “you must remember something of it.” 

“Maybe I did once, but it was some time ago. I’m not sure I even really know which one Dryl was. I don’t think I can be much help to your trial.” 

“OBJECTION!”

Peering, the man’s green eyes sidled over to the defence bench, seeing Adora for the first time.

“I find that unlikely,” Adora said, “your headquarters are stationed right next to the Facility. In fact, you have a telescope that conveniently looks upon the building!” 

“Coincidences do happen––”

“You can’t wriggle out of this one. You clearly had a personal interest in their research!” She thrust out her sword so its point tip was challenging, directed at Prime.

Seeing this, his eyes widened, reflecting in the gleam of the silver. His smile deepened.

“The Sword of She-Ra,” he said, delighting the words in his mouth. “That is a priceless artifact. I’ve long sought it for my collection, but sadly it has eluded me.” 

“Well tough, it’s not for sale.” 

“Are you sure?” the man cocked his head. “I overheard you in my suite two days ago. I was under the impression you were giving up your career in law.”

Adora fixed her brow, but never let up her sword arm. The mention of this gave Bow an anxious look as he stole a look at her, and even Catra perked up. Nonetheless, Adora retorted:

“Well you misheard. Now tell the court what you know about the cloning program.” 

“Very well… but it isn’t pretty.” 

Prime delved into his testimony, explaining that he had indeed been interested on a personal level, and continuously supplied funds to see it completed. His point of entry was through Hordak, more reliable than anyone else at the Institute when it came to contracts and admin. So it was Hordak who handled the money, and Hordak who held the documents explaining this. As for the research itself, all Prime knew came from Hordak ––and he was only supplied little. There were some failures, and then there was a success in Ron Guy. Hordak shortly left the Institute, and that was the end of the research, the funding and therefore any connection Prime had. 

“You’re certain that there was only one successful clone?” asked Adora.

“Of course,” said Prime. “It would have been of great interest to me if there were another. But cloning so often leads to empty vessels, not particularly useful.” 

“Why not?” 

“The basic technology recreates the physical form, right down to the grey matter of the brain. But no matter how much the neural pathways simulate language, cognition, sense, it’s all just illusory. Advanced computers can create convincing simulacra of life, but they do not sense, they do not feel, and without an original being or essence, they cannot make decisions.”

“The soul, right?” said Adora, “that’s how Emily was able to defy her programming and lie. To preserve herself, she made a choice.” 

“Sure, that’s the distinction between a real person and a clone. The latter does not have a soul.”

“I’m sure this is very interesting,” Catra rolled her eyes, “but it’s all academic. There’s no way to verify if someone has a soul or not.”

“Yes there is,” said Adora, quickly coming from behind the bench. “Mr. Wright provided it as evidence yesterday.”

She went over to the evidence table and picked up the 9-shaped metal object. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Verifying Prime’s claim,” Adora said, approaching the witness stand. “If what he says is true and there isn’t a second clone, then this––” she held out the artificial magatama. It glowed. Adora’s face fell, and finished, “…should happen.” 

“Exactly,” said Prime, chuckling, “was something else supposed to happen? I have a soul, so your little object reacts to it. Interesting piece of technology, and quite elegant. Perhaps I could acquire that for the collection.”

“Um, for now it will have to remain as evidence,” the Judge said, shifting. “But ms. Adora, what exactly are you trying to demonstrate?” 

Adora pulled a cheek, trying to get her thoughts back in motion. She was so certain the pieces were coming to fit together ––Prime looked the part, the mirror image of the other two save for a few defects. But he wasn’t a clone. Guy was. And Hordak –– he was Guy’s originator, he couldn’t be Guy’s clone. Yet that didn’t preclude another possibility. And logically, it was all that was left. 

“I just wanted to demonstrate that it works,” Adora lied, stealing away with a nonchalant air. “Now you’re all on board with me. This is the real demonstration.”

She walked to the dock. Hordak instinctively stood up, wearing a tentative expression. It was taut, but he was too drained of energy now to wear a typical scowl. Adora held out the magatama.

“Take it,” she said.

“I…nggrh,” he growled. “I have already confessed, why must we continue this charade?” 

“Entrapta’s up in the gallery,” said Adora, “she’s still watching. After all that’s happened, doesn’t she deserve to know?”

Cheek twitching, and boiling heat rising through him, Hordak might have shouted again. Yet pangs grew in the back of his throat, and his head drew down by the weight of everything. Finally, he took the contraption into his spindly hand. It remained dark and cold. 

“Hordak?” Entrapta marvelled, leaning over the gallery balustrade.

“I told you I was imperfect,” he said, looking down deeper so none could meet his eye. 

Many others were amazed, not least of all the Judge.

“The cloning researcher was a clone himself? How fascinating. But what does this mean?”

“Surely that makes Hordak the suspicious one?” said Catra in a plain but fatigued voice. “Let’s call time on this. Your client will get a not guilty, and we can bring forward the real case against the Chief Prosecutor.” 

“No,” said Adora, “this changes everything. Because this means there could have been a third person. Not Ron Guy, not Hordak, but the original. The first one!” 

“Who do you propose?” said the Judge.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Catra hissed, “she’s gonna indict Prime.” 

“Well––yeah,” Adora stumbled for a second. “Yeah! The defence wishes to indict Prime!”

“Interesting,” said the witness. “I don’t believe I have a clone. I am just as surprised as you are to see that Hordak is what he is but… well, I don’t see how this concerns me.” 

“He’s your clone!” Adora let out a breath of steam. How was he playing this dumb?

“But that would have meant I’d have cloning technology before I even started funding the Dryl Institute’s project. The order of events are confused.”

“That’s easy. You had the technology already when you made Hordak, and he learned it from you when he took it to the Dryl Institute. But you needed Entrapta to perfect it.” 

“An imaginative narrative,” Prime laughed. 

“It’s possible,” Catra granted, “but apart from physical appearance, you can’t claim that Hordak is Prime’s clone.” 

“Exactly, we’d never met before a few years ago!”

“Then let’s test it,” Bow said, with a grin almost from nowhere, “a blood test should be enough to prove you a genetic match, just as it was for Hordak and Guy.”

Prime regarded Bow, his smile, while present, faltering to the extent that cold eyes dominated his features. 

“You are a forensic investigator in training, I don’t see what you can provide to this little discussion of ours. And I will not be delayed from my business anymore than I have to. I came out of respect to the court, but I will not travel to your precinct.”

“We’ll do it right here then.”

“You clearly have not passed your test. That kind of technology requires an entire laboratory. Not something as portable as aluminium powder or luminol fluid.”

“You can throw your money around,” Bow said as he retrieved his pad and set it down on the bench, “but you clearly have no faith in the white heat of technology.”

“What are you doing, Bow?” asked Glimmer.

“I went back to Dryl this morning,” Bow explained, “Entrapta offered to help me when I told her about my problem. You know, the one about downloading the virtual PCR analysis onto my pad. Well we did it. All I need is a sample of Prime’s blood, and I can check it against the results from Guy and Hordak’s.” 

Now positively scowling ––with a grimness that echoed Hordak–– Prime watched as Bow strode up to him and offered him a pin to prick on his finger. Bereft of any last excuse, Prime let Bow collect a small swab of blood and run his test on the electronic screen. A few seconds passed. There was a ding, and Bow pumped his fist in the air.

“Result!”

“Are they a match?” asked Adora, hurriedly, “please tell me they’re a––”

“They’re a match, Adora!” 

“Yes! Bow, you’re amazing!” She turned to Prime, pointing her sword tip his ways again, “there he is! The second clone was Hordak all along. But the first one, the original ––Prime!” 

Catra slammed her own bench with a fist, and almost screamed. Her ears fled backwards. Her temples were about to burst. She had watched everything unravel before her very eyes. This was a case in which she couldn’t lose, and now she was losing. How had she been so powerless to stop it? Had it been inevitable from the start? Adora ––this She-Ra–– was destined to win. 

How was she supposed to win against someone like that? 

“These are very serious accusations,” said the Judge. “How does the witness respond?”

“Very clearly false,” Prime focused on his upheld hand, rubbing the trickle of blood between finger and his thumb. “I should be allowed to testify about my whereabouts, to show my alibi as it were.” 

The Judge agreed to it. Before Prime began, Glimmer leaned over to Adora and whispered:

“You’re closing in on him. Don’t let up the pressure now.”

“I won’t,” Adora promised. 

Prime gave his next testimony. According to himself, he was in the relaxation suite at the top of the tower, watching the views through his telescope.

“Hold it,” Adora said, “you were doing this at night? Not much to see, wouldn’t you think?”

“The city glows at night, of course there’s much to see. And the resolution is stunning, enough to see night-life up close.”

“It was a really good telescope,” Bow admitted.

“In fact, I was able to see Hordak as he entered the facility,” Prime revealed. “Something that left me wondering all night. I could not figure out why he would return to the Institute after so long and at that hour. Yet I never would find out until today, since I never left the tower that night.”

“What about the scar on the back of your hand?” asked Adora.

“An accident. Nothing to do with this case.”

“We have a photograph taken by Nellie McRaker of a person walking through the facility. He also has a scar on that hand. I think that person is you.”

“A theory,” he said, “but where’s the proof.”

“I thought that picture was of Hodak?” the Judge scratched his bearded chin, “he also had a scar, and a phone such as in the photograph.”

“It’s possible that it was Prime instead,” Adora suggest. “If we accept that, then Hordak’s original story holds up.”

“If a scar on my hand proves I was there,” said Prime, “then a scar on his hand shows that he was there.”

“Not necessarily,” Adora argued. She rubbed one hand on the pommel of her sword as she talked it through, “for example, you could have cut your hand on one of the locking mechanisms, then contacted Hordak and order him to slice his own to match! All designed to give you cover.”

Prime looked over to Catra with an impatient sneer.

“Shouldn’t you be rushing to put down the defence’s ridiculous proposals?” 

Catra opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her expression was strained, and she only stayed propped by an arm on the bench, otherwise appearing to be falling down. Finally, she managed to say:

“We could… call Hordak up to confirm or deny this account.”

“That’s… rather feeble,” Prime remarked, “but it will do. Hordak!” 

Hordak did not look up from the floor as he said in a curt, worn voice:

“I was not contacted by Prime. I was on a call, but that was unrelated. It was I who was at the scene of the crime, not he.”

Adora slammed a hand on the bench, declaiming, “he’s clearly under duress! Prime is controlling him! The evidence will speak where he will not.”

“What evidence?” 

The door burst open. All the court’s attention was drawn to the person coming in. Phoenix, still a bit dishevelled-looking in his hoodie-suit mix, was aglow as he held papers in his hand.

“Wow, great timing,” Glimmer noted.

“He’s a man of variable luck,” said Bow. 

“Mr. Wright, did you check the phone record?” asked Adora.

Hordak stood up, red eyes wide, and a panicked expression on his face. He tried to bellow, but his lungs gave way and he barely coughed:

“You cannot do this, you are disbarred!” 

“Ironic isn’t it,” said Phoenix, “since I’m actually helping you now. It took me several tries to get through but I rang the same number Hordak was talking to. It led me right to Prime Holdings. Not just that, but one of Prime’s very own phones!” 

“I knew it!” said Adora. “Prime called Hordak!”

“Then he was right about the medical and phone records,” said Glimmer, “they did show that he had an alibi. The only person who could have been at the crime scene was Prime.” 

There was a low chuckle emanating from the stand, deep from the chest but completely without mirth. Prime slowly looked up. Then started to clasp his hands together in a sardonic cheer. But his eyes fixed on Adora, his pupils small and penetrating. 

“A good attempt,” he said, “a good attempt indeed. But not at all conclusive. The cut on my hand in a mere coincidence.”

“But you called––”

“I might have called Hordak, but what does that really say?”

“You hid this from us––”

“You can’t prove that I was the one in the photo,” Prime declared, “and I will never confess. But Hordak. Go on, Hordak. Make your plea again. Bring this sham to an end.” 

Hordak looked ahead, stiff in his face, and glazed in the eye. 

“I am guilty,” he said, “I killed McRaker, fearing that my being a clone would be revealed. My not having a soul… This I could not allow.” 

“There we have it,” said Prime with another cold laugh, “motive, opportunity, and a confession to boot. What more do you need, your honour?”

“Wait, Hordak just gave new testimony!” Glimmer slammed the bench with both palms, leaning forward to get the word in, “his ‘motivation’ is new information, we have a right to cross-examine.”

“What possible contradiction could be left?” 

“I think,” the Judge shook his head, “that the witness is correct. We can’t keep this trial going on indefinitely. Yes, this witness’s behaviour strikes as secretive, but I don’t think we can avoid the fact that it was the Chief Prosecutor who did the crime. And to think that only a few hours ago I would have never believed that. Oh what a dark day for the court when we have to indict the top lawyer in the city, but I don’t see any other way. The objection from the defence is overruled.” 

“No…,” said Adora, air stripped from her lungs that she could barely say it. 

“You caution is admirable, defence,” said the Judge, “although your accusations are erratic, you’ve at least shown the aspersions on Hordak were merited. We certainly can’t hold your client in suspicion anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“No…,” Adora said again, even weaker this time.

“For now, I shall pass my verdict. The court finds Ron Guy….”

Silent anticipation rested in the court. Time itself held still, expectant. The Judge was about to speak. 

“OBJECTION!” 

Gavel still in the air, the Judge froze. Prime’s smile faltered. Bow and Glimmer looked to Adora, but she hadn’t spoken. She was looking ahead at Catra, who had extended her hand out to a point, thrust in the air. 

“P-p-p-prosecutor Catra?” the Judge, bewildered, said. “You have an objection?”

“I….do.” War raged between Catra’s intent to speak and the bile in her throat, but she pushed on, saying, “the prosecution… requests that Chief Prosecutor Hordak… that Hordak testify again.” 

“Catra?” Adora breathed. It was as if all the light in the world suddenly shone on the girl opposite. 

Prime, however, looked to the girl with a grimace, “I don’t like to have my time wasted, prosecutor. What exactly do you think you’re doing?” 

Not saying a word, Catra just stared ahead, at a point past the defence bench. 

Prime continued, in a smaller but darker voice, “this sort of behaviour is unbecoming of an ambitious woman such as yourself. I thought you had greater sense.”

“The Chief Prosecutor,” said Catra, deepening her brow, “will testify again.” 

Before Prime could announce his displeasure any further, the Judge assented and called Hordak back up. Powerless to stop it, Prime stepped aside as Hordak took the stand. Yet then the man regained his cool smile, and though the two men looked similar, it was a world away from the dread defeated stance held in Hordak’s bones, by the heavy slump in his great chest, to the face so weakened by the day’s events that it was entirely flat; too weak to scowl as it once had done. 

“I went to the Dryl Institute,” said Hordak, “I cut my hand on the locking mechanism, and made a call on my phone as I travelled past. McRaker saw me. She discovered evidence of my secret, so I destroyed it, and killed her using the gravity chamber. I had no other choice.”

“This evidence?” asked the Judge, “what would this be?”

“A photograph,” said Hordak,” taken by her camera.”

“We couldn’t find the last one,” noted Catra, “it makes sense that it was destroyed.” 

Glimmer leaned over to Adora, saying:

“There’s a few things you can press him on. Why was he there in the first place, who was he calling? There might be a contradiction somewhere.”

“He’ll just make something up,” Adora bit her lip, “he’s got nothing left to hide, so I don’t understand why he’s still covering for Prime. Except… wait, maybe he can tell us?”

“Adora?”

But Adora called out to Hordak with a “hold it!” and asked, “what did you mean when you said ‘you didn’t have a choice’?” 

Hordak lowered his eyes.

“All the other early clones were failures. Empty vessels, only good for another consciousness to fill. The only reason I operate is because I’m defective. Imperfect, a failure. But still, I can only do what I must.” 

“Because you don’t have a soul?” 

Hordak nodded. 

At that point, Entrapta, having remained in the gallery seat albeit anxiously tugging at her own gloves the whole time, finally clambered down by her hair. She approached Hordak once again.

“Do you really believe that?” 

“Go away,” Hordak turned, cringing from her. “I did not wish you to see this side of me.”

“It’s the only side I can see,” she said, “but only because you’re turned away.” 

The Judge peered over, “I don’t think you’re allowed to––”

“Hey, give em a moment,” Bow hushed him, and, although indignant, the Judge acquiesced. 

Entrapta reached close enough to rest a hand on Hordak’s arm. Although he shuddered at the touch, he didn’t recoil any further.

“I’d very much like to do science again with you,” she said, smiling up at him though he still wouldn’t look. “Remember, imperfection is what makes science possible. It’s the only way we can reach the perfect.”

She slid her hands around his arm and hugged it into her chest. Finally the man looked back her, blinking, ears falling, and with the slightest hint of blush on his pale face. 

”Entrapta….”

“And I already see you as perfect,” she said, glowing his way.

His expression struggled, and shied his face from her once again.

“Fool…,” he muttered, “there is nothing you can do. Nothing I can do….”

Entrapta then grinned of all things. She broke away from his arm, but only so she could reach over to the evidence bench and rummage around for what she needed.

“You know, you’re way too obsessed with this choice thing. Of course you have a choice!”

“Haven’t you been listening,” he protested, “I’m a clone, I––”

“Hordak,” she said, turning back to him. In her hand was the magatama. “Please….”

She held it out for him. He looked down upon it, uneasy, uncertain. He was silent for a while, ruminating upon the cold, dark object. Then he spoke:

“The real breakthrough came when we created Guy. We used the Kurainist technology and fashioned this false magatama. However… I knew that he would come for it. No, he come’d for Guy. He would be unsafe from him. I knew it would be better for Entrapta that I left. Contriving a reason, faking a conflict, enough to make it seem genuine, I fled back to my master empty-handed, and told him that Entrapta was the one who locked me out of the research. Then I served him for as long as I could, although always knowing he would one day seek to get Guy on his own. At that point, I didn’t care, or rather, I couldn’t. I must follow the will of the first one. It was imperative that I get the clone in prison, and allow him to be taken by him. He was to be a new, permanent vessel.”

Adora frowned. 

“I don’t understand––”

“Who was your master?” Catra enquired, cutting across Adora. 

“The man is addled,” Prime suddenly said. He was no longer smiling. “All his secrets being found out must be breaking him.”

“Shut up,” Catra growled. “Hordak, who was your master?”

“The one who called me at night as the crime occurred,” said Hordak in a voice far stronger now, looking up with determination, “who ordered me to cut my hand.”

“This is nonsense––”

“Who?!”

“Horde Prime!” Hordak said, “the man beside me!” 

With that, the magatama glowed, white hot. 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Prime screamed. “What insolence––insubordination!”

“I defy you,” Hordak said, giving a grin, “my will is my own! All these years, the only imperfection I had was the inability to choose my actions, but now I realise I can. I recant all my confession. I did not killed McRaker. I was never at the facility that night!” 

Prime shouted again, before turning his back on the court. In the following silence, Entrapta took Hordak by the arm again and tugged him away, back to where Ron was at the dock. No-one said anything for a number of long terse seconds. 

Adora was starting to wonder if that had done it, when Prime turned back, positioning himself behind the stand. He had begun to laugh. 

“Did you really think I’d give up that easy?” he posed. “So what if Hordak had chosen self-preservation at last? His recant means nothing if there is still no evidence to tie me to the crime.”

“Oh come on!” said Adora, “If Hordak wasn’t there, then it must have been you who threatened Emily, you who Swift Wind saw, you who switched on the Gravity chamber.”

“Yet there is no proof,” the man held up a teasing finger, and tutted, “and for what reason would I go to all this trouble?”

“To capture Ron Guy,” Hordak explained, “as was always your intention. He was to be your permanent vessel, a position only a perfected clone could provide.”

“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”

“First you intended to merely kidnap him, but McRaker proved a snag. So you killed her and formulated a new plan, setting up Guy as the murderer. Once he was found guilty, you would have ordered me to transfer him to your care.” 

“This is scandalous!” the Judge said, shocked, “you’re telling the Prosecutor office was colluding with external parties?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Hordak, “recall the trial of the defence’s paralegal.”

“Wait, you mean Glimmer?” queried Adora.

“When that woman killed Hilda…,” Glimmer recalled. 

“That woman was employed by Prime,” Hordak continued, “the sword was to end up in his collection. Just like her employer, she improvised by killing an innocent, leaving the sword to become evidence.” 

Adora held the sword up, her own reflection sparkling off the broad flat face of steel. She look back to Prime with a grin.

“Seems I’ve been ruining your plans for a while.” 

“You’re the one,” Glimmer shouted, “you’ve been feeding the corruption at the heart of the justice system all this time!”

Prime waved a dismissive hand, “oh please. I couldn’t have done anything on my own. Save your anger,” he lolled his eyes over to where Catra stood, “for the prosecutors.” 

Catra snarled, but then turned her attention to Adora. She slammed her bench, and called out:

“Hey, stop being an idiot and end this already!”

“Wh-what?” Adora was taken aback.

“Nobody cares about what could have happened anymore. We just need hard definitive proof to nail this guy!”

“But, I don’t have that,” Adora spluttered.

“Think! The last photograph went missing.”

“Hordak said it was destroyed though,” said Glimmer.

“That was when he was lying. He was never at the facility, sparkles,” Catra groaned.

“Okay, then where is it?” Adora demanded. 

“I don’t know,” Catra was defensive now, “but it clearly meant something. Maybe there’s some trace evidence or something–– how the hell am I supposed to know?” Her voice cracked as she said, “you’re the perfect one, remember? The one who puts horses on the witness stand and sees hidden messages on documents and knew to send Wright to check the phone records! If you’re so perfect ––if you’re everything Shadow Weaver said you were-– then fucking figure it out!” 

“Okay!” Adora shouted back, her throat giving way too, “I will!” She held her face terse, and brought her voice down to the barest mutter as she quickly ran through her thoughts. “McRaker wanted to find something newsworthy… you’d have a field day in that lab so what was so big and interesting that it beat all the others and why would it anger Prime if it were found out? Okay, it must have something to do with the cloning; that’s the big connection. And big? The tank, with the body inside, that was pretty freaky. And we already have a picture that shows she tried to snap it. But when why would she even care about the cloning if that was the big scoop? Unless… unless… the cloning, and the body are related? Was the body a clone, but then why would that affect Prime, we saw that he wasn’t a clone ––wait no, we found that he has a soul, but then, but then….” Her eyes widened. She spoke, loud enough to hear, but in a lax, breathy voice, as she still comprehended the magnitude of what she was saying, “what if we’re not talking to the original Prime, but his consciousness held in a vessel? What if the original Prime was the body in the depths of the Dryl Institute, and that was what McRaker found? That’s what the last photograph would have shown. It’d be a scandal. Imagine how it’d shake his empire!”

Prime growled, but held himself, merely stating, “that would be interesting, but again, no such photograph exists, so we will never know.” 

“Maybe it does still exist,” Adora shouted, basically saying anything she could at this point. She couldn’t let up now. 

“We searched the entire institute,” Catra said, “it was nowhere to be found.”

“Well did you check Prime’s headquarters?”

“He’s not gonna just lay it leaving around for us to find,” Catra creased her brow, irked, “come on, blonde girl, you can’t be this slow this late in the game! Bring your best!” 

“Then he didn’t leave it lying around,” said Adora, the words falling out of her mouth as the pressure mounted and mind couldn’t keep up with her words, “he still has it!”

“Explain.” 

“He….” 

Adora blinked, a few times just to be sure. Her mind was clearing, and now she was no longer jabbering, she could catch up with her thoughts. She was realising something. She’d just done it. The answer was right in front of her.

“The collection is full of some of the world’s greatest treasures,” said Adora, breathing fast, chest full of light, tingling air, “and Prime does not discriminate between expert and amateur, he just cares about pure beauty. But if he could fit it all in his jacket pocket, he would. McRaker must have been good. She threw away the first attempt because it was a poor shot. And that room, with the dark ambience and the mysterious lighting dancing off the water… it must have come together in an amazing way.”

“What are you saying?” asked Catra.

“I would like to know that too,” said the Judge. “Defence, if the photograph that shows the motivation of the killer ––and which the killer took from the victim–– was not found at the Institute, nor could be found at Prime’s headquarters, then where do you propose it is.”

“I propose,” Adora could barely contain her smiles, “that it is located in the district court of Los Angeles, courtroom 3.”

“District court, courtroom… here!”

“Your honour, the definitive proof,” she thrust her sword out, with a great sharp sling as it sliced the air, the point-tip directed straight at Prime’s chest, “is in the witness’s pocket. TAKE THAT!” 

“No!” Prime yelled, taking a step back. “NOOO!” he yelled again.

He looked one way or the other, seeking escape. But the Judge ordered the bailiffs on him. They surrounded him, and he could not resist. He screamed as they restrained him. One managed to reach into his jacket and pull out his stack of photographs, quickly flipping through them, and finding the picture of the figure in the tank. 

“Here we are,” said Adora, “you came for Ron Guy, and chance had it that McRaker was looking for her scoop. You could not let her reveal the truth to the world, so you turned on the gravity chamber, bringing her up to you. You grabbed her by the jacket, leaving your fingerprints there knowing that your clone would have the same data! Then finding the picture beautiful, you kept it for yourself and flung her up to crash into the ceiling and then fall to the floor dead!”

“No, no,” Prime wrestled against his captors, breaking himself free. The truth may have been out but this body of his was still tall and built, and the menacing look on his face gave the bailiffs pause. “I am Prime! My empire is vast, you cannot detain me!”

“Your real body isn’t so strong, is it,” said Adora, “we’ll just take you there.” 

“But I still have this vessel. And when I have the clone I will be free of my old body!”

Entrapta stood in front of Ron, shielding him from view and looking at Prime defiantly. She was small, even with the bunches, but Hordak was not. He joined her, and Prime’s threat became feeble in the instant. 

“Hey, Prime,” said Adora, calling his attention to her. He watched her with now darting, infuriated green eyes. “You wanted this sword right?” 

The hilt in her hand was starting to rumble, vibrating so that energy warped up her arm. The blue gem was starting to glow. Adora leant it against her shoulder, facing the gemstone away from view. 

“It should be mine!” Prime spat, “part of my collection.”

“Oh really.” The jewel was incandescent now. She could feel it. “You want the sword? Then here, have it!” 

Once again she swung it forward. With it thrust his way, Prime almost lurched forward as if to grab it. But then he shrunk back. Too late he realised what was going on. His eyes glowed bright green, and then white, and he let out one last final scream. He writhed, and twisted, attempting to resist the power, but what strength his physical form had was nothing against the truth. His image split. An eyeless reflection of himself was leeching off his physical form, rising and rising as the body fell. Soon this pale, transparent shade flew up, dissipating into the air as the last screams petered out into echoes. The body collapsed onto the floor. 

The Judge blinked and stammered, though finding no words for some time. Eventually he asked:

“Prosecutor Catra, where is the witness now?”

Catra walked over to the slumped body, nudging it with her foot. 

“I believe we were talking to a clone, or a vessel or… urgh, I can’t wait to never think about this again. We’ll turn this body over to the Dryl Institute.”

Entrapta’s eyes sparkled, “ooh, another subject to work on? There are so many possibilities! I can make you a brother, Ron?”

But the defendant was so white he looked ready to pass out, and so could only give a weak half-smile and nod.

“As for Prime,” Catra continued, “I’ll have to send detective Scorpia to detain him. But I’m assuming he won’t be going anywhere soon.” 

The Judge let out a long deep sigh. “This trial has been quite the ride. Corruption and murder in the most shocking of places. And once again, ms. Adora, you’ve taken a case you weren’t initially meant to, and performed nothing less than miracles in the courtroom. I’m starting to wonder if all these rumours I’ve heard about you are true. Nonetheless, it is time I finally, at long last ––and please, I beg no more interruptions–– give my verdict. Mr. Ron Guy, on the charge of murder, I find you… NOT GUILTY.” 

There was as much hubbub among the six people in the defence lobby as there was among the gallery as the trial finally concluded. No-one was getting this trial out of their heads for a while. All but Adora chatted away. She, however, just calmly breathed and smiled. 

“We’ve got a lot of work to do now,” Entrapta announced, “so much science left unexplored, and these past few days mean we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“What will happen to Hordak?” asked Glimmer.

“No doubt there will be an enquiry. I don’t think he’ll be able to keep his position after all this. But perhaps he can come back to the Institute. We’d be more than happy to see him back.” 

“I’m just glad I can get my attorney’s badge back,” Phoenix laughed, “can’t think of what I’d do with myself otherwise.” 

“I dunno, you did pretty good as my assistant.”

“Your assistant? Hey you were the one helping me in my investigation!” 

“Well if I ever need help again, I’ll know where to look. That reminds me, what are we going to do about payment?” 

“Well,” Phoenix crossed his arms, “it was technically my case.”

Glimmer matched him, “true, but Adora was the one who actually cracked it.”

“Based on my groundwork, I mean come on. If we’re gonna split it, we should be thinking 60/40.”

“60/40 works. Adora not only showed that Ron was a clone, but that Hordak was a clone too and then proved it was Prime, who wasn’t even on your radar. 60 for her.” 

“Uh, yeah, but I figured out the gravity chamber, and the third party threatening Emily. I would have gotten further if Hordak hadn’t disbarred me!” 

“Well why don’t we split it evenly for all our contributions,” suggested Bow, “25 each way.” 

“I’ve gotta eat,” Phoenix whined.

“That does remind me,” said Bow, “we did all contribute. Didn’t you notice Glimmer?”

“Notice what?” she said, giving him a cool pleasant smile.

“Proving Prime’s blood match,” he said, “that was some advanced forensic technology, and a hefty amount of foresight and quick thinking on my part. Admit it, forensic science is useful, and so am I.’

“Bow,” Glimmer slunk her hand up Bow’s chest, creeping her fingers upon his lapel, “I already know you have your uses.” 

Eyes widening, Bow replied, “oh yeah? And what would those be?” 

Wrapping her fingers around his tie, she pulled him down, meeting him in a kiss. 

Adora grinned.

“About time,” she remarked. 

It was as if some chain had been lifted from her neck. Even the sword in her hand felt lighter than anything she had ever held. The past few weeks were melting away in her mind, and all that she felt was this present moment, where she, Adora, was neither cheering nor laughing, but merely clam and content, at the summit of the world. 

Then Catra’s voice called from behind her, “hey. Adora?” 

Everyone now saw her, the prosecutor, seeming small as she approached. Her cape almost fully wrapped her, with one arm underneath rubbing against the other elbow. She didn’t quite meet Adora’s eye.

“Hey, Catra,” the other girl said. “Um, thanks for the help in there.” 

“What do you mean?”

“If it weren’t for you, no doubt Prime would have gotten away.”

“It wasn’t as if I wanted to help you,” Catra muttered. 

“But you did.”

Adora reached forward and took Catra’s hands into her own. The girl jerked her head up, blush forming in her cheeks. She quickly lowered her face again. Adora continued to smile.

“I know it must have been hard, but thanks for choosing to––”

Catra yanked her hands free, “I didn’t have a choice!” 

Adora was stunned silent. She hadn’t expected that. Now an itch crept along her neck as she awaited Catra’s explanation. 

“Everywhere I turn, I lose,” Catra’s tone was low and seething, “I could have become Chief Prosecutor today. But even then, what’d be the point?” 

“I…”

Lights danced in Catra’s heterochromic eyes. All the bitter thoughts flooded back to her, every memory, all the anger, replaying her mind. 

“Ugh,” she finally yelled. “To think… I thought I could put and end to… if I just saw you.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Catra snapped, “it would’ve been better if we’d not met at all!”

Her fist was closed now, held down by her side, but shaking. 

“Why…” Catra said to the floor, “why do you have to exist? I’ve had enough of these confusing feelings.” She looked at Adora again. “I don’t need them, and I don’t need you!”

She stepped forward, and grappled Adora by the collar of her jacket. Yanking her inward, she brought them to barely an inch between them. Fury radiated off Catra’s face and burned Adora’s skin, as did her bitter breath. 

“Get out of my way” said Catra, “or the next time we meet, I’ll destroy you.” 

She let go, and Adora dropped back. She hadn’t resisted. 

“Catra….”

But the prosecutor had already turned around and left. Adora didn’t shout or call after her. She didn’t chase her down. Neither retort or accusation was ready in her mind. She just fell quiet.

“Please come back.”

But her voice was a whisper, and Catra was gone.

Chapter Text

No light, not even from the moon as new, hiding behind its clouds, could reach the top of the trees let alone the detrite foliage scattered along the forest floor. The two figures were but silhouettes. Neither could recognise the other. All they could tell of each other were their voices in the black and the dark. 

“I watched your last performance,” said the one, “to be honest, I had expected better.”

“Things fell out my control,” said the other, stiffly.

“I just assumed you’d have done more. I’ve watched you for a while now. You’ll do anything it takes, isn’t that right? Remember our little improv? The way you thought on your feet with the watch and all was a stroke of genius.”

“Well, when there are enough variables I can control and account for, victory is assured. When there are… complications, then it’s not so certain. And that attorney is nothing but complications.”

“Ah, blondey?” the first voice enquired. “Yes, she does seem to cause you a lot of problems.”

“It won’t matter,” said the second. “I just need to cut her off. Giving her an inch of mercy and she takes a mile, so I’m going to show her none.”

“Are you considering having her… dealt with?”

“No, I just to make sure all the variables are controlled. The next trial will be perfect.” 

A cloud passed, and the slightest sliver of illumination passed into the scene. It glinted off the sharp teeth under a broad sly grin.

“Because you’re right. I’ll do anything it takes to win.” 

There was a bang. Burning smoke. A groan of pain, masked by the squawks of birds overhead as they all evacuated the trees. 

The body fell to the floor. Dead. 

It was the following morning, and far away from the woods but in another place surrounded by trees. Adora and Glimmer were sat on the floor by the latter’s bed. The morning sun was rising and gleaming through the window, filling the bedroom with gentle light. It was another one of their sessions ––as especially after the last trial, Adora wanted to know more about She-Ra and the sword–– but it was entirely chill. They had soda and snacks by them on the floor, and conversation wandered easily.

Things had never been better at Brightmoon manor. Scarce a day passed without someone beaming at the joys of life, and where one was happy, the good feeling would pass to another. Sure, the occasional slow day happened. Adora could still wake up on the wrong side of bed and get into a slump. It wasn’t as if her myriad anxieties had disappeared. But there was enough around her to remind her that life was good. Most often, it was Bow or Glimmer ––or Bow and Glimmer.

Sometimes romance could change people, but the two were still as they were. Glimmer was high-strung and Bow was endlessly compassionate, and they knew how to push each other’s buttons. They were still best friends now, and even before they’d been intimate, at least emotionally. Simply they had been steadily falling into each other for a while, and they were happy with that pace. 

“You’re not worried about becoming a third wheel?” Glimmer asked Adora.

“I’ve always been the third wheel, but like,” Adora crunched some crisps while saying, “but like one of those buggy things. You two are side by side, I’m the leader at the front.”

“I like to think we’re more of a tripartite partnership….’

“Hey I lead the court cases and have the sword. That’s leadership vibes.” 

“You sure it’s not lonely being the, uh, front wheel, then?” Glimmer said, adding a teasing smile.

“What, you’re not suggesting we make a polycule?”

“N-no,” the girl was suddenly flustered, “I meant more like, about you getting a relationship? You thought about it?”

“Oh right, well,” Adora mumbled, “it has been hard to meet people.” 

“Hmm, I guess you only get to talk to us and your clients.” 

“Yeah, and I can’t go out with the clients,” Adora gestured, “I’m sure that violates some ethical code somewhere. I did hang out with that co-counsel from your case. You know, mr. Wright’s friend.” 

“Maya Fey?” Glimmer looked up, intrigued. “How’d that go?”

“Oh, she was really fun and surprisingly down to earth for a miko. But there wasn’t much of a click, y’know, and we never scheduled anything else.”

“What about, um, that woman you danced with when we went to that bar.”

“Oh, hehe,” Adora gave a nervous giggle and couldn’t stifle her blush, “the big girl. Yeah, she was really… hot.” 

“You like the strong types?” 

“I guess I like the kinda girl who can kick my ass. But that was just a dance, didn’t get a number. I’m just not very good at that sorta stuff. I mean, I’ve never even kissed a girl apart from you.” 

“Wait, what?” Glimmer started. “You can’t be serious?” 

“I mean that’s just the truth,” Adora said with a shrug. “It’s not big deal.”

Glimmer however was slapped with a aghast look. She lay a hand over her own chest and silently castigated herself for being an ass. 

Then she shook her head, “no, this isn’t right. We’ve got to find a way to change this. We’ll get you back on the dating market, and you’re going to get someone. You’ll kiss someone properly before the year’s end!”

“Come on that’s like a month away,” Adora said with a giggle. “I’m already a hopeless case, but that’s never going to happen.”

Far away, matter of more importance ––from one point of view, that is–– were under discussion. The blinds of the Chief Prosecutor’s office were fully open. Morning light filled this room too, revealing its bare contents. Boxes were scattered about, and little else was there but the desk ––clean but for a small landline phone––, as well as Hordak and Edgeworth, both stood. 

“You requested me, sir?”

“You shouldn’t call me that,” said Hordak, “it’s improper.”

Edgeworth shook his head, “as long as you remain my superior, then––”

“That is exactly what I wish to talk to you about. I shall no longer be your superior.”

Taking a step back, Edgeworth stared  with a slight slack jaw. “Chief Prosecutor, I don’t understand.”

“It remains Hordak now,” said the ex-Chief, “I am submitting myself to a full inquiry by the PIC. To ensure  the continuing function of this office, it is best that I…,” the man’s face wrestled taut for a few moments, “step aside.” 

Then his face became relaxed. To Edgeworth’s complete surprise, he actually smiled.

“It is better this way. I can’t escape this judgement, but at least I can choose how to face it.”

“There’s no way for you to hold on?”

“I compromised the integrity of this office for too long,” Hordak said, turning away to face the window, “delivered evidence to an external party and would have done the same with a prisoner had there not been intervention. I must answer for these actions.” He gestured his head to the side, “But I know you will be different. That is why I am appointing you acting Chief Prosecutor.”

Edgeworth widened his eyes, although his brow furrowed deeply. Heaviness fell in his chest. 

“I am honoured,” he said, genuine, “but this is must too great a responsibility for me. I still have much to learn. I was planning on taking to Europe to study alternative systems.”

“That will have to wait,” said Hordak, mustering his last ounce of authority to his tone, “there is simply no other for the job. At least not until we find a new permanent appointment. Look at your record. Your hand in the Gant-Skye affair, revealing Debeste’s own crimes… if anyone can keep vigilance for criminal activity both within and without, then it’s you.” 

Edgeworth gripped at his other arm, holding for a few terse moments. Then he relinquished it. 

“Very well,” he said, “I shall serve the role as best I can. In the meantime I certainly hope there will be no major scandals until the new appointment.” 

“Thank you for this,” Hordak said, smiling again, “it will give me some ease of mind going forward.” 

At that moment, the phone rang. The two men looked to each other.

“Well, it is your office now,” said the former Chief. 

Edgeworth stifled a grumble and went to take the phone.

“Hello?” he answered, holding it to ear. “Yes… yes, hmm….” His heart dropped. Eyes bulging, he shouted, “she what?! Good grief. I’ll be on my way. Send detective Gumshoe to the scene.”

Hordak stared blankly, before remarking, “I never said it was an easy job.”

It was nearing afternoon now, and Glimmer was ready to leave the manor. The others had headed off, but she was still filing some work on the kitchen table, over a late brunch. Still, she was nearly finished. She shifted her files away, and jumped from her seat.

“Oh, hey, mom,” she said, “didn’t see you come in.”

Angella was there, by the door. She was holding a hand over the high cabinet, letting herself fall into thought. But Glimmer’s greeting called her attention, and she came to join her. 

“Glimmer,” she said, although her voice faltered towards the end. She tried again, forcing a smile, “are you heading out today?”

“Yeah…,” Glimmer said, a little cautious. 

“Perhaps I should wait then,” Angella suddenly decided. “I don’t want to disrupt your day.”

“Did you want to talk?” Glimmer slowly sat herself back down, maintaining a constant focus on her mother. “I can hold it off for a bit.”

“It’s just…,” Angella sighed, and sat down as well. “I want to apologise.”

“Apologise? For what?” 

“For, well, everything. I tried to long just to keep you from trouble, but that only made you more vulnerable.”

“It’s okay, mom,” said Glimmer, smiling, “you only wanted to help. And you haven’t been as overprotective recently, so like, you’re improving.”

“I, well,” the woman puffed, “I don’t quite appreciate being graded like that, but I have been trying. And yet, I was referring to something deeper.” Angella looked to her daughter with soulful eyes, “I’ve kept the truth from you for too long, even though you deserve to know.”

“What truth?”

“About your father. About his death.” 

As she told this, Glimmer watched her mother with a slacked look, but for a quivering in her lip. Her breathing hitched for a moment, her heart paced, but these were for a different reason. Her eyes begged her mother continue, which she thankfully did:

“Your father was a prosecutor, and I a defence attorney. We’d fought many battles against one another in court. But that didn’t get between us. We loved each other, and loved you. I didn’t think life would ever change. The night it happened it…,” Angella’s voice started to quiver, but she kept on, “he came home before I did. He was working on a case and he brought his colleague from the office to discuss it, I believe. But the prosecutor’s office… apart from seeing him in court, that was a part of his life that was completely distant from me. Whatever the meeting was about would have been gone by the time I came back, I never even gave it a second thought. And I was working so late that night. It was past midnight when I came home, and I saw him and I––,” Angella let out a sudden gasping breath. She couldn’t speak for seconds, just transfixed, staring a spot beyond Glimmer.

“M-mom?”

“I,” Angella shook herself out of the reverie, “no, I…, he was… was….”

“I know what happened,” said Glimmer, eyes falling. “He was shot with a gun.” 

“It wasn’t just that,” Angella said, now agitated, “there was sign of a struggle. He had a cut across his eyes… a-a-a scratch mark, four lines. The prosecution decided it had come from a fork.” Angella shook her head, “but I know better. I saw the killer.” 

“Y-you saw them?” Glimmer gasped. 

“I did. A small creature. Just there.”

Angella gestured to the patio beyond the pane-glass sliding door. Further than that was the side garden, leading into the trees and ultimately the road beyond. 

“I tried to catch them but they were quick, and easily lost me by the time I got the edge of the grounds. When it came to a trial… a culprit was found. A burglar, who had been here that night by chance. But he looked nothing like the person I saw. So I took up his case. I needed to find the real killer.”

“But you were up against Manfred Von Karma,” said Glimmer.

“The man with the perfect record, and the perfect evidence. But I couldn’t let that stop me. Because I found her. The real killer. But I didn’t have the evidence. Good god…,” Angella placed her hands over her face, “I couldn’t find anything. But I couldn’t let the girl who killed Micah get away, so… so….”

“You forged it,” Glimmer knew this part of the story. “And you were caught. But mom, please tell me. Who was it? Who killed dad?”

Adora was leant against a brick wall, at the entrance to an avenue of dying trees. Autumn wasn’t quite fled, but the winter’s air had definitely joined, and so she kept her arms wrapped about her chest. Bow was with her, but no Glimmer yet. 

“Keeping us waiting in this weather…,” Adora grumbled.

“You chose not to wear anything warm,” Bow said. He had exchanged his white gloves for mittens. 

“Yeah well I ran here,” Adora countered, “but now all that heat’s gone.” 

“Well it is Christmas season. You’re going to have to get used to the weather.”

“It’s November!”

“Okay, almost Christmas season.”

“Which means it isn’t Christmas season,” she said.

“Either way, it’s good to get into the spirit,” Bow smiled, “my dads make a great feast every year. I’ll be damned if I don’t get you, Glimmer and whoever else we can get over.” 

“Do they know about you and her?” asked Adora, giving a sly look.

“Well, I did tell them but….”

“But?”

“They were confused. I think they thought we were together already….”

Adora spat out laughing, “Bow were you the last person in the world to realise you two work?” 

Bow spluttered, “well if it was so obvious to everyone else you could have just told me!”

“Nah, it was funnier our way,” Adora teased.

“Well, if I ever see you and someone else… ‘working’, I’ll have the good courtesy to tell you.” 

“Man, both you and Glimmer, huh. You know, I’m probably just not a romantic person. I wouldn’t be a ‘do anything for love’ kinda gal, I’m too… pragmatic,” she decided.

“Right…,” Bow threw a sideways glance. But he just contented himself with a satisfied smile and said nothing else.

“Like,” Adora kept talking, a blush creeping up, “not that I wouldn’t mind a girlfriend, but I just have a hard time imagining me…and someone…. I’ll stop talking now.”

“Probably for the best,” noted Bow, “you might actually discover something about yourself.” 

Adora’s face-saving retort would never be known. Their conversation was cut short by a far off voice calling out to them. 

“Yooo!” came the voice, “aw man, I actually found you!”

They looked for the source. Detective Scorpia, ––rushing to them so that her heavy overcoat billowed in the wind and her hat almost flew off–– waved madly with her free pincer. She came up, broke down doubled over, and started huffing for a few seconds.

“Just a moment,” she groaned, “gotta… catch my… right!” She shot up. “Man, I didn’t know if I could reach you by phone, I thought to look for your office but you don’t have an office, so I looked for ms. Angella’s residence but that was a whole thing and I couldn’t find it and I was just running around the city trying to think what to do and you know it’s just a whole stroke of luck that I found ya here and––”

“Scorpia, slow down,” Adora said, stressed, “just start from the beginning.”

“I just needed to find you,” Scorpia kept on as before, “because you’re the best lawyers that I know and––”

“You need a lawyer?” enquired Bow. “Are you in trouble?”

“No!” a shocked look struck the detective, “no, no, I’m not in trouble. It’s Catra!” 

“Catra? What’s she done now?”

“She’s ––what, no!” she threw her claws down, aghast, “she hasn’t done anything wrong! But she’s been accused of murder. She’s at the detention centre right now.”

“Woah, woah,” Adora motioned her palms, “this is Catra we’re talking about right? About nyeah high, big ears, bad attitude?” 

“This is serious,” Scorpia whined, “it’s prosecutor Catra. She’s under suspicion for a crime.”

“But like… no-one actually thinks she did it, right?” Adora said with an off chuckle, “like come on.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” said Scorpia, “but the office can’t find any other likely suspects and the evidence points to her. But they’ve been wrong before and you’ve proven people innocent a lot. So that’s why I came to you.”

“Wait, you want Adora to defend Catra?” Bow asked. “She’s kinda a terrible person.”

Scorpia was flabbergasted. She looked at them agape, eyes darting from Bow to Adora and back.  Her insides went hot and twisted as she realised what they were insinuating. 

“Sh-she’s not terrible,” said Scorpia, “sure, she it not the most agreeable person, sure. But she doesn’t care about popularity, she’s focused on results. She’s hard-working, determined, gets straight to the point, and obviously that’s going to ruffle a few feathers. But she’s a good person! She….”

Why are you always following me , echoed in her head, we’re not friends!

“She’s just been under a lot of strain recently,” Scorpia said, while shaking her head clear. “But she’s not a killer.”

“Let’s… at least find out what’s going on,” said Adora. “The centre’s not far. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

With hurry, Scorpia led them across from the park entrance to the detention centre. It was busy inside. A string of crimes ––met with the paralysis at the prosecutor’s office following the recent scandal–– had started to bottleneck the processing of incidents. So there were multiple police, legal professionals and family relations waiting around in the hallways. Scorpia, Adora and Bow however went to the visitation room.

There was no-one there. The room was cold, and the plastic glass just showed a mirror image of a bare grey room.  It wasn’t even manned by a guard.

“Wildcat?” called Scorpia. “You there?”

Moments passed. Silence rang throughout. But then there was a curt sniff, and a rustling, the sounds of which were muffled through the glass. 

“Go away,” came the muted voice. It was Catra. “I don’t want visitors.” 

“I had to find someone,” Scorpia explained, “the investigation’s already underway and it’s not looking good, and you don’t even have a lawyer. So… I got you one.

At that, a small figure shot up into view. At first it was just a mane of shaggy grey hair, but then the creature stumbled, stabilising themselves by the counter, and twisting themselves around, Adora found herself face to face, divided by the screen, with Catra. She regarded her back with weak but wide eyes.

“Oh…Adora.”

“Catra, what happened?”

“Go away,” said Catra. “I thought I told you to never show your face again.” 

“She was apprehended in the Whispering Woods National Park,” Scorpia filled in, “they say someone saw her shoot the victim. The body has been identified as a performer called Double Trouble.”

“Wait, Double Trouble’s the victim?” Adora broke her gaze from Catra to stare at the detective.

“Oh yeah, now I recall. They were a victim in one of your trials. Wow, that was a while ago now, huh.” 

Adora faced Catra again, “what were you doing in the woods with Double Trouble?”

“Why would I tell you?” She shot Adora a rancid glare, “why have you even here? Come to laugh at me? Finally see me in my place. Ha ha ha.”

“Catra, I’m not laughing. Tell me why you were arrested.”

“I don’t have to answer anything.”

“Uh, yeah you do,” Adora said, growing irked, “if you want me to defend you.”

Catra forced another laugh, harsh and derisive, “you are not defending me. I don’t want your help.”

“Well tough luck, because I’m––”

“Prisoner, you’re required for questioning.”

The guard had appeared in Catra’s side of the room. He held the door open, impatient. Catra shot Adora one last look, taking the petty victory with a breezy smile, before slinking away. Adora scowled, but knew she wouldn’t get the other girl back for now.

Bow, who had hung at the back the room, gave a tut. “That went… well,”

With no point remaining, they left. Adora didn’t say anything at all as they passed. Her head swam ––this whole situation was surreal. And Catra’s behaviour stuck on her mind. Nothing new there. 

Exiting the centre entire, they came across Glimmer, rushing up to them and waving.

“Hey, there you are,” she called, “where have you been? We were supposed to be up at Gourd Lake, weren’t we?”

“Something…,” Adora tried to root herself in the present, although that damn cat’s grin kept distracting her, “something sorta came up.”

“What happened? Is it a case?” Glimmer’s glance passed over the detention centre’s entrance, and then to Scorpia

“Prosecutor Catra’s been arrested,” Bow explained, “on suspicion of murder.”

“Catra?” Glimmer stared, with both her eyes widening and jaw setting. She was stiff for a few moments, before commenting, “well, I guess it was always going to come to this.”

“Hey, no,” Scorpia protested, “the prosecutor didn’t kill anyone.” 

“Wait did you bring them to see her?” Glimmer asked the detective. As the pieces fell together in her head, shock and then incredulity warped her expression, and she looked to the attorney. “No, Adora, you can’t be serious. You’re not actually thinking of… defending her ?”

“She’s not interested,” Adora looked away with an exhale, “without a letter of request I can’t do anything.” 

“I’m sorry about her,” said Scorpia with a crestfallen look. She stammered, “I j-just… I know she’s a difficult person, but I thought with you it might’ve worked out.”

“Heh, quite the opposite,” Adora’s low tone was filled with both rue and regret. “Something about me just sets her off.”

“Damn. I just thought… since you know each other.”

“They’re hardly on the best of terms,” Bow pointed out, “sniping across the courtroom, and outside of that, they’ve only met like what, three times? Less?”

“Yeah, but like before that.”

“What do you mean before?” 

“They’re old friends,” said Scorpia, blinking. She didn’t get why the others weren’t following.

“What?” Glimmer twisted her cheek, “why’d you think that?”

“Well, I dunno,” Scorpia rubbed her arm, “the way Catra talks… I just assumed they knew each other before.”

“Well, now that you say about it,” Bow said, tapping his forefinger and thumb on his chin, “you remember Catra’s opening statement in Sea Hawk’s case? The way she talked to Adora was very direct.”

“Obviously she was just saying whatever she could to get under her opponent’s skin. Anyway, they’re clearly not friends, they’re….”

Bow made a suggestion. “Rivals?––”

“Enemies,” Glimmer said, simultaneous. “Right, Adora?” When there was no response, she said again, “Adora?”

But Adora was fully turned away now, looking off to the cold nigh winter distance. She wished she could fall. Or at least sit down. It was as if her body had doubled in weight, her hands like dumbbells dragging down her limbs, and with it her chest was on the cusp of giving way. The conversation was about her yet it passed her by, even though she knew where it was going. Taking in a deep breath, she readied herself. Then she let it out, and turned around. 

Meeting her eyes, Glimmer just gaped. 

“No way,” she said, “no, really?” 

“It was a decade ago, but yeah. We were friends. Best friends. We spent all of school together. We were practically adopted together by Shadow Weaver.”

“Why didn’t you ever say?” asked Bow, though with more amazement than shock. 

“I dunno,” Adora rubbed her wrists into one another, “maybe I didn’t want to admit it. I mean, I didn’t want to admit that the girl I knew was this prosecutor I was facing. Even now, I can’t really believe it.”

Glimmer faced away, and merely said, “I can.”

Adora fell quiet. Although the full implication of Glimmer’s dark words didn’t set in, they made her ruminate. Yes, there were similarities, between the young Catra and the prosecutor. Continuities. Glimpses of the friend she’d had. Catra had always been sardonic to an extent. And even now, in some of Catra’s laughs and smiles, even though they be evil most of the time, showed flashes of something Adora had once enjoyed more than anything on earth. 

“I want to look at the crime scene,” Adora decided. 

Everyone looked to her, all with an expression of surprise though each with its own subtle difference. Scorpia’s was twinged with hope.

“So you’ll take the case?” she asked. 

“Maybe,” said Adora. “I just wanna have a look first.” 

“We can’t trust Catra,” Glimmer said, flatly. Not just matter of fact, but the operating fact. “We know what’s she like.”

Bow shook his head, “she’s corrupt, sure, but so are all the others. They can’t all be killers.”

“You’ve seen what she’s capable of!”

“The problem is systemic to the justice system, that’s what you’re always telling us.”

“It’s a system that yields a higher number of murderers than average,” Glimmer snapped, “but sure, they’re not all killers. But with Catra––” 

Glimmer restrained herself with a sudden silence. She held still, with a wrestling expression, before letting out a sigh. She looked back cooly:

“Fine,” she said, “let’s look at the evidence. Just don’t be shocked when it looks like she’s guilty.” 

The journey to the crime scene took them to the furthest bounds of the city they’d ever travelled. By trains, they were ferried to some of the low rises of the mountains that hugged the northern border of the metropolis. Though far below any of the cold peaks or mountain retreats, they reached a dense swathe of trees that formed the Whispering Woods National Park. 

The crime scene was cordoned off, crossing tape wrapped around the thin barks of trees. Scorpia lifted up the picket line and ––having learned her mistake from so many previous times–– was gentle enough to not snip the tape. Adora led the way through, coming up to a tarp over a small mound. 

“This it?”

“Have a look underneath,” Scorpia gestured.

Adora did so, lifting the cover. It was Double Trouble alright. Their body, even now, was in a dramatic repose, but otherwise undisturbed ––even for the blood. The bullet wound was in their chest, but Adora’s eye was caught by something else. There was a stream of four lines along the victim’s face. A scratch. 

“Okay,” she breathed, “maybe this isn’t a bad as it looks. Cats aren’t the only thing that could cause this mark.” 

“We can check,” said Bow, pulling out his pad. He crouched down by the body and made a quick scan of things. The results sped back with a ping. “Keratin; Hmm….”

“What hmm? What’s keratin?”

“This is from a cat’s claw alright. Whatever else, Catra probably did scratch Double Trouble last night.”

Glimmer let out a, “hmph,” although quickly turned away when Adora tossed her a glare. 

“You’re certain?” Adora asked Bow, “I mean can we trust your pad’s right from just a single scan?”

“In the old days you’d need to burn the fibres to see if they were man-made or real, and even that’s imprecise. But,” Bow shook his head, “I mean Entrapta helped me design this. We can find the fibres under layers and still cut them down to a specific source.” 

“Ugh, great,” Adora grumbled. “Damnit, Catra, why were you out here?” 

“What do we know about the murder weapon?” asked Glimmer, looking up to Scorpia.

“So,” Scorpia tapped her pincers together, “I’m kinda not on this case. Or rather, not allowed. Conflict of interest or something.” 

“Your relationship to the victim?”

“Well it’s not a relationship, w-we’re just colleagues.”

“That’s a type of relationship….”

“Oh right,” Scorpia shook her head to get back on track, “anyway, that’s not stopped me from learning what I can. Rumour is… it’s an old weapon. Probably came from the vault.”

“What’s the vault?” asked Adora.

“That’s long term storage for evidence from certain cases,” said Scorpia, “although apparently a lot is missing because of the Chief Prosecutor’s corruption. My guess is that the gun is from an old case.”

“How’d it end up here?”

“Well…,” Scorpia’s expression fell, “for someone to have access to the vault, then… they’d need to be a prosecutor.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah….”

Bow stood up, and decided, “I don’t think we’re going to get much more from this. And with Scorpia out of the case, we won’t be getting an autopsy report soon.”

“There must be something,” Adora said with an anxious grit, “come on, what about the rest of the woods? If a third party were involved there must be some evidence.”

“We don’t have any reason to think there was a third party,” said Glimmer.

“I have to believe in my client.”

“You don’t have a client––”

“Guys,” Bow quickly stepped between them, “obviously we shouldn’t quit this early, but we can’t sweep the whole woods.”

“There is someone who might have been here last night,” Scorpia said. “She knows her way around and might be able to give you an overview.”

With no explicit protest from Glimmer, and getting a small nod from Bow, Adora had the consent to go forward with it. Scorpia led them further down path, south-westerly towards the forest skirt where trees were a little sparser. Here there were rose-beds and lush-bushes going stepwise by a stream, followed by dahlias and then flowers of summer, which refused the passing of season. When they reached a large gathering of high stalks in the garden, Adora took the urge to wade through.

“If there’s anything evidence hidden, this is the perfect spot.”

“Wait, don’t––” 

But Scorpia was too late. Adora had trampled a path through, only to get ensnared by the thorny stems.

“Okay, just carefully untangle yourself and get back here,” said Scorpia.

“I can’t. Stuck.”

“Look, just wait and we can––”

“Nah, it’s no problem, look. For the honour of Grayskull!”

A flash, and Scorpia watched on in horror as Adora produced the sword. She hacked a way like the reaper and made her way free. In her wake, a lot of dead flowers.

“What are you–– nooo!” A wail came, from an entirely new origin. 

They all turned to see a tall thin woman rush in distraught as she saw Adora’s handiwork. She crouched down to mourn the fallen.

“What sort of brute would….”

“Yeah, Adora, nice going,” Scorpia scalded her.

“Oh. Sorry.” Adora looked suitably guilty.

The new woman, dressed in a pink dress with detached seafoam sleaves and wearing garlands in long streams of hair, stood up with her wide slender shoulders coming to a hunch as she continued to stare out at the garden. But then she loosened with a long meditative breath. Turning, she faced them all with a expression quite pleasant.

“Nothing that can’t be mended with time!” she said, in a voice that, while sweet and melodious, had a constant shakiness.

“Everyone, this is Perfuma,” Scorpia explained, “she works for the NPS team that manages the Whispering Woods. She tends the gardens.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Scorpia,” the gardener smiled up at the detective. The big girl rubbed her neck and gave a cheesy grin. Perfuma gave a more wary eye to the other three. “I don’t recognise your friends though.”

Adora stepped forward, although realising she still had the sword in her hand, she stowed it away.

“I’m an attorney, I’m here on a case.”

“Is this about that, um,” Perfuma’s gaze shifted to a corner, “that murder.”

“You were around here last night. That means you could be a witness.”

Perhaps she was even more. If anyone could be the third party…. 

The expression on Scorpia’s face showed that she could read Adora’s mind, and she quickly cut in, “wh-why don’t you just tell us everything you saw last night, Perfuma. You were mostly down here, right?”

“Yes,” Perfuma recounted, “I was planting and plotting all day yesterday, there was still some work to do late into the night. I was checking the soil––”

“It’s fall,” said Adora, peering with narrowed eyes, “is it really the time you’d be doing all this work?”

“Are you cross-examining me?” Perfuma asked with a restrained huff. “I don’t really know what I should do here.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Scorpia said with a reassuring smile, before giving Adora a vexed look.

“Look,” Perfuma sighed, “the prosecutor told me I shouldn’t talk to anyone about what I saw last night until I’m summoned to court.”

“So you are a witness,” said Adora. 

“Yes, but––”

“If you have some relation to the crime, I have to know!”

Bow stepped forward and grabbed Adora by the sleeve. “Hey, this isn’t an interrogation. Leave her be, Adora.”

“Hey,” Scorpia was wearing a look of deepest concern, “are you thinking that… Perfuma was a killer?”

“Wh-what?” the thin girl exclaimed. 

But Scorpia continued, “because that’s impossible. No-one is less likely to hurt someone than Perfuma. She helped me out of a life of violence, she abhors the stuff!” 

“She what?” Glimmer asked.

“Oh, did I say that out loud.” The detective blanched, and words abandoned her for a few seconds.

Thankfully (or perhaps unthankfully) Perfuma stepped forward, a glint in her eye, and offered to explain:

“Didn’t she ever tell you? Scorpia used to be in a gang.”

“Wait, really?” Bow asked, amused. 

Scorpia grabbed the brim of her hat and tugged it down over her face

The girl reached into her tunic, which incidently had pockets. From it she withdrew a picture, passing it over to Adora. Though the colours were washed by time and repeated handling, the content was clear. Scorpia, in a black jacket with a high collar and with her clipped hair gelled up, looking rather cool as she laid back.

“A really rough crowd,” said Perfuma, “Just thinking about them makes me…,” a shudder crept along her body, but she summoned up a hand in mudra-fashion, and regained a calm. “But with Scorpia, I knew she was in the wrong place. Her aura was crying out that she needed to leave. All I did was give her that push.”

“I mean it was more than that,” Scorpia muttered. “Those kind of groups demand service and loyalty, but there’s no friendship. No warmth. You were the first person to ever treat me like a person….”

Perfuma smiled up at her, and rested her palm on her big arm, gently rubbing it. The detective peaked out from her hat to show back her own smile.

“So,” Adora said, “you absolutely trust her?”

“Absolutely,” said Scorpia.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m sorry if I was suspicious earlier. A-and destroying your garden was a jerk move too. But I need to know what you saw last night because I believe my client is innocent. Could you please tell me?”

“Your client is that prosecutor, right?” asked Perfuma. “I’m sorry, but I think I saw her last night. Twice actually.”

“You did?” Adora’s heart began to plummet.

Perfuma nodded. She pointed out to the edge of the thicket, noting, “that’s the route of approach if you want to get into the forest and out, usually. I saw her come in. And I heard a gunshot not long after.”

“And you didn’t see anyone else?”

“It was just one person, and it was the same person both times. I’m very sorry, I wish I could say I saw something else.” 

Adora buried her face in her hands. Combing her fingers through her hair she slipped them back until she had slid her hands around her whole head, and was now tugging them back by her ponytail. Had she ever had so little before? In Glimmer’s case she’d had Phoenix Wright’s groundwork, in Sea Hawk’s she had the luminol and the photographs. Even in the cases she’d lost she had something to start with, and against the combined efforts of Catra, the Chief Prosecutor and a corrupt mogul she’d at least had a few genetic results. 

“Maybe,” she muttered, “I’ll get a rookie like me at the prosecution bench? At the very least I don’t have to face Catra.”

“You saw the prosecutor, right?” Glimmer asked Perfuma. “Do you know which one it was?”

“Oh, it was that guy,” Perfuma said. “The one with the cravat? Edgeworth was the name, I think.”

“Oh,” said Adora.

She was so screwed.

After that, they left the woods. Scorpia elected to stay, so it was just Adora, Bow and Glimmer sat around a table on the train. Hedges and trees in the fore flitted past that they were a blurred stream, rust and orange going by. Further out the scenery passed at a gentler rate. There there were grasses still green, scattered trees, and further still winds and sands and mountains. Glimmer stared out. Adora rested her head back, closed her eyes, and let the movement continuously yank her backwards. Bow looked to the other two with concern. 

“Guy’s, don’t you think we should talk this through?” he said.

“It’s Edgeworth,” Adora said, still not opening her eyes. “I wouldn’t even know how to hope to beat him.” 

“…the same way you beat Shadow Weaver and Catra?”

“Edgeworth blows them out of the water. Sure, he’s polite enough in company but he becomes a whole different beast at the prosecutor’s bench. It’s like… he’s got his own She-Ra power but instead of a sword he’s got logic. It’s freaky.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” said Glimmer. “You have to promise us that. Edgeworth was a student of Manfred von Karma ––who makes Catra look like a girl scout.”

Adora creased into a giggle. Bow looked over concerned.

“Adora?”

“Sorry,” Adora stifled herself, though barely, “just the image of Catra selling cookies.”

“This is serious,” Glimmer pained, “Edgeworth will stop at nothing to get his goal.”

“Well yeah, he’s a tough prosecutor, but he’s not what you’re making him out to be.”

“Really? You don’t think as the acting Chief Prosecutor and after all that’s happened he’s not going to choose what’s best for the office and its reputation?”

“What are you getting at?” Adora’s brow sunk. “Like, surely that would mean he’d try to get Catra off. I mean, wouldn’t that be good for us?”

“Sure, if you think just winning cases is what being a lawyer is about. But if all the evidence aligns with Catra’s guilt, you have an obligation to the truth, no matter what shenanigans the prosecution pulls.”

“That’s… not what a defence attorney does. I have to help my client.”

“Adora, you were the one who showed us otherwise. Remember Hordak. You had no contract with him but you chose the truth over expedience.”

“That was different,” Adora said, curt. 

“Really?’

“Really.”

“Here’s the difference,” Glimmer said, tempo and voice rising, “Catra was doing her role as a prosecutor and trying to get the defendant guilty. You can’t trust Edgeworth will do the same. It’s not in his interest. Even if you think he’s somehow out of his teacher’s shadow, he can’t undo what the prosecutor’s office is.”

“Well I respect him, and mr. Wright trusts him,” Adora’s voice was rising too. “He’s not going to dodge his duty, and neither will I. I’m going to get Catra a not guilty verdict!

“Okay, can we all slow down for a second,” Bow struck forceful but gentle tone as he cut in. “I feel like everyone’s getting confused here. Glimmer you’re saying Edgeworth’s a corrupt prosecutor… so he’s going to go easy on the defendant. Adora you trust him, so you think he’s going to give you a hard time? Like, I’m not saying either of you are necessarily wrong but I’d have thought your positions would be switched.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Glimmer.

“I’m just saying I think you’re both really anxious and want to argue for the sake of it. Why don’t you try saying what’s really on your mind?”

Adora and Glimmer shared a look, and seeing the strain and confusion in each other’s eyes, realised their friend was right. Glimmer sighed, and confessed first. She told them everything Angella had explained to her this morning ––the circumstances of her father’s death, falsifying the evidence, and of course, the sighting of the real killer.

“And she told me who she saw. The murderer was just a child, though she was quick and lost her. Mom saw her again though, especially as the trial for the falsely accused got underway. The killer was Catra.”

“Catra,” Adora whispered, “no…what?” 

“She had been at the Manor that day, for definite. No-one else fit the description of a small lithe creature. My dad had scratch marks, similar to the ones on Double Trouble. There was other evidence too, though no definite proof. But it’s clear that it was her. Catra…killed my dad.”

“I see.”

Whatever annoyance she felt towards Glimmer abated. Sure, this still sounded so surreal, she absolutely could not believe it. But Glimmer did. 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she said, “and I know this must feel wrong because it looks like she’s the murderer. But I can say with a hundred percent certainty that she didn’t kill anyone.”

“How?” Glimmer said in a weakened voice.

“Because I was there too that day,” Adora said. “If Catra had hurt someone… I would know. I would have told you, and I wouldn’t be defending her now.”

“You were there?” Glimmer looked with wide, blinking eyes, but seemed stopped for words in her amazement. Then her face returned to a fixed stared. She asked, “how can you have such faith in her?” 

She could not answer. Glimmer did not press the matter, and for that at least, Adora was grateful. 

When they got to the detention centre again, Adora asked the other two if they could wait outside. They acquiesced, so she went in alone. The visitation room was as before, yet now it was even more lonely. Catra was there, expectant, but not waiting.

“Oh, you again,” she said. “I thought you came to laugh at me earlier but you’re the one who keeps giving me entertainment.” 

“Do you have a lawyer?” Adora asked, flatly.

Catra said nothing.

“Of course not,” Adora sighed. “You don’t like relying on people. Funnily enough I don’t like people relying on me. I can’t bear to let them down.”

The prisoner scoffed, “then why become a defence attorney?” 

“I never really asked the opposite. Why did I become a prosecutor in the first place? Guess it was what was expected of me. It’s what Shadow Weaver wanted.” 

A twitch touched Catra’s ears, though she mainly kept her rather tired scowl motionless. She was silent, watching. Adora continued:

“There was prestige and glory too, maybe that was a factor. But I never asked myself why until, well, when I switched sides. I knew I wanted to help people. Maybe putting away wrong-doers does but there was always that one person. Out there…. They could use my help, and I could give it if I were an attorney.”

“Yeah,” Catra was still looking down, “you told me. Well, whoever that person is, I pity them.” She looked Adora in the eye. Both sullen and mocking, her sight was conflicted in more than just colour. “You let people down. You let Shadow Weaver down, you let your clients down, no doubt you’ll let down your new “friends.” And if you ever found this person you oh so want to help, you’ll let them down too.” 

Adora fell silent. Looking down, her mouth parted as thoughts emptied from her mind yet waves of something strange flowed through her. Her hand moved up, feeling about the hem of her jacket.

Catra continued watching her with a queer disgust. “Why are you here, Adora? 

Hand reaching for her lapel, Adora felt for her sunflower-shaped pin. Her attorney’s badge. 

“Like, come on?” Catra was growing louder now, growling in her voice, “you come here, not even to laugh at me but to be laughable? Are you pathetic or are you trying to show me pity? Like either way, I don’t wanna see it.” Anger flashed sharp in her face. “Damnit, Adora, why do you want to defend me?!”

Adora ripped the badge off her chest and slammed it against the window.

“Because this is what I’ve always meant to do!” Adora said, loud, forceful, but without fury, “this is what it’s been for. Being She-Ra, becoming a defence attorney, for the first time it makes sense.”

The sudden motion had caused Catra to cower. She watched, confused, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s you! You’re the one I’ve wanted to help!” 

Catra’s expression broke. It couldn’t burden the weight of what Adora had said. Although the girl tried to fix it back into a grimace, neurons were firing off in her mind, thoughts mad in their paces as everything suddenly came together.

“It was,” she spluttered, “…me?” 

Adora nodded. She gave a small, hopeful smile.

Snarling, Catra looked away ––although a blush, she could not hide. 

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought.” She gave a sigh. It was long, whittling down to a groan as she expelled the last air in her lungs. She rubbed her palm into her face, and then groaned again, “ugh,” and completely resigned, said, “fine! I’ll write your letter of request.”

“Really?” said Adora, lights dancing in her eyes. 

Catra blushed again.

“T-this doesn’t mean anything,” she said, “this doesn’t mean I like you now.”

“Sure, sure,” Adora said, trying to maintain a professional expression. Though she let slip few smiles to herself. 

“And I don’t expect you to win,” Catra said, “certainly not against Edgeworth.”

“Of course, of course.” 

Then Catra reached for her other arms and rubbed it. Her gaze fell. Whether torpor or something else, her voice faltered when she next spoke. For the first time, she seemed very small, alone in her side of the room.

“Just,” she said, “do what you think you have to do.”

Chapter Text

Memories were difficult. After nine years they shifted about, merged. Details changed, subtleties washed away, while what was minor became catastrophic. And yet the basic feel of those times came back in such vivid ways. The rush of air as Adora ran, burnt with the smell of autumn leaves. The sound of laughter, as she chased Catra. The feel of bark and moss crumbling and sticking to her hand as she climbed. Both terror and thrill as she looked down on what to her was the plummet from the sky. 

She slipped. She fell. It hurt, but she was laughing. 

“You’re dead!” Catra grinned, peering over her. “You only have one life, remember.”

“You fell more than nine times!”

“Nah, I land on my feet.”

“You can’t do this though.”

Adora kicked the air, and vaulted herself up off her back and onto her feet. Catra ducked and ran. Adora gave chase, all the way back into the house. 

A hand grabbing her arm stopped Catra with a lurch. She was nimble and quick, but altogether a scrawny thing. Adora always thought if someone tried they could snap her arm in two. She’d threatened to do that once, when Catra had bitten her. They’d fought like that a lot once, but not so much these days. She assumed they never would in the future. 

“Catra, you got Adora hurt,” came the reproaching voice of Shadow Weaver, who was then holding the tiny girl still. 

“She was the one who fell!” Catra protested.

“Chasing you.”

“It’s okay, Shadow Weaver,” Adora argued, as she suddenly hugged Catra’s other arm. “We were only playing.”

Relinquishing her grip, Shadow Weaver said, “I see. Well it’s alright, children, so long as you keep it gentle.”

Though she nursed her arm, Catra didn’t mind as Shadow Weaver stroked her hand along her cheek. 

Their mother ushered them along. It was time for school, so they dressed. Long blue pleated skirt, sailor-style collar, red neckerchief ––Catra wore her white blouse disheveled and with shortened sleeves; Adora’s full-sleeved was more neatly tucked in. With that, they were about to leave when Adora stopped the other girl. Her neckerchief wasn’t done up.

“Lemme just….”

“Ugh,” Catra moaned, “why do you always have to be so perfect?”

Adora reached across and fixed it about, and although Catra complained, she held still as to let it pass quickly. 

Then they were ferried to school by car, and the day went on. They learned, perhaps, but nothing of note. In one class, however, the teacher set them a different kind of assignment. It was about prospects. The future. Not something children of their age gave serious thought to, but when the teacher asked Adora what she wanted her life to be about when she grew up, she had her answer:

“I want to be a prosecutor,” she said, “like my mom.” 

“That’s exciting,” the teacher said, “though it’ll require a lot of hard work and studying. So keep up with your homework. Catra, what do you want to do?”

“I’ll…,” Catra gnawed the end of a pencil and thought, before saying, “I wanna be a prosecutor too.” 

That drew giggle from the class. Though it left the teacher unamused, and they placed their hands on their hips.

“Catra, don’t copy,” they said, looking down with disapproval, “you’ll have to forge your own path, not just do what your friend does.” 

Catra slunk into her seat. Then she scowled and threw herself forward, laying on her desk.

“She’s my mom too,” she muttered.

Adora leant over to whisper, “I think you being a prosecutor would be cool!”

“Whatever. I don’t care, I just had to answer that stupid assignment.”

Memories for one could only tell one story. But nine years ago someone else was about to have just as significant a day. Far from the school, the courthouse was busy all the morning. The defence attorney, Angella, was stood with folded arms, waiting. Her client was a small shivering man in an ill-fitted suit, and he was rubbing his hands incessantly. She place hers on his wrist to stay his rustling.

“It’ll be alright. We have a strong case.”

“But I’ve heard bad things about this place,” the man rumbled. “They’ll eat me alive!”

“Perhaps. Have you heard of the prosecutor on your case?”

“Not much.”

“They call him the magician of the bench,” she said with a wry look, “owing to his ability to produce evidence from thin air.”

“F-forgeries?! I’m doomed.”

“No, no,” Angella chuckled, “just that he’s very thorough at crime scenes. You leave it me however,” she gave him a smile. “You’ll walk free.”

In the courtroom Angella stood by her table and waited for the Judge to call for silence. When he did, he gave the formal introduction, and then stopped. He looked to the prosecution, and without a word gave him leave to speak. 

The man at the opposite bench was one in a long, double-breasted purple jacket, with a full ever-so-grizzled beard and black hair up in a knot. While procedure demanded the Judge call on the prosecution to give its opening statement, both this man and this woman had been here before many times, and they had a different rote. 

“I arrived quite early today,” said the man, “you would not believe the workload we’re getting at the office.”

“I’m sure that won’t bare on you ability to see this trial through, Prosecutor Micah,” Angella said with a blank expression.

Micah shook his head and smiled, “just thought you should know why I was gone this morning. But I made sure to prepare something for you. How was breakfast?”

Typical of that man, and it made Angella frown. Did he always have to draw attention to her inability to cook? 

“Prosecutor, as always you bore the Judge––”

“Actually, I don’t mind at all,” the Judge said in a strange, oddly polite way, even smiling something nervous as if he had intruded upon their conversation rather than them into his trial. 

“Still, perhaps we should begin? Maybe then your workload would actually decrease.” 

Micah gave a bow, and said, “your wish is my command, defence.”

With that, the trial begun. Angella watched for the usual signs. The corner of Micah’s mouth would give the smallest of twitches if he was deliberately hiding something ––usually in preparation for a dramatic reveal. Unfortunately, this time he was purposely turning his face away as he talked. 

“…that is in fact an excellent point,” he was saying in response to one of Angella’s objections, “and I feel kind of sorry for deflating it ––so, I hope you forgive me, honey–– but you have to consider this evidence.”

“Ah, of course,” Angella said, dryly as she saw the object in his hand, “a pair of scissors? That conveniently didn’t show up in my own investigation?”

“Aha, the magician strikes again,” said the Judge. “I wonder how the defence would dare escape this trap?”

“I hope you don’t take me for an amateur, your honour.”

“With your elegance and radiance?” said Micah, genuinely breathless as he did, “I would hope not.”

“Elegance and radiance? I think you used that one last time.”

“Such things are endless, while the english language is so limited.”

“Ah yes,” Angella said with a pert smile, “would that include your first attempt which I believe was now fifteen years ago, in which you described me as… tall.” 

“Aha…,” Micah coughed, seriously blushing, “well, we all have start with something? I was a foolish boy then.”

“And a wise man now.” Angella said this, fixing a gaze directly into his eyes, and without a hint of guile. 

“I… ah,” Micah gave a low chuckle, “I believe you win this one.”

“I say,” said the Judge, sitting back, “the cross-court banter is never so pleasant as it is when you two are together. But defence, no matter what prosecutor Micah says, you haven’t won until you’ve addressed the matter of these scissors….” 

After the trial, Angella and Micah met up again in the courthouse atrium. The man continued to wear his warm smile.

“You always give a thoroughgoing defence, don’t you,” he said as she walked up.

“No less than your attacks. But I’d ask for nothing less.”

“Everything I said about the workload was true, I’m afraid. I’ll be heading home but it’ll be following me. I’m having a colleague over.” 

Angella nodded, “Glimmer is staying over at her friend’s, and I’m going to be working late at the office. We’ll be out of your way.” 

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Micah said, insistent and apologetic.

“No, it’s alright. When it comes to the work our two sides shouldn’t fraternise.” 

“Damn the sides, our paths keep straying.”

“True,” Angella sighed, “I do worry that we haven’t had any time together for our own sakes, or Glimmer’s.”

“Angie,” Micah took his wife’s hands into his own and looked up to her, “we’ll make time. Next time the stars align we should sit down and figure out a plan. We just need to figure out when.”

“Ah yes, we need to plan for time so we can plan for time,” Angella said with a rather pained chuckle. “How did everything get so ahead of us.” 

“There’s no need to worry,” Micah assured, soft in voice, “We’ve made the best of what we could so far, but tomorrow lies ahead of us all the same. We’ll have to discuss this later, but we will.”

“Of course,” Angella smiled, leaning down into him, “but for now…” 

By midday, Catra and Adora were free from classes for an hour. Adora loved to be free of the stifling rooms and into the open air. The other girl however was ambivalent. In class they could whisper when the teacher wasn’t looking, or muck about if they were particularly rowdy one day. During most breaks, Adora went to the gym for a game, or to train up. Catra sometimes jokingly hyped her from the pews but it wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time. At least today was an off-day. Still, it was on her mind.

“If you’re gonna join the sports team next year, maybe I should become a cheerleader,” the cat quipped. 

“You’d be pretty lousy.”

“Nuh-uh. I’ll get some pom-poms. Go, Adora, go!” 

She lazily punched the air. In response Adora gave her a tackle. Though it was gentle and playful, Catra’s waist was undefended. She yelped, less dignified than she would have hoped. To regain lost honour she wrestled Adora into a headlock. 

“Hey, lemme go,” Adora laughed.

They soon came to rest on a wooden picnic bench that oversaw a stretch of lawn reaching out to the school gates. Beyond it, though it was barely past midday, the sun drooped in the sky ––a November’s glare over a chill nigh-winter wind. The two were joined by other friends of theirs ––a girl Lonnie and two boys reptilian Rogelio and jittery Kyle. 

“Hey we’ll all heading over to the arcade after school,” said the girl, “You guys wanna come?”

“Can’t,” said Adora, “Shadow Weaver’s doing a thing and we have to go too.” 

“Aw that sucks.”

“We don’t have to do anything, it’s just we ‘can’t be trusted’ alone at the house.”

Catra shrugged, “I mean we did trash the place last time. Shadow Weaver freaked.” She assumed a crude impression, “ ‘you two cannot be allowed out of my sight again!’ “

This drew laughs from all of them. Catra grinned.

Time flew by as they chatted and laughed by the common. Words of no meaning passed between them, the topics lost to time, but the good feeling of being with friends was something that not even eras could wash away. Certainly not the glow that Adora had towards Catra. 

“Hey I got some snacks,” said Kyle, offering out a small box. “Chocolate sticks I think.” 

“You got those from Tiny Tokyo?” asked Lonnie.

“Yeah.”

“Hey give em over,” Catra snatched them, and before Kyle could protest she nimbly pounced back up onto the bench. 

“No fair!”

“I’m just joshing you, Kyle,” Catra said, slipping away a single stick before graciously tossing the rest back to its rightful owner.

They might have just shared the confectionery and that would’ve been the end of it. But Rogelio noted in a growl that he’d seen something online about a challenge involving the chocolate sticks. Two people bite from either end, approaching in. Last to break was the winner. 

“Sounds dumb,” Catra remarked, as she let her own stick sit by the corner of her mouth like it was a Cuban. 

“Bet you’re just saying that cause you’d lose,” said Adora.