Chapter Text
Phoenix Wright had a terrible job. He didn't even know how he started working for the IRS, he only knew that he hated the job description.
Luckily for him, he was never very good at following the job descriptions, he mused as he made paper snow out of the latest tax report to land on his desk. He picked up the next paper, intending for this one to meet the same fate, but the name on the paper stopped him.
"Huh," he said, blinking at the paper. "Out of everything to get yourself caught for tax evasion..."
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Meanwhile, Miles Edgeworth is sitting in a cafe, enjoying his caviar and other assorted rich person foods.
"Ah, being the 1% sure is wonderful. I sure love not paying taxes. If Von Karma taught me anything its survival of the fittest..." he muses, checking his Mont Blanc pen for any deformities.
His musing however, is suddenly interrupted by a short ping on his phone. He looks down and smiles. It's a message from Phoenix:
"What the heck dude," it reads with a small grumpy face, "Did you seriously avoid paying Taxes AGAIN?"
Mile sends back a winky face, "What are you gonna do arrest me"
literall
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A text pops up again "nah. I'm going to do more than arrest you :)"
Somehow that terrified Miles. Suddenly, the cafe door burst down, and a man with slicked-back and spike-backed hair appeared. What was stranger was how he was carrying a giant guillotine.
Miles was confused. wasn't it revolutionaries who used guillotines, not the bloody IRS? before he could solve this conundrum, the strange-haired man grabbed him by the collar, threw the guillotine down, and slammed Miles' neck into it.
"Name's Phoenix Wright. Honestly, I hate to do this, you're pretty cute yknow?"
wtf
