Chapter Text
“This trial is suspended until further notice, as we request a new prosecution.” The judge slammed down his gavel in a finality, before getting up and heading out the court room, a Bailiff following him.
Another Bailiff headed over to Byrne, putting handcuffs onto his wrists as Kay watched horrified at the sight. The girl was shaking, trying to rush over to him despite Badd grabbing onto her protectively.
“He didn’t do it!! I know he didn’t!! Daddy would never!!” the girl kept squirming, her sobs drenching Badd's coat.
“It’s okay kid, your dad is innocent” he absently ran a hand through the girls hair. “Let’s get him a snack, okay?”
The girl nodded, her hand gripping onto Badd’s trenchcoat like a lifeline, fearing the consequences of letting go.
The two walked over to the nearest vending machine, the black haired man putting Kay down gently, letting her point at the gift she wanted to hand over. A two-pack of swiss rolls.
“Daddy loves those.” she wiped her nose onto her arm, sniffling back tears.
“Why don’t we deliver them together?” suggested the detective, who watched as the girl's face began to light up again. A nod and smile gracing her features.
The black haired man takes the young girl by the hand, both leading her to the holding area and making sure she won’t disappear on him—like she loves to do every time he babysits. The girl did not squirm.
A guard stood outside the door labeled ‘holding’, despite trying to seem as professional as he could, the man absently swatted at a fly nearby, not even noticing the two come up. At least until Badd cleared his throat loudly, causing him to almost scream.
Seeing a grown man shriek was the utmost funniest thing Kay has seen in a while, the girl letting out a giggle so loud it could shatter glass, her finger pointed towards him.
Badd opened his mouth to scold the girl for pointing, but quickly fell back silent, appreciating the shrill sound of her happiness. “I thought you were guarding the room, not swatting at flies. Rookie.”
“Boss!” the man exclaimed, looking over at the other detective with eyes as wide as saucers. “I thought—but— I was on guard!” he stammered out. The man had his black hair sloppily shaved, his beard was somehow worse, with patchy spots and a knick covered up with a bandage. He was wearing a tan trenchcoat, just a few shades lighter than Badds, his brown pants covered in mud stains he clearly thought the color alone would conceal, all over shoes that were honestly more scuff than shoe.
Taking a quick notice of the girl, he kneeled to her height scruffing up her hair with his hand, a big smile plastered onto his face. “The name's Dick Gumshoe, but you can call me Gummy!!” The man laughed at the nickname, keeping an eye on the kid. “What’s your name?”
“Kay Faraday!!” the girl exclaimed pointing to herself, a smug grin plastered onto her face.
“Faraday?” Gumshoe echoed, looking up at his boss. “Like the—” he broke off, taking one more look at Kay before motioning over to the door silently.
A flash of gratefulness came to the black haired detective's eyes as he drew a long puff from his cigarette blowing out smoke. Silently confirming his assumption with a nod. “We’re bringing him a swiss roll.”
“Isn’t that sweet!” he patted the kids head once again, stepping aside to let the two pass into the holding area.
“What you did. Is out of protocol.” scolded Badd, keeping a harsh glare onto the newly hired man. “I was expecting more opposition, just because I am your boss, doesn’t mean I get free reign of the protocols, if you did this again. I will fire you.” he warned, his tone almost transitioning into a yell.
“Y—yes sir!” shouted Gumshoe, who straightened up into a salute, watching as the two entered the room, Kay rushing in, excited at the thought of seeing her father once again.
“Hey Kiddo!!” Byrne shouted out, the second he locked eyes with Kay, despite his happy expression anyone could sense the fear bubbling beneath the surface.
“Daddy! We got you a snack!” The young girl squealed, gleefully presenting the swiss roll package to her father. She began to fiddle with the plastic wrapped sweets in her small hands, just getting barely enough dexterity to force them open, strewing the plastic all over the floor before handing one of the two rolls to her dad.
“Kay, litter.” Byrne reminded his daughter. Taking the swiss roll and shoving it in his mouth the very second it touched his fingers.
“Oh!” the little girl exclaimed, picking up the trash, glancing around the room for any nearby trashcan that could be used, but when her search fell short she insisted to hold the trash up to Badd instead.
“Do I look like a trashcan kid?” the detective stared down at the girl, his eyebrow raised. When he was only met by that same smirk every Faraday always wore—and a handful of trash being shoved closer to his face. The black haired man let out a sigh of annoyance.
“No, no I think she’s right.” Byrne smirked out, a chuckle escaping his attempt to seem stoic that he usually failed at. “You do look like a trashcan to me!”
“Byrne!”
“What?!” he snapped back, his tongue slightly escaping his mouth in a mischief only he could pull off.
“Don’t encourage her.” he glared at the mischievous expression. A bailiff swung the door open with a strength that held with it an authority.
“The new prosecutor has arrived sir.” The bailiffs eyes darted around the room in confusion from the disregard for protocol.
“Come on kid, we can’t stay here, we can go back to visit your dad after.” he reassured, holding a hand out for Kay, who reluctantly took it after pausing to hug her dad and tell him bye.
Heading back into the main area, Manfred von Karma was the last person he expected to be in the court house—especially there waiting for him. Taking a notice to the detective the man limped over, a young girl who looked no older than 12 helping him.
“Ah, Detective! Do you enjoy wasting my precious time like this?” the prosecutor demanded, a glare painted onto his wrinkled face. He was wearing a blue suit embellished with embroidery that looked nothing less than expensive, a familial cravat stretched across the entire group of von Karmas. Worn over a burgundy vest, all tied together with meticulously shined black shoes.
“Enough with the pleasantries.” Badd demanded,checking his flank. “If you think I’d let you have unsupervised access to the evidence before the trial you’d be surely mistaken.” The man took a long drag of his cigarette, which had severely diminished in size.
“You won’t be letting me have glances over any evidence. This case belongs to my protégé. So you have no need to accuse me.” he limped closer in an attempt to be as intimidating as possible.
“Protégé?” he echoed, his gaze going down to the girl next to him, her blue hair styled into a perfect bun on the back of her head, she was in the most perfectly cleaned black blazer the teal accents matching her hair, not even one thread out of place, she was wearing a black skirt that went down to her ankles, her face decorated with a mole under her left eye and lip, and glasses.
“This isn’t her case.” Manfred corrected, noting his gaze. “My protégé, Miles Edgeworth will be handling the prosecution, this will be an easy first case—done in 3 minutes.” His gaze hardened.
Edgeworth…Badd never expected to hear that name again, not after all this time—after what happened. He couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch in his throat. As much as he knew his father, the boy standing in front of him looked nothing like he once did. His hair, once brown, was now decorated in gray streaks that threatened to overtake it. He was in a burgundy suit, just as expensively embroidered as Manfreds—if not even more expensive. Badd nearly flinched as he watched the person he once knew as an energetic young boy—a boy who wished to be a defense attorney like his father, now sporting the symbol of a prosecutor,and bowing in such a respect.
Miles shifted slightly under the detective's silent staring. “What’s wrong detective? Surprised at my appearance?” the corners of his mouth began to curl into a smirk.
Badd couldn’t help the pity that seeped into his gaze, his eyes floating up to the grey streaks in the boy’s hair—he was still just a kid after all.
The prosecutor noticed his glance, as his eyebrows twitched down, and his arms folded in front of his chest. “Save your pity for people who actually need it. I’m not a child, in case you haven’t noticed.”
The preteen girl next to them who had been silent until now finally spoke, a heavy German accent lacing her words. “How—how dare you act to my brother like—” she cut off before telling Miles something in German, frustration lacing her tone.
“Like a fool.” the brown-gray haired boy corrected, annoyance coming to his gaze, before switching back to German to tell her something.
“I apologize for my daughter, her proficiency in English is—lacking.” Manfred tugged at his sleeve in annoyance, tapping his foot to a nonexistent rhythm.
“I’m here to watch.” The girl struggled out once again, proud of her English. “Papa brung me, I want to help win case.”
The detective stared at her for just a moment before responding “Cute—I don’t need more children following me around—you’re like what? Twelve?”
Hearing the word twelve, she shot up in offense, shouting in german what anyone could assume wasn’t exactly pleasant
Instead of dealing with—whatever that was, Badd rather opted to turn his focus to Miles. “Come on kid, we’ll get you the case files and evidence.”
The prosecutor visibly bristled at the term of endearment. “Fine. Let's get this over with.”
Badd narrowed his eyes in amusement, seeing him bristle at being called a kid despite being one himself. It felt like a hint of the boy he used to visit—the boy who idolized Gregory. “Stay put, okay Kid?” he told Kay who nodded in an absent agreement that had a fifty-fifty chance of actually being obeyed. Knowing he couldn’t win a battle with a Faraday, no matter how small or big they were he just sighed and began to walk over to the evidence storage.
Tiny feet scampering up reached their ears, not a moment after he told her to stay put she was back at his feet hugging onto his legs in a silent desperation. “Take me back to daddy! I want to be with him.” she demanded, refusing to let either walk very far until she got an answer, or they caved to her request.
Hearing her begging, Miles froze his gaze softening into a pitiful familiarity, as he kneeled down to her height. “Excuse me, little girl, who is your father?” he inquired trying to seem as little intimidating as he could
Rather than getting any response like he had expected, the kid glared daggers into him. “Say hi, Kay.” Badd probed, an attempt to get any positive interaction.
The black haired girl only shook her head no crossing her arms across her chest—this wouldn’t get anywhere good fast.
“Her name is Kay Faraday, her father is the defendant on trial at the moment.” Badd sighed, staring down at the girl.
“I see,” he nodded, standing back up from the girl, who didn’t seem too keen on his presence.
She glared at her uncle, anger seething from her tiny form at her secret being spilt to the one person trying to get her dad into jail.
Miles, attempting again to get through to her, spoke in a tone too soft to feel genuine. “Listen to me, Little girl. Your father is currently on trial, and it’s not right for you to see him right now, do you understand?”
The black haired girl stared up at him, blinking slowly for a few seconds before aiming one good kick right at his crotch.
The moment of contact the prosecutor yelped in pain doubling over. “What the—what the hell was that for you little brat?!” he hissed out.
Caught off guard, a slight laugh escaped Badd, his arm reaching down and grabbing Kay by the shirt, elevating her off the floor as the girl squirmed trying to get free. “Now, Kay, we don’t hit people.” he scolded, a smile audible in his tone.
“Put me down!” The girl whined, trying to get out of her uncle's grip.
“Not until you apologize, kid.” the detective said, a sharpness to his tone that caused the girl to yelp.
“I’m sorry”, Kay smirked out.
“That’s not genuine, try again.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Prosecutor, for kicking you in the balls.” the girl conceded, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor until she was finally let go again.
Hearing the girl's surely half-assed apology, Miles scoffed. “Apology accepted—I guess, but you should really learn some manners kid.” His glare stung daggers into the girl, who only stuck her tongue out at him.
Trying to ignore the last 15 minutes of his day, Miles turned to Badd, “Detective. We still need to get the evidence, right? Let's just get this over with.” He tried to straighten up to the best of his ability, but his uncomfortable posture was something anyone could tell from a mile away.
The black haired man nodded, turning his attention over to a young woman having a conversation with a nearby bailiff. “The defense, Yew has the files. We would have to ask her for a copy, once she is done with her conversation, that is.” he paused to take another draw from his cigarette, a puff of smoke filling the air. He twirled what was left of the butt in his hands for a few moments, before shoving it into the nearest ashtray, grabbing out a new cigarette, and resting it between his teeth.
Taking notice of the group, she waved the bailiff away, taking steps that echoed with her high heels. “Well, if it isn’t Badd.” she chuckled to herself with no visible reason. “And this must be the new prosecutor, he’s so cute!”
Miles couldn’t help but bristle from being called cute, yet kept his composure to greet the woman, tacking on a respectful bow. “You must be the defense attorney.”
A smile graced the woman's face as she nodded, holding out her hand for a handshake. “That’s me, Calisto Yew, and you’re von Karma's little special.” She chuckled at her revelation, her eyes glowing with amusement at his pretentious suit.
Seeing the prosecutor hesitate at the sight of her hand, the black haired woman stifled a laugh with the back of her hand, a puff of air slightly audible despite her efforts. “What? Von Karma not let you touch the defense?” She fought back as much as she could against the laughter, her bouncing shoulders betraying her.
“It has been brought to my attention that you have the files and evidence for this case.” the prosecutor mentioned, taking a careful consideration to not get Calisto laughing again.
“I can give you the basics, if you’d like.” the woman offered, taking out a pocket mirror, and re applying her lipgloss.
“Yes, that would be greatly appreciated.” A slight smile graced his face, hoping to finally get the files, and this case prosecuted—he was going to win. Byrne was half guilty already, he only had to say when.
The woman stifled another laugh with her hand, her snorts of laughter quickly escaping into a cackle. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s just—you’re so—so pretentious!!” her tone divulged into yet another laughing fit, one that she was clearly trying—and failing to stop.
After taking just a few moments to calm herself, the black haired woman reached into her briefcase before pulling out a file labeled AM-3, and presenting it to the prosecutor. Rattling off whatever she did know off the top of her head. “The victim, Mack Rell was found dead in a storage unit belonging to the Allebahstian embassy.” Calisto chuckled at the name, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “The only one who was seen with him, was the previous defendant, Deid Mann, a security guard working with the storage unit provider. Being the only one close to the scene, he was naturally arrested and tried for the murder. It wasn’t until later more thorough forensic investigations discovered that the fingerprints on the weapon were not Deid’s, but instead Faradays.”
Miles nodded, taking the files from the woman and taking his own cursory glance over them.
“Ms. Yew!” a stern voice called out to her, the woman looked around for the source, nodding at the Bailiff who had called her.
“Yes? What’s the matter?” she inquired, a sudden seriousness to her tone.
“There is someone here to speak with you.”
“Here to speak with me?” she echoed, “I better go, the evidence should still be in the court room.” She took one last glance at Miles, a chuckle escaping her throat. “You can check it without me.” The woman stopped to ruffle Kay's hair, who flinched away hissing, before heading off with the Bailiff.
Badd glanced over at the man she was speaking to, his eyes narrowing in distrust. “Why the hell is she speaking to him?” He wondered outloud, seemingly not even noticing. The black haired man took a few careful steps back, an attempt to overhear anything. One word caught his ears, “traitor.”
“I’d like to have a glance over the evidence” the prosecutor probed, trying to get the detective to stop doing—whatever attempt of eavesdropping.
“Right.” The detective conceded, taking one more worried glance at the duo before heading off to the court room. Kay did not follow.
With a nod at the judge, the two headed into the courtroom, pulling the evidence box out from the bench, and laying it out for the prosecutor to look at. Miles paused, taking and inspecting each piece, keeping a mental checklist of what is to be used in the trial—and how to spin it into a guilty verdict for certain. He recounted the evidence over and over again, a mental checklist that had been drilled into him since the day he got brought under the von Karma wing—something just didn't seem right, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I have some questions about the evidence that I’d like to ask the defense.” The gray haired man took a respectful bow to the detective, before turning to exit the court room. Waiting just a few moments to let the detective follow.
The search for Yew didn’t last long, she was sitting outside the court room talking with Manfred presumably about the case at hand. The two quickly stopped talking once they realized they were no longer alone.
“Yew.” The detective greeted her with a curt nod. “Where’s Coachen? I saw you talking with him earlier.” he paused to take another draw from his cigarette.
“We finished talking, he left to get prepared to testify, he is a witness after all.” The woman reached into her suit pocket, before taking out and holding a small heart-shaped locket in her hand, a sad sigh deflating her. Yew stared down at it for only a moment— and put it back into her pocket.
Badd rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “CeCe would have been happy to see you go this far, I know how much you miss her.”
She glanced up to the man for just a moment before nodding. “Th—thanks” she quickly changed subjects glancing up at the clock on the wall. “The recess is almost over, we should head back into the courtroom.”
A shrill scream of terror echoed through the courthouse. Hearing the screech, Badd jumped into a run, quickly drawing his gun—praying that he would get there in time. He couldn't let another incident plague this courthouse, not on his watch—Not again.
The door to the holding room lay open, a small blood soaked girl grasping onto the doorframe trembling in terror. Once she noticed the detective, she ran up to him, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could muster. “K–Kay?! What’s the matter!? You’re soaked!” a panic that he never usually had came to his voice, shaking off the little girl telling her to stay put, the man rushed into the room, the smell of copper berating his nose.
Laying in a puddle of blood were two dead bodies, both of which Badd recognized. The black haired man rushed over to one, ignoring the other. His hands shakily felt for any pulse, a desperate attempt that this was all just a joke, some cruel prank, no matter what he wanted, nobody could deny—his friend Byrne Faraday's still face staring up at him, his eyes forever wide in a silent judgement—-blaming him. “F—Fuck” his voice cracked with emotions, threatening tears.
His gaze fell upon the other body, taking in the features he knew all too well—the face of a murderer. His brown eyes hardened in accusation, piecing together a thousand possibilities enraged Badd forced himself to chew out the words “Manny Coachen.”