Chapter Text
A year has passed since the exposure of the notorious ACME Corporation, and now a law firm everyone respects has become the go-to place for small and large cases alike. Wile E. Coyote and Kevin keep in touch occasionally, with Coyote dropping by the law firm now and then.
It was just another day at the firm, with Kevin celebrating yet another victory for a client. As he stowed away the case in a filing cabinet, he sighed deeply, stretching his arms overhead before sinking back into his chair.
“Hey, Uncle Kevin,” Paige chimed in cheerfully, waving a large bag of Chinese food, “I brought dinner!”
“Awesome,” Kevin replied. “I’m both starving and worn out.”
“Long day, huh?” Paige asked, digging into her noodles. “Any updates on Coyote?”
“We had a ‘chat’ yesterday,” Kevin said. “He’s doing well.”
“Still chasing the Road Runner?” she inquired.
“Yup.”
Paige chuckled softly. “You’d think they’d be friends by now.”
“Just part of the game,” Kevin remarked. “It’s hard to believe that just a year ago we were on the brink of shutting down, the laughingstock of the nation, thanks to Coyote trying to take down the biggest corporation in America.”
“And now?” Paige prompted.
Kevin fell silent for a moment. “And now… I’m not sure. I guess I’m longing for another case as monumental as ACME. It feels a bit selfish, doesn’t it?”
Paige shrugged. “I get it—feeling like you’re just back to the grind, taking on case after case. But remember, we’re no longer just a law firm chasing settlements. We’re fighting for the little guys, whether they’re cartoons or not.”
“I guess so,” he said, taking another bite of his dinner. “Who knows when the next big case will hit.”
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Inside a prison building, a young woman sat alone in the dayroom, writing in her journal while the other inmates mingled nearby. A small television flickered in the corner, its show barely registering with her until a commercial cut in.
“Have you ever accidentally wished for someone to love you more than anything in the world, only to find yourself with someone who became obsessed?”
She paused mid-sentence, caught off guard.
“Have you been manipulated and used against your will?”
Curiosity piqued, she glanced at the TV and saw a man in a suit sitting in his office.
“Have you done something so terrible without realizing it that you’re now being framed for a crime you didn’t commit?”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“It’s not your fault. Call the law offices of Avery Jones and Maltese today, and we’ll stand up for you. Just call the number on the screen.” She quickly jotted down the number in her notebook. “Don’t wait—reach out to us now, and we’ll fight for you.”
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It was late in the evening, and Kevin was the last person at the law firm, wrapping up his day. “Time to get some sleep,” he groaned, stretching his weary body. “Today was a long one.”
Just as he was about to leave, his phone rang unexpectedly. He glanced at the screen, puzzled. “Who could be calling at this hour?” he wondered. He picked up the phone and answered, “Avery Jones and Maltese Law Firm. I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the day. If you could please call back tomorrow—”
Before he could finish, a frantic voice cut in on the other end. “Please! Don’t hang up!” the woman cried, her panic evident. After a moment, she collected herself and continued, “I don’t have much time; I’m calling from the penitentiary.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow, confusion setting in. “And why are you calling me from prison, miss? How can I assist you?”
“It’s a lot to explain. I really need your help,” she pleaded, desperation in her voice making it hard for Kevin to ignore her urgency.
“How can I help?” he asked, settling down and reaching for a notebook and pencil.
“I heard about your law firm from a commercial and that you take on unusual cases, right?”
“W-well, we do, Miss, but—”
“Good, because I need a lawyer to help me prove my innocence in a murder case I didn’t commit.”
Kevin felt his stomach drop. “Murder?”
“Yes, for murder. Can you help me?”
He hesitated before responding. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A sigh of relief came through the line. “Thank you.”
“Where are you located?” he asked.
“At the Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles.”
“You’re all the way in Los Angeles, California? That’s quite a distance from Albuquerque, New Mexico! I’m not sure I can make that trip!”
“Please! I need your help!” she insisted.
Rubbing his eyes in frustration, Kevin sighed, weighing his options. “Alright, I’ll do my best. However, I have no way to contact you, so I’ll give you my personal number. I’ll inform my team and see what we can work out. Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied softly.
He shared his personal number, then asked one last question. “What’s your name, miss?”
“Nikki,” she answered, “Nikki Freeman.”