Chapter Text
At age 21, Phoenix Wright met two women that would change his life forever.
The first, a sweet little thing with big, brown eyes that could melt even the hardest of hearts, and red hair that cascaded down her back, kept out of her face by a neat braid.
The other, a quick-witted, stubborn woman who insisted she was there to help him, even if he had no idea what she was trying to help him with.
It was because of his involvement with these women that Phoenix learned a very valuable lesson. Never take anything, or anyone, at face value. It took just three days for his entire world view to be changed forever, as he learned those big, brown eyes hid a very dark secret.
Without that stubborn woman, Mia Fey, Phoenix would have ended up as demon chow.
At the end of the whole ordeal, he was given a choice. He could go back to his life as an unassuming theatre major, but never speak of what happened to anyone – the government would pay a pretty penny for him to keep his mouth shut – or he could join Mia’s agency, become a hunter just like her.
Those who have the privilege to know, have a duty to act. Those words resonated with Phoenix in a way he wasn’t sure he could describe. Knowing what he knew now, about the existence of demons and other supernatural nasties, he couldn’t, in good conscience, go back to his life and feign ignorance.
So, Phoenix made the decision to drop out of college, and become a hunter.
The training was gruelling, his limits being pushed at every turn, but Mia was a damned good teacher, and under her guidance, Phoenix got his licence in just a few short months.
The existence of things that go bump in the night is strictly on a need-to-know basis, which made the hunters’ job much more difficult. It’s much easier to hunt a vampire when you can ask the locals about any strange goings-on without sounding like a conspiracy theorist, after all. But, overall, Phoenix found the job to be gruelling, yet fulfilling.
He was barely out of his apprentice days when it happened.
It was shortly after his first, real hunt. Mia had gone out on her own, assuring Phoenix that she had the situation under control, he could head home, she’d call him if she needed him.
That call came in at roughly 9 pm. She told him she could use some backup, but the situation wasn’t dire. She gave him her location, and he was on his way.
When he found her, Mia’s body had been ripped to shreds, ravaged in the jaws of a starved Hell Hound.
The only sound louder than the pounding of Phoenix’s heart, was the agonised screams of the young girl he’d found at the scene.
Acting purely on instinct, he grabbed hold of her and got her out of there as quickly as he could. All the while, the girl kicked and screamed and pleaded for him to let go of her! Let her save Mia!
He spent the next few days with the young girl who, he discovered, was Mia’s sister. She was also a hunter, though not a licensed one, yet. She was on the hunt with Mia as part of her training.
Phoenix decided to pick up Mia’s hunt, with Mia’s sister, Maya Fey at his side.
Time passed. Wounds healed. Phoenix threw himself into hunting.
Soon enough, any hunter worth their salt knew the name Phoenix Wright.
Through hunting together, Phoenix and Maya found they made a pretty good team, their bond seemingly unbreakable. Which is why, even after getting her license, Maya kept returning to Phoenix’s apartment, ready to face whatever monster reared its ugly head.
It was during such a hunt, a recently awakened rugaru, that they met Miles Edgeworth, a man who seemed insulted to be referred to as a hunter, but who showed such a refined skill for the job that Phoenix wasn’t sure what else he could be.
This was how he learned of the International Men of Letters, a secretive organisation that considered themselves superior to hunters. Unlike hunters, who were funded by the government, the International Men of Letters were privately funded, living in the pockets of the 1%. According to Edgeworth, they knew more about the supernatural than even the most veteran of hunters. Information he delivered in a smug tone.
From that day on, Phoenix and Miles found themselves head to head on what felt like every hunt they took on. Until, eventually, they found themselves working together. And then – inevitably, according to Maya – just together.
A hunter and a Man of Letters working in tandem and maintaining a relationship had its challenges, and there were people who had their doubts about them, but ultimately, they found a balance, and they were happy.
That is, until Miles got on the wrong side of a yellow-eyed demon.
He heard from Dick Gumshoe, a researcher who’d helped them out on a large number of hunts, that Miles had made the decision to face this demon alone. Gumshoe wasn’t able to talk him out of it, nor convince him to let him help.
Phoenix wasn’t there. He didn’t see what happened. And he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. But, he didn’t hear from him after that night. He could only assume the worst.
Healthy or not, he chose not to address it, and move on with his life, as if he’d never met Miles Edgeworth.
Vengeful spirits were, to be quite candid, nasty sons of bitches. The research that needed to be done to effectively hunt them was always a ballache, and often records that were needed to trace their remains simply didn’t exist.
Which regularly lead to situations like this.
“Nick!”
Phoenix spun around, just in time to duck as Maya swung a heavy bar.
The spirit behind him dissipated as the weapon sliced through it, warded off by what Phoenix now realised was an iron bar. “You could have killed me!” he yelled.
Maya smirked, jumping off the back of the couch she’d stood on. “But I didn’t!”
Grumbling, Phoenix grabbed his walkie from the floor. “Gumshoe,” he spoke into it, “any joy? We’re starting to struggle up here.”
The device buzzed with static for a few seconds, before Gumshoe’s gruff voice filtered through. “Not much to go on, pal,” he responded, “by all accounts the guy was cremated, shouldn’t be anything left of him.”
Just great.
Maya grabbed the walkie, passing the iron bar to Phoenix. “Any mention of personal items? Things he was super attached to in life that he might have imprinted on?” she asked.
“On it,” said Gumshoe.
The line went dead, Phoenix and Maya left to wait on guard for the spirit’s return.
Maya crossed the room, ducking down to pull open the duffel bag Phoenix had left on the floor. She grabbed the box of salt, hurrying to draw a line across the doorway. “We should be good for now,” she said, climbing to her feet as she brushed her hands off on her jeans.
With a nod, Phoenix tossed the bar she’d almost swung at him back to her. He moved to his bag, pulling it onto the couch and digging through it.
“How are we on ammo?” asked Maya.
Phoenix opened the box of rounds, counting them quickly before tucking them away. “Enough to get by,” he replied. “You don’t suppose Mr. Dingling’s anchor would be anywhere in this room, do you?”
Maya snorted. “That’s too convenient for one of our hunts,” she grumbled.
She was right, of course. Even this, which should have been a routine, get in, burn the bones, get out kind of hunt had taken a nosedive. But she didn’t have to say it.
Right on cue, the walkie buzzed with static again. “I’ve got some bad news for you, pals,” Gumshoe’s hesitant tone was exactly what Phoenix didn’t need at that moment. “Looks like our buddy Ken’s over here on a revenge call.”
Maya groaned, leaning heavily against the wall. “So, where do we go from here?” she spoke loud enough for the walkie to pick up her voice.
“Well, we actually might be in luck,” replied Gumshoe. “There should be a scarf somewhere in the house. If he’s anchored to anything, it’s that.”
“Yeah, if you could be more vague, that’d be great,” Phoenix replied. Huffing a sigh, he loaded his shotgun with a salt filled round. He stuffed a bottle of butane and a box of matches into his pocket and marched towards the doorway, looking each way down the hall. “Start with the bedrooms,” he said, moving out of the room, Maya at his heels, clutching the salt.
Silently, they crept up the stairs, each prepared for the spirit to appear before them. They made it into the master bedroom with no incident, not letting down their guard.
While Maya pulled open the closet, Phoenix began looking through the drawers for a scarf.
“Nothing in here,” Maya announced, shoving the clothes she’d pulled out back into the closet.
Phoenix slammed shut a drawer. “Here neither,” he responded, turning to face her. Just behind her, he noticed the swirling greys of a manifestation. “Maya, get down!”
Without hesitation, Maya dropped to the floor, hands over her head. The sound of a gunshot rang in her ears, and she remained on the floor until the ringing calmed down. When she opened her eyes, Phoenix was stood before her, holding out a hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet.
“C’mon,” he said, heading out of the room.
She followed behind him, rubbing behind her ears in a weak attempt to get rid of the lingering hum.
Phoenix wasted no time digging through the drawers in search of this scarf that may or may not be the anchor holding Ken’s spirit to this world. “Hey,” he spoke, pulling a tattered strip of material from the open drawer, “this looks like it could have been a scarf.” He grabbed the waste paper bin from the corner of the room, emptying its contents onto the floor and tossing in the scarf.
Maya sprinkled salt over the material, then stepped back, watching Phoenix squeeze butane into the bin, before he struck a match and dropped it in, too. The scarf ignited, and with it, Ken’s spirit manifested before them, going up in flames as he screamed.
It was over in a moment. As it always was.
Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief, lifting the walkie. “Gumshoe,” he called into it, “we did it. He’s gone.”
“Great job, pal,” Gumshoe laughed down the line. “I’m gonna head back to the office. I assume you’ve got some loose ends to tie.”
With their loose ends tied, Phoenix and Maya retired to the office, finding Gumshoe on the sofa.
“How’d the kid take it?” he asked.
The kid in question, being a young girl named Regina. This whole hunt revolved around her. An innocent prank had led to a horrific accident, and the spirit of one of the parties involved was out for revenge. The poor girl’s father suffered the brunt of it. Luckily the girl had family willing to take her in.
“Not great,” replied Maya, remembering the young girl’s tears, “but I think she’s gonna be okay.” She dropped herself onto the sofa, swiping a cookie from the packet Gumshoe was snacking on. “Who knows? Maybe one day, she’ll make a good hunter,” she smirked, watching the colour drain from Phoenix’s face.
“Please, don’t try to recruit her,” he groaned.
Pouting, Maya folded her arms. “Aw, you’re no fun!” She wasn’t quite able to keep the smile off her face.
Typically, Phoenix would argue that Regina was just sixteen years old. However, Maya would only reply that she was much younger than that when she started her training.
The world needed more hunters. Phoenix didn’t disagree, but he wasn’t about to enlist every person they helped. Unlike Maya, who seemed to think every job was a recruitment drive. “Do some paperwork,” he suggested, settling himself at his desk and booting his PC.
Completely ignoring him, Maya took another cookie from Gumshoe.
The office fell into relative silence, Phoenix getting his report written while the events were fresh in his mind while Maya and Gumshoe lazed on the couch. Every now and then, Phoenix would ask for Gumshoe’s input on the report.
Gumshoe’s phone ringing didn’t startle Maya. Gumshoe leaping to his feet and rushing from the room did. “What’s up with him?” she grumbled.
Pulling the door closed behind him, Gumshoe pressed the phone to his ear.
“Did he find it?” asked the caller.
“Yeah,” Gumshoe moved away from the door, lowering his voice in case of Maya attempting to eavesdrop again, “it’s taken care of. He’s writing the report as we speak.”
“Very good. I expected no less.”
Gumshoe paused, glancing back at the door. “You should come home, sir,” he muttered.
The line went quiet, and Gumshoe’s stomach flipped. He’d overstepped.
“Thank you for your help today, Gumshoe.”
With that, the line went dead, and Gumshoe walked back into the office.