The Two-Faced Turnabout-Prologue

It was another boring Thursday morning at the Wright Anything Agency. It had been several months since their last big trial, where Athena was proven innocent. Since then, it had been very slow for the office. Trucy had been making enough money through shows that she made sure they didn’t have to dive too deep into their savings to pay rent, but that wasn’t the cause for their low spirits. Their ailment was the doldrums of life between cases. It was fortuitous, then, that they were all in the office and conscious when the phone rang.

“I’ve got it!” Apollo and Athena both yelled simultaneously, but sadly for their antenna-haired attorney, Athena was standing within arm’s reach of the receiver. She lifted it to her ear and said, “Wright Anything Agency, the best place in LA for bar shows, children’s birthday parties, and criminal defense.”

“Is this Athena Cykes?” a man with a resonate, baritone voice responded. The man sounded like he was trying to appear nonchalant and conversational, but he wasn’t succeeding very well.

Athena was more than a little surprised at that. Nearly every call the office got was for Trucy, and the few that weren’t were usually wrong numbers. “Yes, this is Athena speaking.”

There was a short pause before the caller continued. “I have a case I’d like you to handle. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to pay for half on the fee beforehand and for the other half once the case is over.”

Part of her wanted to check with Mr. Wright, but she couldn’t stop herself from probing further, her curiosity piqued. “And how much were you thinking of paying for our services?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

Athena stood there, her mouth hanging agape. Then she regained her senses, and realized how unprofessional it was to just stop talking after a potential client offers you several times more money than you’ve ever had in a bank account in your life. “Yes, I, uh, yes that’s okay with us. Who is in need of my defense?”

The man on the other end sighed. “I’d prefer not to tell you yet. Let’s just say that I’m confident he’s innocent,” Athena could hear the man’s emotions even through the phone. He was incredibly stressed and afraid for someone. He was telling the truth when he said that he thought the defendant was innocent. She heard something else, a low thrum of sadness that lay beneath everything else, touching the other emotions but unnoticeable without her hearing ability.

She didn’t have to think too hard about her response. “I’ll happily take the case, Mr…?”

He actually laughed at that, the sound coming in sharp relief to the sadness she’d noticed just before, the sadness that even then underlay the genuine happiness of the guffaw. “Oh, you’ll find out who I am soon enough. Please indulge my sense of drama, Ms. Cykes.” When he spoke again, the warmth from his humor had disappeared, leaving only a cold certainty in its place. “The trial is tomorrow. I’ve already paid for you and someone else from your firm’s boarding on a plane. It leaves from Los Angeles for Gotham City at 2pm. Have a nice flight.” And with that he hung up.

“Who was that?” Phoenix Wright asked from the next room over. He was at the desk in his room, where he’d been most of that day. Mr. Wright seemed to spend most of the down time between cases on his laptop, if only to look busy.

Apollo turned towards the office. “It was a client!” he yelled at his boss, with his usual Chords of Steel. “Athena’s got a case!” At that, Phoenix came running into the main room, his shock and excitement evident on his face.

“Uh, well,” Athena said, then coughed awkwardly. “There’s someone who needs defending in Gotham City, and for some reason someone else is hiring me to defend the suspect. He paid for our plane ride over there. We’re getting two hundred thousand dollars for the case, half now, half when it’s over.”

The two men reacted as you’d expect someone would react to being told that they were receiving that kind of money. Apollo nearly fell over in shock, while Phoenix looked like he’d taken a blow to the head. Once the idea of that much money going to their dinky little office finally settled, Apollo and Phoenix were all smiles. “Oh man, we’d better pack then!”

Athena really wished she didn’t have to spoil their mood, but…"Apparently, our client only paid for me and one other person from the office to be flown over. If we all go, we’ll have to pay that expense out of pocket.“

The words fell into the air with a sudden weight. They knew they couldn’t really afford flying another person to Gotham, not at their current financial standing. The city was about as far away as you could get while still being in the States. Apollo and Phoenix faced each other, their faces dead serious. Each man raised a fist, knocking into the air three times, and revealed their move. Apollo has chosen Rock, to counter his bosses Scissors. To his horror, a piece sign was not his opponents move, but a flat palm. Paper. Apollo hung his head in defeat. "I’ll stay here while you’re both gone, to keep an eye on Trucy. I’ll be sure to keep the office clean.”

“Wow, that’s so mature Apollo! I hope I can accept defeat so gracefully when I get as experienced as you!” Athena said, clasping a hand on her coworker’s shoulder. “I’m sure next time a rich client calls, they’ll ask for you!” That seemed to mollify Apollo, at least a little.

A few hours later, Phoenix and Athena were all packed and ready after repeated trips to their apartments and back. They said goodbye to Apollo, who was trying his best to seem cheerful, and Trucy, who made her father promise to get her as many souvenirs from Gotham as they could pack. Their cab arrived, and after a random search of Mr. Wright by airport security, they were on their plane and headed off towards the east. Towards Gotham City.

---

There was a smile on Athena’s face as she and her employer left the airport. “I forgot how much I love flying! All that time for yourself!” She had spent the afternoon taking naps and reading intermittently. The famed defense attorney Phoenix Wright was struggling not to show weakness in front of his protégé. He tried displaying the calmer, more confident mask he’d been using in the last several years, and he’d refrained from talking, knowing his student’s ability to hear people’s emotions would give him away immediately. Really, Phoenix was just glad he hadn’t thrown up on the plane for once. Athena shivered visibly, and asked, “I can’t believe how cold it is here! Mein got, I had just started getting acclimatized to LA’s weather, and now it feels like I’m back in Europe.”

At that, Phoenix just shrugged. “Ever since that case I had on Hazakuru Mountain, I’ve actually been a lot better at resisting harsh weather. Nothing really compares to the winters in that snowy temple.”

Athena put a finger to her chin, thinking. “Hazakura Mountain, huh? I can’t remember which of your cases took place there. Want to tell me about it?”

A brief flash of memories stunned Phoenix for a second, but he shrugged it off and kept walking forward. “Maybe someday, Athena.” He paused midstep, then strained his eyes to see out into the foggy darkness outside the airport, into the street. “Is that a limo?”

“Maybe that’s our client!” Athena said before running out into the dark. Phoenix sighed and ran after her, arriving only seconds behind at the rearmost doors of the limo. Athena walked up to the driver side and knocked on the tinted window. “Hello, we’re from the Wright Anything Agency! Are you here to pick us up?”

To Phoenix’s surprise the window rolled down, and inside was the most stereotypical butler he’d ever seen. From his balding head, to his thin mustache, to his suit the man screamed ‘butler’. He looked up to meet Athena’s gaze. “Ms. Cykes?” He pulled out a picture from a pocket, and looked from it to her and back again. “Would you please enter the vehicle? I’ve been told to drive you from here to the detention center, so you can meet with the defendant.” Phoenix didn’t say anything: Athena was in charge of their defense this time, so he’d let her call the shots.

When Athena realized that Phoenix was waiting for her to speak, she smiled and replied with, “Really? Wouldn’t it make more sense to talk with our client before going all the way to the detention center?”

“My orders were to take you there, ma'am. I wouldn’t like to impose myself into the thoughts of my employer, but I don’t think I’m overstepping by bounds to speculate that he wants you to see the case for yourself first.” The man looked up into Athena’s eyes and seemed completely unphasable in that instant. “I’d prefer it if you and your assistant entered the car now, ma'am. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, and while your potential client is going anywhere I do feel as though we should move quickly. Gotham isn’t the safest city in the world to stand idly on the sidewalk, if you understand my meaning.”

The two attorneys entered the limo, and the car started off into the night. Athena’s eyes were glued to the window: even in the darkness she could see bits and pieces of Gotham fly by as the man drove. She’d never visited Gotham in all her glove-hopping, but she had always wanted to. The city had such a rich history, especially psychologically. Hundreds of psychologists had made their name trying and failing to analyze the many super-criminals of the city. Was that why she was here?

Phoenix, meanwhile, was looking around the car. It was immaculate, to the point where he honestly doubted the idea that the limo had ever been used before. That left several options for who was its owner, but he’d need more than that to prove anything.

The driver had been silent the entire time, only speaking up to tell them, “We are here.” A quick look outside confirmed to Phoenix that they were indeed outside one of the many police departments in the city. They stepped outside, and once again the driver rolled down his window. “I’ll be waiting out in the car for you to return. Just tell the desk sergeant your name and he’ll take you to your client.” Athena nodded and headed towards the large oak doors of the precinct, her stride purposeful. She hadn’t told her friends, but she’d felt a little underappreciated at the office. She’d only had one case where she was the lead attorney, but Athena’s power had been used in nearly every trial since she’d been hired. Now, it was her time to shine!

Athena pushed open one of the doors and stepped inside, her boss following not far behind. Inside was a cramped room filled with many people, all of the either a cop or a person in handcuffs. Directly in front of them was a desk and a tired looking officer sitting behind it. They got in line themselves and patiently waited their turn until they were facing him directly. “Hello, my name is Athena Cykes, I’m an attorney with—”

“I know who you are,” the officer said with a yawn. “Go in the door to your right, and then on for about thirty yards before you see a door on your left marked 'Visiting Area’, your client should be there. Have a nice day.” The officer said those last words with none of the cheer they implied, but considering what she’d heard about Gotham, she wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t exactly known for its cheer or its friendly police. She opened the door he’d pointed to and the two attorneys walked down the corridor in silence, the dim lighting and rustic décor sobering the mood. Gotham was an old city, and this police station hadn’t been renovated in at least half a century, maybe more.

They came across the sign they’d been told about, and went in its accompanying door. Inside was a visiting room very similar to the one in the LA Detention Center they had been to many times before. They walked over to the only booth, Athena catching sight of their client from the first time. She approached him from the person’s right, and saw that it was a man wearing an orange jumpsuit typical to prisoners. Had he already been incarcerated for something? The client had dark brown hair, styled so that it stayed combed back. His face looked hard, weathered, despite the fact he didn’t appear to be much older than Mr. Wright. But still, there was something that unsettled Athena by his appearance. He looked a little familiar, and there was something off. Something she couldn’t quite place.

“Why did you want to see me?” came a rumbling basso voice from behind the glass. It was confident, sure in a way Athena had never really heard before. It was also…empty. It wasn’t exactly emotionless like the Phantom’s, but she couldn’t read anything from him anyway. He turned towards them, and both attorneys stopped dead in their tracks.

His face was divided into two nearly equal halves. The right side, the one she’d seen, was that of a normal man. The left half was something out of a nightmare. His smooth, pale skin had been burned into dark scar tissue. His mouth was gouged and gnarled, baring his teeth to the world regardless of his expression. His hair on that side was nearly white and unkempt, almost as if it hadn’t seen a brush in years. His left eye had no pupil, and Athena doubted he could see out of it.

Athena steeled herself, and walked over to sit in the chair, facing the man head-on. She heard Mr. Wright walk over to stand behind her, but she didn’t let her gaze wander. Something told her that she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. She tried putting on a smile that didn’t seem as false as it felt, and replied to his question. “Hello, Mr. Dent, my name is Athena Cykes. I’m an attorney from Los Angeles. Someone paid for me to come out here and take your case.” It seemed as though a spark of interest was lit in his right eye, so Athena continued, “Could you answer some questions about the incident?”

There was a pause, and the man looked down at the desk in front of him and picked up a silver dollar that had been lying there. He flipped it, looked at the result, and nodded. “Ask your questions, Ms. Cykes.”

Well, apparently that part of the myth was true. Any chance of him answering their questions was 50/50. Great. Athena steeled herself, and thought of what to ask first. “Well, then, let’s start with the simple. What crime are they accusing of?”

Another flip, another nod. “I’ve been accused of murdering Juan Morto, a guard at Arkham Asylum.”

Of course it was another murder case, Athena thought. It was rare for them to take any other kind of case. Alright then, time for another question. “How did Mr. Morto die?”

The man flipped his coin again, but this time he shook his head. “Next question.”

Athena wanted to slam her hands on the desk, punch the glass, maybe kick over the chair…anything to vent her frustration. This wasn’t turning out well. She sighed and resolved to just hope for better luck next time. Now it was time for the big question. “Mr. Dent, did you do it? Did you kill that man?”

The tension in the room was thick as Mr. Dent flipped his coin; every eye followed the path of the metal as it flipped several times in the air, and fell to rest in his hand. He looked down at the result and nodded. Athena wanted to jump in the air in happiness, that was probably the most important question that needed answering. “I didn’t kill Juan Morto, or anyone else that night.”

The relief in the visiting room was almost palpable; Mr. Wright actually let out an audible sigh. Athena was busy straining her ears, trying to analyze Mr. Dent’s voice as best she could. She could pick out some emotions now: frustration, anger, sadness, and a thick underlying sense of resignation. But more than that it was clear to her that he had told her the truth, at least as far as he believed it. Still a little unsettled at that thought, and asked something else. “Well, if you didn’t do it, do you have any clue who it was that did?”

Another flipped coin…and another shake of the head. “Ask something else.”

“What?!” Athena asked. “What does that mean?! If you know anything about who did it, you have to tell me! I’m here to help you, Mr. Dent!”

“No.” The man shook his head, his face still nonplussed despite her emotional outburst. “It’s already been decided.” Then, he paused for a second before asking something. “Why do you keep referring to me as Mr. Dent?”

The question surprised Athena. “Well, I’m not going to call you Two Face. You’re Harvey Dent. Just because you have a mental disorder doesn’t mean you deserve some sort of mocking moniker.”

“Athena, we better get going, it’s getting late. We can talk with him more tomorrow,” Phoenix said, looking towards the door. She sighed, but stood up anyway. Her boss had a point, and she was starting to run out of fumes.

They both started walking towards the exit, but were stopped by Harvey. “Wait.” Athena stopped mid-stride, waiting for him to continue. “You’re free to represent me in court, Ms. Cykes.” With that, the attorneys exited the building and got inside the limo. Athena was ready to talk to their mystery caller: she had a client to protect.

---

The limo drive was quiet, and the butler at the wheel didn’t seem to have anything to say. Athena was looking out into the city street, scanning the city inquisitively. Phoenix was staring off into empty space, thinking. He was pretty sure he knew who the client was already, but he didn’t want to say anything until there was some kind of confirmation. He’d learned some time ago that it always looked better to his employees if he appeared more omniscient and mysterious.

When they used the interstate highway to leave the city for its more rural outskirts, Phoenix let himself show a content smile: looks like he was right. Athena didn’t realize where they were going until they pulled off a backstreet onto a dirt road that led to an ancient, rusty gate. The butler hit a button on the dashboard, and the gate opened to let them drive through, up towards a massive mansion. Athena gaped at the sight of it. It was one of Gotham City’s ancient landmarks, as recognizable as Arkham Asylum itself. The car stopped outside the entrance, and the butler even walked up to the passenger side and opened a door for them. “This is the master’s home. Allow me to escort you to him.”

The attorneys exited the car and followed the butler up to the front door. They were enormous doors, ancient yet still in good condition. They entered the building, and found the interior sparsely decorated with art, the floor carpeted by a rug that looked like it cost more money than all the buildings on the block the Wright Anything Agency was located at put together. It really hit Athena then, the level of wealth their client possessed. For him, two hundred thousand dollars was nothing. He could hire them for that much money every week for a year and barely notice. The idea was alien, and more than a little frightening. “This is the study, you will find you client inside waiting for you.” The butler’s words broke Athena out of her existential reverie, and she noticed that he was now standing to the right of a closed door. Athena steeled herself for a moment before reaching for the handle and entering the room, Mr. Wright following close behind.

The study looked like some of libraries she had seen in the universities in Europe. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with tomes of every subject, length, and origin. There was a fireplace, and just from the sight of it Athena knew that it was as old as the manor was, most likely colonial. Above the fireplace sat a large portrait, the scene rendered in beautiful oil paint. The subjects of the portrait were a couple, probably married by how close they were to each other. The man had the figure of a professional linebacker, but the lithe trim of a rich man who only worked out enough to keep in shape. It looked as if he was trying to appear serious for the occasion, but the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth showed the natural warmth he had possessed in life. A woman stood at his side, holding his hand. The woman was tall, nearly matching her husband in height. Her natural beauty and grace made her clothes and makeup irrelevant, though both were more than stylish for the time period. She had a certain calmness to her, a steady assurance that placed her as solidly in the portrait as a fine Greek statue. Athena had seen pictures of the couple before, but they hadn’t captured the essence of the two in the same way this portrait did.

Several comfortable armchairs were positioned around the fireplace, and sitting in the most well-worn chair was a man. He was someone Athena had seen a million times before: in the news, on magazine covers, on the internet. He was one of the richest men in the United States, and his name was synonymous with his company. Athena took a deep breath and stepped into his field of view, trying to appear more professional than she felt. She extended her hand, smiling brightly. “Hello, Mr. Wayne.”

Her words seemed to break the billionaire out of a quiet reverie; his eyes had been staring unfocused into the middle distance. That look had been very serious, very cold; different from the man she’d seen in the papers. When he heard Athena’s voice, it was like he transformed into a completely different person. The strong line of his lips twisted into a warm smile, and his eyes lit with a fire that reminded her of Apollo. Bruce Wayne took her hand in his own, shaking it professionally. Mr. Wayne was tall, probably just over six feet, and he had the same bulky build as his father had. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was definitely something different about it, but Athena couldn’t really tell exactly what it was. It was at times like this she really wished Apollo had won the game of rock-paper-scissors, his eyes would’ve been able to suss out the right details immediately.

Oh, and he was gorgeous. It took all of Athena’s willpower not to swoon on the spot; the fact she was shaking hands with one of the richest and most handsome men in the country just baffled and excited her. Then the handshake ended, and Mr. Wayne turned to face Mr. Wright. There was a silent moment where the two men stared into each other’s eyes, as they sized each other up. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Bruce Wayne said, “Especially the famous Phoenix Wright.” His voice was low, but warm. Athena knew in an instant that it was the same voice she had spoken to over the phone earlier. On the surface, his voice was pleasant, polite, and she could tell he was genuinely enthused to meet them. She could also sense the worry and anxiety from before; he was obviously tense about Mr. Dent’s fate. But that’s not what caught Athena’s attention, not really. She’d barely been able to pick it up over the phone, but now she could hear it as plain as day: the grief. Well, technically it wasn’t grief. Melancholy was the more proper term. A quiet, deep melancholy underplayed his every word, quiet enough that anyone else wouldn’t have heard it at all. Something was clearly wrong with Mr. Wayne, and to say it piqued Athena’s psychological curiosity was an understatement.

Mr. Wright chuckled, and Athena knew from experience it was his attempt to sound professional, intelligent, and humble at the same time. She also knew from experience that most people just thought it was a little weird. “I don’t know about that, necessarily, but I must say I never thought I’d be in the same room with a billionaire philanthropist.”

Their client waved a hand at some nearby armchairs, and in a few moments the conversation continued with all of them seated. “Please, Mr. Wright, I hope you won’t hold that over my head. I try to use my company to help those I can, but over your career you saved dozens of lives and put away more than a few high-profile criminals.”

Athena’s boss inclined his head; an acknowledgement of the remark rather than approval of it. “Well then, Mr. Wayne, we were hoping to get more details of the case, if you can help with that.”

The billionaire’s handsome face hardened into a more stoic stance, and he reached over to hand a manila envelope to Phoenix. “My friend’s at the local precinct gave me a copy of the autopsy report. The victim was a guard at Arkham Asylum, Juan Morto. Their power went out unexpectedly, and before they could get their security system online again several patients escaped. Harvey was one of them. They found him walking down a hallway, approximately twenty feet away from the room where Mr. Morto was murdered.”

Mr. Wright nodded, processing the information. “It says here the murder weapon was a .22 caliber handgun. Did it belong to the guard?”

There was a short pause as Mr. Wayne thought about the question more. “I don’t know. I can try and set up a meeting with the lead detective in charge of the investigation for tomorrow, hopefully she can answer more of your questions.”

“I have a question,” Athena said suddenly, causing them both to turn to look at her. That tripled her nervousness, but a steadying breath calmed her down enough to continue. “Mr. Wayne, why did you choose me for this case? Mr. Wright has the most experience at our firm, and there are thousands of attorneys across the country you could have called.”

A smile played across Bruce Wayne’s lips. “Ms. Cykes, do you remember a teacher of yours from university, a Professor John Blueburg?” Athena nodded. “I’m sure you both have heard the story, about how I watched as my parents were shot by a mugger.” Mr. Wayne looked up at the portrait of the deceased couple before continuing. “At first I insisted that I was fine, that I could deal with it on my own, but my guardian refused to hear it. He sent me to the best therapists he could find, but my nine-year old self wasn’t having any of it. All they wanted to do was talk about my dreams, about the unconscious mind, about so many things that a grieving child didn’t care about. At the time Professor Blueburg had only been in the practice for a decade, and I didn’t expect him to be any different than any of the other psychologists had been.

"But instead of beading around the bush, John started off bluntly. He wanted to know how I felt after their deaths, what I was thinking about. He listened to what I had to say, and all he did was offer me some advice: my parents were dead, and they weren’t going to come back. What I did next was up to me. I could wallow in pity, and ruin the life my parents had died giving me…or I could do something with it. I could choose a cause, any cause, and devote my life to it. He pointed out that with the money and influence I could claim in time, there was very little I couldn’t achieve, if I really wanted it.” Mr. Wayne took a second to catch his breath, and look into Athena’s eyes. “Professor Blueburg changed my life. All I’ve done since then it because of his influence. We kept in touch, checking in on each other every few years. The last time we talked, he told me about you, the psychologist who wanted to be a defense attorney. I’ve followed your career since then, as a hobby. I can’t think of anyone in the world who is better suited to defend someone like Harvey Dent then you.”

Athena was trying very hard not to blush. “I promise to show you that your confidence in me was not misplaced, Mister Wayne!” she said, smiling fiercely. It was then that she heard Mr. Wright yawn, and it took quite a bit of effort not to laugh at her employer’s expense. “It’s getting late; do you know where we could find an affordable motel while here in Gotham?”

Something about that must have been funny, because Bruce Wayne began to laugh. It wasn’t a strong, bell-aching laugh, but it was a genuine laugh nonetheless. “I’ve already booked each of you a hotel room at the Gotham Plaza Hotel. If you want to retire for the night, I’ll have Alfred drive you there immediately. I look forward to seeing your investigation progress tomorrow.”

The two stood up and turned to leave, but Phoenix stopped before exiting the room. “I had one last question for you, if you don’t mind: why? Why do you care so much about the life of Harvey Dent? And why is this trial so important?”

Mr. Wayne sighed. “Harvey and I are old friends, and I’ve been trying to reform him ever since his turn towards crime. Over the years his insanity has kept him from being executed, instead being placed in the care of the psychiatrists at Arkham Asylum. This time, the prosecution believes they have proof that he didn’t flip his coin before killing Mr. Morto. They think he chose to murder him of his own free will, and if they succeed at convicting him for the crime they will push for the maximum punishment allowed by law: the death penalty.”

#aceattorney