Case #06. Wut.

[cantacquityou]

 

[One day, nearly a fortnight ago, Miles Edgeworth disappeared from Cair Paradisa to seek temporary, reclusive solace at a hotel in the City Royale. He alerted no one of this little vacation, and ceased all communication with everyone - be it through the journals, or otherwise...

...but he's back - however unintentionally - and not in any way he could have ever foreseen. His clothes - remnants of a white undershirt and reddish-pink pajama-bottoms - are in scorched tatters. 

In one hand, there's a 4.5 ft. baguette. In the other, a machine gun...A gumball machine gun.

...and with that, he is chasing a massive growlithe around the castle grounds. 

Perhaps you're one of the unfortunate souls to witness this. After all, there is a perfectly rational explanation.

...maybe.]

Comments

[cantacquityou]

[Instead of barreling right into the bucket of popcorn, she stops right in front of it and looks up at him, wagging her tail as if waiting for permission to proceed. She's a pretty polite pup, indeed.]

[squirrelhunter]

Go on, then. I was done anyway.

[Yep, Southern drawl. He seen something like you on his first day, pretty desensitised.]

[cantacquityou]

[She barks in gratitude and begins to feast on the popcorn, dropping a satchel off to her side. Edgeworth trudges closer, panting.]


...She responds well to everyone but me today. How quaint.

[squirrelhunter]

[And Daryl reaches out to pet the... dog? He doesn't know.]

Hell, if I knew what the fuck this was, I'd be able t'give ya some tips.

[cantacquityou]

She's called a, 'growlithe.' Rather useful for cooking steaks ...and eating them afterwards.

[squirrelhunter]

Riiiiiight.

[You're crazy]

So, what ya doin' chasin' after it with... [Sidelong glance at the gumball machine gun.] That fine choice o' weaponry?

[It doesn't match the Horton Scout 125 HD Crossbow strapped to Daryl's back.]

[cantacquityou]

...It's a really, really long story.


[It seems as though nothing he says will redeem him from seeming absolutely nuts.]


...In short, she took something very important from me.

[squirrelhunter]

[Sidelong glance at the baguette]

An' you decided to make up with a sandwich?

[He stoops and picks up the satchel now that the Growlithe was sufficiently busy.]

[cantacquityou]

...it's...




...







...it's a knife.

[squirrelhunter]

If that's a knife, then I'm the president.

[cantacquityou]

...I can't really offer much of an opinion on that without sufficient evidence... However, I'll just assume that you are actually not any sort of president...


...but it is a knife.

[squirrelhunter]

Well, we got us a regular genius right here. [Sarcasm dripping from his voice.]

An' what kinda knife? Don't look too damn sharp. [Obviously the opinion of a certain redneck of a certain prosecutor, also.]

[cantacquityou]

[He proceeds to twist the end of the bread and pulls, resulting in the reveal of a large, sharp blade.]



...a, 'Shinken', if you are in any way familiar...

[squirrelhunter]

[Yeah, he's just going to stare at that.]

...Why th'fuck would you hide that in some bread?!

[Really not helping the psycopath look here.]

An' I'm sure chasin' after some helpless dog with a bigass knife is in breach of some sorta law.

[cantacquityou]

...As I said, it is a long story. I don't think you'd believe me even if I tried. Feel free to leave it up to your imagination.

And as for one thing, she certainly isn't helpless at all. That, and I would never deign to use a weapon on her.

[squirrelhunter]

Now, y'see...

[He's just going to take an arrow from the crossbow behind him and scratch his head with it, before using it to point to Edgeworth.]

That ain't settin' my mind at ease. I see some freak in torched pajamas with a loaf of fuckin' bread concealin' a knife, and some freaky lookin' gun, chasin' some sorta dog thing.

Now it might be my imaginination comes to th' wrong conclusion, and ya end up with an arrow in the ass. Why don't ya try me?

[cantacquityou]

[He shrugs. He's unfazed. He doesn't doubt that this guy can do him some major damage, but he's got his knife and his powerful, fire-breathing guardian right next to him. He's convinced he'll be fine. Besides, he's had guns pointed at him without breaking a sweat. Either he has balls, or he could really give a crap about living to see another day. Most likely the latter.]


Hm. Perhaps you'd like to pull up a chair.

[squirrelhunter]

[Damn, this guy's good. Daryl slides the arrow back into it's holster on his crossbow before sitting back down on the grass.]

[cantacquityou]

[He does the same. He's tired of running, anyway.]

This, here, [he gestures to the growlithe] is Veritas. She is an immensely strong, highly intelligent species of canine capable of comprehending everything we are saying and detecting the innermost emotions of others...

...and if you are curious about my state of dress, she is also capable of breathing fire.

[squirrelhunter]

[Daryl eyes the Growlithe, before sticking his hand out to let her sniff it.]

I guess that makes sense. So, why th'fuck were ya chasin' her 'round the garden?

[cantacquityou]

[He gestures to the satchel, there.]


...I am certain she intended to blackmail me.

[squirrelhunter]

[You mean the one that's still in Daryl's hand.]

...Ya kiddin' me, right?

[He looks to the Growlithe.] Ya wouldn't do that, would ya, girl?

[cantacquityou]

[She barks happily and wags her tail.]


...She has always had ways of getting what she wants...

[squirrelhunter]

Well, the good news is, y'ain't gettin' an arrow t'the ass.

[cantacquityou]

...You have my gratitude, sir.