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To Each A Tempo -- Chapter 18 (PG-13)
Title: To Each A Tempo -- Chapter 18
Completion date: March 18th, 2008
Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney/Elite Beat Agents crossover
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 2909
Characters: Phoenix, Maya, Agent Foxx, Edgeworth, Gumshoe, Pathos.
Summary: Pathos is dead set on his goal, and Phoenix's team doesn't have a moment to spare.




     Phoenix had no clue where Nexus Broadcasting Corporation's headquarters were, but the cab driver seemed to, at least -- enough to take meter-feeding long routes, and ignore the two of them as hard as possible. And so, Phoenix stared at his poor cell phone's scratched screen long seconds after Edgeworth's voice was gone.

     "I can't believe this," he muttered -- to whom? Maya, Foxx, himself?
     "We'll manage." Foxx's voice was metal-calm again. "Ms. Fey, can you get the briefcase open?"
     "Yeah," Maya said, attention riveted to her thumbs, back and forth on the clicking combination numbers and surly, unmoving lock button, "Eventually!"
     There was a lot to be said for optimism -- Phoenix just couldn't think of any of it.
     Maya looked up from Pathos's briefcase, smiling sunny in the general direction of Phoenix's badge. "And you can call me Maya!"
     A murmur of agreement from Foxx. "All right. Now, Phoenix, Maya, I've got some specs on the Nexus building--" and a click hammered, like the final strike on an Enter key, "--And Agents positioned at a safe distance. We'll provide as much intelligence as we can, but the com lines will be in minimal use, and Pathos has never been easy for us to track."
     He was so calm, like everythin' was goin' the way he wanted, Stewart memory-said.
     "So," Phoenix tried, "You can't track him unless he's upset?" That was how music sense worked, wasn't it?
     "Distress is a powerful emotion," Foxx replied, like nothing more than fact, "And it gives people the strength to do incredible things. Other emotions can be sensed, but they don't tend to be as all-consuming in the target's mind."
     "Channelling is kind of like that," Maya added, "Sis feels like warm things and being strong and fresh-baked cake, I can always find her. But sometimes I just couldn't reach her unless I was scared."
     "Couldn't reach ... That's a good way to put it. It's difficult to reach unless the target is feeling strong emotion." A few contemplative key clicks. "And Pathos ... doesn't rattle easily, according to reports."
     "He didn't seem that upset when you were doing the magatama thing on him." Maya sank, and turned a lock tumble. "Angry but kind of ... cold."

     That certainly sounded like the man Phoenix faced: someone perfectly composed. How else would he have avoided Agent notice this long?

     "And Phoenix," Foxx said, "About your request to the detective ... Be careful. I'll need ten seconds to get all the lines down, if anything happens, and we have no idea which frequencies he's working with."
     But the Agency's lines were taken down in brief bursts, with another homemade device -- maybe Pathos had no idea which frequencies he was working with, either. Phoenix nodded.
     "I'll let you know, Foxx."

     The cab fell to quiet, the rumble of wheels and the world passing by, Phoenix's heel-tapping on the mat and Maya's determined fiddling with the lock tumbles. Skyscrapers loomed closer. Fishing his handful of remaining evidence from his pockets -- all papers and scraps -- Phoenix stared them down and thought. If Sior Pathos didn't rattle easily, every clue counted.


     Even among the glass-shining offices, the Nexus building towered, its green logo looking out over the city. The taxi grumbled away from the curb, stirring up exhaust and fine street dust. If the company was so huge and successful, Phoenix would have thought they'd keep the place swept.
     "What's that logo even supposed to be?"
     Phoenix looked up from stuffing evidence back into his pockets -- Maya clasped the briefcase handle with both hands, and stared thoughtfully upward at the fluorescent-flickering Nexus insignia. It looked like a capital letter N flanked by swirling ... things.
     "I don't know," he said, "I've never thought about it. Maya, we don't have time to--"
     "All the side entrances require a keycard," Foxx replied, "So are the major thoroughfares inside -- you'll need the front desk to grant you access. And the Nexus logo is supposed to be stylized vines, to represent a commitment to growth."
     "Wow," Maya chirped, heading for the steel-edged revolving doors, "Is there anything the Agency doesn't have records of?"
     Foxx paused.
     "I ... found that on Wikthology. Phoenix, Maya, we need to focus. An Agent sighted Pathos entering the building seconds ago, and his plan is still a mystery to us."
     Pathos wanted the Elite Beat Agency taken down: the specifics didn't matter much after that. Maya's dark hair and purple vanished inside, and Phoenix followed her.

     The Nexus lobby positively dripped class, all gleaming marble and gold edging and the clean lines of very uncomfortable-looking armchairs. Maya's sandals echoed ferociously; by the time the two of them reached the great curve of marble forming the front desk, the secretary's cordial smile looked a little on the strained side.
     "Can I help you?"
     "We're here on very important business," Maya informed her.
     "We're, uhh ... we need to meet someone," Phoenix added.
     It sounded horrifically lame and the secretary, apparently, agreed: she folded her red-clawed hands, and raised a brow.
     "You'll need to be more specific," she said, "Is someone expecting you?"

     "A low-key excuse, Phoenix," Foxx murmured, "You're not here to cause a fuss. I'm searching for applicable Agency allies now."

     No causing a fuss, someone who could pass unnoticed? Phoenix stammered, and the secretary calmly shot him full of holes with her stare.
     "W-we're, that is ..." Phoenix rubbed his neck. "You weren't informed that we were coming?"
     "Unless you're with the network luncheon--"
     And you definitely aren't, and your strangely-dressed friend isn't either, she didn't need to say.
     "--I don't see you scheduled for today."

     "A luncheon?" Foxx pointed out.

     That definitely gave him an idea -- a flash of an idea like gold buttons.
     "Oh, yes, we're here for the luncheon."
     The secretary carried on staring. They seemed to be losing altitude at an alarming pace.
     "Uhh," Phoenix tried, "Not really for, I guess it's more like, err, I-I guess my boss didn't tell you ... One moment, please."
     And, tugging Maya by her sleeve, he headed for a safer wing of the lobby.

     The decor started seeming faintly ridiculous once they reached a dead end -- this was an entire glitz-dripping hallway leading to two payphones. Someone must have been paid very well to design such an understatement.
     "Do you have an idea, Nick?" Maya asked, lit up like she had been offered fries with that.
     "Getting in on a luncheon," Foxx mused, "I think he does. Would you like me to prep him, Phoenix?"
     Digging out his cell phone and the business card, Phoenix said, "It's all right, I can ask."
     Foxx murmured agreement; Maya grinned.

     Phoenix dialed. And he hardly got the phone to his ear before a familiar voice trumpeted:
     "Salutations, and thank you for choosing Extravagent Wedding Services! How may I assist you?"
     "Mr. Vanderspiegle?"
     "Mmmyes?"
     A smile tugged Phoenix's face -- who'd have thought this day would come?
     "It's Phoenix Wright. I need to ask a favour."


     There was something very satisfying about watching the secretary pick up that call, idly stuffing her pen back into her bun.
     "Yes, Mr. Vanderspiegle. ... ...Yes, they--"
     The secretary looked between Phoenix and Maya, blinking.
     "... I, yes, they match that-- ... ...I see. Yes, sir."
     More looking between Phoenix and Maya -- they weren't that odd-looking a duo, were they?
     "... No, no, the guest card allows access to the sun room, I've made sure, after last time." She clamped the phone between ear and shoulder long enough to scrabble underneath some documents, and thrust a forest-coloured keycard into Phoenix's hand. "Be sure to return it before you leave, elevators are to your left. No, Mr. Vanderspiegle, not you! ...Yes, sir."
     She paused, and blinked harder.
     "... James Reeve? I believe so. ... ... Yes, at the last reunion on my father's side! My, it's a small world!"

     "Let's go," Phoenix muttered, pocketing the card and passing Maya, "Before she changes her mind."


     It wasn't until reaching the elevators -- enormous doors too shiny to be real gold -- that Phoenix realized he had no clue where to go.
     "Where to, Foxx?" he asked, looking around at all the glitz.
     "I'm getting an infra transmission now," she said quickly, and then paused. "He's on the ground floor, somewhere ... narrow. Hallways, maybe, passing storage rooms."
     Ground floor -- a starting point. Nodding, Phoenix looked around, over the soft-lit walls.
     "Here, Nick!" Maya peered at the scanning device beside a door, one plain enough to be practically hidden. "If it's locked, there's got to be something good inside!"
     He couldn't argue with that logic; he joined Maya. And with a swipe of the keycard -- it blipped cheerfully -- she heaved the door open to reveal just the kind of hallways they were looking for.

     But after a few twists of corridors, endless-streaming painted concrete and a crumb-littered staff room, the sinking feeling grew; Phoenix had no idea where they were going. Time drained away -- how long had it been, two minutes? Ten?
     "Anything, Foxx?"
     "He must have calmed down," and her voice was like a frustrated head shake, "We've lost him. Last we know, he was somewhere west of your location."
     West, oh, he could just look for moss on a tree, then. Phoenix raked a hand into his hair, and looked around at the halls branching away.
     "This one?" Maya clicked another tumble on the briefcase, and looked back up at him, nodding backward.
     That hall was as good as any.
     "Might as well," Phoenix sighed, and turned toward her--

     It took a strange-crisp instant to sink in: a dark-clothed figure burned in his memory, vanishing around a corner as Phoenix had been turning. He looked back, saw nothing but pale-painted hallway and was sure anyway.
     "There he is, this way!" And he followed the phantom, Maya at his heels.
     "That hall," and Foxx's keys clicked, "... The central broadcast station! He's not headed for a studio, he's going to input data directly to the nation-wide feeds! But how, all he has is ... your notes, Phoenix?"
     "Is that bad for him?" Phoenix asked, skidding around a corner. Fluorescents whipped by overhead; adrenaline ran hot in him now.
     "He'd have to manually process it, type it in, maybe scan it, but ... getting in front of a camera would be faster, why would he do that?"
     "Maybe he's just winging it?" Maya called.
     Of course -- Pathos hadn't gotten any more time than they had to plan. Phoenix slowed, eying yet more passages forking away, Maya scuffling to a stop behind him.
     "Straight ahead, Phoenix," Foxx said.
     The chase resumed, blackened windows whipping by but how would he know a broadcast station when he saw one--

     A door burst open beside them, crashing against the wall -- a huge figure lunged out and Maya yelped, terror closed Phoenix's throat--
     "Freeze! Police!"
     And then Gumshoe lowered his yellow frequency detector -- had he seriously mistaken it for his badge? -- and scratched his head.
     "Oh, it's just you, pal."
     "Detective," Phoenix gasped, "You nearly gave us a heart attack!"
     Bristling determination filled Gumshoe again, tightening his jaw. "We're after the suspect, and we're right on his tail! He's not getting away this time, pal!"

     Sharp-ringing footsteps approached, and Edgeworth came from around Gumshoe -- regal even when he was flushed with exertion, a cold flash in his eyes.
     "Wright, Maya." His look darkened further. "We found Pathos attempting to make a broadcast, and he fled. He obviously knows this building better than we do, a chase will get us nowhere."
     What to do next -- Phoenix's thoughts raced, he looked up and down the bare halls.
     "We were following him, too," Maya offered, her free hand bunching determined, "He's headed for the central broadcast station!"
     "He must be close, it's strong here, sir," Gumshoe said, and fiddled with a clicking dial on the detector.

     It hit Phoenix like frost -- a detector, and the Agency communicator suddenly burned its presence against his ear.
     "Oh," he blurted, hard enough to shake, "You're following electronic signals? With that frequency detector?"

     "Central station's ahead, to your right. Good luck, team -- over and out."

     And with that, Foxx was blessedly gone; Gumshoe clicked the dial farther, and his brows twisted.
     "Oh, I ... uhh ... I think I lost it, Mr. Edgeworth, sir."
     Instead of grumbling about a pay cut, though, Edgeworth regarded Phoenix; it was that first day in the lobby and all the wary trust in the world.
     "You said Pathos was carrying a transmission device, Wright?"
     Just who had Edgeworth and Gumshoe been chasing? Phoenix shook his head.
     "We think so, he's definitely been hacking communication lines. But this building, uhh, there'd be a lot of signals, wouldn't there? We know he's headed for the central broadcast station, we have to stop him!"
     "It's this way, isn't it?" Maya pointed, jabbing at the air, and looked between the three of them. "Come on, let's go!"

     Foxx's last advice and it would have to count -- ahead, to your right. Four people's running feet made a stampede in the long hall, an echoing thunder.
     "Got it! I found it again, sir!" Gumshoe crowed, and stuffed the detector into his pocket as he pulled ahead, green coattails flapping, "It's the same signal as in that camera room, up ahead! We've got him now!"
     "Camera room ..." Phoenix huffed -- Pathos had tried to make a quicker broadcast, he seized any opportunity he could and if he had a moment alone, if he had all the information he needed-- "The door on the right!"
     Gumshoe wound for a charge against it already, and rushed the door as Edgeworth reached it, pulling a card from his pocket. The electronic blip and heavy crash overlapped each other, Gumshoe bellowing even as he fell into the room: "Freeze!"

     "Ah," came the cool voice inside, "I must be going."

     Not again, he couldn't escape again -- Phoenix skidded to the doorway, nearly tripped on the recovering Gumshoe and there was Pathos across the room, lit cold by television screens, smiling, heaving a heavy door.
     "No," Phoenix cried but it was too late, he and Edgeworth rushed in and the door slammed final behind Pathos.
     "He's locked it." Edgeworth looked up from the door's handle, glaring back over his shoulder. "There's no card access from this side. Detective?"
     "Sir ...?" Gumshoe regained his feet, and patted his pockets, lighting with realization. "Oh, right!"
     He fished the detector out and began to fiddle. The door drifted closed behind him -- slowly, like its battered hinges ached.
     So the four of them stood alone, in the broadcast station's hum, while Pathos made his getaway through the labyrinth. Phoenix raked at his hair and looked to the screens: scenery and characters' silent-moving mouths, scrolling code, coloured bars. And at the far end, a smaller screen full of green-glowing text. He went to it; Maya already had the idea, scampering ahead of him to peer at the screen.
     "Pathos was writing this, Nick," she said, looking wide-eyed up at him, "It's the same as your notes about the ... you know, that thing."
     Well, if that text wasn't plastered all over the TV display screens -- and it didn't seem to be -- then they hadn't completely failed. And there lay Phoenix's briefcase, open, with its contents scattered like a burst trash bag. He watched his own hands gather the contents, shuffle the papers back to some kind of order, lay the microphone and side towels and the thousand little things back inside where they ought to be.
     "Is that all of it?" Maya asked, passing over a handful of papers.
     All the evidence was in order. And her three papers plus the six Phoenix gathered, so he was missing one -- hopefully just one, he liked to think he could count. Phoenix spotted it on the floor, and moved for it ... But Edgeworth was already straightening, offering the poor, battered sheet -- and staring Phoenix down hard enough to break skin.
     "Uh ..." Phoenix swallowed, and accepted the sheet, and tried to smile.
     "You should keep a closer eye on your evidence, Wright."
     Miles Edgeworth: master of the obvious. Phoenix nodded.
     "Thanks, Edgeworth. I mean, for all of this."
     Glancing to the sheet -- a tidy little glance before he resumed his defense-skewering -- Edgeworth wondered, "You must have some valuable information for Mr. Pathos to want it so badly."
     He had no idea -- even though the Agency's secrets had been literally in his hands. Nodding, Phoenix tucked the sheet into his briefcase with its fellows.
     "It's about ... my client's past." And present, and future, and the future of the Agency if Phoenix and the rest of the team had anything to say about it.
     "I'm sure you'll share this information if it becomes pertinent."

     The room hummed quiet; a prickle brushed down Phoenix's back. He looked back to Edgeworth and that stare hadn't changed; Edgeworth had shared confidential files with him before, and searched by his side.
     "I will," Phoenix murmured, "If I have to."
     The communicator's wires itched; he managed to wait until Edgeworth looked away to scratch around it.

     "Okay, I think I killed all of his notes," Maya chirped, tapping at the control panel's keyboard.
     "You mean deleted," Phoenix muttered.
     "Sure, that too."
     "Detective," Edgeworth prompted.
     "Uhh," and Gumshoe looked up from the detector, only missing a tail between his legs, "I can't find anything but these strong TV signals, sir, nothing like the signal we were following ..."
     Pathos had hacked Agency lines, but with what? A device in his pocket? A computer, maybe one of Nexus's computers like the one Maya now poked at? Some other trick up his sleeve? Possibilities didn't tell Phoenix anything.


     And with the com link silent in his ear all the way home -- louder than the bus engine, louder than clicking combination tumbles -- Phoenix stared at his evidence, and wished for a plan.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Gumshoe is a frickin' superhero, guys.

Hey hey, it's lyric-spotting time! This time it's a pretty weird lyric and I'll love you forever if you're familiar with the song. Name the song and the band and you get a drabble, you know the drill!