I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A WONDER BAR

 

          “Polly, you did it! See, I knew you’d win the case!” Trucy bounced on the balls of her feet, her hat slipping slightly askew on her head, “My magician’s intuition wasn’t wrong at all.”

            Apollo ran his hand over hair, the gelled spikes ricocheting back into position as soon as his fingers passed through, “Y-yeah… That was pretty close though, wasn’t it?” He laughed briefly, unable to stifle a good natured smile himself.

            The energetic bundle of tricks linked arms with her Polly, the corners of her lips in endless upward curls. She beamed at him as they marched out of the courtroom in celebration, the grandiose doors shutting close on another case. As if exhaling, the sounds of the court tapered into nothingness like a relieved sigh. The decisive pounding of the gavel, the uproarious crowd watching and the chords of lawyer lingo all silenced by a simple two words: not guilty. Trucy angled her head up to Apollo, her eyes wide open in an electric display of shared pride, slight scorn and boundless elation.

 

            “Polly, close or not, the defendant was still declared innocent. You were… like a magician!” She nodded sagely, her arms folded across her chest as if she were in deep contemplation.

            Apollo raised an eyebrow, “A… magician?” He shrugged the idea off, discarding it as one of the many one-sided, entertaining fantasies birthed from his magical assistant.

 

            “Tension during the act is really, really, really important! It’s like when you start to saw an audience member in half! The saw gets nearer and nearer and the audience gets really into it! Then… Shazam!” Curling her gloved hands into fists, she gazed at Apollo with a startling intensity, “Ooh! Maybe you could be my magician’s assistant at the Wonder Bar!”

            Um… maybe some other time when there aren’t saws involved. Apollo smiled faintly, unable to resist Trucy’s infectious charm. He shook his head, “I’ll stick with my job as a defense attorney, thank you very much.”

 

            They stopped by the lobby, exchanging some brief words of content and gratitude between defendant and themselves, making the victory conversation ritualistic. Laughs punctuated the air ever so often like corks being popped off celebratory champagne. Apollo and Trucy made their way pass the lobby, continuing down the hall. Quiet now, their lips at a ventriloquist’s still, they steadily made their way towards the exit.

            “Hey, Polly---” Jingle, jingle, jingle. In a swift flutter of fabric and the misplaced ringing of bells, her words were cut short by a caped boy’s dramatic entrance, deterring their attention to his unorthodox presence. “Eek! Apollo!”

            Trucy rocked back on her heels, her glove covering her dropped jaw. Quickly, she launched a claw at Apollo’s sleeve, gripping it tightly before she could lose balance. Apollo almost choked in surprise. Eyeing the interruption from head to toe, he could see a teenaged boy, around Trucy’s age. The bottom half of his face was obstructed by his cape, the boy’s hypnotizing lime eyes hovering just above the material. His face was crumpled into a fierce demonstration of determination and his eyebrows sharply jutted downwards. From what Apollo could gather, he was around the same age as Trucy if not a little bit younger. Utterly confused, Apollo tilted his head to the side.

            “You! You’re Trucy, aren’t ya!?” He lifted his chin pompously, the jester’s hat on his head jingling accordingly as he gazed condescendingly at his female counterpart.

            The blue-hued magician opened her mouth in order to speak, but the unidentified boy waved his outstretched fingers at her, silencing her in a single wave, “Uh-uh! No speakie! That was rhetorical,” He rubbed his finger under his nose gingerly, sniffling. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this day, Tru-dork!”

            Visibly hurt, Trucy whimpered, “Tru-dork?” She grabbed at her brooch, clutching it stiffly as she mourned for the loss of her once dignified name.

            Can someone remind me why I get all the characters? Apollo massaged his eyes, trying to adjust to this new parade of ludicrous. At a second glance, he could see cards tied to his cape, each displaying a suit proudly. However, upon closer inspection, a joker card presented itself in the middle of each set and a large gem in the shape of a jester’s hat tying his cape together. A magician? No, a… jester?

            “That’s right, Tru-dork! I’m gonna take you down! Down town! Way down! So, so, down that you won’t be able to know up from down, huff, huff!” He flicked one of the three appendages on his hat, the bells shaking about. Jingle, jingle, jingle.

            Someone remind me again, please. Apollo grazed his temple with his fingers, “Um… Trucy, do you know this guy?”

            Trucy pouted, her hands on her hips, “He looks familiar! But, I can’t put my finger on who he is… He’s still mean though!” She frowned, her silk top hat seemingly drooping with her in unison.

            “Houdin’s the name, Tru-dork! I’m a magician and a… a better one than you’ll ever be! Watch!” Slipping his jester hat off with its usual jingle, he circulated an open palm over it, “Now, bask in the mystery! What’s gonna come out? No one knows!”

            “Do you feel it Apollo? The tension! The mystery of magic! That’s what I meant earlier when I said you were like a magician!” Trucy giggled, resting a loosely packed fist on the cliff of her hat. “Except this is done on purpose!”

            Apollo pumped his shoulders up into a shrug, taking the teasing criticism gently. Thanks, Trucy. He concentrated his focus on the hat, having eventually reached the inevitable conclusion that there was nothing else better to do. Trucy stuck close to his side, also transfixed and apparently too caught up in the anticipated apparition to linger on his insults.

            “Hold on to your panties, Tru-dork and get ready to get soiled!” Houdin held his jester’s scepter in his free hand, the carved head on top of it boring holes into his audience, “Presto!” Right on cue, he catapulted his hand into the hat. His eyes sparked in excitement as soon as he found what he was searching for, “Now, lo and behold… a bunny-rabbit!” With an abrupt pull of the arm, Houdin plucked his rabbit out of his hat successfully, holding its limp body by the ears, “Whaddya’ think about that? Pretty amazing, right? Am I right?”

            Trucy screamed. Apollo’s jaw dropped. The rabbit dangled.

            “Whaaa! P-Polly! That… that… bunny! Is it dead?” Her eyes widened as she pointed at the carcass frantically, “I think it’s d-dead! Polly, you’re a lawyer… Find him guilty of murder!”

            “I’m a defense attorney, not a prosecutor. Though, this could probably be charged with something… at least,” Apollo ran his palm down his face, capturing views of the once alive animal through the slits created by his fingers.

            Houdin roughly shoved his deceased companion back into his hat, the ears not quite fitting in well before it vanished into the unfamiliar blackness inside. He coughed, flushing brightly in embarrassment, “The bunny wasn’t dead! I-it was an illusion! It was… all part of the act!”

            Apollo drooped, cleanly seeing his lie. Yeah, right! No one is going to be fooled by that!

            “Oh, it was? Maybe I should incorporate that in my act! I could pull road kill out of my magical panties! What do you think, Polly?” Trucy smiled, her rows of white teeth shining in her naivety. 

           Apollo drooped even further. … I stand corrected. He propped himself back up, adjusting his tie, “In my honest opinion, I think you should stick to the usual and be original.” The young defense attorney rubbed the back of his head. If only you could call what Trucy does the “usual”.

            “Good point, Polly!” Trucy bounced again on the balls of her feet before averting her attention to Houdin, “Hmm. That was pretty good!” She tipped her hat in his direction. “For… an amateur at least.” Her bubbly attitude swiftly morphed into a playful competitiveness, compounded by the sparkle in her eye.

            “AAAUGH! An a-amateur? AMATEUR!? I’m from a line of highly seasoned, incomparable, majestic, spellbinding, superior, able-to-make-you-defecate-bricks-and-some-more, powerful and most of all professional magicians called Troupe Marotte!” Houdin Marotte exhaled like an ox, his reddening cheeks inflating and deflating with each breath. His long string of accolades truly had made a show out of his difficulty with breathing.

            After thinking a sarcastic blurb about Houdin’s vocabulary in the halls of his thoughts, Apollo paused momentarily, “Troupe Marotte?”

            “Troupe Marotte… Troupe Marotte, Troupe Marotte! Polly, I think I remember now!” Trucy’s garment flapped excitedly as she hopped in place, “They were rivals with Troupe Gramarye! Except, I haven’t heard from them that much… until now.”

            “You’ve got it all mixed up, Tru-dork! You mean to say, my troupe is rivals with yours! You’ll start hearing from us much more now, I guess… ‘Cause we’re going to start kicking butt! So let’s start this rear-kicking with a bang!” The jester-esque magician pointed his fool’s staff at Trucy, targeting her specifically, “A duel! A magician’s duel! Whaddya’ think about that, Tru-dork? Scared? SCARED!? HUFF, HUFF, HUFF!” Out of breath again, Houdin’s cheeks repeated their cycle of inflation.

            “Bring it!” Engaged in a vicious bout of courage, Trucy narrowed her vibrant eyes at Houdin, “And I have just the place! The Wonder Bar!” She clapped her hands together, thoroughly delighting herself in the notion of a magic battle. Radiantly, she beamed at Apollo, the diamond brooch twinkling along with her. It was as if magic had reinvented itself to her and whispered sweet little nothings into her ear, drenching her in infatuation with the art.

            “F-fine!” The rival magician appeared to be surprised at her enthusiasm and his once headstrong voice toned down to a simmering insecurity, “W-we’ll do that... When and what time?”

            “Let’s see… two days from now and seven o’clock? Remember to eat your dinner! Magicians should always hit the stage with a full stomach! Maybe some hamburgers… or steaks!” She patted her stomach as a reference point, her gloves creating soft ululations as they kissed the black fabric of her dress. “And come early though, to set up! Show me what you got, Houdin!”

            The teenaged magician elevated his head to the side, hiding any trace of anxiety he had let loose through his withering mask. Snobbishly, he angled his nose upwards, the bells adorned on his headgear jingling in their childish resonance. He refrained from speaking for the meanwhile, communicating only in bitter exhales and coarse grunts. Finally, he consented, his head dropping back into a level plane.

            “Okay… Until th-then, Tru-dork!” And with a tap of his staff against the polished floor and the metallic reverberations of his bells, he disappeared as mysteriously as he came.

            Silence settled in once again. Only the whirring of ceiling fans and hushed voices pervaded the air like an ocean wave, retreating into whispered obscurity ever so often. The tide crashed over some rocks, a voice piercing through.

            Apollo snorted, “That was something, wasn’t it, Truaaaaaauuh-!?”

            Boldly grappling Apollo by the sleeve and dragging him across the hall, she proclaimed their objective for the rest of the day, “No, time to talk! We need to practice!”

            Instantly there was a fermata of registration. Then the realization hit him in the face like a monsoon.  

            “What do you mean by ‘we’!?”

---

            Skipping back to awe at her creation, she took a moment to bask in her latest achievement. The furled edge of her brown hair swaying against her cheek agreeably as she awarded her act with a flurry of applause. A few feet away from her stood an obviously pained Apollo, bound in a tight crimson cape, suit and bowtie. His contorted face never strayed away from its expression of pure, untainted disbelief; which proved itself to be decisive evidence of a defeated battle involving a tiring escapade in order to clothe him accordingly.

            “Wow, Polly! You’re a real Dapper Dan, aren’t you?” She twirled around on one foot then paced back and forth, dabbing her chin all the while. Apollo followed her movements closely; weary of what other shenanigans she could pull off. Of course, this was Trucy and Trucy was unpredictable. She stopped, “OK! Are you ready to become a magician’s assistant?”

            “Did I have a choice?”

            “No.”

            “… With that sort of thinking, she could probably feel at home with the Kitaki’s,” Apollo murmured under his breath.

            “What chu’ talkin’ about, G!?” She jokingly retorted, her palms at her hips. “Sorry, I’ve been practicing my gangster-ese just in case we meet Wocky again.”

            On second thought, make that a definite. Apollo lazily swung his head side to side, disregarding his last message out of fear that he might get a cap busted in what one prosecutor believes to be his defining physicality: his forehead. Besides, the chance of hitting that vast plain was greater than per se, his right temple. He was getting hot. All those clothes Trucy had piled on to him were stifling his breathing somewhat. Immediately, he remembered a certain jester.

 

            “Trucy, could you tell me more about Troupe Marotte?” He loosened the bowtie around his neck, calming himself the moment the ribbon relaxed.

            “Daddy told me about them a long time ago. Um, my old daddy! He told me that they were rivals to Troupe Gramarye and that they always tried to top us in one way or another. Then the name Gramarye became household and we never heard of Marotte ever again,” She blinked in puzzlement, “And um… I think Houdin was a classmate of mine before, back in my old school. Tee-hee, he never really changed from what I remember.”

            “So, they were rivals of your Troupe,” Apollo restated, letting the information sink in. Except, her “troupe” is pretty much non-existent, now.

            “Mmhm!” Trucy idly checked her props as she chirped in confirmation. She clasped her hands together, recalling a chore she forgot to do, “Oops! I forgot to water Mr. Charley! I’ll be right back, Apololo! Mr. Charley, I’m so sorry! Will you ever forgive meeeee?”

            As she dashed into the other side of the talent agency, the door to the apartment opened, the noisy hinges betraying the stealth of the intruder instantaneously.

            “H-huff! Stupid door! I’ll deal with you later!” Houdin popped a head into the clearing after greeting the traitor with several kicks from his bell-adorned shoe, meeting the incredulous defense attorney’s eyes. Houdin batted his eyes in his own questioning way before blowing a raspberry in the air, “Phhbllgh! FAHAHAHAHA! Weren’t you that guy from before? Oh, this is rich! This is priceless!” He doubled over in hysterics, the bells on his attire laughing along with him, “With what kind of fashion sense did you have when you put that on? If only I had a camera!”

            Apollo coughed, pointing out the kid’s own clothes, “If only you had a mirror.”

            “Grrk! You got me there. Fahaha, that was kind of funny,” He chuckled at himself, shutting the door close with his marotte, “I like your wit, Mister!”

            “Erm, thanks, I actually didn’t mean to say that aloud, haha…” Quickly scolding himself in his thoughts, he changed the subject, “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be practicing for your ‘duel’?” Apollo scratched his neck, unsure of what to do with him.

            “Errk! I just… wanted to go sight-seeing!”

            Apollo felt a familiar pressure on his wrist, “Gotcha’!” He smirked, able to perceive Houdin’s habit, “Hey… You grab your little stick thing tighter whenever you lie.”

            “A-ah! What!?” Houdin impulsively let go of his staff, allowing the carved head on top to kiss the floor. He didn’t see the head roll off upon impact however as it rolled underneath some furniture and out of sight, neither did Apollo. Houdin was shocked, “How did you know? Are you a magician of sorts, as well!?”

            “… People have said that about me before.”

            “Well, there’s no point in hiding anything now, is there? Wuhhh, I confess… I was here to see what Trucy was doing. You could call it spying, but I’m calling it espionage instead because it sounds totally cooler that way,” He retrieved his bauble and swiveled it 360 degrees, “I need inspiration for my act, so… Don’t tell Trucy, please?”

            “Don’t tell Trucy, what?” Trucy entered the room, placing a watering can down on the floor before advancing towards Houdin, “Trying to sneak a look at my act, huh?” She grinned warmly, happy to see that her act had generated some ‘public’ interest.

            “Stop thinking the worst of me, Tru-dork! I just… came by to say ‘hi’, that’s all!” Houdin huffed, crossing his arms, “Who wants to see your stupid act, anyway?”

            “Polly does! Don’t you, Polly? Polly?” She nudged him with the tip of her elbow, shaking him out of a short daze. Apollo quickly came to, perking up.

 

            “Huh? Oh, yes, yes I do!” Apollo shouted at the top of his lungs, his cadences of support carrying their weight.

            A few seconds elapsed before someone spoke again. Houdin cleared his throat, eyeing Apollo oddly before directing his question to Trucy, “Hey, Tru-dork. Does he always act like this?”

           
            “Kind of…” Siding with Houdin, she slid beside him, “You should see him in the morning when he practices his ‘objections’! Sometimes we get calls from the neighbors threatening to call the police.”

            Houdin stroked his chin, “You don’t say…”

            “H-hey! Who’s team are you on!?” He reddened in embarrassment, “Um, Trucy! Let’s practice, right now! Show me what to do!”

            “OK! Let’s do this!” Trucy turned to Houdin, “Sorry, it’s time for you to go. I’ll see you at the Wonder Bar, next! It’ll be oodles and oodles of fun, OK? Aren’t you excited?”

            “Um. V-very… ‘excited’. O-OK, bye!” Without so much as a thought, he opened the door with lightning speed and zipped away, closing the entrance of the office with the wind generated by his sprint alone.

            Clicking shut, the door alternatively began the grandiose fanfare of something new. It was as if destiny and the unworldly powers of fate brought him to this magical conclusion, this new beginning. The beginning of Apollo Justice: Ace Assistant.

            The unworldly powers of fate also told Apollo that this was going to be a very long day. 

---

            It was the day of the showdown: twenty minutes before show time.

 

            Houdin wobbled around backstage, his knees trembling and his lip quivering. He shivered, rubbing his green sleeves. The faithful ringing of his bells comforted him as he sighed. A part of him asked why he even brought up the proposal of a magic duel in the first place, but another part of him asked why not? Either way, he was going to go through with this. He had convinced himself that he wouldn’t chicken out. No sir-ee, he was going to go on his word. He had gone too far to go back now! Houdin plopped himself down on the stage’s wooden planks. He held his head together with his hands then violently, he wiggled his head around, his vocal chords vibrating nonsense as his blonde hair shook around. Get your head straight! It’s your turn to shine now! L-look out world, Houdin Marotte’s going to show you how magic is actually done! Nevertheless, his efforts to up his self esteem were murdered ruthlessly when Trucy and Apollo arrived. She ran up to him, her cape flying in the wind behind her. Apollo followed suit, walking at a turtle’s place.

            “Houdin! You came real fast, that’s good! We were a little slow because Polly had to help me carry some props in… Are you ready? I can’t wait to see what you can do!” Trucy brilliantly revealed her rows of white teeth, exuding a performer’s high already. Her energy cascaded down upon him, but nothing could break his hidden nervousness, “Apollo’s really scared, did you know? You should give him some words of encouragement! I did my best, but um… I don’t know if he trusts me anymore after our practice.”

            I think ‘I’ scared more people biking down to this place with this get-up than I am scared of performing. Apollo glanced at Houdin, smiling weakly, “It’s just like defending isn’t it? Just a different crowd, right?”

            Houdin offered him a measly thumbs-up.

            Instead of consoling him, Apollo could only feel a cold sweat break out over his face. He wiped his sticky palms against his pant legs and took a deep breath, “Um, it’s just a bunch of card tricks, I’m fine… Nothing to get panicky over…”

            “CARD!?” Houdin’s extended cape did little to muffle this outcry.

            “TRICKS!?” Trucy held her hips disapprovingly, “We went through this before, Polly! They’re masterful illusions!”

            “They’re feats of unparalleled imagination!”

            “Volcanoes will erupt! The Earth would split into two!”

            “Babies would cry for their mothers! Mothers would cry for their own mothers! Huff!”

            “THEY’RE-NOT-CARD-TRICKS!” The two exclaimed in sync.

            Apollo winced, the ringing in his ears gaining prominence with their shrill cries, “Okay, okay, I get it! S-sorry!”

            Placing his hands on the ground, the boy magician pushed himself up, his ivy uniform keeping his arms hidden. He stumbled backwards, his legs still ailed by butterflies of the knee variety. Houdin felt something cold scrape against his neck. Surprised, he jumped before instinctively pointing his scepter at the fiend responsible for this leap.

            “Huh? A ladder?” He ruffled his jester hat’s appendages, the bells sounding. Jingle, jingle, jingle.

            “You mean a ‘stepladder’,” Trucy was quick to point out the difference, well versed in the differences between the two species.

            Houdin withdrew his staff, “Eeeeeh? I fail to see the difference, Tru-dork!”

            “The stepladder is the next ‘step’ in the future for ladders!” Trucy giggled.

            “I still think ‘folding ladder’ fits it much better,” Apollo concluded, pitching his petty cents in.

            “Uh-huh, the chances of making a bad pun are lower in that instance,” Houdin added his own change to the tip.

            “You’re just jealous of my joking ability,” Trucy glowed, summing up the verbal cash.

            The crisp clacking of heels swept in from behind them, drilling holes in the breathing space between them. The trio turned around to face a tall, curvy lady clad in a tight-fitting pencil skirt and thigh-high boots. She held a clipboard in her arms and a fancy fountain pen was gripped between her bright teeth which contrasted with her bright, rose lips. Pulling the pen out of her mouth, she slid it cautiously into her neatly wound bun of dark brown hair. Her lips pulled back to reveal a dazzling smile.

            “It’s a lovely evening for a show tonight, don’t you think?” She pressed the clipboard against her chest and twiddled with her glasses.

            Houdin gulped, flushing. He whispered to Apollo, “She’s… my kind of woman. I’m going to marry her one day…”

            “Erm, best of luck, Houdin, best of luck,” Raising Houdin’s hopes up too much would only spell disaster, “She’s probably married, anyway.”

            “Hiya, Ms. Charmante! How are you?” Trucy held her hands behind her back, balancing herself on her tiptoes to be at a reasonable height in comparison with her.

            Houdin snapped, “There goes your theory, Apollo. She’s mine. Finders keepers!”

            “I’ve been lovely, honey. Oh, just a note! The house is hot and show time is in five,” She spoke calmly and resonantly, enunciating her words delicately, “Break a leg, Trucy and co! This one’s going to be absolutely lovely! And remember The Wonder Bar believes you in all, so go give the audience the old one, two!”

            She left the backstage area, her absence sorely missed by two thirds of the party. Sounds of a crowd settling in grew louder, the jargon suffocating the air with its unintelligible mumbling. Trucy pulled her top hat down over her head in preparation and slapped her gloves back, pulling the fabric to fit her fingers tighter. She nodded towards her assistant and opponent.

            “She’s the owner of The Wonder Bar. Isn’t she pretty? One day, I hope I could be pretty like her!” Trucy made her way to the pair and rested her arms on their shoulders, “OK! We can do this! Showtime is now! So, let’s do our best! Hands in the center, please!”

            Trucy held her hand in the air, waiting for the others to join in. Obediently, Apollo participated, resting his hand over Trucy’s. The two looked at Houdin, stalling for him. Houdin stared at the pile of hands before him. These guys were his competition! Why would he do this? Despite the situation, he placed his hand on the stack anyway, feeling a small well of happiness swell inside of heart.

           “On the count of three, we’ll say… Abracadabra! How about it?” Trucy’s hat created a looming shadow over their hands.

            “Sure.”

            “Whatever rings your bell, Tru-dork.”

            “OK! Here we go! One, two… three!” Trucy exclaimed.

            “Abracadabra!”

            And with an eruption of hands, the lights began to dim.

            Here comes Justice!

 

---

            A single spotlight followed Ms. Charmante on to the stage, drenching her in a blinding light. Waiters were busy rifling through the darkness, serving drinks and snacks, depending on the spotlight to give them at least some luminescence. Ms. Charmante pushed her scarf back and rearranged her beret, obsessed with having it positioned nicely on her head as headed up to the microphone. She pursed her lips, the color of her lipstick unwavering in midst of the focused ray.

            “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Wonder Bar. I am the owner, Plume Charmante, presenting to you another lovely performance by Trucy Wright, magician-extraordinaire. However, as you may know, today is a special occasion. A magician’s duel has been promised and we are happy to announce that we have been able to keep our end of the deal. Her opponent? Houdin Marotte, the youngest addition to the promising magical group: Troupe Marotte. So, please welcome the two with a warm round of applause!” She daintily clapped her hands together, exiting off to the side simultaneously and out a door as the ruby curtain rose from the stage floor.

            Smoke billowed from underneath the veil, creating only silhouettes. Bursts of crackling explosions eradicated the smoke, revealing the entertainers once hidden. Trucy, Houdin and one awkwardly posed Apollo, all bowed to the audience, eliciting cheers of applause. There was no time for breath after as the two magicians got into their places, Apollo following suit after a moment’s delay. Houdin’s bells sung as he pranced to his side, breathing heavily. Pulling a pair of panties from inside her cape, she swung it to Apollo who promptly ran to Houdin’s side all the while questioning why he has to get hold the undergarments. A holler cruised over the audience as soon as the panties made their entrance. Recognizing that sticky voice, Apollo ignored it while opening the panties like a net.

            Trucy threw a wand into the air, morphing into a pistol as it spun around in a blur. She stretched to catch it, her finger slipping through the hole where the trigger was located. The gun gyrated around her finger tip as the fanatic whistles and claps loyally came in. Houdin watched in admiration and anxiety, fiddling with his thumbs as he waited for the right opportunity.

            “For my first feat of magic today we’ll introduce a familiar kitty!” Trucy shifted her weight onto one leg, angling her weapon of magic at Apollo and her panties, “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, get ready to meet one brave, flying feline: Bullets, the cat!” She pulled the trigger.

            “MEEEEEEEEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRGH!!---…”

            In a fantastic array of sparks and confetti, Bullets rocketed from the end of the barrel, clawing at anything to stop the velocity of her discharge. Aimed accurately, Bullets shrieked all the way into the panties, the volume of her scream quieting as if she was falling off a canyon. Apollo braced instinctively, of course, bewildered as the cat vanished. He lowered the underwear as another wave of applause praised the two. The panties flew through the air once more, but to the captivated crowd’s amazement, the bloomers stopped in mid-flight, floating above the set. Trucy announced the floating taboo, designating it with her wand. Roaring, a fierce tiger that bore resemblance to Bullets fell out of the panties, but it never reached the ground. Jingle, jingle, jingle. A flurry of joker cards flew from his cape, ensnaring the beast and disappearing into thin air. Behind the chaos, the panties somersaulted back to Trucy. Houdin’s cards burst into pieces of colored string as they drifted downwards. Houdin slid into the middle of the array of color, lifting his scepter to perform another illusion, raising it up to the lights and…

            “MEEEOWRGH!?”

            A cat slammed into his face, and then another, and then another. Terrified trills pressed down upon Houdin as cats began to barrage him from the side. Trucy prolonged her onslaught of kittens, pulling the trigger on her gun over and over. Then, she compressed the trigger for the last time, a roar of finality resounding and shaking the barrel. The tiger from before leaped out like a fantasy jumping out of a fairytale book, snarling and paddling its taut arms as it neared the incapacitated boy underneath it. Houdin choked on his own spit, stupefied by the monstrosity which was getting closer and closer. He was promptly smothered. Something seemed odd though. The tiger lay flat on the stage with Houdin no where to be found.

            “Nice try, Tru-dork!” The audience stirred as Houdin crawled out from under one of the seats in the auditorium and brushed off his tailored robe, “Huff, huff! I’m really more of a dog person.”

            Apollo just watched flabbergasted, sweating under his ridiculous clothing as he gathered the cats. One hissed at him and started pawing at his gelled antennae, “Hey! You! Stop that! Do you know how long this took to gel up properly!?” He wrenched his head back, but to no avail. He struggled fruitlessly in the background, the cat upping the ante by latching onto his forehead.

            Paying no mind to this, Trucy stuck her tongue out playfully before changing her pistol back into a wand. Jumping onto one foot, she flung her magic stick like a Frisbee. The baton eventually lost momentum, visibly slowing down. It stuttered, the end of the wand flapping about. Then magically, firecracker-like sparks spat out from its end, accelerating towards one lucky Houdin Marotte.

            “What’s-- GWAK!” He felt his legs running for him and jump over the audience members in their rows as the missile trailed closely behind. Houdin found himself back on stage after crawling over the edge.

            “You can’t run away from this! You better have a good idea to stop it!” Trucy taunted her advice, watching the wand whiz around. She helped clear the rest of the feline friends, along with the tiger as she casually laid eyes upon Houdin’s 400-metre dash.

            “How to stop it, how to stop it, how to stop it… AHA!” Houdin flung his hat down at Apollo’s feet, the bells crashing about.

            Gritting his teeth, Houdin leaped into his hat, evaporating into nothingness. Just then, Apollo had finally rid himself of the clawed nuisance which was perfect timing for a wand to smack him square in the forehead. Stars circled his head as Apollo stumbled around.

            “Ahh! Sorry, Polly!” Trucy went to tend to him, holding him by the arms to keep him up.

            During this time, Houdin magically pulled himself out of the jester’s hat, proud that his illusion had worked. He jammed the hat back onto his head then picked up the now, unmoving wand. Snickering, he twirled it around between his fingers as it gradually molded into its previous incarnate. His yearning finger fondled the trigger, tangling around its unfeeling metal. Closing one eye, he whistled. Trucy turned. Then the trigger was pulled.

            Smoke sizzled from Trucy, ascending into the blinding lights above and mixing in with its intense vibrancy.

            “Oohph!” Trucy wagged a finger as she held the bullet in between her teeth, “Nice onephh, Houdinph!” She dropped the bullet into her glove, “Good illusion.”

            He chuckled, “I heard you could catch bullets in your teeth! So, I wanted to test that out.”

            What kind of twisted friendship is coming out of this? Apollo blinked at them, trying to grasp the logic of the situation. Of course, he found none. Caressing his attacked forehead, he spoke up, “Well, it seems to me, Trucy’s winning right now.”

            “Grrk! Wh-what?” Houdin snapped back into his competitive spirit, “No! Never! I-I’m doing way better than her! You… You!”

            In a fit of panic, Houdin gripped his fool’s staff defensively. Then an idea. He set his staff down on the ground. Then he pushed his pants down. Apollo would have definitely preferred card tricks.

            A few claps strayed from the patrons, though they seemed to be unsure if the act called for any. Houdin kept his cool, but he felt a little nauseous. Then the shocker. He began to pull his boxers off. Apollo needed those cards, now.

            Looks were deceiving, though and as his boxers were peeled off from his legs, they revealed another undergarment underneath. He cleared his throat, heaving his pants back up and yanking his scepter from the ground. Wagging his boxers around, he declared in a shaky voice, “Presto!”

            The boxers began to fluctuate, twisting frenziedly and out of control. Houdin dropped the piece of clothing. As soon as the boxers touched the wooden stage, a flock of doves forcibly flew from the boxers, feathers spewing out from its contents. Clapping ensued. Trucy didn’t appear bothered by the apparent thievery of the original purpose of her panties, but rather, amazed by the magnitude of doves flying out from such a small place. Things went bad as fast as they were good, though. The flock immediately fell from flight. Doves nose-dived onto the stage, the cold, icy sound of stiff bird thudding against wood and echoing. Houdin flushed red. The clapping stopped.

            “…”

            “That was a mahvelous illusion! Good show! Good show! Even the birds look actually dead. Ha ha ha,” Mr. Hat flapped his timber lips, fooling the audience and instigating applause.

            Recovering from that terrifying ordeal, Houdin regained his composure and smiled at Trucy who was subtly operating the Amazing Mr. Hat in order to save him. Briskly, he stopped his smiling and plummeted into his usual competitive nature once again.

            “Mr. Hat, huh? Well, he’s gonna be no match for my friend over here!” Houdin boasted, “Mr. Hat, meet Ms. Helmet!”

            Apollo languished, “Ms. Helmet? What is the world going too?”

            In a flash, he jammed his bauble against the floor, covered it with his cape. His confidence strengthened momentarily as he unleashed Ms. Helmet from the confines of his magician’s robe. A curvier looking Mr. Hat with long blonde curls, glued on eyelashes, vibrant carmine lipstick and a butch football helmet blew a kiss at the spectators before doing the same to Mr. Hat.

            “Hey, sugah-babe. Want to take a whirl with the hot, steamy and dirty, Ms. Helmet?” The helmeted creature flicked her hair back with a stiff hand, attempting to look flirtatious. Ms. Helmet pushed her rump out for everyone to see. Then she slapped her posterior, the wooden curves of her rear making knocking sounds as Houdin commandeered behind the scenes.

            “Oh, dahling! Come into my strong, pine arms!” Mr. Hat tugged Trucy by the soles of her boots, edging towards the ‘attractive’ puppet.

            “Only if you can catch me, babe,” Cooed Ms. Helmet.

            Trucy yelped as she struggled to keep her footing, “Mr. Hat! This is a duel! You’re not supposed to fraternize with the enemy!”

            The show goers chuckled and clapped. Thankfully, the audience was enjoying the whole façade. Whilst withholding the weight of the extra two assistants, Trucy and Houdin bowed together, their hats slipping askew on their heads as they inclined. The watchers gave them another big hand of compliments. Apollo went back stage.

            “Thank you! Thank you! We hope you enjoyed that little stint as much as we did, tee-hee!” Trucy was like a spring, bobbing up and down in tiny, animated leaps of genuine geniality.

            Removing the mister and miss from the stage while cleaning up left over props and magically making them disappear with a sleight of their hands. Trucy grasped the tip of her sky blue top hat, expressed a feeling of pleasantry and announced her next act as Apollo came into view once more and positioned the stepladder to the immediate left of center stage.

            “I confess, this next one’s going to be a biggie!” She placed her hands on Apollo’s shoulders, running him to the front of the Wonder Bar’s platform, “Our willing assistant, Apollo, is going to encounter the dark, pointy shadows of the Iron Maiden!”

            “The Iron Maiden? Isn’t that a torture device?” Her words had provoked a buzzing interest in her opponent’s ears, “Those things are so cool. My father used to joke about shoving me into one if I got into some bad trouble.”

            Apollo was frightened by that notion. He can’t be serious!

 

            “Ready, Apollo?” Trucy moved center stage next, after acquiring a nod from him, “OK! Here we go, again!” She winked at her own ‘members of the court’ before extracting her panties from her tools of the trade. Quickly scampering up the stepladder, she balanced herself. She brandished her panties upside down, the opening facing downwards. After waiting for the most opportune time, she bellowed a magic phrase and jerked her undergarments around. With a huge thud, the Iron Maiden slammed onto center stage, the noise of the wood sounding somewhat peculiar to Apollo’s ears.

            Houdin watched carefully, hoping to learn something from Trucy. Regardless, he did this with crossed arms and pouted lips, rolling his eyes at the accomplishment.

            Pounding the Iron Maiden’s heartless exterior with her fist she described the contraption, “The Iron Maiden has pointed spikes inside its case. A long time ago, when it was used for actual torture, the spikes were carefully positioned not to hit the vitals! This helped ensure the victim---”

            “Ensure the victim died a slow and painful death!” Houdin burst in.

            These guys are way too excited about this. Apollo let them continue on.

            “Exactly!” She went on, “But, because today’s a special occasion, we upped the stakes! In this Iron Maiden the spikes were made to hit the vitals!”

            This caused quite a surge of conversation in the audience, delaying the process even further. Apollo was taken aback.

            “Wh-what! You said nothing about that!””

            “Don’t worry, nothing changed with the mechanics,” She winked at him, “So, brave Apollo here is going to enter this Iron Maiden and stay inside while I close the case onto him! Let’s watch and see what happens, OK?” Trucy smiled.

            “How… how did you get this, anyway?” Apollo stage-whispered.

            “From Daddy!” Trucy replied.

            “… And where did he get this?”

            “Internet.”

           I’m still finding myself questioning the validity of their father-daughter relationship. Apollo discreetly wiped his sweaty, nervous palms on his clothes, nodding at Trucy, showing that he was prepared. They had practiced, so there was no reason for anything to go wrong.

            Wrinkles wrenched at her gloves as she latched onto the edge of the Iron Maiden. At first, she had trouble getting it to budge, but Houdin broke his state of stubbornness to help her. They hauled it open. Screeches drowned the bar. Inside was the impaled, bleeding body of Plume Charmante, former owner of the Wonder Bar.

            Trucy Wright was arrested immediately afterwards.

---

            The aftermath of this event left Apollo shattered in pieces with no ambition to gather. He was stuck in slow motion with the blurs of orthodox life blurring around him in high speeds. After a long night of questioning, he was fatigued, but he managed to make his way down to the Detention Center. Apollo leaned against the counter, the tips of his hair weakly grazing the thick glass separating himself from the opposite side of the Detention Center’s bleak surroundings. Everything looked grey-scale to him. The shadows were a clarinet-black and the walls were cracked in muted granite. Light fought itself in through the barred window just barely and the industrial lighting only made things more depressing. He heard a pulsing pressure wracking against the window and looked up.

            “Remember what I said during one of our court cases, Apollo?” The familiar ring of Trucy’s voice penetrated the glass. Apollo shook his head ‘no’. “Remember to keep your chin up, Apollo! Back straight!”

            Cheered up a twinge, he did just that, “Are you alright, Trucy? How long did they question you for?”

            “I’m alright,” She tapped her index fingers together, “They questioned me for long time during the night and today’s questioning was also pretty long, but it’s not over yet. We’re taking a break for now, but hey! Apollo! It’ll be alright. With you defending me, there’s nothing to fear!”

            Apollo smiled, “Right! It’s going to be fine! I’m f-fine! You’re fine! We’ll pull through, I hope.”

            “Poor… Ms. Charmante. She was a really nice lady. She even let the chefs give me free food whenever I was hungry.” She sulked, tracing circles against the glass, “Ms. Charmante even turned down offers for other acts for me. She was… lovely, wasn’t she?”

            “She was,” Apollo sighed, “We have to find out who did this to her. It can’t--”

            “They want you back inside now, Miss,” The stocky security guard unlocked the door, waiting for her to finish.

            “OK! Thanks Mr. Security Guard! Give me one last second!” She nodded towards him and he tipped his hat to her in respect to her request, “Apollo! This is your time to investigate. Maybe you can find some clues at the Wonder Bar? And remember, there’s no worry. We both know why I couldn’t have done it, or… more specifically ‘it’ couldn’t have.”

            He held the exit open lethargically, “Alright, talking time’s over. Let’s get moving.”

            “Good luck, Polly!” She waved, smiling, “I believe in you!”

            Her unwavering optimism inspired a half-hearted Apollo as he waved back to her. Catching glimpses of her fatigued, but hopeful face. He pined for some resolutions, some answers to all the questions that cramped his head and then some more. As he left the doldrums and headed down to the Wonder Bar, he was met with the heated ray of the sun. The noir palette melted away into the roads while chartreuses and ceruleans seeped back to his world, signaling that he knew that there was a job to be done: a job to be done for Trucy.

             Buzzing policemen and bumblebee tape bound the scene in a nostalgic mayhem. He shaded his eyes with hand, steadily pacing himself towards the building. The sunlight blinded him for a minute before he was greeted by the recognizable jingling of bells.

             “Houdin?”

             “Yeah, that’s right! Huff, huff! And don’t you forget it!” Houdin jabbed Apollo in the chest with his scepter.

             “Oof! I won’t forget, promise!” Apollo scratched his head, “Did they hold you back there for questioning or what?”

 

             “Questioning? Fah! I just slipped through their defenses with the power of magic! Huff, huff!” He grinned, “Though… I’m guessing you’re here because of Trucy? You’re a defense attorney, right?”

             “Y-yeah, I’m defending her.”

             “Then… count me in!” Houdin pleaded, the bells chiming in to encourage him.

             Apollo scratched his neck, “You want to help? I thought she was your rival.”

            “Grkk! Well, um… What’s the use of having a rival if she’s in jail? That’s boring, huff!”

            “Good point.”

            “So, we’re off to investigate, right? I can be your… temporary defense assistant!” Houdin twirled his staff around elatedly, “Off we go, Apollo! Onward, onward, my steed!” He dashed into the building, the police flabbergasted by the emerald jester rushing through their army. They shouted at him to stop, but Apollo followed him, signifying his attorney badge exaggeratedly.

            The unlikely duo ran through the structure, the constant ringing of Houdin’s clothing guiding Apollo whenever he lost him. He finally caught up to him when Houdin ran out of breath, but he sprinted off again with Apollo fighting to keep up. Eventually they reached the stage. The Iron Maiden was left open and a white substance outlined the body’s position. The lights illuminated the contraption, ironically giving it a heavenly presence which starkly contrasted with its deviant purpose. Houdin saw that it had no bottom surface which had been replaced by the stage. He also saw a pool of dried blood which he gagged at since it was the first time he had ever seen that much blood in his life. Carefully, he placed the image in the back of his head.

            “MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH!”

            “What’s that horrible sound!?” Houdin covered his ears, wincing.

            “It’s the sound of snack time,” Apollo answered as he waved idly to the detective, “Hey, Ema.”

            She pouted, “I haven’t… had a wink of sleep since yesterday evening! A girl’s gotta’ snack to keep up in this job,” Ema Skye inserted another snackoo into her mouth, chewing it busily, “It’s-MUNCH-a-MUNCH-a-MUNCH-joke-MUNCH, MUNCH!”

            “If she chokes, I’ll do ‘Houdin Maneuver’ on her,” Houdin exclaimed, leaning on his bauble lazily.

            “Don’t you mean the ‘Heimlich’?” Apollo asked.

            “No, no! In my maneuver, we start to pull ribbons out of the mouth and out pops the offending piece of food! It’s like a conveyer belt!”

            “Erm, what if she chokes on—On second thought, nevermind. Hey Ema, do you have the latest autopsy report on you?”

            Ema folded her arms, grumpily retorting, “Am I only useful as a filing cabinet? Here.”

            She handed the brown folder over to Apollo as she chewed on her snacks bitterly. Ema eyed Houdin oddly for the moment before dismissing him as just another oddity in the never ending production of characters that seemed to interrupt her line of work. Or more importantly, her snack time. Houdin snatched it from Apollo, reading through the contents.

            “Time of death is around… 7:15 to 7:45 PM, November 9^th. That’s yesterday, if you didn’t know, Apollo. Oh, and the cause of death is… loss of blood due to impalement,” He blinked, “It didn’t hit any important organs, it says, huff! Just like the old fashioned trap was meant to do! Wait…”

            “Yeah, Trucy special ordered that so the spikes would hit the vital organs, didn’t she? Then again... those spikes shouldn’t have hit anyone, at all,” Apollo tapped his finger on his chin, “Something doesn’t match up here.”

            “Because it’s an illusion right? Right? I’m right, right?” Houdin smirked, his smug expression dominating his face.

            “Actually, not really. Erm, I don’t think Trucy would mind if I told the secret to her act…” He hoped this was the case, “This Iron Maiden was designed to have the spikes recede into itself when it’s closed so the spikes don’t touch anyone inside. When you open it, the spikes poke out so the audience is tricked into believing the spikes are there all the time.”

            Ema slapped her hand to the side of her face, “Ah! So, that’s why the luminol didn’t react to them! I was scared my new solution was faulty,” She cheered up, her eyes smiling alongside with her, “Good, I feel better now.”

            “Oh, I get it. So… wait, this doesn’t make sense. How did Ms. Charmante get impaled then? And… actually, the bigger question is, how did she get in there!?” Houdin imitated Apollo, pressing his finger against his chin in deep contemplation, “Huff, huff, my mind is completely boggled. Huff, huff, huff!”

            Ema nibbled on her delicacy further, “It’s interesting, isn’t it? One moment the owner of the Wonder Bar is in one place and the next, she’s inside some sort of creepy torture device,” She pinched her sunglasses and placed them over her eyes, “But it’s nothing science can’t explain!”

            “Then how did she?” Houdin rolled his eyes skeptically, “How does science explain this?”

            She paused before snapping back ferociously, “Hey! Give my hypothesis some time, alright? Sheesh, impatient, little brats…”

            “You’re just stupid,” Houdin rolled his eyes, “Your science is too.”

            … Oh boy. Apollo cowered before it even began.

            “WHAAAAAAAAAAT!? You dare call my science, ‘stupid’!? Let’s see if you still think science is stupid after I give you a taste of my chemicals!” She growled, shaking her fists.

            “Huff, huff,” Houdin simply blew a raspberry at her, sticking his tongue out, “Pbblph. Sucks to your chemicals. Sucks to your science.”

            She exploded, “Y-YOU! YOU! WELL, S-SUCKS TO YOUR ASSMAR! Er, I mean asthma!”

            Houdin bolted away, running onto the stage, laughing all the way as he ran backstage. Ema gave chase, grunting as she ran in hot pursuit for her still living specimen. She scolded him about disturbing the crime scene, but she ignored her own words of advice and followed his path anyway. The red curtain shook as Ema went through it, stalking for Houdin backstage. Apollo dangled his head in utter disbelief. Screams and the clanging of voices panged in the air. Ema started to name off lists of chemicals which she claimed feverishly would melt his smart mouth off. Houdin just laughed all the way through before slamming into something, his stream of giggles ending abruptly. Suddenly, the stage creaked. Apollo crawled up the stairs, wondering what had happened. He scanned the stage before noticing something missing and gaining an answer in return.

            Ema pulled Houdin by the ear, dragging him back to the front, “This kid of yours slammed into a wall which had a bunch of buttons and knobs on it. Thankfully, the wall hit him hard enough so I could catch him. What are you looking at anyway? Is that… Ah!” She let go of Houdin’s ear.

            “A secret entrance,” Apollo pointed to the empty section of stage where the body used to be.

            “Or a trap door,” Ema muttered, “This kid must have hit something back there to trigger this.”

            “Hmph! Well, look at that! This ‘kid’ helped solve a mystery.” He huffed, patting down his pants and cape, “Without science.”

            Ka-tonk! A snackoo collided with Houdin’s face. When Houdin glared at Ema, she greeted him with a confused look which said, ‘What did I do’? He soured, shuffling away from the detective in a bout of childish anger.

            “We should head down there and look for some clues,” Apollo suggested as he peered down the hole, “Maybe your science can help us this time, Ema.”

            She brightened up considerably, “Of course!”

            “Or not,” Houdin grumbled.

            Ka-tonk!

            After reaching the area underneath the stage with a considerable amount of difficulty, Ema, Houdin and Apollo found themselves staring at a frigid basement. Miscellaneous props were strewn about, creating a zoo of underused stage equipment behind them. Another button was situated by the wall, next to the lowered stage piece, presumably used to lift the section back up again. A small window was situated on the left side. An arid draft chilled their skin as Ema hugged her lab coat to herself tightly. She shivered. Houdin withdraw his arms into his cape in an effort to escape the cold, as well. Unwillingly, the two eventually huddled together, shaking uncontrollably. Apollo endured the temperature as he looked around. There were no signs of blood anywhere.

            “Hey, Ema. Can I use your luminol?” Apollo analyzed the area, “I want to see if there was any blood splatter other than the one on the stage piece.”

            “S-s-s-sure. G-go ahead,” She held the spray out shakily, “Also, take an extra pair of my sunglasses. I always carry another one just in case the other breaks.”

            Apollo took the two items and equipped them. He began spraying the area, the bottle squeaking with every squirt. Apollo made sure to cover the walls with it, diligently spreading the substance around. He reversed himself to face the props behind him. The young attorney thought to himself before proceeding on, spraying the props with the solvent.

            “H-h-hey! Remember not to u-use the wh-whole bottle! It’s very costly!” Ema cried out, sticking to Houdin’s side grudgingly. Finished, he rattled the bottle, showing that there was a fair amount of liquid left. She smiled, acknowledging the fact before sliding her eyewear over her eyes. Ema stared over at the wall behind Houdin. Enthusiastically, she rang, “Well, there’s obviously blood on the lowered stage piece, but… Ah! Aah! There’s some smears on the wall,” She turned to face the heap of props before gasping audibly, “Even more! Here, near the bottom of the props pile. It’s… a joker card. The joker character on this card, is standing on an ‘H’, weird. Some blood’s been on this card.”

            “N-no way! No, no, no, no way!” Houdin shook his head considerably, his jester hat flailing around, “That… That card! I know where it’s from!”

            “Really? Where did you see it before, Houdin?” Apollo could feel the tangible tension that was suffocating the room.

            “It’s… mine.”

            Ema and Apollo’s eyes blared open, their hearts skipping a beat. Distraught, Houdin tugged at the ends of the cards stitched to his clothes. Timidly, he dared a glimpse of their reactions. It wasn’t good news.

            “This is enough for an arrest,” Ema’s voice made a sharp turn and her eyebrows arched downward, “In fact… I think I should arrest you,” She stepped closer to him ominously, her shoes clacking coldly on the hard ground.

            “Wait, wait a moment, guys,” Houdin huffed, waving his hands out dismissively, “I’ll willingly come with Sci-dork over there on only one condition.”

            “Sci-dork?” Ema spouted her dislike, furrowing her brow, “Well, go on! What’s the condition?”

            “The conditions being… You exchange me with Trucy. So, I’ll go on trial,” He stopped, “Oh, and one more thing. Apollo has to be my defense attorney.”

            “H-hey! Don’t drag me into this!” Apollo intersected swiftly.

            He frowned, “Apollo, you know I didn’t do it! You have to believe in me, alright? I have an alibi too! I couldn’t have committed the murder because I was up on stage!”

            Apollo saw that spirited determination in Houdin’s eyes, the kind that Apollo was well familiar with, “You’re doing this for Trucy, aren’t you?”

            “Tru-dork!?” He groaned, “I don’t do the sappy biz, Apollo! So, come on! Say it! ‘I’ll be your defense attorney’! We haven’t got all day! There’s more investigating to do!”

            “Fine, fine,” Apollo gave in, “You’re going to have to write me up a letter that requests for my defense though. Get that written up as fast as you can.”

            “Thanks…” Houdin simpered before placing his wrists behind his back, “Lock me up, Sci-dork! Arrest me! Throw me to the dogs! Woof, woof—Huff!”

            Ema rolled her eyes and instead of wielding her handcuffs she pinched Houdin by the ear, “Apollo, stay put. I’ll be right back after I throw this munchkin away. The prosecution is going to have to do a major revision of their current information, so… I’d think that the trial date could probably be a couple days from now. Don’t go wandering off, Apollo!”

            She dragged Houdin away by the ear, eliciting yelps of pain and derogatory insults to her face. Increasing the pressure on his ear seemed to help as his mouth was shut until they found a way out of the bottom floor. Apollo was alone now with the eerie props and the chilling atmosphere. He rubbed his hands together for warmth. At least, Trucy’s going to be released. Anyways time to get to work. Rifling through the props again, he found the chore to be oddly eerie. He slipped on Ema’s extra pair of sunglasses just in case he missed something. He did. Nestled tightly in between a mattress and some set pieces was a lance. Blood had been on its pointed section and quite a bit of it too.

            “Ow, ow, ow! Stop it!” Houdin’s protests became louder as they came back to Apollo.

            “We got lost, no thanks to this kid,” Ema pouted, still holding onto Houdin’s ears with her iron grip, “Apollo, could you lift us up while we’re on the stage piece? The button’s over there.”

            “Oh, uh, no problem.”

            “Careful, don’t step on the blood, kid!” She pulled Houdin closer to her. Ema nodded to Apollo, signaling their readiness.

            Apollo compressed the button, the metallic bars making quite a bit of noise which didn’t seem to translate through the stage’s woodwork. As the two were lifted up, Apollo spotted something dangling in between the rusty metals. He barely heard it through the noisy whirring of the machine, but ringing in his ears was the constant and innocent jingling of a bell. After they had ascended up onto the stage, Apollo stretched for the bell. The silver of the bell was cold to the touch, having been subjected to the freezing temperatures of the basement. He pulled it through and found that the bell was attached to a piece of grey fabric.

            Apollo pressed his hand onto his attorney’s badge.

            A bloody lance and a grey jester’s hat piece? What could this mean?

---

            It was the day of the trial, November 12^th. The investigation two days ago had yielded surprising results. The blood on the wall was identified as Plume Charmante’s. Trucy had been released in exchange for Houdin Marotte and the courtroom was waiting patiently behind the towering mahogany doors. The adrenaline was coming at him with full force again. The mixture of anxiety and excitement that never failed to rattle his bones had rejuvenated him, almost like a runner’s high. Apollo was examining the vastly painted side profile of the judge on the northern wall. He came to the conclusion that he wasn’t the only one with a ‘big’ forehead.

            “The judge does have a pretty distinctive forehead, don’t you think?”

            Apollo calmed, hearing Trucy’s cheery vocals person to person rather than through glass. He couldn’t stifle a chuckle, agreeing with the magician’s observation.

            “You two should make a ‘Foreheads of the World’ club!” Trucy hopped her usual carefree hop, reveling in the idea.

            “I’m fine, thanks. I wonder where Houdin is. The trial is starting in three minutes,” Apollo fiddled with his bracelet, nerved by the absence of his client.

            “Polly, Daddy wanted me to give this to you,” Trucy waggled her Ziploc baggy. Inside was a carved head, “He said to look at it closely. Though, I don’t really see anything wrong with it. He found it while he was cleaning the apartment.”

            “Hmm, alright, thanks Trucy. I’ll take a closer look when we get inside,” Apollo placed the baggy inside of his pocket, “Two minutes. Houdin has to be here real soon or else…”

            “And this is the part where you say, ‘speak of the devil’!” Houdin jingled his way to the duo, “Are you ready, Apollo?”

            “I hope so,” Apollo scratched his head.

            Trucy weakly smiled at him, “… Thanks, Houdin. I owe you a bunch. We could go out for noodles sometime with Polly and Daddy,” She said this with a genuine guilt stricken across her face.

            “Ah, it’s no problem, Tru-dork,” Houdin exhaled, “The jester always gets away with whatever they do or say. Besides, no one really takes us jester-folk seriously…”

            “Oh, Houdin. I almost forgot. I wanted to ask you about this bell I found at the crime scene,” Apollo drew out the evidence, “Look familiar?”

            “… My hat is intact. That’s not mine. Though… Hold on a moment. It’s grey,” Houdin choked on his own spit, coughing harshly, “… No, no, no, no way! That’s my father’s!”

            The doors swung open and the bailiffs quickly ushered them in. Without further elaboration, the question would be only be answered in due time if Apollo and Trucy managed to find the truth. The truth that eluded them all in its chiming resonance.

            “Court is now in session for Mr. Houdin Marotte,” The Judge enunciated, residing over both sides of the judicial system in his nobility.

            Apollo replied, “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

            “Ready to rock some riffs, Herr Judge,” Klavier stood calmly behind his counter, casually resting his hands inside his pockets.

            “Prosecutor Gavin, your opening statement, please!”

            “On November 9^th, owner of the Wonder Bar, Plume Charmante, age 29, was found impaled several times inside of the darling Trucy Wright’s Iron Maiden,” Klavier snapped his fingers, “No vital organs were punctured, however.”

            The Judge’s eyes lit up, “An Iron Maiden? I didn’t know maidens came in such a type!”

            “Herr Judge, it is merely a stage prop. An accompaniment to the main melody of Trucy’s act,” He corrected him quickly, “The Iron Maiden was used as a torture device because of the deadly spikes inside that were used to penetrate the unlucky criminal’s flesh. Frightening, ja?”

           “Quite frightening! I’m glad our judiciary system isn’t as barbaric,” The Judge nodded, his beard bobbing up and down, “The court would like to accept the Iron Maiden into evidence.”

            Apollo smiled slyly as the judge admitted it into the court record, choosing to wait it out and strike when the moment presented itself.

            “The victim died between the times of 7:15 and 7:45 PM due to a severe loss of blood. The autopsy report has it all.”

            “The court also accepts this into evidence,” The Judge leaned onto his chair, listening in intently.

            “Coincidentally, Plume Charmante was a business partner of mine. Back in the day, I used to rock out at the Wonder Bar, myself. When I was but a twinkling star ready to go supernova,” He fiddled with his hair, “I owe her some justice, ja?”

            “I performed on the same stage as Klavier before? That makes me feel extra special!” Trucy commented, happy to find out about this little story.

            “And what better way to rock it like I did at the Wonder Bar than with a decisive witness?” Klavier smiled his rock-star smile, “We’ll kick it into a high tempo, ja?”

            “Let the witness please take the stand!” The Judge announced, whacking his gavel against the slab of wood.

            “Decisive witness, already? What game is he trying to play?” Apollo muttered.

            Trucy stroked her chin, “Plume Charmante was an ambitious lady who liked to start things off with a bang. I think it’s… sort of like a homage to her, don’t you think?”

            “I guess so.”

            The witness silently took to the stand, his eyes unmoving and his expression blank and nonexistent. He wore a waiter’s uniform, consisting of a black vest and white dress shirt underneath. A button held the man’s vest in place and the sleeves were pulled back prim and proper. Black hair created shadows over his dull eyes which were half-lidded in what appeared to be boredom.

            “Your name and profession, please,” Klavier queried, awaiting the witness’ response.

            “Tony Mono, waiter of the Wonder Bar and aspiring actor,” Ironically, he talked with no emotion despite his ambition to become an actor. Not a hint of feeling found themselves being manifested physically on his face, his eyes remaining half-lidded and dead.

            “Ah, an aspiring actor? I heard many a famous actor started as a waiter, working long days and nights just to reach end’s meet,” The prosecutor gestured with his hand, “You may give the court your testimony while making sure to describe what you’ve seen with an actor’s point of view, ja?”

            “Whatever you say,” Tony complied in monotone, “After the show had started, drinks began to run low, so I made my way downstairs to fetch some cold drinks. We keep our beverages down in a freezer that is on the lower floor.”

            “Hold it!” Apollo’s rehearsed chords rang true, “What time would you say you went down to the freezer?”

            “Around 7:20 PM,” He stared ahead blankly.

            “Hm, the court would like to ask you to amend your testimony with this information,” The Judge fiddled with the end of his beard as he motioned for the witness to proceed.

            “Whatever you say,” The waiter had his hands behind his back throughout his whole testimony, hiding from Apollo any nervous habits that could be evident after careful scrutiny, “After the show had started and went on, I made my way downstairs around 7:20 to fetch some cold drinks because they began to run low. We keep our beverages down in a freezer that is on the lower floor,” He proceeded with no change to his physicality, “I retrieved the drinks and began walking down the hall. I passed a window, but not before seeing the defendant carrying what appeared to be unconscious body of Plume Charmante.”

            “Objection!” Apollo thrust his arm out, his index extended, “The defendant has an alibi of being on the stage during that time! There was no way you could have seen the defendant!”

            “Oh? I thought I did see him…” The witness waited patiently for his turn.

            “Objection!” Prosecutor Gavin slammed his desk, “Recall if you will, Herr Forehead, the magic performance. In two instances, the defendant ‘disappeared’ from the stage,” He ran a hand through his hair, “The first time was when he escaped the tiger. The second time was when he had to escape the magic wand-missile. Do you recall where he ‘vanished’ that time, Herr Forehead?”

            “He vanished right in front of me, into the stage… Grrk! Into the stage!”

            “Ja, into the stage,” Klavier slammed his fist against the wall behind him, “Which is when the witness saw the defendant!”

            “WH-WHAAAAAT!” Apollo couldn’t believe this at all.

            “Well, that certainly pulls the rabbit out of the hat!” The Judge looked as bewildered as Apollo.

            “Look here, in this diagram. There are several trap doors used on this stage and on the night of the murder. We’ll be looking at two of these. One underneath the Iron Maiden on center stage and the second on stage left. Houdin used the second trap door to perform the illusion of disappearing into… the Fraulein’s panties.”

            “He’s talking about my panties!” Trucy bounced happily.

            “And that’s not any bit disturbing to you?” Apollo said.

            “The prosecution has marked the locations of the doors to prevent confusion.”

            “Thank you! That is quite thoughtful of you, Prosecutor Gavin,” The Judge submitted the diagram into evidence.

            “I’m just doing my job, ja?” Klavier grinned smugly.

            “Objection!”

            That particular intonation did not belong to any lawyers, any defense assistants or even the judge. Apollo recognized that voice, however.

            “I’m not going to stand here and watch you degrade Troupe Marotte! We don’t use stupid things like trap doors! It’s all illusions! It takes skill to trick the eye, not to use a dumb door! Huff! Huff!” Houdin took a moment to catch his breath, glaring at Prosecutor Gavin.

            “Ah, so the jester finally gets his word taken seriously,” Klavier patted his chains, “Heroic, in a way, ja?”

            “That was a really good guess, though,” Houdin stroked his chin, “Nice try.”

           “The court would like to remind you to refrain from outbursts such as that, Mr. Marotte,” The Judge smacked his gavel, “But, if the defendant never made it to the bottom floor, who did?”

            “Hold it! We’ll get to that eventually,” Apollo swerved the direction of the trial, “There’s still one thing wrong about that piece of the testimony, still! He says he saw Plume Charmante was unconscious, but I think not. Blood was found on the wall underneath the stage, albeit wiped which belonged to Plume Charmante. This means the victim was murdered in that very room! Not via the Iron Maiden!”

            “Blood? I’m afraid I can’t…” Tony was cut off; the attorney’s locked in a duel of their own.

            “Objection!” Klavier was calm and collected as ever, “There is such a piece called 4’33” also known as ‘Four Minutes Thirty Three Seconds of Silence’. I’d suggest you give that a sight-read before coming up with baseless conjecture. The Iron Maiden was the murder weapon which was situated right above that area. Simply, the blood in its amount, dripped down.”

            Apollo curled his fingers over his folded arms, smiling confidently, “Things aren’t that simple and I have evidence to prove it.”

            “What?” Klavier gritted his teeth.

            “There’s an impossibility of the Iron Maiden being the murder weapon,” Apollo nodded, “This Iron Maiden was specifically tailored to a certain detail.”

            “And what is that?”

            “The spikes were positioned to hit the vitals!” Apollo threw his arm out again, waving his finger, riding with charisma, “And what does that contradict with? The autopsy report,” He drew out the file, slapping it with the back of his hand, “The autopsy report explicitly states that Ms. Charmante was impaled with no injury to her vital organs!”

            Klavier began to laugh, doubling over with his hands resting peacefully on the tip of his pockets. The defense attorney suddenly grew frightened, unaware of any loopholes in his reasoning.

            “Good show, good show, but not great,” The Gavin shook his head, “It would take a professional to know how to pinpoint exactly where the vitals are like how it would take a trained ear to find a missing cue, perhaps, ja? This is easily explainable. The defendant lifted the unconscious victim onto the spikes incorrectly, impaling her, yes, but not through the vital organs.”

            “Objection!” The inexperienced attorney shouted. I have you now! Apollo patted his papers, “There was no way for the spikes to actually impale her. The Iron Maiden was specifically designed to have the spikes withdrawn when closed. This means that the Iron Maiden was not the murder weapon!”

            “Then are you suggesting Plume Charmante was killed some other way? Are you suggesting… a new murder weapon?” Klavier snapped his fingers instinctively, “Herr Judge, I think this calls for a big penalty. Triple it.”

            “Triple? Why, that’s three times the normal amount!” Udgey exclaimed, “But, the court accepts this amplification. Mr. Justice, what are you suggesting the new murder weapon is?”

            Apollo presented the lance, “A lance found at the crime of the scene. We found this in the props pile in the same room Ms. Charmante was murdered in! Blood was found on the weapon and we can easily deduct that this blood was Ms. Charmante’s!”

            “Achtung! And how can we conclude that?” Klavier shrugged, “That lance could’ve been a prop used a long time ago and lo and behold, an accident could’ve occurred.”

            “It’s because… That lance belongs to Houdin Marotte! It was never property of the Wonder Bar’s which means that the only blood that could’ve stained it was Ms. Charmante’s, on the day of the murder!”

            “Polly! What are you doing!?” Replied Trucy worriedly.

            “Don’t worry, I have it all planned out,” Apollo requested one other detail, “Could the lance be dusted for fingerprints, as well?”

            “The lance will be submitted into evidence and examined for fingerprints,” The Judge disciplined, “Nevertheless, you’re supposed to be defending your client, Mr. Justice, not further condemning him!”

            “That’s right, but I have a good reason to because-!!”

            “WILL EVERYONE JUST STOP IT? SHUT IT DOWN! STRIKE THE SET!” Tony Mono finally broke, his monotone voice shattering into a smoking ball of flame, “IT’S MY TURN AT THE SPOTLIGHT! MY TURN! STOP HOGGING IT FOR YOURSELVES!”

            “…” Silence filled the courtroom, alarmed by the sudden outburst.

            “Thank you,” He disintegrated to his original nonchalant demeanor, “I saw Houdin Marotte with the lance. I can explain everything in my testimony.”

            “Very well, it seems we have run off on a tangent. A very eventful tangent at that,” The Judge smacked his gavel, “Witness, you may continue your testimony.”

            I’m going to have to find a contradiction in the witness’ testimony about the lance, or I’ve just shot myself in the foot! Apollo clenched his fists, waiting anxiously.

            “I saw the jester holding a lance, yes. But after wiping it down, he threw the lance into the props pile,” Mono placidly stated, “He also made sure to wipe down the walls with his jester cape, he being the defendant. I still believe that the defendant was down there, I’m sure of it.”

            There was no reaction from his bracelet. Trucy couldn’t detect anything, as well. Either the defendant’s acting ability was horrendously superb or he wasn’t lying at all. He was in deep trouble.

            “Press him further, Apollo! Go through all your pieces of evidence!” Trucy shook his arm, “You can do it!”

            “Right! Thanks, Trucy!” Apollo shuffled through his filed evidence, before coming across a ripped piece of a jester’s hat. Then he remembered something Houdin had told them before entering the court room, something wholly significant that could change the tide of the trial until its verdict, “Tony Mono! What color was the defendant’s clothing? Please testify to that!”

            “The color?” Tony receded into a haunting silence before speaking up once again, “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

            “Why? What are you hiding from the court!?” Apollo barked, pointing directly at the witness.

            “Could the defense stop shouting? My ears are damaged enough already from the music acts performed at the Wonder Bar,” Tony remained stoic, as usual.

            “The defense will refrain from shouting at the witness!” The Judge smacked his gavel.

            Oh, give me a break! I didn’t even shout it out that loud! Apollo crumpled, but he regained his composure once again, “This is very important, Mr. Mono.”

            “Polly! Butter him up! Think of Ema and her science! He’s like her, just with acting!” Trucy tugged on Apollo’s sleeve.

            “Alright, alright! Good idea!” Apollo smoothly transitioned into his question, “This answer will make you the center of attention. The spotlight! This is like, a lead role! If you help us out and answer this, you’ll be in the newspapers for sure!”

            “…” Tony Mono was like a statue, still, unmoving and boring, but he smiled. His face morphed into an almost scary display of absolute happiness. Clearly, his acting chops were showing through, “That’s… an actor’s dream come true!”

            “The prosecution would also like to know, as well,” Klavier knocked against the wall behind him, transparent in his interest.

            His cheeks rode up his face to enormous heights, his hands clasped together in a fit of glee, then immediately, his face grew sullen and melancholy, “Truth be told… I am ailed with total color blindness! Woe is me! Faltered from birth, was I! Unable to see color, despite hearing of its succulent honey! No rainbow has ever amazed me and no box of a hundred twenty crayons, fitted with that glorious exalted sharpener, has ever astounded me with its spectrum. Oh, woe is me! This is why I cannot testify to the color of his clothing! Thus, I could not have distinguished the blood from the wall, as well! Thank you, thank you, very much!”

            “Achtung, baby! Wonderful performance, bravo!” The prosecutor clapped, giving him a round of applause.

            “Yes, yes! That box of one hundred twenty crayons was a child’s dream!” The Judge also lauded his performance.

            Apollo cringed, having thought otherwise.

            “I do… have one piece of evidence, however that ties someone else to the scene of the crime,” Apollo lifted up the torn hat piece which was hued in grey, “This here was found at the crime scene.”

            “That’s Houdin’s, isn’t it?” Klavier clicked.

            “No, he wears green instead. This grey belongs to only one person: his father. Your Honour, members of the jury, we have recently found out information that Tony Mono, the witness is color blind. Ergo… Tony Mono mixed the identities of Houdin Marotte and his father!”

            “Are you accusing the defendant’s father as the murderer?” Klavier made sure to clarify.

            “Yes.”

            “Bailiff! Send the police to arrest the father of the defendant immediately!” The Judge thwacked his gavel, “Court will adjourn for a brief recess until the defendant’s father is retrieved from his home.”

            On the witness stand, a rather disgruntled jester stood grumpily. His hat’s appendages drooped limply, giving him a rather somber look. The jester’s hat was missing one of these appendages, a bell missing and a question surmounting. Bells lined his clothes in numerously, providing an impractical look.

            “State your name and profession, please,” Klavier inquired coolly.

            He grunted, “Theodore Marotte, jester, magician, escapologist.”

            “Mr. Marotte, we have found evidence that connects you to the crime scene,” Apollo indicated the ripped piece of attire, “And it looks like you’re missing this exact piece on your hat.”

            “I’d like that back at the end of this trial when this nonsense is cleared up,” Theodore snipped snidely.

            “Trust me, you’ll get it back,” He played around with his spiked hair.

            “The witness may testify about why he was there at the crime scene,” The Judge rammed his gavel, producing a solid thwack and allowed Theodore to proceed.

            “I came down to the Wonder Bar during Houdin’s performance after watching it for a decent amount of time. I wanted to talk to the owner and was told she went downstairs.”

            “Hold it! What did you want to talk to the owner about, specifically?” Apollo rubbed his temple.

            “To see if Houdin could perform at the Wonder Bar in the future. A good father always watches for his son’s future,” Theodore vociferated with his gravelly undertones.

            “What happened next?”

            “I eventually found myself in the lower room, but no one was there. So, I left.”

            He pressed harder, “What time did you go down, by?”

            “I would say around 7:15 to 7:20.”

            “Objection!” Apollo fired, “That directly contradicts with a testimony given by the witness, Tony Mono. He saw you and the owner inside that room through a window at 7:20 that night. It couldn’t have been just you there!

            “Hwack!” Theodore hissed through his teeth.

            “Mr. Marotte, I know you did it. I know,” Apollo kept his gaze trained on him.

            “Hm? I was there but did I murder anyone? No, you’re just trying to scare me into saying something idiotic. I’m not a fool,” He retorted sourly.

            And how ironic is that? Apollo rolled his eyes, “Can I request we take the fingerprint of Mr. Marotte?”

            Theodore Marotte opened his hand out, his fingers spread out, “Fingerprints? I don’t mind.”

            The courtroom took several moments to take a breather as Theodore’s fingers were dabbed with ink. The prints were transferred onto a special paper to record them. No worry seemed to come across his worn face. He was oddly calm and he didn’t even break a sweat, something that worried Apollo very much.

            “Did anything productive come out of that? I’d like to go home,” The bitter jester folded his arms, a rain cloud over his head.

            “… Actually, yes,” Apollo had him now, “Your prints match the ones on the lance you, yourself threw into the pile of props!”

            “WH-WHAAAT!?” Finally, some perspiration formed on his face, “What caused you to pick that thing out of the props pile?”

            “It had blood. Plume Charmante’s blood, to be more exact! You thought you could hide the lance by shoving it carelessly in between some props, but after spraying down the area with luminol, I detected blood on the lance,” Apollo smiled in a knowing way, “I think I understand now. You have the best motive for murder regarding Ms. Charmante.”

            “Hah! Go on! I’m waiting!” He gnarled.

            Apollo frowned at his assistant, “It regards you, Trucy.”

            “Me? Why?” She withdrew her hands into her cape.

            “You said it yourself and Houdin mentioned it several times too. Troupe Marotte was rivals with Troupe Gramarye, so what better way to finally destroy your troupe by… destroying you?”

            “Destroy me? Ah!” She glared at Theodore, her blue eyes drilling holes into his tough exterior.

            “You got it, Trucy. Mr. Marotte, you wanted to frame Trucy Wright by planting the body of Plume Charmante in her act! However, that’s not all! If that failed, you used Houdin’s lance as the murder weapon. On top of that, you left a card at the crime scene that belonged to Houdin, as well! What kind of father are you, trying to frame your son!?”

            Theodore’s lips curled upward maliciously, “Ha, ha, ha! There’s one thing wrong with your theory, that’s right. How did I know that Trucy girl was going to use an Iron Maiden in her act? Explain that one.”

            “Grrk! Ah! He got me!” Apollo recoiled.

            “Apollo! Remember, what Daddy gave me! Maybe that has something to do with it!” Trucy handed the carved head to him, “Check it out!”

            Apollo grabbed the piece and examined it. On the outside, nothing was unorthodox. The head smiled at him creepily, its eyes lacking pupils and its nose long and spout-like. He shook it. Rattle, rattle, rattle. Something was inside! Apollo frantically pried it open, the head splitting in half to reveal a microphone.

            “Mr. Marotte, this carved head was on Houdin’s scepter when he visited our apartment. He dropped the staff and the head rolled away, but he forgot to retrieve it! Inside, there was a microphone wasn’t there! You were eavesdropping, listening about the details of our act!” Apollo howled.

            Theodore just cackled. He cackled long and hard, his jester’s hat flying about, “How can you prove that, Mr. Know-it-All?”

            “You impaled Ms. Charmante, thinking that the Iron Maiden was unaltered, as well. You stabbed her with the lance in areas that did not have the vital organs! However, the Iron Maiden in this case had the spikes positioned to hit them instead! Trucy never mentioned this detail to me either during practice. You also found out where the Iron Maiden was going to be placed and used the trap door to elevate the body into it! In this essence, you failed to frame anyone! You’ve only framed yourself!”

            “WAHOOO! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! JINGLE, JINGLE, JINGLE, JINGLE, JINGLE, JINGLE, JINGLE, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, RING-A-LING, JINGLE, JINGLE!” He broke down, cackling non-stop. His bells shook around violently, the stitches in his hat loosening. Theodore’s face contorted into disgusting cringes of laughter. He truly laughed like a jester. He doubled over, jerked backwards and slapped his knees roughly. Fluctuating, his hat shook around, bells  His guffawing infiltrated the air, hiccupping and perverting the once serious atmosphere. The jester’s bells fell out, slamming into the ground by the witness stand. He clutched his chest, “HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, HUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” And collapsed due to exhaustion.

            Klavier effortlessly cascaded his fingers down the frets and strings of his air guitar, finishing the movement with a bold strum, “Herr Judge, Theodore Marotte has admitted to everything and is now in the custody of the police.”

            “Then we can make a verdict, can’t we?” The Judge smiled, “The court and jury have made a unanimous decision,” He slammed the gavel, “Not guilty!”

            Apollo fell onto the counter in exhaustion while Trucy comforted him. It was over and Houdin was freed of any guilt. It was a happy ending, for some, at least. Houdin met them outside in the defendant’s lobby, tears wound up in his eyes.

            “I can’t believe my father…” He sniffled, rubbing his eyes, “Gotta’… Gotta’ stay strong!” Houdin managed to grin, “Thank you for defending me in there, you two. I… owe you two biggies. Huff, huff…”

            “It’s no problem, it’s fine, really,” Apollo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Where will you stay now, Houdin?” Trucy asked, concerned.

            “Wh-wherever! I’ll find a place, don’t worry.”

            “You sure?”

            “Mmhm, definitely. We’re even now, right? I saved your butt, you saved mine along with Apollo?”

            “Of course.”

            The two exchanged smiles.

 

            The shadow cast by rivalry shed away.