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perverbially ([personal profile] perverbially) wrote on April 8th, 2010 at 01:50 am
(FIC: Franziska von Karma, Miles Edgeworth) Just That Hardcore
Title: Just That Hardcore
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Spoilers: PW: Justice for All.
Character(s): Franziska von Karma, Miles Edgeworth, Dick Gumshoe
Genre: Gen? In my LJ? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU'D THINK.
Warnings/Rating: PG-13 for potential butchery of the German language (even though I really tried to avoid that, I am well aware of my suck in the field of language studies :/), mild swearing, some blood. Spoilers for JfA.
Notes: Writer's block, gah. I'm just pleased to have written something, even if it has most likely been done to death. Also, writing about Franziska means I get to use this icon, which I think equals an instant good day for all concerned :D
Summary: Missing moment; Franziska is shot outside the courtroom.

Her first thought is that someone has - foolishly - punched her. The impact knocks her back against Miles Edgeworth's ridiculous car, but her hand is on her whip in a moment, instincts flaring automatically into attack mode. She is inches away from whipping every person in sight, just to be sure of finding her assailant, when a hand pulls her down onto the asphalt.

"Franziska, stop!" Edgeworth snaps, his grasp on her wrist uncharacteristically firm. His eyes flash to her shoulder. "Oh, hell."

She follows his gaze, taking in blood and torn cloth. All at once, it clicks into place, and her upper arm feels like it is wreathed in flames. She lets out an involuntary hiss of pain. "Ah! Gottverdammt!"

"Sirs! Get down!"

"Just in time, as always..." Edgeworth mutters dryly, producing a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it hard against the wound. His face is a similar colour. Franziska snatches the cloth from him, viciously pushing it back to her shoulder with her free hand. She leans back against the cool metal of the car, fighting back a wave of nausea.

"Mr Edgeworth, Ms von Karma, are you all right?" the loud voice now has a face, as Gumshoe appears at the end of their temporary shelter, still looking faintly ill-at-ease with clutching his police-issue pistol. His brows hitch when he sees the blood. "Sir!"

"We're fine," Franziska says harshly, breathing hard through her nose, and studiously ignoring Edgeworth's splutter of disbelief. "Have you apprehended the shooter?"

"Er... no, sir," Gumshoe mumbles, scratching the back of his head. "We're setting up a perimeter, but it looks like the culprit may have been in a vehicle. Backup and medics are expected A.S.A.P."

"Fools!" She stands up, teeth gritted against the searing pain in her shoulder. There is an obscene amount of blood for such a small wound, and it's soaking through most of her shirt. "Foolish, ridiculous, incompetent fools from a foolish country, incapable of catching a criminal even when they commit a crime on your very own doorstep..." She takes another deep breath, giving the soaked handkerchief pressed to her arm a disdainful glance. "Get me a first-aid kit, Scruffy, I have a trial in under 30 minutes. And I'll need a spare blouse."

"Franziska!" Miles rights himself at her side, apparently having come to his senses. "Are you being deliberately absurd? You've been shot!"

"I'm well aware of that, Miles Edgeworth," she spits back, a gunshot wound having done nothing for her tolerance. "But the fact remains: I have a job to do."

He shakes his head, clutching his own arm in frustration (an unsettling relic of his mentor he has never quite been able to shake). "Then I will take this case. You need medical attention, immediately."

Franziska's eyes narrow. "Oh no you don't. This is my case, and quite frankly I will not have you losing it for me because Phoenix Wright bats his foolish eyelashes at you from the defence bench. Now, get out of my way."

Edgeworth shrugs. "Since reasoning with you appears to be out of the question, I must conclude that the bullet lodged in your shoulder has also addled your brain. Detective, can you please assist me in helping Ms von Karma to the hospital?"

"Oh!" Gumshoe visibly pales at being drawn into this conversation, eyeing the two of them anxiously. "Um, well, there are medics on the way, pal..."

"Now, please, Detective," Edgeworth replies pointedly.

"You wouldn't dare!" Franziska snaps dangerously. She reaches for her whip, only to double up in pain seconds later, clutching the still-bleeding wound. "Argh!" Edgeworth's face momentarily twists in concern, and he catches hold of her uninjured arm, frog-marching her around to the passenger seat of his car. She twists and flails furiously in his grasp, growling like a wild cat in spite of the sheen of sweat appearing on her forehead.

"Der Schei├čkerl! Get off me! I swear to God, Miles Edgeworth, if you don't release me right now...!"

He slams the door, then hurries round to the driver's seat, ignoring the stream of bile issuing from the passenger seat. Gumshoe gestures uselessly, and Miles decides he cannot blame him one bit.

"Do you really want me to come - ?"

Edgeworth rolls his eyes as he folds himself into his car, wincing at the escalating volume of Franziska's protests at his side. There really is no room to swing a whip in his car, especially not with an injury such as hers, but he'll be damned if she isn't trying.

"I suppose someone does need to inform the court of this incident. I'm sure we can manage alone." It's almost pathetic, Edgeworth thinks, the way he can see Gumshoe's whole body relax at his words. Almost.

"Though if I don't arrive at the Hotti Clinic in a reasonable amount of time, please waste no manpower looking for my corpse: I'm certain it will be most thoroughly disposed of."

Gumshoe winced guiltily as the sports car ripped away up the street, Franziska's outraged rantings dwindling only slightly with distance, his guilt assuaged little by the fact that he had mercifully managed to be anywhere but in that car.

--
fin
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