Dream ✍ 006
Effects: Severe irritation.
Warnings: ...... Some blood and implied adult situations?
Inspector Javert sagged over his desk. The clock on the wall chimed eight. Behind him, reclining across several chairs and curled in a fetal position, was the fitfully slumbering and unimpeachable form of Miles Edgeworth.
He had a precious few seconds to sit and gather himself together before the inevitable parade began. He blew a low sigh through thin, parted lips. It was one of those rare moments where the seemingly ageless Javert looked at once thoroughly aged. He drew a pen from his holder and stretched his long limbs out, psyching himself up for an invigorating morning stuck with paperwork.
But when Javert reached for his first stack, he found a very pervasive obstruction in the way.
It was a body. A feminine, lean, flawless body.
She certainly wasn't there a moment ago.
Naomi Hunter rolled around atop his papers with a voluptuous wiggle of her chest and posterior, smiling sweetly. Her hair was loose, her locks making a pleasant splash of black waves across a sea of Times New Roman and chicken scratch.
"I thought you would never notice," said she with an enticing stretch. Javert's face was a white sheet. She crooked her finger at him. "Now, aren't you hungry for something... energizing?"
The office door opened just then. It was Charlie Pace, Inspector Javert's administrative coordinator. His head poked in.
"Sir, I've got ten more spools of reports I need you to sign, if you'll just--" He processed the scene he was witnessing. The woman, at best half-dressed and sprawled out before his boss, and Javert growing visibly more sickened by the second. Charlie's eyes popped.
"IIIIII... Think I'll come back later, mate."
The door swung shut with a queer choking sound from the young man. The Inspector cast a severe stare down at the scientist.
"No mixing of personal affairs and duty," Javert muttered stonily through his hardly-moving mouth and brushed Naomi unceremoniously from his desk. He bent his gaze to his work and drew his stacks of paperwork close, intent on shutting out the rest of the world and focusing only on what needed to be done. The disgruntled woman gingerly picked herself up and began to brush herself off.
A crisp knock came again from the door. Javert did not have a chance to reject the notion when five officers and a chained, frothing, gnashing beast of a criminal flooded into his office.
"Monsieur Inspector!" cried the sergeant in the front. "This man requires your judgment. He is up for parole." A thick manila folder is tossed atop Javert's half-mile high stack of paperwork. "Will you deny or approve?"
The Inspector might have given a swift and irritated response were it not for for the door slamming open with a bang and a girlish squeal yet again.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Dr. Hunter! What perfect timing!!!" Tamaki Suoh frolicked into the room, a trail of sparkles struggling to keep up behind him. He dashed up to Naomi and swept her up into his lanky arms, an expression of pure elation on his tearful face. "It is time! Finally time! Aaaaaah put this on!" The boy thrust a veil atop Naomi's beautifully stunned head. Javert was halfway between an incredulous, deathly smirk and a murderous stare. "Don't worry, I made all the arrangements! The priest is coming up right behind me--- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
The blond boy's joy morphed into horror.
There was a thunk, and a spray of arterial blood drenched the room. A body, skewered through the throat, fell from the ceiling to the top of Javert's desk. Now none of his paperwork was readable. An assassin, cloak astonishingly white amidst the shock of red, dropped to the floor, stood long enough to smirk, and dashed toward the window. From a nearby opened ceiling vent dove a muscular, scruffy old soldier in hot pursuit of the aforementioned criminal. He uttered a harsh 'Excuse Me' as he gave chase out the window after the fleeing murderer. The footsteps faded into the distance.
Silence.
Finally, there was a dumbfounded, blessed silence. Javert, muscles tense, jaw tight, drew a handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wiped off his face. He surveyed the astonished faces around him. Even the criminal in chains had the decency to stop gnashing those gnarled teeth of his for this.
"Well?" prompted Javert testily to the five officers still assembled around his desk. "You know proper procedure. Clean this up!"
Before they could convince their bodies to mobilize and respond to Javert's order, the door opened a last time. It was poor Charlie Pace, still shell-shocked from his prior interruption. In his hand was a letter addressed to Inspector Javert, a red wax seal on the back of it.
"Um, Inspector? Mate?" Charlie said uneasily. "Hate to break the bad news to you, but you've been indicted. By a Dastan, Prince of Persia. For... immoral action and corruption?" He smiled nervously. "Sounds pretty important, doesn't it? Ha!" The smile disappeared when he saw Javert's hollow face. He carefully approached the desk and plopped the letter on the cleanest space atop the desk.
Javert remained unmoving and statuesque.
"Here's your subpoena. Court date's next week. I put it in your calendar, so don't have a worry about it."
Javert merely stared.
From the office next to his, a whip snapped. "FOOL!" cried Franziska von Karma's grating voice. She appeared in the doorway, haughty and proud. "FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOLS DON'T RECEIVE FOOLISH INDICTMENTS! Inspector Javert, I have waited a long time for this day. You are hereby suspended from duty without pay until your case is prosecuted." She smiled. "I hope to never see you in this office again... fool."
All the while, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth remained dead asleep in the back of the office, eerily untouched by blood or hellstorm.
Inspector Javert's lip curled back savagely. He trembled, his first show of true emotion since his morning started. He snarled ferociously as the video feed went blank,
"That is enough!"
Warnings: ...... Some blood and implied adult situations?
Inspector Javert sagged over his desk. The clock on the wall chimed eight. Behind him, reclining across several chairs and curled in a fetal position, was the fitfully slumbering and unimpeachable form of Miles Edgeworth.
He had a precious few seconds to sit and gather himself together before the inevitable parade began. He blew a low sigh through thin, parted lips. It was one of those rare moments where the seemingly ageless Javert looked at once thoroughly aged. He drew a pen from his holder and stretched his long limbs out, psyching himself up for an invigorating morning stuck with paperwork.
But when Javert reached for his first stack, he found a very pervasive obstruction in the way.
It was a body. A feminine, lean, flawless body.
She certainly wasn't there a moment ago.
Naomi Hunter rolled around atop his papers with a voluptuous wiggle of her chest and posterior, smiling sweetly. Her hair was loose, her locks making a pleasant splash of black waves across a sea of Times New Roman and chicken scratch.
"I thought you would never notice," said she with an enticing stretch. Javert's face was a white sheet. She crooked her finger at him. "Now, aren't you hungry for something... energizing?"
The office door opened just then. It was Charlie Pace, Inspector Javert's administrative coordinator. His head poked in.
"Sir, I've got ten more spools of reports I need you to sign, if you'll just--" He processed the scene he was witnessing. The woman, at best half-dressed and sprawled out before his boss, and Javert growing visibly more sickened by the second. Charlie's eyes popped.
"IIIIII... Think I'll come back later, mate."
The door swung shut with a queer choking sound from the young man. The Inspector cast a severe stare down at the scientist.
"No mixing of personal affairs and duty," Javert muttered stonily through his hardly-moving mouth and brushed Naomi unceremoniously from his desk. He bent his gaze to his work and drew his stacks of paperwork close, intent on shutting out the rest of the world and focusing only on what needed to be done. The disgruntled woman gingerly picked herself up and began to brush herself off.
A crisp knock came again from the door. Javert did not have a chance to reject the notion when five officers and a chained, frothing, gnashing beast of a criminal flooded into his office.
"Monsieur Inspector!" cried the sergeant in the front. "This man requires your judgment. He is up for parole." A thick manila folder is tossed atop Javert's half-mile high stack of paperwork. "Will you deny or approve?"
The Inspector might have given a swift and irritated response were it not for for the door slamming open with a bang and a girlish squeal yet again.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Dr. Hunter! What perfect timing!!!" Tamaki Suoh frolicked into the room, a trail of sparkles struggling to keep up behind him. He dashed up to Naomi and swept her up into his lanky arms, an expression of pure elation on his tearful face. "It is time! Finally time! Aaaaaah put this on!" The boy thrust a veil atop Naomi's beautifully stunned head. Javert was halfway between an incredulous, deathly smirk and a murderous stare. "Don't worry, I made all the arrangements! The priest is coming up right behind me--- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
The blond boy's joy morphed into horror.
There was a thunk, and a spray of arterial blood drenched the room. A body, skewered through the throat, fell from the ceiling to the top of Javert's desk. Now none of his paperwork was readable. An assassin, cloak astonishingly white amidst the shock of red, dropped to the floor, stood long enough to smirk, and dashed toward the window. From a nearby opened ceiling vent dove a muscular, scruffy old soldier in hot pursuit of the aforementioned criminal. He uttered a harsh 'Excuse Me' as he gave chase out the window after the fleeing murderer. The footsteps faded into the distance.
Silence.
Finally, there was a dumbfounded, blessed silence. Javert, muscles tense, jaw tight, drew a handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wiped off his face. He surveyed the astonished faces around him. Even the criminal in chains had the decency to stop gnashing those gnarled teeth of his for this.
"Well?" prompted Javert testily to the five officers still assembled around his desk. "You know proper procedure. Clean this up!"
Before they could convince their bodies to mobilize and respond to Javert's order, the door opened a last time. It was poor Charlie Pace, still shell-shocked from his prior interruption. In his hand was a letter addressed to Inspector Javert, a red wax seal on the back of it.
"Um, Inspector? Mate?" Charlie said uneasily. "Hate to break the bad news to you, but you've been indicted. By a Dastan, Prince of Persia. For... immoral action and corruption?" He smiled nervously. "Sounds pretty important, doesn't it? Ha!" The smile disappeared when he saw Javert's hollow face. He carefully approached the desk and plopped the letter on the cleanest space atop the desk.
Javert remained unmoving and statuesque.
"Here's your subpoena. Court date's next week. I put it in your calendar, so don't have a worry about it."
Javert merely stared.
From the office next to his, a whip snapped. "FOOL!" cried Franziska von Karma's grating voice. She appeared in the doorway, haughty and proud. "FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOLS DON'T RECEIVE FOOLISH INDICTMENTS! Inspector Javert, I have waited a long time for this day. You are hereby suspended from duty without pay until your case is prosecuted." She smiled. "I hope to never see you in this office again... fool."
All the while, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth remained dead asleep in the back of the office, eerily untouched by blood or hellstorm.
Inspector Javert's lip curled back savagely. He trembled, his first show of true emotion since his morning started. He snarled ferociously as the video feed went blank,
"That is enough!"