Characters: Phoenix Wright, any refugees from Claiborne, anyone still on the Victoria II
Content: Refugees have been crowded onto the ship, but lack direction.
Setting: Interior of the Victoria II
Time: I'm guessing mid-afternoon, although it could be any time, I suppose.
Warnings: None, really - unwashed masses, mostly.
It figures, Phoenix thought to himself as he tried to maneuver through the crowded hallway. The one town I stop in, and zombies attack it. He supposed this was a good thing; as an investigative reporter, it was his job to track down unusual happenings and publish them. However, until now this had involved fairly mundane murders - well, mundane for Reial's standards. Zombies were a completely different matter. (Not that this had stopped him from snapping pictures, of course.)
He stood up straighter, attempting to see over the mass of barely-calm people. This ship isn't made for this many people in one place, he commented to himself. If only I could get out of the hallway and into an open room.... Slowly, Phoenix struggled through the crowd, and stumbled through a large door.