Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey; one is always aware that it lies in wait.

[mentis_reae]

Who: The Ghost of Christmas Grouching and YOU.
When: The nights of December 31st and January 1st, 2010 and 2011.
Where: All over the city.
Summary: Edgeworth, having been killed, has been mutated into a creature of the darkness and is now operating along the lines of his old instinct, seeking out evildoers and punishing them for their misdeeds.

Comments

Sector 4, late evening

[walkthedawn]

[Edgeworth's death had hit Riku harder than he had imagined. The man had been something of a mentor and friend and they were both connected to Kei Yuki... And while Edgeworth had sometimes been calloused and sharp, he wasn't a bad person. He didn't deserve to die by any means.

Riku had shared with him his secrets, something he had only done with two other people in the city in the nine months he had been there. And now he was gone.

The Keybearer takes the time tonight to practice once more, bending the monsters to his control to keep them down. Practice, practice... Stop Xehanort, protect his friends, do better. He can't stay inside tonight. He has to keep practicing, he has to get stronger. If Grimmjow ever comes back, if Edgeworth- He wants to keep him from hurting other people again. He won't stop until he can. This is his mantra as the Darkness rolls in, as the hours fly by, and he loses track of everything around him that he can't sense.]

[mentis_reae]

[His efforts earn an audience. The audience observes not the skill with which he protects others, but the skill with which he slays them. How easily that might is turned against those undeserving, and how prone this mind is to being so turned.

The ghost stands and watches, corrupted face genuinely interested.]

[walkthedawn]

[He puts the monsters down like a master would command a dog, forcing them to lie down or to simply stop moving. He doesn't kill them, instead waiting until they understand the message before letting them go. It's only when the few who break free get close enough that he destroys them, letting them drop to the ground. He sighs, the process tiring, but it's what needs to be done.

Know your enemy... Just enough to keep himself from being controlled in the same way.

Riku doesn't realize he has an audience until he casts his senses a little wider, noticing the figure there. He doesn't need to see to know who is there, but he can't help it. How is he- The boy turns around to face the prosecutor.]

[mentis_reae]

[There's a nod, mocking, as one would greet a brother or a comrade. The gesture is one of like nodding to like, of one recognizing oneself in others, after which the ghost pointedly rubs at a spot of darkness blotting his jaw. It remains silent.]

January 1st, early early morning - Sector 4

[atrumcanis]

[There's no way Sirius is going to stay indoors. Maybe later, much later; maybe-- He should, he knows, because it's pointless--because it's done with, it's over. But there's a whole load of impotent rage, now--someone killed the bastard, Grimmjow, someone that wasn't him, and Jack's right; he knows that Jack is right, he's not supposed to kill people, and now he doesn't have to

[mentis_reae]

[The ghost is attracted to guilty minds. It's attracted to malice. And it's attracted, most of all, to the people whom Edgeworth had known, whom Edgeworth had loved, whom Edgeworth had forgiven of peccadilloes and weaknesses. So though it cannot feel happiness, per se, it is nevertheless satisfied when it finds Sirius engaged in his ferocious and pointless violence.

It's smiling, therefore, as it waits for Sirius. Its cracked lips are parted in a smirk familiar to those who'd faced Edgeworth in court, but perhaps unknown to those who'd known him in his everyday life - merry, mocking, and snide, condescending and cruel, the smile of the man he'd pretended to be rather than the man he was.]

[atrumcanis]

[There's a hundred shadows to focus on in the Darkness; there's always something moving, something rotty and ugly, something to kill--so stillness is something to be noted. Stillness catches his eye, and Sirius looks over sharply--and his arm falters, falls a little. There's a moment of rushing silence, a cold disbelief that he's never felt so strongly--and then it's filled suddenly with relief, and he opens his mouth to call out to Edgeworth. Because it is Edgeworth, it has to be, it's him; there's a familiarity there that can't be ignored--

(And if he wasn't so caught up in that emotion, if he wasn't so distracted, he might have realised--as he will realise later--that there's something wrong, like a dog on a tainted scent--)

And everyone was right, they were right, he's come back. There's nothing like that feeling, and a laugh stutters out of him, half-choked, and he starts for Edgeworth in a rush, fully ignoring that smile, dismissing it, forgiving it because it doesn't matter, he doesn't understand it and so it doesn't matter--

[mentis_reae]

[What crimes has Sirius committed over the years? Little ones, small infractions. Destruction of property, robbing his school and his family of resources. Assault, harm done to others. Cruelty and bullying. Ingratitude. He's no pillar of evil quite yet - that much is clear. He's not taken any lives, nor ever truly harmed from true malice. But it is only a matter of time before it happens.

Sirius Black will grow up a blight on the face of this earth.

When the ghost speaks, its voice is almost mild. It's almost flippant, that smirk still in place.]

I should leave you out here so that they can rip you apart.

December 31st, an hour after siren.

[madeinoblivion]

[No partying tonight. If Sam's canning the party, then he doesn't want to spend midnight with some other bar manager on anyway. The playlist's pretty much all queued on the system for a backup if they decide to open anyway.

What a lousy finish to the year, and he doesn't even want to stay home and try playing his brand new DJ Hero...for all of the obvious reasons.

So his darkness is really stirred up tonight, restless again, like it was during the eclipse. When he starts to feel the aura of frustration, anger, and something like grief bubbling up in the apartment, he knows it's 'go burn it off' time. He can't risk it, his own darkness running wild on his friends. Especially Namine, Xion. Or Axel, for whom things will be especially volatile, if he set foot in the apartment anytime soon.

Axel probably doesn't even care about Edgeworth anyway. Will go to work like nothing's happened. As long as he's ringing in the new year at the sex club, and not with his friends

[mentis_reae]

[There are only some seven hours before the new year comes in; no surprise that the replica is spending the last hours of 2010 as he'd spent nearly every hour of his free time in the city to date: in futile exercise, mindless destruction. Tied in with the condemnation the ghost feels towards the boy, there's a measure of contempt, of scorn, and of amusement. The task is Sisyphean, and will no doubt be his downfall.

He watches, therefore, as he'd watched the original Riku. It's interesting, and it is pathetic.]

[madeinoblivion]

[It's a bit like becoming them himself, he knows it- that's part of why it's satisfying to make sure all the aggression's burnt out before calling it quits. Usually he's not out and at it so early, but there's not going to be any hours of club adrenaline kicked up to take the edge off, tonight...

Maybe he'll see if anyone's up for slipping into sector two and tripping off the SERO Firework's show ahead of schedule. Make them look like idiots.]

[mentis_reae]

[Always a creature of malice. The ghost does not speak, or announce itself; it merely thinks, and its power answers. The collar of the replica's clothing tightens about its throat.]

December 31st, around 8pm, Sector 4 (1/2)

[proxysearch]

[Re-l's spent much of her day moping, for all the good it will do her. Grimmjow is dead. Edgeworth is dead, and she couldn't save him, couldn't even help him when he needed it the most. Worse, she wasn't able to stay at his side until the ambulance arrived, for all the good it would have done. She failed.

She's stayed on the couch for most of the day, going over files and calling people, offering condolences, calling the police district and going in only once to put in a witness report of Edgeworth's murder. She doesn't mention that she attacked Grimmjow; no charges will be pressed, at any rate. She returns home in a dismal mood, not eating much, barely speaking, and trying not to look so pitiful. She's stronger than this, she says, but that doesn't change the fact that she's lost two friends this month.

Just before Darkness, she opens the balcony door to let Ergo in, and then she goes back to the couch to read, gazing at the balcony every now and again at the Darkness. She sighs.]You should still go out tonight, Daedalus. You could

December 31st, around 8pm, Sector 4 (2/2)

[gaveherwings]

[Daedalus has spent most of the day mopishly doting on her, reassuring her, consoling her and feeling guilty for having such unpleasant, petty parting words with a very good professional, the last time they'd spoken.

He only manages a few hours sleep to rest off the night shift, and feels lackluster for energy but unable to sleep any more by mid-afternoon. He's relieved he had already arranged to take New Years Eve off anyway.

The original plan was to head to Lion's Gate, make jovial ironic toasts with Raul at the busy upper crust club, three citizens, the three survivors of Romdeau through another year and doing well for themselves. Maybe spend a little time with Franz, who'd been the one to insist he take the night to celebrate. That sentiment had been crushed and pushed far out of the question.

He brings over a mug of mint tea for her, a plated slice of Gilbert's Buche de Noel. The baked goods would never run dry. Shaking his head, Daedalus sets it on the end table, and slips onto the couch beside her.]I'm not going to leave you

[mentis_reae]

[If this had been Edgeworth, then there would have been something intensely melancholy about watching Romdeau's last citizens. The ghost remembered the deep affection Miles had had for Re-l Mayer, one of the rare people with whom he'd been able to spend time without discomfort and self-consciousness. It remembered, likewise, the exasperated mixture of anger and fondness with which Miles had regarded Daedalus Yumeno, with his wild vicissitudes between consummate professionalism and foolish sentiment. And it remembered the strange sort of envy Miles had felt for the two of them - for Yumeno, more specifically, who'd been so able to express his fondness for Re-l, without hesitation, without sanity. Miles Edgeworth would have looked upon this scene with solitude and want.

The ghost felt only disgust. The room was sullied by the crimes of these two. Indeed, perhaps it was not intimate at all, crowded as it was with the memory of those they'd killed.

And the ghost stood and watched them. Its expression gave nothing away.]

[proxysearch]

[She frowns into her tea, sighing softly. Vincent and Daedalus have been a comfort to her all day, but it still can't wash away the guilt and the pain she feels. Edgeworth trusted her and she wasn't even able-

Re-l lifts her eyes to Daedalus, half-smiling grimly.]

I just don't want you to be stuck here with me. You could actually be having a good time tonight. If you're worried, Vincent can-

[There's a shadow at the balcony and she pauses, setting her cup down and standing quickly, ready. If this is Grimmjow, she'll need to knock him out and get him as far from Daedalus as possible. As it turns out, however, the shadow cast is far more familiar. Her eyes widen.]

Mr. Edgeworth?

December 31st | Shortly After Sirens | Sector 3

[hairdecs]

Oh no oh no oh no!

[Finny is late. Late and very lost. Clutching a plastic bag in one hand he runs down the sidewalk, tears are already welling up in his eyes. He'd intended to be back to the mansion well before the sirens, but there had been a parrot in a pet shop on his way home and he'd lost track of time.]

Please please please no monsters!

[mentis_reae]

[The ghost doesn't appear before the boy. The ghost merely recognizes him, and recognizes what he's done, and acts.

The pavement comes up to seize Finnian about one ankle. Nothing more. Let his own momentum harm him.]

[hairdecs]

[And so it does. There is that brief moment where Finny doesn't realize what's happened, his eyes wide as he watches his plastic bag full of snacks go flying from his hands as his body is suddenly stopped mid-run. Before he can think, it's over, and he's had the wind knocked out of him by the cold pavement. With a small, shaky sob he tries to push himself up from the ground, only to become aware of a searing pain in his ankle.]

... aah! AAH! It huuuurts!

[mentis_reae]

[The ghost approaches in that moment, standing over him. It makes no move.]