WWCF Chapter 4

CHAP 4


At first no one but Edgeworth seemed to notice the sound of pedals and the chain working at the gears, but soon the reporters and the other winners began to look for the source. Miles followed the man around the corner of the post office and watched as he drove past all the contestants and reporters in a blur, stopping at the gates.

When he got off his bike, to place and lock it against the fence, Miles took full stock of his preposterous wardrobe. The man, possibly about Edgeworth's age and height was wearing a long-tailed vibrant-purple jacket, an oversized brown top hat, and striped blue and fuchsia pants. From the looks of him he'd been wearing the same clothes for a several days consecutively (or alternatively sleeping in them) as the jacket was wrinkled beyond reason. The hat had the appearance of being sat on a few times in it's lifetime and the pants appeared to be a touch too short, as the man had pulled up his socks to fill the parts where the pants didn't quite cover. There was scrapes and minor tears on many of the seams and elbows and knees, but in light of this the man was whistling quite contently to himself.

With the bike secured to the gate he began to fumble in his pockets and began sorting though what must have been hundreds of miniature keys of every shape size and color. Edgeworth, even at such a distance and with his poor far-sight, wanted to question that some of the keys weren't, in fact, children's toys or made of plastic.

Everyone stood frozen in place for a time, watching as the man fumbled through his pockets to uncover another key ring, then another. Finally he finds the key that he was looking for and begins to sing the ending of his song.

"Present evidence as your aid an yell, yell ye~ll," with that final 'yell' he pokes the key into the lock  shouting "Objection!"just as the gate begins to swing open.

As if on cue, the reporters and journalists realize that this man must, in fact, be connected with the factory (as opposed to some drunken vagrant) and flock to the man shouting over each other creating the perfect cinematographer's "wawa" audio rabble.

The man, who until now has somewhat managed to both keep his face hidden and remain oblivious to their presence, turns revealing his full facial features. For an instant, Miles thinks that he recognizes the man, but can't seem to place where. Shrugging it off as just another person he probably convicted (a more common scenario than he ever liked to admit) he decides to take a back seat and watch as the scene unfolds.

The reporters eventually calm enough that individual questions can be heard and they all silence to see if an answer is to be made. The man seems more confused than anything and instead just replied to their questions with the "5 w's"

"HEY, mister, " the woman reporter that had the far-reaching lens pointed in Miles' face shouts out, "What are you so confused about, don't you work at this factory?"

The man looks beyond the gate and then back a them "Oh this is a factory? I thought I lived here? Uhm, why? What are all of you doing out here anyway, this town's pretty dead, I mean..." He looked to the post office he had just passed moments before and scratched his head just below the hat, "Why would anyone want to come here?"

No one seems to know how to answer any of those questions, so as quickly as their excitement boomed the reporters lost all their steam, their scoop certainly a flop after all.

Everyone seemed content to throw in the towel, move on to the next step – deciding what to do from here. But to Miles this was a cause of infuriation. He had been forced against his will to go on a vacation he didn't want by a supervisor with special hold over him and was removed from all active cases just to see a hobo with toys? Not on his watch. Not today.

Quickly and pointedly Miles approached the gate right as the man went to turn and enter.

"I have your answer, and you will answer it in kind," Miles said with words that would otherwise have been pleasant enough, if not for his dangerously demanding delivery of them. "Are you the eccentric, small-time factory-owning fool who sent out four pointless golden tickets wrapped beneath the covers of your mediocre chocolates as a way to boost sales? Or are you in fact here to let those contest winners actually do something with their time, rather than sit around and waste their lives when there is work that could be taken care of and completed?"

Everyone, as earlier, took a step back from Edgeworth.

All but the eccentric purple-faring man, who actually turned to better face Edgeworth with an increasingly confused look on his face.

"Huh? Golden tickets?"

Edgeworth solidified his unrelenting gaze by crossing his arms across his chest and squarely planting himself in front of the man. All the man offers as a response is to look down rubbing his chin as his eyes became unfocused, the gears slowly shaking off their rust.

Spinning suddenly and taking a quick hop to the main gate-post the purple-clad man removes a loose panel and clicks a telecom button hidden within.

Suddenly a young female voice with a bit too much of a sugary ring shouts out "Whatsup Wills? Back already?"

"Heya Maya, what's todays date?"

"Uhm, I dunno? Where's your calendar again?" and rustling noises could be heard

"Wait, are you in my office?"

"Oh uhm, hhe AH here it is, OH NICK! TODA Y YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE THAT GOLDEN THING! Oops, guess we forgot!"

While the reporters suddenly dash forth, once again rejuvenated by the potentiality of a scoop,  Miles makes his way to the side while making two distinct observations from the short exchange he just herd. Firstly, this man had initially said that he had lived here, implied, even, that it wasn't a factory at all, but they mention then they understood the premise of the golden tickets and the fact state that he has an office inside. Those would be otherwise unnecessary things to hide, so why had they been hidden, wasn't this Golden Ticket fiasco public news? So why hide it now?

Secondly this "Maya" had just referred to the purported Mr Wright as two distinct names. Miles took it for what it was worth – for now – as he wasn't sure what relevance that had to anything at present. But he made the decision that it was time to use his phone to keep notes, as the mental ones were likely to become distorted rather quickly. Judging from the questions from the reporters, he assumed none of them had yet picked up on either of these little factoids, but at present he wasn't sure if it even mattered. It was just something he did often at work, find and overcome contradictions. And in law, they were ever present.

After being bombarded by the reporters for nearly 30 seconds 'Mr. Wright' replies somewhat sardonically "Well, if I wanted everyone to know what I was planning, I would have just set up a line at the door for a paid admission... Hahah?"

The awkwardness of the statement makes the reporters go silent, yet again. But this time they all glance nervously around. So the story is true, there is a special trip about to happen, the man in charge of it is quite possibly insane and they can't learn anything about it... or him...

The story is a flop after all.

At this resounding silence, the ever-odd 'Mr Wright' takes advantage of his chance to finally halfway  escape beyond the barely open gate.

"So uh.. why don't the contest winners come in now?" With his head poking around the metal gate. "Oh, but I need your tickets, or you cant come in...?" He sad unsurely.

Taking his moment of uncertainty at full, Regina rushes him, resuming her waterworks, "Please, may I bring in Regent? I promise he wont eat your candies! He's a good tiger, really!"

"Did he win a golden ticket?"

Her barely begun tears stop suddenly on her cheeks, "Well...n-no?"

"Then I guess he cant, you need a golden ticket to enter. Besides, he'd probably eat Charley..."

"Ch-charley?"

"Yeah, well, that or Maya, Maya's pretty small, I bet he'd eat her. And she's like.. my assistant or something. I'm not really sure, actually. Sometimes she seems to make my work harder, you know, getting stuck in the weird metallic clunky … things … all over the place-"

"Do you mean the equipment?" Miles interjected somewhat startled.

"Uhm, yeah I guess they are machines, or something. I don't actually know how they work?"

The man just shrugged and continued, "Anyway to get in you need a ticket and I guess if you have luggage you'll probably need that, but I don't have those fancy cart-things you see at high-end hotels-"

"You mean a dolly? Any hotel has those..."

"Well whatever, the places I stay at don't have them, so clearly you stay at fancier places, Mr Has-a-Nicer-Suit-Than-Me.... Nice color by the way, is that mauve, or burgundy?"

Miles, put on the spot and not sure how to react, faltered in place. Quickly he decided it was time to change the topic "Golden Tickets and luggage... then?"

"YUP! Yeh get your stuff quickly so I can lock this gate and all, cant have anything escaping, it's kinda like- I shouldn't have it open this long, actually. Maya's probably watching the camera's and yelling at me on the screens..."

Escaping? I thought it was to keep peddlers OUT? Miles looked to his effects by the bench and watched as the other contestants start gathering their things in a bit of a haze. Half the reporters now gone, the other half getting whatever footage they still can. Perhaps I can sell-... Lana would be furious... I would loose all my cases for at least a month... among... other things...

Edgeworth put his head in his hand, hoping against hope that this was all just a dream but futilely knowing that it wasn't. He was aware that some minor conversations were going on around him, but was unable to really care or listen. He was gathering all his will to try to leave, knowing the outcome, but also fearing the result of if he stayed.

Suddenly a gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder, causing him to jolt uncomfortably.

It was Mr Wright.

"Hey, look, I can tell you are on edge, and all, but show me what you're worth and lets get moving."

The man then turned and pulled out his keys again, having shut the others in on the other side of the gate to go fetch him. Miles gathered his belongings somberly.

Had he just done that on purpose, or was that just a coincidence?

Who is this man...

And why could Edgeworth not shake the feeling that he had know him from somewhere?