howlingplayground | Edgey/Misa PSL

Edgey/Misa PSL

She doesn't know what happened. She doesn't understand. One moment, she is doing the hair of one of the other ladies, and the next there are people yelling, people with guns, and everyone is afraid. Nina had pinned her to a wall, and put herself in front of her, protecting her in the only way she could.

Freema is led out in cuffs. The Cook is yelling back that everything will be alright, poppet, just trust the men. No. Never trust men. Her time here at the House has taught her that.

Nina is pulled away and now she's scared. She doesn't know these people, she doesn't trust them, and they're taking away her friends.

"NINA!" Misa screams, when one of the men reach for her. She's quick enough to evade the hand, and grabs her knife from her thigh, wedging herself into a corner.

"We're not going to hurt you."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" She yells, too scared, too panicked to do anything but slash at the air.

The large man in the trenchcoat with the bandage on his nose crouches in front of her. "Now, listen, little miss. We're not going to hurt you." He says gently, not reaching out a hand. Probably smart, because she'll cut anyone that tries to touch her. One of the others whispers something in his ear and he nods, not taking his eyes off of her.

What is going on?!

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It had taken a long, long time to bust this trafficking ring, but the eventual raid always made the painstaking research worth it. All those late nights spent following up on leads, traveling from LA to Zheng Fa to Khura'in...all of it finally paid off.

A big tiger of a man - though he'd much prefer to be called a wolf - leans against a wall, watching the raid go down. "Your men didn't do a half-bad job of it, Edgeworth," he says to the red-suited man who's directing the traffic of the raid - or at least, doing his best to.

"Thank you, Agent Lang, you do so know I crave your approval," Miles Edgeworth says, barely sparing a glance at the Interpol agent.

"Shame your sister couldn't be here for this."

"Mm." Just as well, really. She'd probably be choking the ringleaders to death with her whip. There aren't a lot of things that Franziska von Karma would consider going outside the law to seek justice on. This is one of them. Especially since children had been involved. He doesn't half blame her. He thought he'd drawn the short straw on this one. "I suppose she'll get her day prosecuting some of them."

"Only some? You don't want all the fun for yourself?" Lang teases.

Before he can respond with something suitably biting, he notices Gumshoe crouched down next to someone. Probably one of the frightened, unfortunate children caught up in this whole scheme. "One moment, Lang," he says, and goes to see the detective and his new 'friend'.

Sure enough, it's a terrified-looking little girl, wielding a knife. Ah. A delicate situation, lest Gumshoe wish to become filleted. Miles knows the detective well enough to know that he's a teddy bear, but he certainly must look frightening enough. "You can stand down, detective. Give her some room." He turns his attention to the girl, crouching down outside arm's - and knife's - reach. "Are you all right, young lady? You're not hurt?"

Misa doesn't know any of these people. She just knows there's a lot of men around, and they've taken everyone away, including the Mistress! What is she supposed to do now? The big man slowly moves, being replaced by some dandy in red. She holds her knife steady, just like Jeff taught her.

Her hand pulls the second knife, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. She knows how to use these, and she will. She was promised sixteen, and she'll enforce that with blades if necessary. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Where are you taking Nina, Freema and Harry?" She wants to know where her friends are. She wants them back. She doesn't know where Jeff got to, but she's sure these people have him too. "Bring them back." She orders, with all the haughtiness of a thirteen year old that is being raised to take over as Mistress. She knows that she doesn't have the commanding tone of her Mistress, yet. But that will come in time.

Miles raises an eyebrow. "Since you're preparing to draw another knife, I'll assume that you're all right." He's been around the block. You can't fool him.

"They're just goin' down to the station, pal," Gumshoe says soothingly, trying to keep from alarming her - the perennial 'good cop' to Miles' 'bad' one. "We just wanna ask them some questions. That's all. They'll be okay. Promise."

Well, he wasn't wrong. But it was definitely not going to be quite that cut-and-dried.

"You're not in any danger," Miles says. "So if you could please stand down."

Why yes, she does have a second knife, and a third, but that one's a spare just in case. Jeff had trained her well. "No." She says, still crouched in the corner like a well dressed feral cat. She ignores the frumpy one and keeps her eyes on the well dressed one. He's the one that's in charge. She can tell.

Her white dress pools around her feet, hiding the heels that she's wearing. Her make up is perfect, flawless, even though she's scared, she's been crying, and she just wants her friends back.

"I want my friends back." She all but snarls. She wants them back, immediately.

She starts easing along the wall, heading for the door. Still with her knives, though. She knows there's a way out through the kitchen and she plans on using it, if she can get there.

"You'll get 'em back," says Gumshoe. "We just gotta make sure you're not hurt. Take you to the hospital, and all."

The girl seems half-feral, but at least she hasn't kicked Miles in the shins. Like Kay did when she was a child.

There's the sound of rapidly-approaching heels from the direction the girl is scooting towards, and then--

Wha-pish! "Yeowch!"

"Scruffy! Get back from that child, you're frightening her!"

"Y-yes, sir!" Gumshoe says, scrambling backwards.

"Ah. Franziska." Miles glances at her, not getting up from his crouch. "I didn't think you'd show up."

"Fool," Franziska scoffs. "I wouldn't miss it. This is my raid, too." She looks at the child. "You. Are you all right?"

The woman is far more what Misa is used to. A woman in charge; having the whip doesn't bother her at all. She relaxes some, but doesn't put away her knives.

"No, Mistress." She says softly. "They took all my friends." Which is the plaintive cry of a child and not the courtesan to be. She's the only child here, though there are other places that have more. The children that work the kitchen, that Misa sees them leading out in tears (Look, everyone loves Freema. The overweight, overbearing cook has always been there for them) and clinging to one another.

One of the girls looks over at her, but she doesn't move, no matter how much she wants to run over and grab the girl, shaking her.

"Hmm." Franziska gives the girl a curious look. "I'm no 'mistress'. Ms. von Karma will do." Keep yourself at a remove, Miles know she's thinking. Don't get attached. If you get attached, you'll get angry. "No one here will harm you or your friends."

"That's what I was trying to tell her," Miles says, and doesn't even have to look up at his sister to know that he's getting glared at.

"Miles Edgeworth, you are clearly not equipped to deal with a distraught young woman. I remember Miss Faraday."

"I calmed her down, didn't I?"

"Not without taking several kicks in the shins."

"Franziska," Miles says, dragging a hand down his face, knowing that she's undermining his authority on purpose. But at least that might make him less frightening to the girl...?

She cocks her head to the side, like a curious bird, watching the pair of them. It's obvious they're either related, or have known each other a very long time. She's seen it in the house before. But while they're distracted, she's going to sidle toward the kitchen. Don't mind her...

She slips around a corner and screams because one of the boys and bullets crowd decides that she needs taken. Then, he yells, as her knives flash and she cuts through his clothing on his thigh, leaving a deep cut... deep enough that several people come running and tend to him as she races for the kitchen and the hidey hole there.

... Does she make it?

Nope!

"Easy there, little cub," Agent Lang says, putting one hand on her shoulder and holding her wrists behind her back with the other - gently enough not to hurt her, but firmly enough to immobilize her. He moves quickly, for such a large man.

"Agent Lang, let go of her," Franziska says, approaching with her brother.

"What, and let her get another of us with her claws? Not a chance." He wrenches one out of her grip and tosses it to the ground, kicking it away. "How's Harris?"

"He'll live," Miles says, approaching the gathering. "Though not without quite a few stitches."

Edited 2019-12-12 00:36 (UTC)

"LET ME GO!" She struggles, but the big man just removes her knife from her other hand. And then finds the third and takes that too. She's now completely without weapons. She's not sorry for knifing the man. He shouldn't have grabbed her! "Let me go!" She still doesn't understand. All she knows is all the men around here...

She struggles against his hold, but it's solid, and there's no reason to hold her any more. Jeff isn't here, Freema's gone, the Mistress is taken away, and Nina and Harry are also gone. She doesn't know where they all are.

"I'm not sixteen, let me go!" She tries turning to kick him in the shin, and manages to kick one of the other men that comes too close.

"Sixteen? What does sixteen have to--" Miles paled. Franziska paled. Lang paled.

"Lang. Let her go," Franziska said commandingly, and the Interpol agent backed down.

"'Lang Zi says: the wolf who gets between mother and cub does so at his own peril.'" Swish-crack! "Aiya!"

"Do I look old enough to be her mother? Cease your prattling of proverbs," Franziska snapped at him, before returning her attention to the girl. "Child, what's your name?"

Misa scoots away from the man, backing against a wall. Better to have the wall behind her than the men. She doesn't like it. But she doesn't even flinch at the whip crack. It doesn't bother her and it's not the first time she's seen it as a disciplinary weapon.

She is watching between the adults, wanting to run again, but seeing that they aren't going to let her.

"My name is Misa, Mis- Von Karma." She wonders if they're going to change it too. She remembers what her mother called her, but no one but Jeff calls her that, and even he only uses a nickname that she'd whispered to him in the deep of night. Freema knows it too, but that's different. Freema knows everything.

"Will I ever see them again?" She asks.

"Misa. Do you have a last name?" Franziska is asking both out of genuine concern and out of a need to try and match her up with any missing persons reports. "And how old are you? You certainly couldn't be mistaken for sixteen."

Sixteen! Franziska's mad enough to chew nails and spit rust. A child being groomed for sexual purposes, and for those to begin at sixteen!

She shares a glance with Miles. "That's not my place to say," she says after a moment. "You'd be served better asking him about that." Yes, she's throwing her brother under the bus, and gladly so. "But you've no need to worry. No harm will come to you - and nobody will touch you - while I'm around."

Miles, meanwhile, is having a brief conversation with one of the officers. When he turns back, he looks at Misa. "Miss Misa, you will be able to see them again. Right now, they're just being questioned at the station. Most of them shouldn't be in much trouble." He's not going to sugarcoat it, though. "A few of them may be, but that depends on what we learn in questioning."

Police station. They took her family to the police station. She feels the tears building and blinks impossible lashes.

"I'm thirteen." She's been groomed to answer the question. She knows what outsiders think, but really, it's not that big a deal. "And I'm just Misa." She admits. No last name was ever needed.

She wraps her arms around herself, trying not to cry. She wants Freema, and tarts and for things to be normal.

She wants to not do homework, and learn to cook under Freema's sharp eye. She wants to see about sneaking down and joining some of the festivities for the evening clients.

"I'm never going to see the Mistress again, am I?"

"You might," Miles says, neglecting to mention that it'll be on the witness stand if she does see the 'Mistress' ever again. "But I wouldn't pin my hopes on it."

Wha-pish!

"Ngoooh!"

"Miles Edgeworth! Speak with more sensitivity!"

"I'm just trying not to sugarcoat it!"

Not even the dandy getting disciplined is enough to bring a smile to her face. She doesn't care. Sliding down the wall, she puts her head in her knees and starts silently weeping. She'd learned to never let them hear, but sometimes, a good cry is needed.

She'll never be quit of this place, then. Only the Mistress can release a contract. Only the Mistress controls the money.

If she can't get back to the Mistress, she'll always be in this place, and nowhere else. It isn't fair!

"Boss, we found a safe, combination lock. Gotta get the bomb boys in to open it up for us." She's not sure which one of the three "bosses" hanging around the man is talking to, but she knows which safe that is he's talking about. She knows the combination. She'd had to learn it. The Mistress had made sure of that. She also knows the combination to the hidden safe, under the desk, but she's not going to tell them about that.

"Let me take a look, then," Lang says, and goes with the man who brought up the safe, leaving the two siblings behind with the crying girl. Miles rather suspected that Lang had jumped at the chance to get out of the awkward situation.

"Oh. Here, Miss Misa. Please don't cry," Miles says, taking a spare jabot out of his satchel and holding it out to her. "Dry your eyes. You'll be safe. There's no need to worry about that."

Misa doesn't look up as the agent leaves. He won't get them open. The Mistress had been very strict about passwords and combinations. They'd had to remove the hinges just to get into her office. Misa doesn't look up.

She looks up at him incredulous when he says she'll be safe.

"Safe? You took my friends, my family away and you think I'll be Safe?" She really does not understand this man's idea of safe. And why does he have a purse?

"The Mistress always said no one understood." She takes the handkerchief, and dabs at her eyes. None of the make up comes off, even with the moisture. "You even took my guard, didn't you?" Jeff had been out on an errand for the Mistress, so she assumes they caught him too.

"When people say things like that, they usually have an ulterior motive," Miles says, more to himself than to her. Textbook narcissistic abuse. Textbook. And it made sense, didn't it? An abuser like this 'Mistress' would want her people to trust her, and only her. Don't talk to outsiders. Don't trust outsiders. They'll never understand.

He lets go of his arm - he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding it until Franziska had cleared her throat and started to speak. "It's possible," she said. "Likely, even. But if he did no wrong, he won't be charged with a crime."

Miles is still only half-present, thinking. "I know it's difficult to believe, coming from a strange adult," he says, as soothingly as possible. "But nobody will ever hurt you again. I can promise you that."

She stares at him. "With Jeff around, no one ever touched me." She snaps at him. "No one." Not even the Mistress - who didn't believe in corporal punishment anyway. The Mistress hadn't wanted to damage the merchandise, after all.

She looks past him at the door all her family had been lead out of, in cuffs. The children from the kitchen had been lead out that way too. She is probably never going to see them again.

"Where will you take me?" She asks, miserable. She's never getting away from these people. All her hard work, all her desperate study hours, wasted, gone, all because these people decided that someone did something wrong and deserved to be punished.

"Good," says Miles, knowing that there are more ways than physical abuse to hurt someone, and that this child is clearly exhibiting signs of them. "That's a point in his favor, then."

"The hospital first," says Franziska. "That's where all of the children and those who have been held here are going."

She looks up at the woman who seems to be in charge of the man in charge of ripping their family apart.

"I don't need the hospital," She mutters mutinously. "Just put me wherever you took Freema and Jeff." She wants her family back. She has no mother, no father, so she's sure there's no one else to come for her.

Then, she stands up, squares her shoulders. Time to stop acting like a child. The Mistress would be horrified at her current behavior. "Take me wherever you wish."

(Franziska? In charge? Miles would debate that. He's not pretending to be her subordinate this time!)

Well, at least she's being a little more cooperative now. "It'll just be a standard check-up," he says. "We need to ensure that you're healthy." He doesn't say that the results of all the checkups will determine the extent of the ringleader's charges. Degree of neglect, and so forth. Not that the charges will be good in any case.

Franziska snaps her whip in Gumshoe's general direction. "Scruffy! Do we have an available ambulance?"

"Y-yes, sir!"

"Good. I shall accompany this girl to the hospital." Franziska isn't stupid. The girl seems to be a lot more comfortable around women than men.

Misa holds her head high and her shoulders square as she walks out of the house where she'd spent the last nine years of her life. Outside is a cacophony of lights. Ambulances, police cars and even firetrucks have assembled to watch the destruction of her home. Not to mention the people behind the barricades, who are watching and filming on their phones.

Misa almost makes it to the ambulance, when she hears her name. She whips around and sees Jeff struggling against four men that are trying to cuff him. She races over to him and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He gets one arm free and wraps it around her. "Easy, poppet."

"Jeff, they took everyone," she whispers brokenly into his neck.

"I know, kiddo, I know." He whispers. Then, he switches to rapidly whispered Japanese. "You be the Little Mistress, alright? Do not let them see you cry, and never forget that I will always come for you, no matter what. Do you understand?"

She nods and lets him go, her makeup still perfect, still in place. She doesn't want to lose her friends, but seeing Jeff made her feel better.

"And another thing, Little Mistress," he says, straightening up as they put cuffs on him. "Never forget who you are." HE says, softly, in Japanese, and then meekly follows the police, putting him into a car.

She takes a shuddering breath and then walks back, sedately to the ambulance. "I'm ready."

Neither Miles nor Franziska intervene as young Misa runs to her guard. Miles at least knows the pain of being ripped from a familiar situation, and Franziska is trying to win her trust. They don't try to listen in to the whispered conversation...

...but Miles catches what Jeff says in Japanese as he's led off, and he logs it away. It's a language he keeps in his back pocket, and he's not going to tell anyone why he knows it. ~~Signal Samurai merch is difficult to find in the States, after all.~~

Franziska guides her to the ambulance and climbs in with her. Time to go to the hospital.

Miles watches the ambulance go, thinking to himself about the whole situation.

"Lang Zi says: Wayward cubs need guidance from an alpha who is up to the challenge," a rumbling voice says from next to him.

"Agent Lang...if you would kindly put a Kong toy in it."

"Aiya!"

Edited 2020-05-10 18:55 (UTC)

Misa is silent in the ambulance as they get vitals, and some basic readings from her. She answers their questions with monosyllables, and stares at her perfectly manicured fingers.

They're met at the hospital by a social worker, and a nurse who'd been told what is going on. The nurse is a forensic specialist, and had worked with a couple of the other children, all untouched, thankfully.

She walks up to the ambulance as the backdoors open. "Hello, Ms. Von Karma. I wasn't expecting you." Molly Bear, the nurse, had worked on a couple of cases with the prosecutor in the past and liked the woman. But she's surprised to see her with one of the last children from that... place.

Misa looks at Ms. Von Karma and waits to be told what to do. It is not for men - the EMTs - to tell her where to go.

Franziska nods at the nurse as she approaches. "I was one of the leaders of this operation, and this young lady preferred to have a woman with her as she came to be examined."

She looks at the girl - Misa - and gestures to Ms. Bear. "She will take care of you now. I'm not equipped to deal with...the rest of this." Then, as an afterthought, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a business card, presenting it to Misa. Franziska von Karma, Prosecutor, it says under the INTERPOL seal.

"If you need to contact me, my office and business cell phone numbers are on here," she says. "Miles Edgeworth, Agent Lang, and I will be checking on all of you in the next few days."

Molly is surprised. She's never seen Von Karma as a particularly warm woman, but then with her father who could be?

Misa drops out of the ambulance landing easily, still wearing the heels she'd been in this entire time. The paramedics had attempted to get her to take them off, but she'd just ignored the request. She takes the card from the woman with the whip and curtsies. "Thank you Ms. Von Karma." She says, almost robotically.

Molly waves off the paramedics. "I'll take it from here guys, thanks." She looks at the young child and hates her job. Tonight is definitely a 'go home and drink a bottle of wine' night. Her husband will understand. "What's your name?"

"My name is Misa."

"And your last name?" The social worker asks.

Misa just shrugs. She's never had one, for as long as she can remember.

Gently, Molly herds the young lady into the hospital. It's going to be a long night.

It's a long night, to be sure.

There's paperwork, so much paperwork, and while the girls have been checked out at the hospital, Miles goes to speak to Jeff, who is currently in custody. How much did he know? How much had he participated in the ring? The more he told them, the lesser his sentence would be.

"Mr. Garret," he says, sitting in the interrogation room across from the man who'd been ever so close to the girl who'd tried to knife his men - and him. "I doubt you'll want to exchange pleasantries, but nonetheless - how are you doing?"

Jeff Garret, 39, white male, tattoos on both arms, six foot about 220 pounds. He's not a huge guy, but he can take on more than one opponent at once, and had proven that, when the cops had tried to take him in, when he'd been trying to get to Misa.

"Where's Misa?" He asks, immediately, trying to stand and his cuffs rattling against the table. "What have you done with her?" He demands. His comfort doesn't matter. He needs to get to Misa.

Edgeworth isn't fazed at all by Garret's display of anger. Still, he makes a mental note about how concerned he seems to be for her well-being.

"She's at the hospital," he said. "It's standard procedure to take minors there when they're recovered from these situations. I've no doubt she'll be kept overnight for observation at least. I assure you, she won't be coming to any harm."

He slumps in his chair, knowing she won't be alright. A strange place, with strange people. She'll be terrified. "Where's Freema Dangali? The cook that you took." He explains. "Misa is going to be terrified. She's never been anywhere without one of us with her." His hands jerk against the cuffs again.

"Please." He says, softly. "I'll tell you whatever you want. But let me stay with Misa. She's not going to handle this well." He knows that. "She doesn't know anyone, she's never been out of the House's influence, since she was four." He raises scared blue eyes to the prosecutor. But they aren't scared for him, but for her. "Please."

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Edgey/Misa PSL

shh it okay

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"some dandy"?! HE'LL HAVE YOU KNOW HE'S NEVER BEEN A DANDY IN HIS LIFE HE'S JUST FASHIONABLE

So are dandies. Deal with it.

rude

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IT'S A SATCHEL! INDIANA JONES HAS ONE!!

ITS A MURSE A MAN-PURSE

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