Turnabout Tyson

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction. It uses some characters from Capcom's Ace Attorney series to create a pastiche, an affectionate parody.

This is chapter one. Chapter two is available here.

17 July

Cross Club

A murder took place here last night. A visitor of the club was pushed over the railing at the top of the stairs and died from the impact with the floor. He was pronounced dead in the hospital. At the time there were several other people present as part of a support group meeting for local transgender people, however, upon discovery of the body, they did not immediately call the police, fearing getting tangled up in a murder case and having to testify.

News about this nonetheless spread quickly and the infamous defense lawyer Phoenix Wright, who developed an interest in the case after recognizing the building as the old spot of the Borscht Bowl Club, the place where he had once worked as a pianist and illegally as a professional poker player. Since he had recently convinced a clerk that his law degree and experience "working with local police departments" (that is, Gumshoe) were sufficient to register him as a licensed private investigator, he arrived at the club with peace of mind, knowing he finally was not running afoul of the law. Pushing open an old wooden double door revealed the interior of the club, decorated with various infographics and motivational posters.

The curtains were still drawn shut from last night, and as he opened them he is blinded for a moment. It was a hot, sunny summer day, almost too hot to be walking around in a suit now with the sunshine falling through the window. The light shined on the empty room and he shudders as he sees the outline of the body that had by now carried away by the police to the forensics. Blood splatters were visible where the head was marked. No matter how often he had seen a crime scene like that, he still involuntarily winced every time. Just the thought of the moment of death was upsetting enough that he tried to quickly avert his eyes and look around for evidence that could help identify the culprit and bring them to justice, whoever they are.

He looked down. Right in front of him was a chair, part of a circle that had something laying on it. A collection of loose papers with the name of someone called Tyson Sagurl on it seemed to had the beginning of a crime story printed on them, simply titled "Meteor Story". What a sad irony that they were now evidence in a crime case themselves. He found a character list on the last page, and unsurprisingly, given the location, the protagonist was a trans tgirl character named Alexandra, stated to be a museum guide at a meteor crater museum. He noted it down and sent a photo to the court record.

He walked past the chair to a pinboard at the opposing wall that had caught his eyes and saw a long list where people could sign up for an e-mail newsletter of the support group. "They still have those?" he wondered. Those seemed like a relic of the past, but maybe some still found them useful again in a time where people trusted social networking increasingly less. There was also that Tyson Sagurl name on it again. Was that a regular? He added the list to the court record.

Other than that, there didn't seem to be much of note in the room aside from the position of the victim that he hadn't investigated yet. The police must have taken most of the crucial evidence with them already, to surprise the unlucky defense lawyer with it in the trial tomorrow. Phoenix sighed. He wished his court record that displayed all evidence known to him was synchronized with the one of the police.

In that moment he heard the door creaking and a curious figure walked in. It was a young person, apparently in their twenties, wearing black and white shoelaceless shoes, long cargo leggins, an oversized dark grey hoodie with the hood up and a yellow baseball cap as well as a bandana below that. Rather a strange attire at such high temperatures, Phoenix thought. But more importantly, why were they even entering to begin with?

"Hey, you can't come in. This is a crime scene" he called out to the visitor.

– "I'm just here to fetch some stuff I forgot." came an oddly high-pitched, but still boyish voice.

"Ah, so you're part of the transgender support group? Were you a witness to the crime?"

–"N-no, I'm a.. just a friend of someone here who came to pick up some papers that I forgot to take with me when I... I came to meet someone here."

This answer didn't convince Phoenix, and it wasn't just because of the four red psyche-locks that the magatama he was carrying showed him. This comma-shaped bead made from jade that was charged with spiritual energy allowed him to see a secret a person was hiding, visually represented as a big red rectangular lock.

A single shout of "Take that!" and a bonk with it to the head of the mysterious hooded figure later he saw the otherwise bright room surrounded by darkness, save for the person in front of him and the psyche-locks surrounding them.

"I can prove that you're connected to this place much more directly than you claim to be!"

The hooded figure winced.

–"H-how? I'm... I'm perfectly comfortable with my body, why would I come here otherwise!"

"OBJECTION!" shouted Phoenix so loud that Tyson covered his ears.

– "W-was that really necessary? I'm not in a courtroom..."

"Sorry, force of habit. Anyway, one look at you tells me you don't seem to be very happy with your appearance."

He made a dramatic pause, during which he realized how much the person in front of him seemed to quiver.

"It's a hot day outside. Most people would be wearing a t-shirt and shorts, or even less. Yet here you are, standing in front of me, covered from head to toe, dressed like it's some chilly autumn day. Who would do something like that if they are comfortable with their body?"

A single psyche-lock broke as the mysterious visitor led out a single yelp, visibly shaken.

"B-but that's just my style. How I dress doesn't tell you anything about who I am on the inside!" they protested, although their voice didn't match the confidence of their words.

"That's true." Phoenix said. "But you said you were looking for some papers, right? Maybe these ones that you left on the chair, *Tyson*? Where you made the protagonist a trans girl?" He held up the story he had found on the chair.

Another psyche-lock broke as the eyes of the person, now confirmed to be Tyson, went large and they stumbled two steps backwards.

"Give that to me! Just because... just because I decided for that kind of protagonist doesn't mean I identify with her! I just wanted to do a bit of representation..." Their voice trailed off, as if overcome by a sudden feeling of uncertainty.

Phoenix gave them the papers and they took out a folder from their backpack. But as they opened it, a single paper fell out and landed at Phoenix' feet.

Tyson managed to shout a loud "NO!" but it was too late, the paper had already been picked up.

"This is... an application to the local meteor museum? Tyson, do you still want me to believe that you didn't base the protagonist on yourself at all?"

Another psychelock broke as Tyson visibly winces.

– "Ugh, fine, yeah, I imagined what I would be like as a girl. So what? Can genderbender stories only be written by transgender people? There's nothing more to this." They tried to sound annoyed, but the anxiety was palpable.

"Objection! Tyson, you shouldn't lie to me. You were clearly here not just to pick up something. I have evidence that proves you were here before for other reasons. Just go over to the registration form for the newsletter for the support group."

The final psyche-lock broke as Tyson fell backwards on their behind, panting and wiping the sweat from their face.

– "Fine, I admit it. I was here at the meet-up. And I might have even seen something of the horrible murder here. Just please, don't tell anyone in court. I want to... just stay out of trouble."

"Of course."