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[edge_of_honor]

Characters: Miles Edgeworth and Ocelot
Content: Edgeworth and Ocelot have a chance meeting after their poker match. Ocelot is unsatisfied with the results, but not for the reasons one might expect.
Setting: A more secluded part of the fair
Time: Late at night, after the races
Warnings: Excessive pride, violence, embarrassment squick, FAILURE



Well, that had been ...interesting, for a certain value of interesting. Perhaps if Edgeworth was honest with himself, he would have called it "foolish", but instead he comforted himself with the fact that the point wasn't the game, but the people he was playing with.

Who, with one glaring exception, were mostly worthless. Edgeworth shook his head as he walked through the streets. The results of the race only increased his sour mood, and he needed to be as far away from the cheering crowds as possible. Souji's near-victory was one highlight, but it wasn't nearly enough to balance out the rank of his own pilots - nor did it distract from the complications brought on by the winner. Now that he had licked his wounds, though, perhaps it would be best to return to the Victoria II.

Ocelot would really have to radio the Ocelot Unit for moral support after this. ...Not that he needed it. The fact that a member of his ship had made it into the top three should have been enough. He just- ...wait a second. There was Miles Edgeworth. He had very nearly missed the man, and probably would have if not for the fact that he was one of those who had snubbed him during the poker match a few nights ago. Ocelot stopped in his tracks, paused a moment, then began to trail him.

Ignorant of the man behind him, Edgeworth continued his walk. The cool evening breeze helped soothe his frustration, but he found it impossible to relax completely. Something felt off; something wasn't right. He frowned, and his pace slowed slightly as he tried to listen for any unusual sounds.

Ocelot stopped a second after Edgeworth did. This really wasn't a good idea, and certainly, it would possibly throw his cover... but at the moment, he wasn't really thinking about that. At the moment, his pride was a lot more important. There was going to be a confrontation of some sort, but, of course, he had to spin it in his favor...

...and he heard nothing, other than the noise of people shuffling away from the night. Edgeworth shook his head; his nerves were getting to him worse than he anticipated. He did his best to ignore the uneasy feeling that gnawed at his gut and walked forward.

Right. Ocelot was fine... for now, at least. This area looked relatively deserted, but... it could still be risky.

Oh well. Ocelots were clever creatures. Even if in the worst situation, they could always find ways out. He headed towards Edgeworth, removing his gun from his holster.

The unease only continued to rise, and the hairs on the back of Edgeworth's neck stood up straight as the silence wore down on his nerves. However, it wasn't completely quiet; as he moved forward, a soft, muffled sound of footsteps teased his imagination. His pace quickened as he glanced over his shoulder

...to see one of the men from the poker match behind him, reaching for a firearm. He froze for the briefest of moments, before he swore under his breath and dodged for cover.

Shit! Ocelot meant to get behind him and challenge him to a formal duel at gunpoint, but now the whole thing was bound to be misinterpreted.

"Son of a bitch!" he muttered, before dodging out of sight himself. He'd have to find out some way to do this right...

Edgeworth's heart raced as he scrambled behind his hiding spot, a small makeshift booth covered in tarp. What the hell was that man playing at?! Was it a grudge from the game...no, no, that didn't make any sense. That stranger came out of it better than he did. It had to be something else...

He remained perfectly still, other than his hand. It crept towards his jacket, where he hid his own firearm, and he quietly pulled the pistol out.

Right. Ocelot couldn't see him, but he figured that... he'd just have to sneak around to Edgeworth, that was all. It was dark enough that he might be able to go unnoticed, but he was wearing a white shirt... ah, well. There was a possibility that he could manage it.

Right now, Ocelot was behind a stack of cardboard boxes that a vendor had propped up, and while he couldn't see the other man, he had a decent idea of the direction he'd gone in, at least. Now, to get from point A to point B...

Everything was silent, and Edgeworth saw or heard no evidence of the other man. However, that hardly meant that he was gone. As quiet as ever, he glanced to the side in the hopes of finding more cover. A larger, more sturdier booth had been set up some ways ahead; the trick was getting to it without being seen. He counted to three in his head before he dashed forward to the next hiding spot.

Ocelot poked his head around the boxes just in time to see Edgeworth running elsewhere. Of course, where he was going made things a little harder, partially because it meant he'd have to sneak more, and partially because Ocelot wasn't entirely sure where he was going. Maybe it'd be best to just shoot him now. Of course... he could always dash to the place Edgeworth had been hiding while he was running. Which was what Ocelot intended to do, and considering Edgeworth was probably concentrating on heading somewhere else... he made his way over there as quickly as possible.

Whatever noise Ocelot made (if he made any noise, that is) were covered by Edgeworth's own soft steps. The spy was certainly right about one thing; for the moment, he was too busy getting to the new spot to worry about what was behind him.

Now safe once again, he hissed his breath in and glanced around to inspect his cover.

Hmm... now what to do. Ocelot considered loading his gun for whenever the opportunity arose, but... by that point, it was possible that Edgeworth would be gone. It was probably best to locate him and find some way to isolate him. He crouched and peeked out from behind his own cover, first inspecting a small, deserted booth, then letting his eyes wander to others.

So far, so good. If he moved further, he could possibly - possibly - make it into an area that was less deserted. If he could find other people, then perhaps this man would be less likely to do something dangerous. However, he had to be quick. Edgeworth looked forward, and to his chagrin, saw nothing more than large boxes. Still, they were better than nothing. He prepared for another sprint, and moved swiftly.

All was not well, though. Before he could hide properly, he heard a muffled rustling behind him. Alarm bells rang in his head, and he scrambled inside the box for cover.

Ocelot's eyes finally chanced upon a larger stall-he'd missed Edgeworth, but it did seem like a good place to hide. He watched it intently and saw something move-but, disappointingly, it turned out to be a cat. Still, it was a good place to look. He discreetly stood up and ran over to another stall closer to that one, but still a yard or so away.

...and, if that "mew" was any indication, the noise was a damn cat. Edgeworth grit his teeth, and tried to ignore it. Go away, he willed silently. Go on, shoo!

The cat only batted at the cardboard. Edgeworth suppressed a groan, and realized this was going to be a very long evening.

Ocelot watched the cat for a moment, before shaking it off and attempting to scan for Edgeworth again. After all, cats of all stripes were solitary creatures. ...well, except for lions, but lions were just weird. On the other hand, maybe that booth over there would give him a better vantage point. He took another cursory look at his surroundings to make sure that Edgeworth wasn't getting away before he headed off.

Ocelot didn't have anything to worry about - for the moment, Edgeworth was stuck. He glowered at the wall of his box in a vain hope that it would reach that damnable cat, but otherwise, did nothing. Fortunately, though, the pawing and scratching had stopped, but he remained where he was just to be on the safe side.

No Edgeworth in sight. Not good, but... not bad, either. Ocelot headed over to the stall he'd sighted and... resisted every urge to pet the cat. It would probably just humiliate the poor thing.

Now, to figure out something he could do... hm. His eyes fell upon the cardboard box that was lying on the ground. Was it empty? If so, it was entirely possible that he could hide in it and watch for Edgeworth if he cut a hole out of it. After a moment of observation, he lifted it up slightly.

The good news: Edgeworth didn't have to worry about peeking outside of his box to scope the area.

The badnews: this was because his pursuer was right next to him.

Instinct took over and Edgeworth froze instantly. He didn't make any sound; how could he, when his breath died in his throat? His pulse beat hard enough to feel like it his veins were about to burst, while his hand gripped his pistol firmly enough to whiten his knuckles.

Ocelot finished lifting the box, only to find Miles Edgeworth. He stood vaguely dumbfounded for a second, before quickly pointing his gun at the back of Edgeworth's head.

"I guess tonight's a lucky night for me."

...and there he was. Edgeworth gulped and resisted the urge to panic or flee. There was nothing he could do yet; he had to wait for an opening.

"This is a mistake, you know," he said, his voice low and quiet.

"You're getting the wrong impression," said Ocelot, lifting his gun up enough that, even if his gun was loaded, he wouldn't be shooting anyone in the head. He walked in front of Edgeworth with a somewhat predatory gait, examining the man. He'd caught the glint of something metallic before, so... it was probably best to ask. "What kind of gun do you use?"

"A revolver," he said, his voice tense. Edgeworth gave no more information; he wouldn't give anything more than absolutely necessary. His adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his eyes never left the other man's gun.

"You've got good taste in guns," said Ocelot, giving his own revolver a quick spin. "I'd be more inclined to start up a conversation about them if I wasn't about to challenge you to a duel of honor."

"...a what?"

The brittle calm Edgeworth had managed was now replaced by a sort of incredulous disgust. This psychopath tracked him down through the streets, nearly scared him out of his wits, and chased him into a box for a duel? Just what the hell was wrong with him?!

"Why?" he asked, his voiced strained?

...ah, and there was the question. He couldn't say 'because I felt slighted that you weren't paying any attention to me,' because that wasn't impressive in the slightest.

"You can't blame me for being a little interested after running right into the first mate of the Victoria II," he said, pacing slightly. "I want to see if you're really as impressive as that position implies."

That sounded... really cool. He'd have to remember that.

Was he serious? He couldn't be serious. Nobody acted this way outside of radio serials and pulp novels. This was the real world!

"And how do you plan to do that?" he asked coolly. "I doubt the security will look kindly on an impromptu duel."

"There doesn't seem to be any security here," said Ocelot, rifling through his pockets. Real bullets wouldn't be a good idea here, unless he actually wanted to get kicked off the Winding Way, so he selected a blank and loaded it. "At the moment, anyway, and I doubt a quick-draw would be enough to attract anyone's attention." Plus, it would be completely worth it for the expression on Edgeworth's face afterwards.

Edgeworth wasn't so certain about that, but for the moment, it didn't seem prudent to argue with a man loading a revolver. While the stranger busied himself with his firearm, the first mate began to hatch a plan. Unfortunately, it meant he had to go along with this insanity, but if it worked...

"And is that all you want?"

"Of course," said Ocelot, his voice almost sounding cheerful at this point. His initial objective would be accomplished, plus... he'd always wanted to do this. The conditions weren't completely favorable-after all, this would be much better if it were high noon.

"So, we count to ten, and then draw our pistols?"

"Yes," said Ocelot, sounding vaguely irritated. Didn't this guy know anything about this sort of thing at all?

Of course Edgeworth knew about these sort of things, but these were mostly via hearsay and dramas. He didn't make it a habit to challenge random strangers to fight to the death.

"Very well," he said, lifting the box. "Let me get out of this damn thing first, and then we'll start."

"Alright," said Ocelot, stepping back slightly, although not letting Edgeworth out of his sight.

The box was tossed aside, and Edgeworth stood up with as much dignity as a man who had just been cowering under cardboard could muster.

"Are you ready?"

...that looked pretty cool, too, the way he threw the box off. Ocelot figured it was probably a pretty good idea that he wasn't killing him. ...for a number of reasons, of course.

"I was born ready."

"Very well. Let's start this properly - my back to yours, pistol raised, and then we start to count to ten." Edgeworth took a step forward and turned around, and waited for Ocelot to follow his lead.

"One..."

Ocelot gripped his gun, held right to his side, and stepped forward as well.

"Two..."

Another step forward.

"Three...."

And another.

"Four..."

"Five..."

"Six..."

"Seven..."

"Eight..."

Edgeworth gripped his pistol, and instead of continuing his slow march forward, he spun around and aimed his revolver at Ocelot's back. The count stopped; the sound of his voice was replaced by a burst of gunfire.

The aim was a tad high, however, so all it succeeded in doing was taking Ocelot's hat off. Ocelot paused for a moment, staring at his fallen hat, then turned around, pointing furiously at Edgeworth.

"That was a dirty trick!"

Dirty trick or not, it almost, almost worked. Edgeworth wasn't able to see Ocelot's indignation, though. As soon as he fired his pistol, he turned back around and began to run down the street. He swore at his lack of precision, and quickly scanned the area for another hiding spot.

Ocelot quickly noticed that Edgeworth was running away, so, almost instinctively, he aimed at Edgeworth and pulled the trigger. ...of course, since it was a blank, it wouldn't do much but annoy him, so Ocelot simply swore and ran after him.

Silent gratitude mixed with adrenaline when the shot resulted in a distinct lack of pain or injury. Ocelot's chase only spurred Edgeworth to run faster, until - aha! Edgeworth's sprint quickened as soon as he saw another small booth, and left a cloud of dust behind him as he dashed forward and rolled behind his newfound cover.

Ocelot easily noticed the cloud of dust, although it was somewhat difficult to tell where Edgeworth had gone. He paused a moment, then looked around for a better hint. Maybe... behind that booth?

Edgeworth took a deep breath, but he did not rest for long. While Ocelot chased him, he peeked behind the booth, and raised his pistol once more. He forced his hand steady and peered through the darkness for a sign of the other man. As soon as he caught a glimpse of him, he didn't wait; he took another shot, this time aimed at his chest, before he dashed forward once again.

Ocelot almost caught him, but he was completely caught off guard by the gunshot. It didn't hit, thankfully, but this was getting... admittedly, really damned fun and exciting. Ocelot continued to pursue the first mate, now loading a real bullet into his gun.

While Ocelot was having the time of his life, Edgeworth wasn't enjoying himself nearly as much. He continued his run, to...a group of barrels? What were they doing here?

...hey, barrels. They were probably filled with gunpowder, so if Ocelot shot them-no, they probably weren't filled with gunpowder, but shooting them seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, it just resulted in water spilling out, which Ocelot found more disappointing than anything.

...all right, perhaps the barrels weren't the best hiding spot. While Edgeworth was grateful that they took the hit instead of them, the fact that they were being shot at to begin with killed any strategic advantage.

However, there was a slight problem: where there was once dirt was now a very fresh patch of mud. Edgeworth learned this the hard way when an attempt to run forward resulted in a slip, a trip, a headon collision with the remaining barrels, and a very loud shout.

...what, he was down? Did he trip?

...

Ocelot laughed as he headed in the general direction of Edgeworth, and was abruptly cut off as he tripped in the mud himself, which sent his revolver flying off a few feet.

Edgeworth's head rang as he scrambled up, and....oh hell, he lost his gun.

...however, he wasn't the only one. While the other man searched on his hands and knees for his fallen firearm, Edgeworth did the most rational thing he could think of: he kicked Ocelot while he was down.

Damnit, where the hell was his gun-

"You son of a bitch!" That was... well, he should have expecting it, considering how Edgeworth didn't seem to even know what the word 'honor' meant. Ocelot pulled himself up from the mud and attempted to deck the other man.

It was moments like this that Edgeworth realized why von Karma was so fond of steel toed boots. He felt a pang of regret, before - oh hello there was Ocelot's fist. Edgeworth swerved out of the way, just barely, and countered with an attempt at a blind tackle.

Ocelot dodged out of the way-after all, ocelots were nocturnal creatures and had to be pretty good at fighting in the dark-and proceeded to attempt to punch Edgeworth in the small of the back. That... might have been dishonorable, but right now, all the stops were out.

It may have been dishonorable, but it was effective. As soon as Ocelot's fist collided, Edgeworth let out a short cry and stumbled forward.

Ocelot proceeded to jump on this opportunity and aim a kick at Edgeworth's back.

"Nngh!"

Edgeworth fell forward, and just barely managed to shield his face from the mud and the dirt. He instantly rolled to the side, and aimed a kick at Ocelots knee.

Ocelot swore loudly when the kick connected and stepped back. His eyes were taking too damn long to adjust to the dark, so he couldn't see... well, first, he had to find his gun

Edgeworth gave up the search for his own gun. Even with his revolver, the odds were still stacked against him; no, the best chance he had was to make sure the other man didn't get his.

Being the proactive person that he was, as soon as he caught his breath, he turned around to sock Ocelot in the jaw.

Ocelot caught a glint of something and bent down, causing Edgeworth to narrowly miss hitting him. Of course, now he was in an even more unfavorable position...

Damnit, he missed! He wasn't about to let go of an opportunity, though; after the first punch missed, Edgeworth aimed a second one at the back of his head.

The punch connected hard, although it wasn't enough to knock Ocelot out. He was slightly dazed, so he stumbled before getting a grip on himself and turning around. The revolver... as much as he hated to think so, it'd be useless except as a means of bludgeoning Edgeworth. Right now, it was fisticuffs time.

A nasty sort of pride filled Edgeworth when the punch collided. When Ocelot turned around, he was ready to greet him...with an uppercut to the jaw.

Ocelot managed to block it at the last second and aimed a punch of his own at Edgeworth's face.

Edgeworth let out a muffled cry as the punch connected, and his head rang as he stumbled back. Adrenaline took over, and he moved forward with a punch to the gut.

Ocelot's breath was knocked out of him as the punch connected. He staggered backwards, but didn't hesitate to try and punch Edgeworth when he felt slightly better.

Edgeworth managed to dodge, but just barely. The fight was beginning to take his toll on him, though. His movements were slow, his breath was ragged, and his next punch could be described as sloppy at best.

Ocelot was starting to feel the effects as well. It was time... for a last-ditch attempt at taking the other man out. He dodged the punch, then pounced on Edgeworth, attempting to tackle him to the ground.

One minute, Edgeworth was trying to avoid getting his face pummeled in, and the next, he was on the ground with the wind knocked out of him and some sort of bizarre, wannabe cowboy....fop straddling him. His immediate response was panic and flailing limbs; his secondary response was righteous indignation. One arm wriggled free, and he thanked Ocelot with a lovely elbow jab to his face.

The elbow connected and damn near broke Ocelot's nose, but that didn't deter Ocelot from staying where he was. He proceeded to aim a punch of his own at Edgeworth's face.

...well, that didn't work nearly as well as he had hoped, if the flood of pain was any indication. However, before Edgeworth could fight back, he managed to catch the sound of somebody clearing their throat nearby.

Oh hell.

Ocelot had pulled his fist back for another punch when... son of a bitch. He froze and, against all logic, turned to face what turned out to be a police officer. Probably. It was unlikely that it was just someone dressed up as a police officer, although that would be preferable to this.

"All right," said the officer. "That's enough. Off to the drunk tank with you."

His large hand gripped Ocelot by the arm and pulled him up, and for a brief moment, Edgeworth was grateful to get the weight off of his chest. His gratitude was shortlived, though; it wasn't long before one of the officer's friends stood in front of him.

"And you too."