October 7, 4:00 PM
Capitol
Victor's Association Building

A man without a face of his own slipped into the meeting room. As expected, no one else was in attendance, but he examined the room to be sure before he slipped the envelope beneath the usual seat. Not much in this week's report. Once the Hunger Games of the year had been over for a while, it seemed the mentors weren't as riled up about them.

He glanced around the room a few times before catching a glimpse of a mirror. After adjusting the watch on his right wrist and his tie, he stepped back out.

The hallway was empty but lit, and the faint sound of typing came from one end of the corridor. Just secretaries arranging victor events. The man himself wouldn't participate in one until much later that month. His schedule was fairly negotiable otherwise. No Capitolians requesting any of his time at night, and not much call for single victors at events. He was all right with that.

Turning the other way, he wound through a few other hallways to disguise his route before coming up to an exit. His job was done for the day. Back to the hotel room until the morning train would take him back to the district.

He caught a glimpse of another person through the glass before the door suddenly opened. A blonde man with glasses flicked his gaze down at the man without a face of his own.

How would the one he was to be portraying react to this event? He had only a split second to decide.

"Ack!" He jumped back in alarm, an arm up in front of him defensively, before taking a deep breath and steadying himself. "Oh, um, good afternoon, Mr. Gavin. How are you?"

Kristoph smiled, his head tilted to the side a bit. "I am doing well, thank you. And you?"

"I'm all right." Fine. He should have said fine.

"I must admit I didn't expect to see such a new victor here. Questions about your upcoming combined Victory Tour, perhaps?"

Yes or no? Was the 7 trying to trap him? Above all, he must not compromise the mission. If he wanted to live so badly, he must not compromise the mission.

"Mostly I just wanted to check the place out. The tour's not for a while yet, right? And the Capitol was already prepared for a joint-Victor tour. They could predict that some victors would need more surgery and recovery time than they usually allot." He folded his arms. What emotions would Apollo Justice feel at being face-to-face with Kristoph Gavin? Disgust, surely. But now was no time to antagonize someone who could be a dangerous opponent. So what else would be in-character?

"I..." He dropped his gaze a bit. "I'm sorry about Klavier. I may not have killed him myself, but he still saved me... And he was a friend." He looked up again, frowning. "It must hurt a lot more for his own brother, though."

Kristoph sighed, shutting his eyes. "It's not as if I truly expected him to win. It would have been nice, but I had no reason to expect so much out of him." He adjusted his glasses, a harsh shine coming across the lenses. "That boy was always a disappointment." With that, he returned to a faint, cordial smile. "I take it your little tour of the facility is finished, then? I could always show you around myself, having been here several times over the years."

"Ah, that—that won't be necessary. Thank you, though." He took a step to the side to let the 7 pass, but paused. "So what are you doing here?" It was an innocent enough question, seeing as Kristoph had just asked it himself.

"Nothing important. Just picking up a few papers regarding the funding of my hobby."

No reaction from the bracelet. Although Apollo? would have to keep an eye on this victor, there was no need to press him without an immediate threat.

"All right. Well, I guess I'll see you around, then, Mr. Gavin." He gave a brief nod before pressing the handle on the door.

"Until next time," Kristoph said, scanning the other man's face for a moment before continuing into the building. The man without a face of his own hurried outside to safety, checking behind him a few times before relaxing his disguise a bit. There was no need to go around smiling if he didn't have to.

It was an interesting experience, putting on the guise of a dead man. Although he honestly felt no connection to his past life, he had to continue mimicking Apollo Justice. The role felt unnatural, but, since he no longer experienced emotional discomfort like others seemed to, there was nothing wrong with that. He would adapt to it eventually.

So long as he did not fall completely into the role. He doubted that was possible, but Apollo Justice would have never worked as a spy for the Capitol. Keeping an eye on the other victors to ensure they weren't planning to overthrow the Capitol? That would have been too unjust for him. And that's why he was the perfect disguise. Apollo Justice was another suffering victor, another human being, a person that could be trusted. Most likely, that was why the Capitol had approached him in the first place. His perception of lies likely helped.

At that time, he hadn't been sure that it would be possible. Part of it may have been his terrible condition, even after the extensive surgery, although he couldn't have imagined trying to be Apollo Justice again. But it was only an act, after all. Surely he could manage it—particularly if his life was at stake. That was the one thing he had left that he refused to lose, wasn't it?

The assignment was difficult, of course. Thankfully, his first public appearance—watching the recaps of his Games—wasn't tough. With everything flashing across the screen, everything his eyes—new and old—had to take in, the real Apollo could have very well sat there stunned. The chaos of the bloodbath—Ted killing his own district partner with a blow to the head; Aristotle stabbing Constance, her body slumped over his arms as he turned away and tossed her to the ground, and then just missing Jinxie as his spear bored into Florent's stomach; Simon slicing a girl open from shoulder to hip; Marlon braining the girl from 10. Clearly, the best segment was saved for last, as the same girl then appeared greeting Clay before driving a knife into his chest.

Agony. There should have been agony. Certainly regret. But what kind of facial expressions were those, again? The best he could have done was grit his teeth and widen his eyes.

The story was centered around Apollo, of course, but every death was shown. Sasha gripping her chest and collapsing in the middle of the battle despite never being hit, Ema breathing her last and making it outside with the help of her friends, Phineas strangled by a cloth bag that Myriam then looked at in horror and abandoned. The Careers pummeling Bobby inside the tunnel they had claimed, Jinxie being sliced and devoured by mutts before she ever hit the bottom of the pitfall, a slow-motion shot of Myriam shuddering from the explosion before collapsing, Marlon nearly stumbling over her as blood poured from around the bomb piece in his neck. Klavier dying in nearly the same fashion as Florent, Aristotle falling to Aura as the state of his teeth distracted him, the 2 going on to slice Ted's neck open after the huge rockfall, her brother succumbing to electric shock. Robin's screams louder than her bones snapping as she was crushed between flat stone walls, a zoom in on the exposed part of Aura's gangrenous leg as she lay unconscious, Athena falling down and writhing before going still, Hugh's blood sliding into the stream even as he lay beside it with Juniper crouched over him, Trucy cramped into an arch and screaming, him setting Juniper down while her blood traveled across the mud.

He hadn't had any public appearances since then, so the act only had to be kept up for a few people. Shopkeepers, passersby, a handful of Hunger Games officials. Maya, of course. His neighbor had been a little slow to warm up to him, even disguised as Apollo, but she was caring enough to check up on him once a week or so. Sometimes chat if she was lonely. At one point, she had returned the camera Apollo had given her before the Games.

He reminded himself to look at that at some point. Apollo probably would have avoided the pictures out of pain, but not for long. It could blow his cover if it became obvious he didn't care about the people whose images were recorded there. He had to become familiar with the pictures, at least, in case he was approached about them. No one other than Maya might ask, but that didn't mean there wasn't a threat.

In fact, Maya Fey was a threat of a whole different kind. Still guilt-ridden and pained about her Games, but willing to push forward and better herself. Trying to make others' situations better—that was the dangerous part. Whose situation wouldn't be better without the Games? Perhaps the Capitol's, but that wasn't much. And perhaps Maya Fey couldn't have come up with a viable treasonous plan by herself. But she had many people to help her.

At first, he hadn't believed she could channel spirits. But after summoning Phoenix Wright without request, the evidence was on her side. Apollo? had claimed that he had been overwhelmed and couldn't handle any more channeling that day. He would probably have to request one later to make amends, or so he would claim. Apollo would have done that, right?

At any rate, Maya had more knowledge than it seemed. Thankfully, he was in an excellent position to keep an eye on her. If all went well with a little manipulation, she could be spared. If she did prove to be a threat, he would have to stop her by whatever means necessary. That was his job. That was his "life."

As he exchanged a bit of polite small talk with the hotel shuttle driver, he considered the rest of the day before him. Dinner, and then the night in the hotel. No more dead drops or business, and no one to visit. Nothing in particular to do. In that case, he might as well have a good Chords of Steel session tonight for anyone listening in:

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

My beliefs, emotions, and soul... I left them all behind.

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

I have no "self."

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

I am no one.

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

I am nothing but an endless abyss.

THE END