Dedicated to LogicalCabbage, who made me want to play the Ace Attorney games. I may not be very far yet, but so far it's been quite the fun journey!

The halls were dark as the janitor made his rounds. Only a few lights were still on in this quiet of night, and those were only on for safety and surveillance purposes. It was lonely, yet it was home for Spot Leslie.

Spot was a twenty-something year old guy who made it out into the workforce, only to find out that a spot at his dream job, philosopher, was to be nowhere to be found. This is how he settled on being a janitor.

He wheeled around his washbucket and trolley, stopping periodically to clean a spot off of a picture frame or a doorknob. His expert eye caught even the smallest blemish in the courthouse, and he took pride in this. It was his work after all, so he figured he might as well be the best at it.

Finally he reached the room that was truly his pride and joy: the courtroom. Being a janitor was not an exciting job at all, but it was the little moments like this that added a little bit of spice to his life.

I wonder what kind of stuff happened today, he thought to himself.

He quietly pushed open the big wooden doors to the room and showed himself in. He closed the doors behind himself, after making sure that no one was watching, and latched the doors shut. He was alone.

The lights in the room flickered on and the scene was brought to life. Glorious, wooden stands for the jury and observers to sit. A polished and elevated desk for the judge. And then there were his favorite things in the room: the lawyers' tables. These shining wooden tables were the sites of unbelievable action, cunning, and most importantly, justice.

He approached the tables with inquisitive caution. First, he observed the defense's side.

Sweaty hand smears... Shaped like fists and flat hands alike... Must be the work of Phoenix Wright.

He smiled as he imagined the events that took place in that humble courtroom that very day.

He got so into his imagination, in fact, that he couldn't help himself.

"Objection!" He yelled, pointing at the prosecutor's side. He slammed his hands down onto the polished surface, making a loud sound like the dropping of a stack of textbooks straight down.

It was okay, no one was there to hear the ruckus that he was making.

The thrill of the imitation sent his heart pounding and a huge smile across his face. There was a reason that he thought this part of the job was more fun than the rest of it.

He now placed himself in the prosecutor's place.

Long, black streaks... Some parts thicker than others...

He leaned down and sniffed the marks.

Leather... A whip! Must be Ms. Von Karma's doing.

While the sheer amount of markings disgusted him, he got pumped up from standing in the same spot, vicariously filling himself with energy.

"Hold it!" he shouted, this time pointing at the defense. He shook his head condescendingly as he waved his pointer finger out in front of him. "Foolish Wright! Did you think that I would lose a case so easily?!"

He smiled at his impersonations, which he thought were spot on, but alas, he needed to get to work. He scrubbed furiously at the whip marks, the hand prints, even wiping the floor clean of the slightest shoeprint.

Every night he would do this in the shadows, making the courtroom so perfect day to day that no one ever thought that there were any changes to it at all. But he knew the truth.

It was painstaking work to make the room so picture perfectly constant that you could look at photos taken months apart of it and see no difference between them. It was hard and unappreciated work, but that didn't bother Mr. Leslie. He was just glad that he could work in the same courthouse that yielding a never ending legal fiasco as this one. It was like working here made him contribute to the eternal battle of finding the real culprit.

He was almost done with his work when he heard a door slam open and shouts rings out down the hall. Without thinking, Spot threw down his cleaning supplies and ran for the door, unlatching it and swinging it open as fast as he possibly could.

From around the corner ran a balding man in a business suit, who was sweating profusely for various reasons. He had a single handcuff around his wrist, and the other end dangled in the air, jingling like a full key ring.

Spot saw this and figured out what was happening. A witness, or now suspect, was trying to escape the confines of the law. Spot waited for the right moment, then out from behind the door he stuck his foot out into the hallway, tripping the suspicious man.

The man fell face-first into the carpeted floor, getting slight friction burns on his face and elbows. Soon as he did, some bailiffs came around the corner in full sprint, sliding to a stop when they saw that their job was done for them.

The man tried getting back up and running further away, but Spot blocked his path. Helplessly cornered, the man gave up, and the second half of the handcuffs were latched.

Afterwards the bailiffs thanked Spot for his help, and at a tip of the hat they were gone. The excitement of the night had come to an end, even though it was so fleetingly short to begin with. He sighed and got back to work.

And so his work continued, him eventually moving out of the courtroom that he adored so much and instead cleaning the rest of the building. Nothing of note happened for the rest of the night, but that was okay. He was just glad to have gotten a little bit of excitement in during his normally dreary night shift.

Tired and ready to go home, he stowed away his cleaning supplies for the night in his very own closet. He made sure that everything, even within the closet, was put away in an orderly fashion before calling it quits.

On his way out, however, he was stopped by a familiar face.

"Oh it's you Leslie!" said the judge.

Spot turned around and returned his greetings with the man whose real name he didn't actually know.

"Hello, sir. Is there anything you need?" His eyes filled with terror. "Is there something that I missed?! A speck of mud on the carpet?! A fingerprint on the windows?!"

The judge laughed boisterously. "No, I was just stopping the thank you for your good work, especially for last night. I heard that you were the one who caught Mr. Cole Pritt!"

"Oh that? That's nothing. Just a fluke."

The judge shook his head at the ground. "I don't think so. Not everyone would rush out to stop a potential criminal, but that didn't stop you. I'll also have you know that he confessed right afterwards, so that case is closed without putting an innocent on the line."

Spot turned a little red from embarrassment. "It's really nothing. Just doing my job."

A surprised look took over the judge's face. "I don't remember putting 'aid in the capture of rogue witnesses' in your job description. Maybe I accidentally put a part of a bailiff's duties in with yours."

Spot cringed. That's not what I meant. "Anyways, my shift is over so it's time for me to go."

The judge understood. "Alright. Thanks for all your hard work, keeping even my gavel board clean." He smiled. "I sure do love my gavelling."

Spot felt a sense of accomplishment. He noticed even that? He smiled and said goodbye, then he was on his way. I guess my job is more important than I thought after all! I may not be the one throwing objections and finding the truths, but at least I'm the one who takes care of the room where it all goes down!

He felt in that moment that he had found his own part in the search for justice. It might not have been a big one, but every little bit helps!

That's right! He wasn't any ordinary guy! He was Spot Leslie: Ace Janitor!

***

A/N: Incoming comments about why I didn't describe Spot XD I have my reasons people :3 Can you figure out why? ;)