I’ll be frank with you, the desire to write more for the Forged in Fire series has been burning in me lately (eh? eh?). Only problem is, I’m not entirely sure where to take it next. That’s where you guys come in.
I have a vague outline of where I want the series to end, ultimately, but I’m drawing a blank on a LOT of the in between stuff. So I’m asking you guys; what do you want to see next for Desmond, Raymond, Mary, Bronev, Swift, and/or even Mackintosh?
I’m open to any suggestions. Thank you guys so much!
Six months after coming to London, Alfendi’s life is thrown through a loop after a miscalculation by the professor and visit from an old friend. Sure, Alfendi has faces down the likes of Targent, Zombies, and Flora’s cooking, but how will he handle Luke Triton? Set six months after Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies. Warnings: stress, angst, suspense.
What was that big blue idiot yapping about this time?! Couldn’t the moron see that Alfendi was a bit busy at the moment? Rolling his eyes as his opponent fell to the ground, the redhead turned, trying to idiotic companion in the fray --
-- ”Oof!”
Before he knew what was happening, Alfendi found himself on his back with Luke Triton standing over him.
“Oi! Just what’dya think yer --”
The words didn’t make it out of his mouth before Luke was struck by a bandits blade and fell to the ground next to him.
No!
The eight year old felt his rage bubbling up inside of him once again, just as it had when he had learned that these people were stealing from his father. They had threatened his family, and now they had hurt his friend. He would not stand for this.
Letting out a wild cry of fury, the boy launched himself at his opponent.
95% chance of him sidestepping. 60% chance of him favoring his right side, his dominant hand as indicated by the fact that it is his weapon hand --
-- When the large man stepped to the right to avoid Alfendi’s charge, the boy changed directions to ram right into his opponent’s stomach, knocking the man back a few steps. It did not take the man long to regain his balance, however, and swung with his blade --
-- 85% chance of a horizontal attack, based on the trajectory of the swing --
-- Alfendi bent backwards to avoid the dagger as it swung inches in front of his face, straightening up once the danger had passed --
--off balance, there should be at least three different openings for an attack: legs, sternum, face. Legs are best bet by 70%, taking out the left leg should increase instability --
-- Alfendi swept his opponent’s left leg out from under him, using the man’s weight against him and causing him to fall further to his right --
-- solid blow to the sternum should finish him, give you 100% advantage --
Alfendi’s heart froze when he heard the gunshot.
“Freeze! This scene is now under Scotland Yard’s control!”
It took a moment for Alfendi to realize that he was still breathing and that he had not, in fact, been shot. Looking around him, it seemed that he had not been the only one that had frozen at the sudden police presence and the sirens blaring.
The police were here. He was saved. He wasn’t going to get hurt --
Luke!
“Triton?” Alfendi called out looking around wildly. Luke had been hurt. He had been struck down by that knife bearing maniac -- how Alfendi kept meeting up with those, he had no idea -- and fallen. Was he okay? Was he still alive?
No reply.
“Triton?!” He called again, frantic. Luke was hurt. He was dying and it was all Alfendi’s fault. He had gotten his friend killed. “Luke?!”
“O-over here, Al!”
Alfendi didn’t waste one moment, rushing to his friend’s aid immediately after hearing that weak reply. By the time he reached his companion, the blue boy was already pushing himself to his feet, holding one arm with a bloody hand.
“Triton!” He tried to examine the older boy, but it was exceedingly difficult with his hands shaking the way they were. “Are you alrigh’? Are yah hurt?! Wha’ happened?!”
“Al, calm down.” Luke’s voice sounded much steadier than Alfendi’s. “It’s alright, just a cut. See?” The older boy gestured with his head to his upper left arm, which he was still holding onto with his right hand. Alfendi realized that he must be covering up a nasty scratch, but that the wound would not be enough to kill Luke Triton.
It was only then that he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to care.
“R-r-right.” He folded his arms to his the shaking and trying his best to steady his voice as he looked away. “T-too bad it didn’ t-take a bigger chunk of yah.”
Good. That would make Luke angry at him again. They would fight again, and Luke would remember to hate him. He wouldn’t have to care, to feel so scared and so small and so damn concerned for somebody else. He could go back to just looking out for number one --
Luke laughed.
“Wha’s so funny?!” Alfendi demanded angrily. Was this some sort of mockery? Was that how this fight was going to go, then?
When Alfendi looked back up at Luke, however, the older boy was smiling warmly at him.
“Yeah, maybe.” The blue boy replied. “Next time, maybe.”
…Was that it? Was Triton not going to fight him?
“Who says I’m gonna wait fer next time?” Alfendi demanded crossly. “Maybe I’ll do it myself!”
Triton had the audacity to laugh again, ruffling Alfendi’s hair with his non-bloody hand. “I’ll keep an eye out for that, then.”
This was wrong. Instead of being pushed away, Alfendi was being invited to care more. For some reason, Triton didn’t want to leave him alone, but was reaching out to him instead...
~
“How do I know I can trust you!?” Alfendi shouted. He just wanted to be safe. Alfendi wanted to feel protected. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I can help you, Alfendi! Please, just let me!!” The Professor pleaded.
Alfendi closed his eyes. He couldn’t keep going on like this, he wouldn’t make it. He reached up blindly with one of his hands, feeling himself start to fall....
~
Alfendi swatted Triton’s hand out of his hair irritably. “Whatever, mate.” He managed to spit out, still managing to sound aloof.
Neither of them said much as they were lead outside by blue clad officers. Even if they had said anything, it probably would have been drowned out by the sirens anyway.
Now that he was outside, Alfendi was exhausted. The fight was over. He could relax. He could go home and rest and…
Oh right. He couldn’t go home.
In the thick of the fight, Alfendi had forgotten that he had run away from home. Honestly, it all seemed so silly in retrospect. How had he been worrying about some bloody letter earlier that very day when now he had just been fighting for his life?
It was almost a shame that he wouldn’t be able to explain any of this to the Prof. He had all but demonized his foster father, and he doubted that the man wanted anything to do with him anymore --
“--fendi! Alfendi!”
The scarlet haired boy’s head shot up at the familiar voice. No, it couldn’t be…?
But it was. The next thing Alfendi knew, he was being hugged by a shaking Hershel Layton.
“P-Prof?” He asked tentatively.
“Alfendi, my boy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The prof squeezed him tighter as he said the words. “Please forgive me, I’m so sorry…”
“I… It’s fine, Pops.” God, why did he have to start crying now? “It… I’m sorry too.”
They stayed like that for a moment before Alfendi’s father let go so that he could look the young boy in the eye. Alfendi couldn’t help but notice that the prof had also been crying. “Please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“I won’t.” Alfendi replied, trying once again to steady his voice. He wanted his father to know that he was serious. “Honest, I won’t. I… I’m here to stay, promise.”
AN: oop
Sorry for the delay. I just suck generally and I’m out of excuses. Good news is you only have to put up with it for one more chapter! That’s right, folks, the epilogue comes on Thursday!
Or next Tuesday!
Soon!
Ish.
I swear.
Special thanks to @kayespuzzles for reminding me to post
Six months after coming to London, Alfendi’s life is thrown through a loop after a miscalculation by the professor and visit from an old friend. Sure, Alfendi has faces down the likes of Targent, Zombies, and Flora’s cooking, but how will he handle Luke Triton? Set six months after Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies. Warnings: stress, angst, suspense.
Additional warning: This chapter contains several Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies spoilers!
Well. That had shut Triton up.
Alfendi wasn’t sure what about learning he had won had affected the older boy, making him look almost… sad.
Huh.
“I’ll probably go to Desmoncole first.” Alfendi pressed on. “He’s a smart guy. He’ll probably know how I can get under th’ radar again--”
“Des-mon-col-e?” Luke asked, suddenly dropping his kicked puppy look as he tilted his head to one side in confusion.
Alfendi froze. He had slipped up. The memory of Desmoncole’s voice at Christmas ran through his head a moment too late.
‘I don’t mind you calling me ‘Desmoncole,’’ the man had said, ‘But I might request that you not say that in front of others. Not everyone knows about my… alter ego.’
“Desmoncle.” The word came out of his mouth too abruptly, too fearfully. He needed to wipe the look of panic from his face, but somehow it was frozen there. “I said ‘Desmoncle.’ It’s like…. Uncle. I didn--”
“Did you just combine ‘Desmond’ and ‘Descole?’” Luke didn’t looked shocked. Surprisingly, the blue boy looked amused. “I wonder why he didn’t think of that…”
“Wait.” Alfendi held out his hand to stop Triton’s musings. “Do you… know things?”
Luke laughed so abruptly that Alfendi couldn’t keep himself from jumping. “If by ‘know things’ you mean ‘do I know that Desmond Sycamore used to secretly be a masked vigilante that ran around the country in disguises taking down Targent,’ then yes, I know things.”
Alfendi let out a laugh.
Wait, what?
Had he just laughed at something Luke Triton had said? Why the hell had he done that? How stupid! The redhead punched himself in the chest before he could accidentally make such a stupid mistake again.
“...Yeah.” he said after he had regained his cool, aloof disposition. “Tha’s wha’ I meant.”
There was a lull in the conversation for a moment, and it was only then that something else that Triton had said registered with him.
“Wait…” He didn’t like asking questions, it was like admitting that somebody else knew something he didn’t. “Did… did you jus’ mention Targent a second ago?”
Now it was Luke’s turn to look confused. “Yeah. Do you know about Targent?”
“O’ course I know abou’ Targent!” Alfendi exclaimed. “S’ hard not t’ know abou’ the people who’re tryin’ t’ kill everyone where yah live--”
“Wait.” Luke cut him off, somehow looking even more puzzled. Didn’t this guy listen to explanations? Or did he just talk without ever listening at all? “Are you talking about the golem attack--”
“Ye--”
“--three years ago?”
“Three years?” Alfendi shook his head. It hadn’t even been a year… right? “Wait. You got it all wrong.” The boy surprised himself with the patience in his tone as he explained. “There are more than a hundred days in a year.”
“I know.” Luke answered with a chuckle. Why was he laughing? “I’m talking about three hundred sixty five day years. So…” the boy paused while he calculated, “one thousand and ninety five days. Give or take.”
Alfendi felt dizzy listening to the figure. That was a lot of days.
“But... “ he held out his hands in front of him as if bracing himself. “It’s been six months since the golem attack. I think.”
To be honest, he wasn’t really that sure anymore. This day-week-month-year thing was way too confusing.
“Six months?” Triton must have been just as confused by the calendar year, because he looked entirely perplexed. “Wait, are we talking about the same thing?”
How could they not be talking about the same thing?
“Y’know.” Alfendi gestured around with his hands. “Giant golem. Shootin’ lazers at Chippenham. Big fighter robot battle.”
“What?” Alfendi winced at the volume of Triton’s exclamation. If they weren’t careful, the guards outside would hear them. “Giant golem? Chippenham? Fighter robots?”
“Quiet!” Alfendi hissed back, holding a finger over his own lips. “Yeah, all of tha’. What’re you talkin’ abou’?”
“I’m talking about something that happened in Froenborg three years ago.” At least Triton was keeping his voice down. “There was a giant airship temple that sent out golems to destroy the world.”
Alfendi shook his head and gave an exaggerated shrug to emphasize the fact that he had no idea what the older boy was talking about.
“Hold on…” Luke gave him a questioning glance. “So if you’re not talking about the attack three years ago… does that mean that Targent orchestrated another golem attack?”
The redhead nodded nonchalantly.
“But how is that possible?!” For some reason, Triton seemed pretty distressed by this information. “Targent was shut down, we made sure they were shut down!”
“Tha’s what Desmoncole said too.” Alfendi held back an exasperated sigh. Why were grown ups always so predictable? “Guess you guys weren’ all tha’ careful.”
“We were too!” Triton insisted stubbornly. Alfendi smirked back by way of reply. Really, it was all too easy to push this guy’s buttons.
“Well if it wasn’ Targent, then how d’yah explain this?” Alfendi pulled out his dagger with an all too innocent smile, holding the blade right by Triton’s eyes and revelling in the satisfaction of seeing the older boy cringe at the sharp object that was suddenly so close to his face. “Tha’s the Targent crest, innit?” He turned the blade so that the flat side was facing Luke.
“Uhhhh…” As Luke leaned back, Alfendi moved the blade closer to him, his innocent smile turning into a mischievous smirk. “Yeah, I think it is.”
“Are yah sure?” His voice remained sweet and childish as he moved his dagger closer. The blade was almost touching the bridge of Luke’s nose now.
“That… that’s it alright--oh, would you knock it off?” Triton pushed back Alfendi’s arm as he sat upright again, effectively moving the dagger away from his face. Alfendi giggled as he returned the dagger to its sheath.
“So yeah. They were still there.” He finished cheekily. “Don’ worry, we finished ‘em off nice and good this time.”
Instead of being put off like Alfendi had hoped, Triton had that stupid bemused look on his face again. “So you went on a proper investigation with the professor, huh?”
“Wha’ of it?!” God, why couldn’t Triton do the decent thing and get pissed off again?
“Must have been fun to tag along, though, right?” What, was Triton trying to relate their experiences, like they had something in common?! Alfendi wouldn’t have it.
“Before you go gettin’ the wrong idea, I invited him.” The boy scoffed. “He tagged along with me.”
“...Did he do the pointing thing when you found the bad guy?” Luke asked. Not only was the blue boy undeterred, but he actually sounded excited when he asked the question.
“Pointin’ thing?” Alfendi asked cautiously. What was Triton getting at?
“You know.” The older boy’s expression suddenly turned more serious, and when he spoke again his voice was deeper, his accent sounding more like that of a London accent. “The true culprit of this crime… is you!”
As he spoke, Triton tipped the brim of his hat in the same manner that the professor did and pointed one finger dramatically over at Alfendi.
“...No?” Alfendi held back the giggles that threatened to erupt out of him. Triton looked like such an idiot doing that.
“Really?” The older boy looked surprised, his voice returning to normal. “I thought he must have, since you did it at dinner!”
“I did no’!” The redhead protested. There was no way he could have done anything so goofy.
“You did too!” The older boy chuckled before reverting to a much squeakier, higher pitched voice with an exaggerated accent and pointing again. “You ge’ th’ bloody hell out me house!”
“I don’ sound like tha’!” Alfendi gave Luke a shove in the hopes that it would shut him up, but the older boy just laughed louder. Alfendi soon found that he was unable to hold in his own giggles, and both boys laughed together for a moment.
“...hear something, Carl?” A muffled, unfamiliar voice came from the outside of the van. Alfendi clapped a hand over Triton’s mouth at the same moment that he felt Triton’s hand cover his own mouth.
“Sh-shhh!” Alfendi insisted in a whisper as Triton let go of his mouth, his laughter still dying down. “Yer gonna get us caught!”
“S-sorry.” Luke’s laughter was beginning to calm down as well.
There was another lull in their conversation as both boys smothered their laughter, but Alfendi couldn’t help but notice that this time the lull was neither awkward nor, surprisingly, hostile.
Huh. Weird.
“So why did you ask the professor to come to Chippenham, if not to point fingers?” Alfendi had to suppress another chuckle at the goofiness of the older boy’s question.
“Oh, y’know.” Alfendi shrugged. “People were goin’ missin’. Targent was takin’ kids off the streets. No’ tha’ I care too much about other kids, mind,” the redhead added as an afterthought. He didn’t want Luke Triton to get the wrong impression, after all. “Bu’ after they tried t’ nab me, I figured it was time t’--”
“Wait, why did they try to take you?” Luke interrupted him. “Wouldn’t your someone have noticed that you went missing?”
Alfendi felt himself tense up and immediately tried to fight the reaction. He couldn’t afford to show weakness now. No, he needed to stay cool and collected.
“Nope.” God, he hoped that didn’t come out as stiff as it sounded. “‘Cept fer the local gang recruiters, maybe.”
He regretted saying that the moment he finished. Luke Triton looked down at him with an pathetically sappy, pitying look that Alfendi couldn’t stand. Just moments ago they had been equals, and now Triton was looking down at him again.
“Knock it off, will ya?” The redhead snapped. “I don’ need yer p--”
He was cut off when the car suddenly roared to life, as all of his energy went into holding back a surprised yelp. Before he knew it, he could feel the car beginning to move.
They were underway.
“Here we go.” Luke whispered with so much irritating anticipation that Alfendi wanted to punch it out of him.
Alfendi didn’t reply. He didn’t have to, after all. All he had to do now was sit tight until the car stopped moving, then he could slip away and leave London forever.
All he had to do was wait. It would all be over soon.
A/N: Hey friendos!
Sorry for the late night update! Today was a bit hectic u see.
Alfendi isn’t wrong in that last line, this will all be over soon! There are only three chapters left to this story! Hard to believe it’s almost over already.
So yeah, this chapter has a lot of direct references to Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies. If you haven’t read that story, now is as good of a time as ever!
Mmmmmmmkay so I’m running out of things to say again. See you on Sunday! Please reblog and review!
Six months after coming to London, Alfendi’s life is thrown through a loop after a miscalculation by the professor and visit from an old friend. Sure, Alfendi has faces down the likes of Targent, Zombies, and Flora’s cooking, but how will he handle Luke Triton? Set six months after Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies. Warnings: stress, angst, suspense
Flora didn’t know whether or not she should move, let alone speak. She was frozen in place, gripped by the horror she had just witnessed.
This had been her plan. She had forced the boys together. She should have known better, that whatever issues they had with one another would not be solved overnight. She had tried to mix oil and water and she had made a mess of everything.
This was all her fault.
The air felt thick and heavy, and nobody moved as they listened to the front door close behind Luke. If Flora had raised her knife, she felt that she still would not have been able to cut through the tension that filled the room.
“Alfendi Layton.” It was the professor who finally broke the silence, sounding more irate than Flora had ever heard him. “You go outside and apologize right. this. instant.”
For a moment, it didn’t even look like Alfendi had processed that he was being spoken to. Then he laughed.
“Just what is so funny, young man?!” The professor demanded, rising from his seat with barely contained fury.
“N-no,” Alfendi said through near hysterical laughter. “It’s jus’ f-funny tha’ ya still think yeh can b-b-boss me around! Haha!”
“Alfendi Layton!”
Somehow, hearing his own name made the boy laugh harder. Alfendi rounded on the professor, but not before Flora spotted a wild glint in his eye that was something close to panic.
That was when she realized that she was actually frightened by the argument unfolding before her.
“S-Sorry, no!” The boy exclaimed, throwing out his hands to his sides. “Y-you don’ get t’ call me tha’! Y-” her brother actually doubled over laughing “-you don’ want me anymore, so wh-why should I use yer name?!”
Even the professor’s fury was beginning to die down. Flora could see the same fear she felt reflected in the top hatted man’s expression now.
“Alfendi, that is not the case!” Her adoptive father was still trying to sound authoritative. “If you will kindly calm down, I’m sure we can --”
“Calm down?!” The boy stopped laughing. “Calm down?!”
The boy’s outstretched hands suddenly came back and gripped at his scarlet locks so tightly that Flora was actually worried he might rip them out.
“Who the bloody hell do you think you are, tellin’ me to CALM DOWN?!” Alfendi roared. “You think you can ignore me an’ forget me then tell me to CALM DOWN?!”
“Al!” Flora cried out. She couldn’t bear this any longer. She flew over to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch.
Although she was sure it wasn’t, she felt as though she was watching Alfendi turn toward her in slow motion. It was both seconds and ages at once. When he finally faced her, scarlet curls whipping into his face, his wild golden eyes met with her.
There were tears streaming down his face.
She wasn’t aware of gasping, it just happened. One moment she was looking him in the eye, the next her hand had made its way to her mouth in shock. The young lady wished she had been able to hold in her reaction, however, because the moment the gasp escaped her lips, something dropped in Alfendi’s face. The crazed fire in his eyes burned out to be replaced by dread, and the fists curled in his hair somehow gripped even tighter.
Alfendi looked more like an eight year old than he had before. He looked smaller now.
“I have t’ go.”
The words didn’t even have a moment to hang in the air before the boy scampered away.
“Alfendi, wait!” Her adoptive father called out. He was met by the sound of the door shutting quickly.
The professor moved to make his way to the door, but Flora placed a hand on his arm gently.
“Professor,” she kept her voice soft and quiet. “Please, let me.”
Flora had no doubt that her father could deal with Alfendi, even after the display she had just witnessed. Hershel Layton, despite any faults the man may have, was a gentleman. If Flora hadn’t had faith in him, she would not be here today. She had been given that choice. No, she knew that he could handle it on his own, but she also knew that Alfendi responded quicker to her, and with less hysterics.
His response to her gasp had proven that.
Hershel gave her a questioning glance for a moment, but acquiesced, nodding her on with a tip of his legendary hat.
“Alfendi!”
It was not hard for Flora to spot the redhead from across the street, even in the dark his hair gave him away. The boy hadn’t made it past the opposite sidewalk yet, and he did not seem to be moving further. It would take only seconds for Flora to catch up with him, but she slowed the process down by refusing to quicken her pace. The boy was already scared, and she couldn’t afford to add to that.
When she reached the other side of the road, she stopped between the curb and the sidewalk. She had always subscribed to her Uncle Desmond’s method of giving the boy space when he became upset or anxious.
“Alfendi…” She started again, keeping her voice as calm and soft as she could while remaining audible. “Al, what’s wrong?”
“Go away!” The boy didn’t turn to face her, but she could tell by the way his voice shook that Alfendi hadn’t stopped crying. “I… I’m goin’ to Chelmey’s. Jus’ let me go!”
Flora fell silent for a moment. She couldn’t press on right away, not if she wanted to avoid freaking Alfendi out again. She had to give him time, to give him the space he needed.
But she couldn’t just let him suffer in silence. If she wanted to help him, she needed to hit the nail on the head and fast.
His attitude toward Luke had been awful, but it had only scraped the surface. Sure, they had fought, but the most frightening display of his panic had happened after Luke was gone, when the professor had tried to reprimand him...
“This isn’t about Luke, is it?” She asked gently, musing aloud as the realization hit her. “This is about the professor.”
Flora decided to take his silence as a resounding ‘yes.’
“Alfendi…” she had only scratched the surface of the problem. She needed to get to the heart of the matter.
An unbidden memory of her afternoon with Luke flashed across her mind. Flora found herself recalling how replaced the young man had felt so replaced…
‘You think you can ignore me an’ forget me then tell me to CALM DOWN?!’
Suddenly, Flora realized how best to proceed. “The professor hasn’t forgotten about you just because Luke is here, Alfend--”
“Hasn’ forgotten me?” Alfendi rounded on her suddenly looking up at her with desperate, despairing eyes still filled with tears. “He didn’ even remember me in th’ first place, Flora!” The tears flowed freely down the boy’s face. “H-how could he forget somethin’ tha’… tha’ he never…” The rest of her brother’s question was lost as he choked up.
The distance between them was too much for Flora to bear, especially while Alfendi was suffering so. Cautiously, she found herself taking a step closer to him, one foot finding its way onto the sidewalk.
“That’s not true, Al.” She reassured. “You know that the professor loves you.”
“L-l-loves me?!” Alfendi choked out incredulously. “He never even mentioned me!”
“...What?” Of course the professor had mentioned Alfendi, Flora had heard him do so several times. What could the boy be talking about?
Alfendi seemed to shrink in on himself, unable to look her in the eye anymore. “Wh-when I went t’ th’ off-office… Th-th’ Triton kid… he’d never even heard of me. H-he… he didn’ know tha’ the professor had a s.. a s-son.”
She should have said something to comfort him, that this was all a misunderstanding and that of course the professor had mentioned him to Luke. She just couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Unless…
Luke had been in such a state of shock. Alfendi had gone so stoic at the sight of them at the Yard. Luke had said that the professor left unimportant details out of his letters…
No. No. That couldn’t be possible… could it?
‘...Flora pounded on the door of the barn desperately, trying to find any way
to escape this dark, unfamiliar place. She was so frightened, but she knew
the professor wouldn’t leave her behind. He would never leave
Dropstone without her. He couldn’t...’
“He…” Flora was in shock. She wanted to cry, to crumble just like the boy in front of her. But Alfendi needed her right now. She had to be strong. “Alfendi, the professor… he didn’t mean to hurt you…”
“W-well he did a good job.” Alfendi didn’t even sound mad anymore, nor did he sound desperate. He just sounded defeated. “‘Cause it hurt a lot less when people actually tried to hurt me. This is jus’...” The effort of raising his arms to gesture vaguely seemed to take a great deal of effort.
“An’ yah know wha’s really stupid?” Her brother pressed on when she didn’t speak up. “It’s all my own damn fault. I shoulda known better than t’ think tha’ I could be a part of this family, bec--” The redhead swallowed hard, his voice reduced to a whisper. “Because I’m not.”
“That’s not true.” Flora was surprised by her own conviction when she spoke up. “Alfendi, you are my family.” Although it might not have been wise, Flora closed the distance between them and placed both hands on Alfendi’s shoulders. “You are my brother, Alfendi. We are family.”
For a moment, Flora thought she had won. For just a moment, there was a spark of hope in Alfendi’s eye as he looked up at her, and she believed that maybe, just maybe, she could get him to come inside.
But then Alfendi looked past her.
“No.” Alfendi’s expression filled with confusion as he backed away from Flora, causing her to lose her grip on him. “I… I can’t… I can’t think righ’… I…”
Confused by the sudden loss of confidence, Flora turned to look over her shoulder, only to be met with dread. The professor was standing in the doorway of their house, looking out at both of them.
No, not now!
The sound of footsteps in the grass caused her to turn back to her brother, but he was already running.
“Alfendi, no! Wait!” she cried out, but it was no use.
Alfendi Layton was gone.
A/N: I’m really sorry?
Please don’t hate me we’re in the climax so everything is going to shit and also can you tell that I have Feelings about how often Hershel left Flora behind in the games because I do even though I know he meant well okay please don’t hate me okay.
Also, kayespuzzles, I am specifically sorry because this will make you suffer and yet I knowingly continue.
In an attempt to get out of my writing and publishing slump I’m so sorry I thought I would ask you all what you wanted to see next!
If I were to start working on new things, would you rather I worked on more Desmoncole fics, more Layton family, or maybe some other character I hadn’t considered yet?
I know you probably don't want to hear about your fanfiction on your main account but bigkatie8 doesn't have an ask box and I just wanted to say that when I noticed that you updated Stress Facture I literally gasped out of happiness
1) Did I forget to open the askbox there? Oops! I'll fix that when I get home from work.
2) Hon I never mind people sending reviews here. Reviews make me happy anywhere!
3) IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME THIS MADE MY DAY
Six months after coming to London, Alfendi’s life is thrown through a loop after a miscalculation by the professor and visit from an old friend. Sure, Alfendi has faces down the likes of Targent, Zombies, and Flora’s cooking, but how will he handle Luke Triton? Set six months after Bronev Bros. vs. Zombies.Warnings: stress, angst, suspense
In all fairness, Hershel had not known how his son would react to him once they finally spoke one on one, but he had suspected that it would be in more of the screaming and accusing variety. The boy had been injured in an unfamiliar environment, after all, and lashing out would not be entirely unexpected.
The reaction he got, however, was a cruel reminder that even Hershel Layton got a puzzle wrong every now and again.
Lashing out he could handle. What he didn’t know how to take was this icy silence, this total rebuff of any attempt he made to reconnect. Hershel knew full well that the boy had abandonment issues and that he was justified in having them. Reading the eight-year-old’s adoption file, learning about the boy’s father and that god-awful foster care system… it had chilled the professor to the bone. He had promised himself then and there that he would make a good home for the boy, somewhere he could feel safe and protected and, most importantly, loved. But now…
Now he was the one who had violated the boy’s already fragile trust by his own oversight, and he was paying the price for it.
But he would push on. The professor was not going to lose his son, not like this. He would continue reaching out, prove to the boy that what happened this afternoon was a fluke and that he still cared, that he was still going to be there for him every step of the way.
An effort that would be a lot easier, admittedly, if he could finish a single sentence.
He leaned forward, trying to point out something on the projector. “Perhaps it would be easier if you started with the--”
“Don’ think so.” His sons words were pure ice, freezing him in place.
He rose once again when he saw Alfendi lifting the heavy equipment. “I can carry that if you--”
“No need.” The stoic words pushed the professor back into his seat.
Seeing the film still out on the table, he reached out to assist. “Would you like me to roll the film back up for y--”
“I’ve got it.” The detached tone made him retract his hand.
The fact that this was not working was becoming more apparent by the moment. Reaching out only worked, after all, if the other person was willing to take your hand, and Alfendi was clearly not in any state of mind to accept the affection he was receiving. So the professor sat back, watching remorsefully as his son brushed by him without so much as a glance to collect his files.
The silence raged on as Hershel watched his son helplessly. To be unable to speak, unable to help in any way… it was more than he could bear.
After many uncomfortably silent minutes, the young boy finally finished packing up the projector into its crate and hoisted it up into his arms. It took all of Hershel’s willpower to keep him from offering to help the boy, but he knew that his offer would only be rejected and he would be isolated further from his son. No, if he wanted to prove his good intentions to his son, he would have to do it silently. So instead of helping the boy carry that awfully heavy looking crate -- focus, Hershel -- he rose to his feet and held the door open for the boy.
Once again, Hershel found himself unable to gauge the boy’s reaction, but he hoped that behind that crate the boy was smiling.
He would receive no confirmation of this, however, because Alfendi did not say a word as he passed through the doorway. This much, at least, Hershel had predicted. If there was one thing he was certain about regarding Alfendi, it was that once the boy built a wall it was slow in coming down.
Besides, the boy was still new to the lifestyle of a gentleman, so Hershel didn’t expect him to know that, even when angered, a “thank you” was always mandatory.
Even after his son left the conference room, Hershel persisted in following him. If he could only do little things for the time being, than so be it he would do the small things. A true gentleman never gave up on those most important to them, after all, and Alfendi was certainly one of the most important people to Hershel.
So when they arrived at the stairwell, Hershel once again propped the door open for his son to pass through. And when Alfendi looked as if he were losing balance on the way down to the filing room, Hershel put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady him again. Once they actually reached the vast filing room, Hershel was content with having a seat and letting the boy go about his work.
After a few minutes of silence, however, the professor wondered if it would perhaps be a good idea to attempt a conversation once again. While certainly not ideal, he believed that the tension between them had dispersed slightly. Maybe the boy would be more open to hearing him out now than he had been before.
“...Alfendi?” He spoke out tentatively. “I… I know you said it was fine, but I was still hoping to apologize properly for what happened earlier.”
Despite not receiving a verbal response, Hershel could tell that his words had not gone unnoticed, for the moment they were spoken his son stopped what he was doing and stood up straighter, his back still to Hershel.
“...I truly am sorry, my boy.” The professor pressed on. “You know that I would never willingly--”
“Don’ mention it.”
The professor was glad for the first time that the boy had his back to him, for he could not mask his surprise at still hearing that icy tone. In the silence that followed the boy’s words, Alfendi resumed his work, beginning to put away the files he had brought down with the projector.
Tipping his hat to hide his shock, Hershel continued. “...All the same, I just want to say that --”
“It’s fine.” The boy cut him off without looking up. “Don’ mention it. Yer good at that, aren’ yah?”
At first, the gentleman was not sure if he had heard his son properly. But alas, there was definite venom in that chilly tone now.
“...I beg your pardon?” The professor asked, somewhat sternly. Gentlemanly background or no, Alfendi must be aware of his misconduct.
“Pardoned.” The boy continued, seemingly unaffected by the professor’s attempted correction. “I’m jus’ sayin’ that you seem to make a habit of not sayin’ things. Granted,” Alfendi gave a small shrug as he opened yet another filing cabinet, “If it were somethin’ as insignificant as this, I wouldn’ mention it either. I mean, it would probably be five... maybe six months before I thought of sayin’ anythin’, yaknow?”
Stunned at this behavior, Hershel found himself unable to find the words to say. Where had this spitefulness come from? Just a moment ago, they had been doing so well…
“So yeah.” Taking advantage of the silence, Alfendi pushed on nonchalantly. “It’s fine. It’s good.” In a tone almost inaudible, the boy added, “Don’ mention it.”
As much as he wanted to prove himself a kind, caring figure, Hershel knew that such behavior could not be condoned and must be reprimanded.
“Now see here, young man--”
“Professor Layton!” A third voice cut him off. Hershel turned to see a young constable at the foot of the stairs. “Inspector Chelmey is looking for you, sir! He says there’s been a new development!”
Well.
The gentleman found himself torn. He knew it was his duty to help the police in any way he could, especially on a case as important as this one, but his son needed him right now. A gentleman must never turn away from someone in need, but now there were two sets of needs from two different directions. He had to pick one and abandon the other for the time being.
A true gentleman’s dilemma, but easily solved. Hershel just knew he would not like the answer.
“We will discuss this later.” He said, turning back to his son. “Be home before dinner, we will talk then.”
When he received no reply, the gentleman turned and followed the constable up the stairs and away from his son.
We’re back with more drama! Since you all seemed to suffer last week with Alfendi’s detatchment, I decided to make it even worse for you! You’re welcome! ^.^
How are you all liking the story so far? I’ve gotten some input already, but I always love hearing what you all like or don’t like so I know where to improve.
Full disclosure, I’m scheduling this to post when it does, so as I write this note it’s already very late and I am tired, so I’m running out of words. L8r~!
“Nothing will ever change this animal I have become…”
Desmond Sycamore finally begins to recover from his encounter with Targent, but fate has other plans for him. Sequel to Forged in Fire and Extinguished.
Warnings: Violence, trauma, mentions of kidnapping
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Epilogue |
It’s almost boring to be back at school again after everything.
Perhaps it’s because I was gone for an entire month, or perhaps it’s that Raymond’s advice has been weighing on my mind, but I find it incredibly difficult to focus on Rutledge’s theories on Azran ruins when I know that I must decide on a course of action to deal with Targent.
I spot Mackintosh shifting uncomfortably a few rows down. Evidently, he too is having trouble concentrating, which is entirely fair for someone who was recently abducted and used for their mind.
I would know.
When we are finally dismissed I pack up in almost an instant. I can’t bear to be in this stuffy classroom any longer, not when I have so much still left to consider. I just want to get home to my nice, quiet study and mull things over.
I am just stepping outside of the building when I hear a familiar voice calling my name.
“Desmond!” Mackintosh calls. “Desmond, wait up!”
For a moment I wonder if I can pretend that I didn’t hear him, but ultimately my curiosity and the fact that I have genuinely missed my friend this past month win out. I turn back to him with the most sincere smile I can muster and hope that it is convincing.
“Mackintosh!” I greet in the friendliest way I can manage. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too,” he agrees, falling into step with me as we make our way out onto the campus. “You’ve been gone for quite some time now! What’s it been, a month?”
“Ah, yes.” I tug on my tie nervously. “Family emergency. You know how it is.”
Thankfully, he does not press the matter. “Well, I’m glad that your back.”
I nod by way of reply, and for a moment things fall silent between us. Still, I can’t help but notice that he is fidgeting with his satchel, as if nervous about something. Surely, he doesn’t know that it was I who rescued him, does he? He doesn’t know what I did to that base and to all of those soldiers?
I open my mouth to ask him something indirect that would still answer my question, but he speaks up before I do. “Desmond, there’s something very important that I have to tell you. Now.”
Surprised by the sudden urgency, I oblige. “Very well.” I respond, trying not to sound as guarded as I feel. “May I ask what it’s regard--hey!”
“Not here!” Mackintosh whispers as he grabs a hold of my arm -- Right on a burn too, and God that stings -- and pulls me over behind the library before I have any say in the matter.
“What on earth is--?!” I start to demand, but Mackintosh shushes me, looking around as if to make sure nobody can see us.
He knows everything.
“Mackintosh, I can ex--”
“Shush, Desmond!” he whispers urgently. “This is important, so listen up!”
Well that’s odd. He sounds far too eager, as if the discovery that his best friend blew up an entire research facility is somehow exciting --
It isn’t until he opens up his satchel that I realize how wrong I am. No, this is impossible! There is no way this is happening!
But it is. The right half of the ambrosian crest stares back up at me from inside Mackintosh Smith’s satchel.
“...Where did you get that?” My lips barely move as I ask the question, my eyes locked onto the vile piece of stone that has caused so much misfortune already. I pray that he tells me he found it in the Targent base. Yes, that is the only plausible explanation --
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, buddy.” He replies far too casually. “It was an accident, though! It’s not like I was digging through your desk on purpose. But anyway, that’s not the point. An amazing research opportunity has…”
The rest of his words are lost as the rage within me roars to life. My eyes burn with furious tears until I can no longer see the relic in front of me. No, all I am seeing is a fiery red.
Guilty.
My limbs move before I give them permission, but I don’t care. I’m not fighting the fire anymore. If anything, I am fanning the flames. This is unjust. This is wrong. This will. not. continue.
I grab Mackintosh by the collar and slam him back into the wall of the library and the piece of the crest falls to the ground, shattering upon impact. Mackintosh looks shocked and hurt, but I can’t bring myself to care. He deserves this.
Traitor. Guilty. Guilty!
“What have you done?!” I hiss at him through bared teeth. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’ve put us in?! Put my family in?!”
“D-Desmond,” Mackintosh is holding his hands up in a pathetic plea for mercy. “Calm down--”
“Calm down?!” I slam him into the wall again. “You stole from me! You have endangered us all!! No wonder you were abducted by Targent!”
“What?” He looks genuinely surprised. I remember a moment too late that he is not suppose to know that I know about Targent and a moment longer to realize that I don’t care. I risked my life for this man and he turned out to be nothing but a traitor and a thief.
Destroy.
“You fool!” I spit out, pressing back on his collar hard. “You --”
“Desmond, stop it!” After a moment’s struggle, Mackintosh is able to slither out of my grasp. He takes a few steps away from me, stepping on the shattered pieces of the relic as he does so and breaking them further.
He stares at me in shock as he gasps for breath. I stare back in fury, equally breathless. We stand there for a moment just staring at one another.
After a moment, Mackintosh wordlessly shakes his head and runs away. I watch him go for a moment, then once he is gone I get to work cleaning up the pieces of the crest and tucking them into my briefcase.
He is not worth the chase anyway.
He betrayed my trust. He brought Targent to my home town. He practically brought them to my front door.
The shock and the hurt are very real, I am sure, but they do not hold a candle to my fury. I was betrayed by someone I called my friend - someone I called my family.
As far as I am concerned, Mackintosh Smith is as dead as Leon Bronev.
I had thought it had been the last straw when I had seen that hat in Mackintosh’s apartment, and then again when I saw the crest in that warehouse, but I hadn’t known anything. I had been a younger, more foolish version of myself. In the hour ever since I left campus, that old me has burned away along with all of his foolish indecisiveness.
No more will I say that I will tolerate no more without taking action. No more will I hide in fear and pray that nothing bad happens to me. No more will I endanger those I love by my idleness.
No more.
As I slide the desk drawer shut and lock away the wretched pieces of stone that were once the Ambrosian crest, I pick up my telephone and dial a number.
It is time to take action.
“Jean Sycamore’s residence.” The Scottish voice comes over the phone after a moment of ringing.
“Raymond.” My voice comes out as that new, low, burning voice I had become accustomed to in the Targent complex. “We have a lot of work to do.”
My real mission begins now.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Epilogue |
A/N: Guess who forgot what day it was.
Sorry this is as late as it is! After I remembered that I was supposed to post today, I was at work all day. We’re here now though and that’s what counts, right? Right?
