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I suppose the history of the Professor and his Apprentice started with a mere theft. It sounds simple, but this single event spiralled into something much more. I wish I'd have stopped it instead of encouraging it.
The tapping of feet against the concrete sped gradually into a run as a young man in blue rounded the musty corner with a packed bag resting on his shoulders. Thin pieces of paper with ‘£50’ written on their centre fluttered out of the bag as he skipped. The bear keychain attached to his loose suspenders danced wildly with him as he ran.
“It worked!” he laughed to himself, beaming with satisfaction.
---
Her feet sped up frantically and the young girl clad in peach neared a door leading to a room of delectable taste. Her dress fluttered chaotically as she moved, a worried look printed on her soft features.
“How did this happen?” she asked herself, her voice dripping in panic.
The girl opened the door, not fearing the penalty of disobeying her father’s knocking rule. She adjusted her eyes and focused on a slim man with a tall, dark hat and a shining monocle. He was sat behind a thick teak desk littered with books and papers. The man sat proud and unmoving, his eyes deep in thought. His fingers were locked together and his chin rested atop the makeshift stand. He turned to face the intruder sharply.
“Flora?” He asked, a scornful gaze planted on the girl. “What happened?”
“The third safe. Father, it's empty.” she answered in between breaths. She didn't beat around the bush, it simply wasn't her style.
The mood of the room shifted from anger to disbelief from only her words. Tension rose and the air became thick in a matter of seconds. Flora wasn’t sure what to expect from her father, this was the first time something as big as this had happened while she was around.
“What?!” he asked in response as he rose from his seat and walked quickly past Flora to the exit, his speed eliciting a sharp breeze. He motioned for Flora to follow him, so she did. The two made their way to the storeroom, neither saying a word.
The journey to the storeroom was agonising. Walking in silence, constantly biting one’s tongue was a painstaking task, one that Flora had yet to become accustomed to. The young girl eyed the decor as a distraction. Her father’s taste was exceptional; the rooms of the building were filled with Victorian style furniture, perfectly complimenting the old fashioned exterior of the building they resided in known as the ‘Agency’. The high walls were beautifully laced with quality artworks by various famous painters who owed the Professor a favour for his help with something or other. Each room had at least one grand clock somewhere inside it supplied by the near relatives of a certain cocky, revenge fueled friend of his as a thanks for helping him evade a great deal of jail time in the past. Every drawer had trinkets stolen by little crows as thanks for setting up their own black market. Although not necessarily deep and meaningful, everything inside the Agency was there for a reason.
Upon arriving at the room, the dark man edged his way to the safe while Flora stayed at the entrance, leaning against the doorframe. Dead silence filled the air once more. It hung heavy like a cloud of smoke, until the Professor spoke up.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked Flora, holding up a photograph of a young man around her age. His appearance was somewhat familiar to the Professor, and he assumed he was a friend of his daughter’s. She stepped closer hastily and the details of the photograph slowly became clear.
The picture showed smug looking young man wearing a blue messenger hat, a smirk plastered on his face, a monocle drawn on with a marker over one eye, his other, shut as an attempt to wink. She shook her head softly at the drawn on feature mocking her father.
“No,” Was all she said. She flipped the photograph over and read out the message written on the back in neat handwriting. “‘Solve this puzzle and meet me inside the old clothes shop at Kensington high street at _ time~”
“It looks like a puzzle, Father. A rotated clock with it’s numbers removed displaying a perfectly straight line,” Flora read, hiding her worry with a calm voice.
She placed her thumb and forefinger on her chin, innocently imitating her father and began to think of the answer. Her thoughts were interrupted when the Professor muttered “6pm” as he pulled out a pocket watch from his left waistcoat pocket to check the current time. Flora watched as he calmly placed the watch back in his pocket after reading the time, taking care to notice the ‘C.F - Lost and Unwound’ engraved on the back in cursive.
“5:30pm. Flora, stay here, I'll be back soon.” He paused before spotting one of his grunts who had been listening the whole time.
“Pavel, inform everyone of what's happening, I trust you heard it all?” he ordered and inquired.
“Okay, Professor. Will do.” The grunt answered, unsure of how he had even wound up in the seemingly guarded room.
The two watched as the Professor’s slim figure blended with the shadows, his footsteps ceasing. Clutching the photograph, Flora followed him slowly, keeping her distance and blissfully unaware that her father knew she was following him the whole time. She glanced at the photograph and ignored the small voice at the back of her head remarking that the blue-clad thief was particularly cute.
Thinking that about him was the biggest mistake of my life which sparked the beginning of the worst period of my life. I wish I hadn't seen that photograph of you... But since I did, I wish I could see you one more time.
---
The clock tolled 6 and the Professor reached the abandoned clothing shop. The shop was severely neglected, weeds and rubbish adorned the outside. On the row of delicate shops resembling a family, this particular one was the outcast because of this. The Professor was greeted by a broken lock and key —a puzzle which would grant him entry to the shop.
“How clever,” he stated to himself as he began working on the puzzle, solving it mere moments later. He spoke in monotone, successfully hiding his growing interest in the thief. He opened the door and was gifted with the sound of a violin. The eerie music filled the room as the Professor stepped to its centre where a table and the missing pile of his money lay. He glanced behind him and noticed a flash of peach retreat behind an empty crate near the entrance of the shop. Flora, who thought she was undetected, became stationed behind a box of coat hangers.
The music stopped, so the Professor turned back around and clapped slowly, observing the room looking for the source of the now nonexistent music.
“You play beautifully; you must be proud.” He complimented the apparent musician, subtly attempting to tempt him out of hiding.
“I'm glad you like it, Professor . I've certainly played long enough for my music to be deemed beautiful, my whole life in fact,” the young man answered, finally emerging from a dark corner —by chance, doing so simultaneously with Flora from the opposite side of the room. The two locked eyes, Flora’s mouth agape from the shock of his playing which provoked a chuckle from the violinist. The three now aware of everyone's presence, the thief confidently began his explanation.
“I'm Luke, Triton. I stole your money solely to get your attention.”
“My attention?” The Professor questioned, eyes narrowing.
“Yes. You see, I want to protect the city of London and what better way than to do it than alongside you? You are at the top of the ladder and you offer protection to the lower class. You truly earned your title as ‘The Gentleman of Crime’.” he paused, turning to face a smaller table which held the violin’s case.
“I did this to prove my worth. I want you to… mentor me, Professor. I aim to be a strong as you—”
“You should aim for better,” he interrupted sternly.
“It's too late for that,” Luke replied bitterly as he shoved the delicate instrument he played with such grace only moments before into its case. Flora’s breath hitched at his action.
The Professor turned to his daughter, silently asking her opinion on Luke’s offer. She quickly began,
“Maybe you should give him a chance. He's worthy of you at half your age, you should keep him close so he won't become a threat in the future. He's harmless, we can trust him.” She spoke her last statement convincingly, urging the Professor to believe her words. Flora glanced between the two, innocent eyes making contact with theirs, dark with hurt and tragic backstories, ones which Flora would never fully know.
“All right, I'll give you a trial of sorts, Luke. You can become my… Apprentice.”
“Number one?” Luke responded jokingly with over the top eagerness. He had a habit of joking around and in this slightly dangerous situation, this was clearly no different.
The Professor brushed off the joke and held out his hand, making eye contact with Luke while doing so. The younger smiled and cupped the extended hand firmly, he too, maintaining eye contact. Flora watched as the two committed to their partnership with such a simple action, no longer worrying about the outcome of Luke’s risky act against her father.
It was because of that single handshake that the city of London once again became the powerhouse of England— no, the entirety of Britain. Luke and my father proceeded to work together for a long time, only failing once. I’m sorry…
---
Luke found himself waiting in his new mentor’s study. He eyed the expensive decor and patiently waited for his boss’ return. He rose to his feet and edged his way to an overfilled bookshelf, his attention drawn to photographs pinned to the wall. Every photograph included the Professor with other people like Flora, people Luke had seen around the Agency on his way to the office and the general public, aside from one. “Who's that?” Luke asked himself as he focused on a photograph of a solitary young woman with semi tamed orange hair and a wide smile on her face. She stared back at the viewer with loving eyes, which caused Luke to realise she must have had deep feelings for the photographer, whoever that may have been. He reached up to grab the frame, hoping for the woman’s name on the back just as a deep voice said,
“I trust you know what we do here, Luke?”
The Professor’s voice broke the silence in the room, causing Luke to flinch ever so slightly. He turned his gaze from the photograph in realisation that he'd have to wait to find out the answer to his question, not wanting to risk losing his treaty with the other in the room. The Professor eyed the photograph of the young woman who had enthralled Luke moments ago before turning to face the boy.
“Of course I do, you defy the law in the name of protection and justice for the lower class. You do things like… even the scales by request of victims’ families and such.” Luke answered confidently, having ‘read up’ on this cunning organisation.
“So you’ve done some research. You'll be pleased to know I have too.” The Professor replied, not batting an eye.
“Huh?”
“I thought you looked familiar and, as it turns out, I studied alongside your parents. You are a spitting image of your father, my boy,” he told him.
Luke flashed him a look of disbelief. “You knew my parents?” He asked meekly, his cocky attitude dissolving with the Professor’s words. No one knew his parents. After the incident the Triton name became wrongfully shunned and he, abandoned.
“We were close actually, up until around the time you were born. I'm…” he paused and glanced the younger with pitiful eyes. “I'm sorry about what happened. I know it wasn't a double suicide like the media said.” Luke stared at the floor and the Professor continued his statement.
“That's why you wish to do what I do, isn't it, to get enough power tell the truth about what happened to your parents without being shunned… again,” he finished, his gaze locked on Luke.
“Yes. I want to avenge my parents and punish the man responsible for their deaths. I saw it happen, I know he’s guilty. The only reason he got away is because of his wealth and status. Our justice system is terrible and so, I’ll just have to serve it myself… 8 years later. I’ll make my own wealth and develop my own status.” Luke stated cruelly, more to himself than the other in the room. He cupped the bear keychain he kept by his side and stared at it, thinking, remembering .
The Professor left his study silently, leaving Luke to his thoughts. It wasn't until two hours later that he left. The Professor never found out what Luke did during all that time, no, he never tried to find out. All he knew was that one particular photograph he had hung up on his wall depicting himself with two other students was missing and that he later saw it tucked inside Luke’s wallet.
Luke's parents had been killed in a double homicide and the media passed it off as a double suicide, forging notes blaming Luke for being a devil child and pushing his parents over the edge. His father had beaten the previous Mayor of his hometown, Misthallery, in the mayoral election which spelt the end of the loser’s career and, well you know the rest. I wonder what Luke would be doing right now if all his relationships with his loved ones hadn't gone horribly wrong. At least I was the core of only one of Luke’s tragedies...
---
“Then you put the completed folder in this cabinet.” a young woman instructed to another as she motioned to a green, metal cabinet. Luke flashed them a look of confusion, he had yet to see the office in action as it was empty when he came in last night. “It’s like a normal office,” he thought to himself as he walked past the scene.
He walked towards the Professor’s office confidently, listening but not looking at the various conversations unfolding around him. Although the topics of said conversations were illegal, the whole place seemed normal . Luke edged his way closer to his destination when the clerks spontaneously began working vigorously, the reason for their sudden behaviour making her way down the corridor towards them.
“The races start soon so you bookies best have your pages ready, there’s gonna be a lot of drunk geezers willing to bet on cruddy horses so don’t you dare be late and don’t think of coming back skint either! Races also mean wives getting together without their husbands, so Emiliana, round up your stuff, convince them to join the next women’s march!” a voice boomed from down the corridor, causing Luke to jump. He spared the source a glance and was met by a young woman wearing a red cap over her brown bob. “This must be Lucy,” Luke thought to himself, remembering Flora’s “employee introductions” from the night before.
“...Lucy is head of the office; she’s got everything under control and you will absolutely treat her with respect, Luke. Even though she talks informally, you must be formal!” Flora’s warning echoed in Luke’s mind as Lucy approached him.
“You must be Luke, you’re in there,” she instructed bluntly as she gestured to the private office he’d been trying to reach just moments earlier. Suddenly the tough act she bore with all the rookies broke, and she smiled. He offered her a smile in response.
“Lucy,” she told him, extending her hand. “Baker. I run the things here when Layton senior doesn’t.” Luke shook her hand nervously.
“R- right, well, I’ll be off then.” Luke offered up as a response, feeling overwhelmed by her informality towards someone she hadn’t met before.
“You’ve only gone and scared him, Lucy,” someone spoke up. Luke recognised his voice as the Professor’s only son, Alfendi. “Take no notice of her, she’s harmless… to everyone on our side at least. Luke, you know where my father’s office is so head on over, something’s come up so you’ll be busy at least.” he instructed, still not sold on Luke as he'd only met him the night before.
Luke once again began his overly long trek to the office, flashing the two workers a grin and a half-assed wave while he did so. Alfendi seemed to not have an opinion on Luke, so Luke had no opinion on him, it was that simple.
Luke reached the empty office and plopped himself down on the Professor’s black leather chair before jumping up harshly to make his way over to the wall of photographs, still curious as to who the bright young woman in one of the many photographs was. He swiftly removed the frame from the wall and checked the back. His eyes widened at the words ‘My first and last, Claire —Your one and only Hershel.’ written there in cursive.
“Blimey, you’ve done well for yourself there, Professor!” Luke announced to himself, wondering why he hadn’t seen this woman at the house last night.
“She’s no longer with us, she was involved in a fatal accident some time ago. That’s all you need to know for now.” the Professor spoke, once again startling Luke. He turned to face his mentor after placing the photograph back in its place.
“Curiosity,” Luke announced with a weak and embarrassed chuckle, “Alfendi told me something came up, what is it?” Luke sat down and listened as the Professor explained that he had began hatching a plan to punish the politician who had wronged Luke some years before. He had been called out to meet with a member of parliament who was willing to help.
“We’re moving up in the world. So, you will solidify business deals while I arrange this, and we will finish things together. We legally own houses and factories and we’re expanding. It’s your responsibility use your wit to crunch the numbers and outsmart our partners —some may call this ‘scamming’.” He paused and he turned away “Can you handle that, Luke?”
Luke chuckled, he had been scamming people for the past 8 years in order to survive. He was a bright lad and although it had been awful, surviving alone from age 10 was easier because of this. After being forced out of his home by the people of Misthallery, Luke was left to fend for himself. He successfully fooled lonely women who longed for a child to look after for several months in exchange for a bed to sleep in and meals to eat, not once becoming attached because no mother could replace her. He escaped the clutches of the police, one in particular dubbed ‘Third Eye Jakes’ after thieving a wallet or two, not willing to take the money his parents kept at home before leaving. He did well for himself despite his tragic past. He matured into a sly young man and his appeal only grew with age, vulnerability being replaced with charm over the years. It was safe to say he had plenty of experience for this job and the Professor knew it.
“I’ll be better than you could ever imagine, Professor,” he responded smugly, provoking a dark smile from the boss.
Luke was handed a list of names with matching addresses to make deals with, and the two parted ways for the day, meeting again at the day’s end to discuss their business. “This partnership is going to work very well indeed,” the Professor thought as they exchanged details.
Luke managed to get on well with Alfendi after a while, thankfully. Luke’s job was perfectly suited for him and he excelled at it, working for months to expand Father’s business somewhat legally. If only Luke hadn’t been so great, if only he would’ve been fired, if only this whole thing would have ended prematurely. If only...
---
“Hey, I've always wondered, why do you wear that bear on your hip?” Luke’s daily sleep on the lounge sofa was cut short when he was brought awake by Flora asking questions. She eyed the small brown bear attached to his hanging suspenders, trying hard (but to no avail) to picture a time where the blue boy didn't have it by his side.
“What?” He asked, his voice groggy from sleep. He didn't move from his comfy spot in the leather sofa. Flora noticed his forgotten messenger hat on the floor near her feet. She leaned over gently and picked up the blue hat and placed it in her lap before turning her attention back to the sleepy Luke.
“How could lying on the sofa upside down, legs thrown over the back and head outstretched onto the glass coffee table, nothing but a throw pillow between the hard glass surface and his head, be such a good napping position?” She asked herself internally. Flora thought of the time Luke swore he could sell his napping position to the Queen of England herself and laughed quietly.
She observed Luke at his calmest. She noticed how his cheeks were flushed a pale rose, something that only happened when he slept during the day, and realised just how thick his hair was, resisting the urge to run her fingers through it. She spoke again.
“Your bear, you never take it off your suspenders and honestly it could do with a wash...” She said, breathing in with clenched teeth to clearly imply she was joking.
“He was a gift, he never leaves my person and he never will. I'm being buried with my companion here.” He responded, patting the keychain, eyes still closed.
Flora sat silently for some time before finally asking him, “Gosh… it certainly is special if you think like that. Who gifted it to you?”
Luke had been living with the Professor, Flora, her sister Katrielle and her brother Alfendi for 3 months and she still knew very little about him. He wasn't shy, not at all, but he was extremely sly . He could never be fooled to answer something he didn't want to, always 3 steps ahead and with a new conversation topic up both sleeves at all times. It was apparent that he simply wished to remain mysterious and he was damn well good at it.
Flora recalled the only thing she knew about his past, his violin. She heard him playing parts of what he told her was “Ashokan Farewell” on many occasions over the course of his first month living with them and inquired about where he learnt the art and why he played so often. He had answered her questions with sorrow-filled eyes.
“My mother taught me, I play to forget about the stress I suffer, and to remember my mother. I perfected my skill when I would play for maidens for change to live off of.” He paused for a moment to collect himself before continuing, “Would you like to hear it? The song is polished now.”
Flora instantly accepted; she wished for nothing more than for Luke to play for her. He began swiftly, his hand guiding the bow in a mesmerising way, one which captivated Flora. The instrument spewed a slow, yet somehow upbeat, sad song. Flora glanced at Luke’s face only to see his eyes were closed. He kept them that way until the song was over.
“What did you think?” he asked, bowing dramatically. “Your mother would be proud,” Flora told him while clapping. He smiled in response.
She treasured that memory to this day, convinced that Luke had simply forgotten.
Flora knew her prying questions were lost causes and that that particular one was a one-off, but she always tried, hoping that one day Luke would realise she'd always be curious about him and eager to learn about his life prior to his partnership with her father.
Despite Flora knowing very little about him, Luke knew an awful lot about her. He knew she wasn't the Professor’s biological daughter and that she was adopted into the Layton family when she was 7, roughly 10 years ago. He knew she studied English at college and kept away from the criminal part of her family if she could help it. He knew her opinions were valued in her family despite this. He knew she would snoop around and follow her family when they did something dangerous, hidden behind a (terrible) disguise. He knew she couldn't resist buying animals treats from the bakery when she came across them begging for something to eat. Put simply, he knew all about her, the good and the bad.
So after asking such a private question about an object he clearly held dear, Flora prepared herself for a clever swerve.
“My mother, for my seventh birthday,” Luke answered, grunting as he swung his legs around and swiftly sat on the sofa the way it was intended to be sat upon. Flora, who sat next to him, hummed in understanding, not really knowing how to respond to him having revealed a piece of his history to her so easily. “Mini Luke hasn't seen a drop of soapy water in 11 years, maybe I should wash him.” He joked. Flora sat in awe; this was the most Luke had spoken to her about his parents, ever. She had learnt of his parents’ history via her father and although she never brought it up to him directly, Luke knew she had found out that much about him.
She fiddled with her dress, feeling nothing short of sheer gratefulness that he'd opened up to her.
Flora laughed, “Maybe. Well, Mini Luke, you’re very cute and you’re very lucky to be spending eternity with Big Luke.” Flora spoke to the keyring softly, envying the bear’s fate.
She slapped her knees and left the room, announcing that the tea she was brewing for them would be ready now. Just as she left, her older, and louder, sister Katrielle plopped down on the sofa opposite Luke.
Katrielle was a lot like Luke; she could eat just as much as him, if not more. She was extremely intelligent, but relied on her gut instinct. She claimed to talk to animals, something that was shunned until Luke announced that he too had the “very special gift for wonderful, worthy and godly individuals” (in his own words). She was constantly smiling, even though her smiles were sometimes fake.
Like Flora and Alfendi, she was adopted and brought into the Professor’s home roughly 10 years ago. Her memories of being abandoned haunted her regularly and so, understandably, she masked her pain outside of the comfort of her home with her famous grin and boisterous laugh.
Her role, put simply, was to find the people who had wronged the innocent in order to report back to her father who would then “take care of the rest” —an action to which Luke didn't take an interest or partake in at all, and one that he would continue to ignore until it would include a particular politician linked to him personally.
It was a difficult and often tedious job, but Kat was extremely good at it, receiving money and praise from everyone she helped (although she'd have preferred free strawberry parfaits). She was so good in fact, that Luke often needed reminding that she was only 21. Detective and observation skills aside, Kat was also known around London for her beauty, something she never pursued. She really was perfect to everyone around her, helping the weak with a beaming smile and modest about her actions.
“Just a heads up, don't eat that cake she's about to bring in; it's not shop bought,” Katrielle warned, causing Luke to cringe at the memory of the last time that he ate Flora’s baked goods (if goods was even the right word). It was unpleasant to say the least.
“It wasn't even lemony, Kat…” Luke whispered, referring to the so called lemon meringue pie Flora made a few months back. His statement emitted a boisterous laugh from Katrielle.
Right on cue, Flora entered with a seemingly innocent strawberry cake, which left the room hours later, untouched. Flora watched the two laugh about the jobs they had done that day and despite her confusion, she laughed along with them. In return, Kat and Luke listened earnestly to the happenings of Flora’s day at college and tales of the people who studied alongside her. The three proceeded to chat until late, Flora enjoying the blissful moments between them more than the other two.
Those were the first and second times Luke had opened up to me. I still listen to that song on a record, Luke. As for the bear, you may think it was small but for me it meant everything. I was the first and last to know the significance of your little bear and although it was a popular topic between my siblings and I, the reason you wore it I mean, I never spilled. I hope you can forgive me for what I did. I kept everything else a secret, I promise.
---
Luke sat comfortably in his very own office, fiddling with a wooden puzzle which rested on his desk. Moving up in the world was particularly good for him it seemed. He looked around the room, admiring the empty rich blue walls and bookshelves half-filled with classic literature, animal discovery books and sheets of music. “It’s slowly coming along,” he thought to himself, feeling content with his once again lavish lifestyle, his memories of his grand house and expensive toys flooding back to him one by one.
The door swung open and the Professor entered the room with a series of documents in hand and a plan in mind.
“We have solidified the plan, my boy, it’s happening tomorrow at his speech outside Parliament. He wants to show how safe the streets have become since we stopped working illegitimately so he won’t have any security. We will also be getting the Targent scum off our backs.” he told him, to which Luke smiled.
“Finally,” was all he said.
The two sat down and went over the plan in detail. The plan was simple: Luke would leak their location to the grunts of Targent, the neighbouring organisation after them since ‘the Professor and his Apprentice’ became a known duo throughout England. Targent’s boss would come to them and fall right into their trap— a sniper waiting inside a building closeby and a bullet with ‘Bronev’ written all over it. All while a second sniper took care of the Prime Minister. The two decided for Flora’s sake to keep her out of this, it was nasty business and she didn't need to be involved. Then, they would go on their merry way having killed two birds with one stone.
Flora sat patiently waiting for her class to end; she knew all about Charles Dickens having listened to Luke talk about him for hours upon hearing he was the topic of her classwork this term. She opted to eavesdrop instead, classing herself as some kind of professional at it after doing it to her family for years. She listened carefully to the conversation between two boys behind her,
“No, you’ve got it wrong, the Targent boss is going to kill the Professor later today, not his Apprentice. But neither of them know about it anyway,” one spoke up.
“Well I know where I'm not going to be later,” a second replied. Flora shot up, leaving the classroom and then the school campus without a word.
She reached the Agency sweating panic and called for her father, Luke, her brother, then her sister, then Lucy. But no one responded.
“Why is no one here?” she asked a grunt.
“Everyone of power is at the PM’s speech, Miss Flora. No one at the Agency right now is involved in that side of the business,” he responded calmly, unaware of the threat her family was seemingly under. Flora fled the building and instead of heading directly to the scene of the speech, knowing that her showing up empty handed would mean one more person to protect, she went to Scotland Yard.
Flora ran fast, avoiding people in the street like it were an olympic sport. She didn't enjoy the hustle and bustle, which usually made her feel a part of something normal. She didn't pat the stray dogs who hung around the butchers. She just ran.
“The Prime Minister, he’s in danger! Targent are at Parliament!” the young girl announced, thinking it best to place the threat on someone who was of apparent value to the townsfolk instead of her dangerous family. Her thought worked, every officer rose to their feet and more than half left instantly, the other portion reporting the news to the higher ups of the Yard. Flora followed the majority to the scene.
Luke sat steadily on the wall surrounding the grand building, his legs swinging childishly and whistling a happy tune, the Professor placed next to him polishing his pocket watch. Kat, Alfendi and Lucy merely stood off to the side somewhat.
“10 minutes now,” the experienced criminal announced. Luke cocked his head towards him in response to his message.
“Patience now, Professor,” Luke muttered, provoking a laugh from his friend.
Luke glanced at the man in a building closeby, positioned perfectly to assassinate the Prime Minister, and smiled, “It’s finally happening,” he thought, “I’m finally going to avenge you both. Don’t worry, Mother I’m not doing it myself. Oh no, that would spell the end of me and what use dying with him? Don’t worry, Father he’s going out in the public eye, just like this started.” Luke’s internal message to his parents was interrupted when a loud cheer erupted from the crowd.
“He’s here.” he told the crew of people loosely around him.
“So is he.” Kat responded nodding her head towards Targent’s leader, Bronev.
“Not now, this is my moment.” Luke grunted, his eyes planted on the official on the makeshift stage. The sniper was set to pull the trigger in,
3…
2…
1… nothing.
“What’s happening? Why isn’t he dead ?” Luke asked, turning his attention to the sniper who was struggling with the trigger. “Don’t tell me it’s jammed? This can’t be happening!” he groaned, ignoring the other’s telling him to calm down. He began pushing his way through the crowd of people to inspect the problem before spotting Flora running towards him. He adjusted his eyes when he heard a voice call out to him.
“It’s been a long time coming, Triton.” Luke turned around swiftly to see the voice’s face.
The voice belonged to one Detective Inspector Hans Jakes of Scotland Yard. “You’ve embarrassed me and my father long enough by escaping our clutches since you were a child. This ends now.”
“Wh—” before Luke could even comprehend what was happening he was on the floor, covered in... “Oil? Paint? What is this all over my hands and what’s this pain in my stomach? I don't understand…” screams became deafening as the townsfolk were fleeing from the scene.
“Professor…?” Luke whimpered, eyeing his red hands before choking on his words.
For a few seconds, Flora did nothing but stare at the scene unfold. She watched her family being put in cuffs, Targent receiving the same treatment and Luke dying alone. Then she ran over to him, tears streaming down her face as she held him, shaking him beside her as she wept and called out to the rest of her family who were now pinned to the floor.
“Go. G-get out of h-here… Now!” he instructed as sternly as possible, voice no louder than a whisper. Flora sat unmoving, her hands became as red as his before she tore off his keyring and fled, leaving everything behind. Never returning to that spot or even that country.
That event where I lost everything filled me with the regret of not wanting to be a part of the agency. Had I joined, I would not have fallen into the trap Father laid for the enemy. Had I joined, I would have been able to spend more time with Luke. Had I joined… perhaps I could have saved them all. Luke, Father, Kat, Alfendi and Lucy, please forgive me, I wronged you all in the worst way possible and fled from the aftermath, do you miss me? Do you all still love me?
---
A woman dressed in deep red stood outside a bakery swaying softly, clutching a ruined and tinted red bear keyring to her heart. Rain pattered softly, her tears being washed away thanks to mother nature. People began losing interest in the talent outside of the bakery but she stayed until the end. The song finished and the middle aged woman with dark eyes and fair hair tipped the Parisian busker playing “Ashokan Farewell” outside the bakery with the bear keyring she held to her heart moments before.
It’s still our song, Luke — Your Flora.