Professor Layton Harpy AU Oneshots

haha magic man

"One, two, three, four..."

Pacing around the room and spinning his cane, Randall grew increasingly impatient.

"...did you miss me, Monte d'Or?"

His voice was no louder than a whisper, and he knew he was alone, but a more paranoid part of him still worried if anyone would overhear.

"Five, six, seven, eight..."

He must have circled the small, empty room five or six times by now. Not that he kept count; he had a more important matters on his mind.

"...no one can escape their fate."

His free hand toyed with his hair. It felt different from the wig he once wore; it was softer, much shorter, and somehow felt more natural. He grew tired of the wig after merely an hour, so he was glad to never need it again.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve..."

Even without the wig, he still had to get in character. After all, it was too late to change his mind.

"...just how deep do you wish to delve?"

He adjusted his hat, feeling the replica mask slip down his face. It didn't stay as well as the true Mask of Chaos, but he would rather have a fake. Just the thought of donning the real one filled him with guilt and regret.

"One, two, three, four..." he sighed, his voice growing quieter and quieter. His assistant was taking too long getting ready.

His assistant...

His assistant...

He could hardly believe he was his assistant, even if it was only a temporary matter. Something about it felt odd to him, despite how frequently he reminded himself why this was the case. Descole needed him to help train his magic while they were busy with whatever it was they were doing (they never explained, no matter how many times Randall asked), and what better way than by putting on a magic show.

"...did you miss me, Monte d'Or?" he muttered through his teeth, no longer moving about. He leaned on his cane and tapped his foot, adjusting his cravat purely out of boredom. Or at least, he tried to convince himself it was boredom. In reality, he was struggling to stay still, wishing he could turn back time and demand his past self not to even suggest doing the show. It shouldn't be that huge of a deal, his past self had concluded. It'll just be between the family, and only Des knows ahead of time. If anything, it'll be fun!

Boy, was past me wrong.

Finally, the door opened, and his assistant stepped into the room. "Sorry I took so long," he said, his voice quieter than it should have been.

"It's no problem at all," Randall replied, meticulously inspecting his outfit to make sure everything was perfect. Long, chocolate brown coat? Check. Red cravat in the same style as his own? Check. Black gloves? Check. Descole-esque mask? Check. His iconic top hat? Naturally, check.

"So then," he started, interrupting his friend's train of thought, "what's next?"

"Ah, yes! Just a moment." Randall rushed to the closet, rummaging through the darkness trying to find what he needed. Suddenly, a bright light faded in from behind him, illuminating the closet. Grabbing a cane almost identical to his (the only difference was that it was a bit larger), he thanked his friend and handed it to him.

"A cane? But I thought-"

"Pull it out."

"What?"

"Here." Randall moved his friend's hands so they held onto the lower end of the cane and yanked back the top, revealing a thin sword safely held inside. He then pressed a hidden button on the top that shot out to form a handle, the rest of it forming the hilt of the sword.