The Trouble With Akbadain.
AN: Not much to say in this Author's note, actually. I'm just wasting my time writing it. So I'll stop, I suppose.
Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or any of the characters. I am not making any profit from this story - it is for my own, and hopefully someone else's, enjoyment.
Chapter Seven - Hallucinations and Poisoned Knives.
Descole was walking through a nightmare.
He stood on a ledge high above the floor, precariously balanced, and the world around him was spinning. Images played like films before his eyes. At present, he was trapped in a painful memory:
The small family stood in a huddle as the door before them was swung off its hinges.
"Sir," one of the large, beefy intruders grunted, "You and your family will come with us."
The father growled at the men, but his face was pale. "We're not going anywhere with you!"
Behind him, the younger of the two children started crying into his older brother's arms, and the boy's mother tried to reach for him as the four men began to shout. Then there was a bang, a scream, and a cry of alarm as the three men leapt towards the family, grabbing the two adults and knocking the eldest son away as he rushed forwards to save his parents.
In a matter of seconds, the large black car in the driveway was pulling away from the house and onto the street, leaving the two children on their own: one crying, and one bleeding...
Descole was jerked from the scene as his knees hit the cold stone on the ledge, and he growled his frustration. No sooner had his head cleared, than he was plunged again into a misty recollection:
A teenage boy stood alone, fists clenched, teeth gritted, and tears streaming down his face.
'...Leader of the Government organisation 'Targent'...' The article had said, '...Successfully running the organisation for over twelve years...'
With an anguished, furious, heart-wrenching yell the boy punched the boulder beside him and fell to the ground, ignoring his throbbing, bleeding knuckles and crying tears of hate...
His shoulder collided with the wall, but Descole barely felt it, now holding onto the very last threads of consciousness...
A man stood on a balcony, unseen eyes smoldering, long fingers gripping the metal railing.
"We have to find it first," he said to the figure beside him, "and we will have to destroy it. Otherwise the power will be open to anyone."
Had the man's face not been covered, the figure beside him would've seen the eyes brimming with the last of unshed tears.
The air around him was cold, and Descole allowed himself a fevered smile.
Those tears would have to remain unshed forever.
He had never been one to follow his instincts. But Raymond could not deny that this time had been one of the rare occasions where he had.
With the 'zeppelin' under control, and his mind set solely upon rescuing his master, he had turned the contraption around and began flying in a straight line. Just because he felt like it was the right way.
Sure enough, he had found, or more like 'almost flown into' a helicopter he recognised as one of Reinel's.
The intercom crackled, "Codeword?" Raymond jumped in his seat, more than a little startled. Codeword? Couldn't they see that he wasn't part of the army? With another jolt he realised that the helicopter had large gun-like contraptions attached on the underside, and Raymond blurted out the first word that came to his mind:
There was silence on the other end of the line. "Clear. Proceed to landing pad seven zero five."
The communications link shut off, and Raymond allowed himself a sigh of relief. Azran. Really? How incredibly unoriginal, and how incredibly obvious. The helicopter must have been a border patrol, he thought, and so that means the base is not far from here!
He was right. Within a matter of minutes, he saw a large, oblong building looming out of the dunes of sand. Along the top of the building were walled-in numbered platforms - seven zero zero to eight zero zero - but barely any were occupied. In fact, the building looked deserted.
With great care, Raymond flew as low to platform seven zero five as the plane would allow him, and the weaved his way into another little nook nearby. He shut the engines off and slipped out of the steel door and dropped to the ground.
No Targent soldiers were coming, but Raymond felt, rather than saw, their presence. He snuck over to the door and opened it a crack, but withdrew almost immediately as he saw the five Targent soldiers on the other side. Raymond exhaled slowly as he glanced around to find some sort of weapon or object to defend himself. His eyes, however, fell upon something far better.
A ledge, and a crumbling gap in the wall.
Reinel was not what one would call a patient man.
He had been content for a while, lounging in his office, staring at the now dried bead of blood on the green stone knifepoint.
It wouldn't have been enough for the sacrifice. In fact, it probably wouldn't have made a difference if it was spilt upon the altar. It was, however, enough to show Reinel that he had cut deep enough to poison his victim's blood. He could still see the poison within the stone - the only thing that could subdue an Azran. But in a short while his smirk had faded, and he had thrown the knife away, replacing it with the one that had lain upon his desk.
In Reinel's eyes, this was the real jewel. He had found it upon the altar itself, obviously meant for the sacrifice, in top condition - the blade had been sharp, the tool well kept, and the handle stained with the blood of its last victims. Why the handle was like this, and not the blade, Reinel was not sure. But frankly, he didn't really care.
The knife in his hands seemed to be trembling, as if awaiting its next time of use. Reinel found himself tapping the handle aimlessly, as though trying to soothe the object, as he waited for one of his soldiers to come to him and report.
As if on cue, there was a hesitant, heavy knock on the door, and the Targent soldier let himself in.
"Sir," he said, "A foreign airplane was seen above the base. The patrol reported that it knew the codeword, sir."
Reinel sat up and frowned. "Did the patrol get a look at the pilot?"
"Not much of a look, sir," the soldier said nervously, "Only that he wasn't wearing the usual uniform. And that he seemed to be rather old-"
Reinel jumped up, fury written all over his features. "The old fool!" he snarled, stalking towards the door and yanking it open, gripping the knife very hard.
"Sir?" the soldier questioned as he hurried along behind him.
"Assemble a team to go and search for the aircraft," Reinel spat, "Quickly!" The soldier dropped from his side and disappeared, and Reinel growled under his breath, moving even faster toward the landing pads.
Miss D: Dun dun DUUUUUUUUN! Will Reinel find Raymond? Will Descole, poor poisoned soul that he is, be alright? Well, you'll have to wait until I decide to update again!
Miss D: No, silly! Boo hoo, because you will have to wait to see what happens!
Descole: Ah. Very well then, please review, and to those of you who did, thank you very much.
Miss D: You forgot to say happy Easter!
Miss D: Sourpuss. Happy Easter everybody!