[[So, I was sad and needed to write something funny to cheer myself up. The result my crazy mind could come up with is this pure crackfic. At times the characters may act slightly OOC... You've been warned.]]

Randall's Road trip

Living with Randall was like keeping a wild monkey in your house. Except a wild monkey would be less hyperactive.

Randall had never enjoyed staying cooped up indoors all day. He'd rather embrace the world and go out on exciting explorations. This drive for adventure had led to his downfall... quite literally. During a dangerous expedition at the Akbadain Ruins, Randall had tragically fallen and lost his life (All because he refused to drop that darn mask...!). Or so it seemed. Eighteen years later Randall was reunited with his friends in Monte d'Or, now a fully grown man, albeit far more tanned than before. After his terrible mistakes were forgiven and forgotten, Randall began residing at the Ledore Mansion with Henry and Angela. At first, it appeared Randall's personality had become a little reserved in the years he'd spent apart from his companions. But within a few weeks of settling into his new home, the old Randall— the enthusiastic daring adventurer— started to show.

Angela was thrilled when Randall brought her an archaeology book from Henry's study. There was the lively boy she'd grown up with; the Randall she knew and loved. Though, no matter how much she loved him and how calm she was in most situations, Angela was horrified to discover Randall digging holes in her parlour one day. Henry, despite usually being king of the neat freaks, was more tolerant of Master Randall.

But even Henry couldn't ignore Randall's latest endeavour.

Standing on the edge of Monte d'Or's ruined museum, Henry and Angela turned to a police officer in horror.

"What did he do exactly?" Henry asked.

"Well, Mr Ledore, it seems your friend took a drill beneath the art gallery and the floor caved-in."

"A... a DRILL?" Angela nearly shrieked. "Where did Randall even get that?"

The policeman shrugged. "No idea. Just a good thing there weren't any tourists in the gallery at the time. "

"I'm very sorry, we'll pay for all the damages and speak to him immediately," Henry promised.

At that moment, Randall came sauntering out of the wreckage wearing a yellow safety helmet. "Hi Angela, Henry," he greeted them casually.

Angela sighed. "Randall, why would you do this?"

"I heard there might be treasure hidden below the museum," Randall explained, his eyes lighting up like a little kid.

"Look, Mr Ascot," the policeman said pointedly. "I get you've got apparent rights to the land (or whatever the heck that 'proof of ownership' document was about). But that doesn't mean you can go around making tunnels under public buildings whenever you feel like it."

"He's right, Randall," Angela agreed. "If you want to search for treasure you'll have to do it outside of Monte d'Or from now on. You're endangering people here."

"Are you breaking up with me, Angie?" Randall's lip wavered suddenly. "Y-you want me to leave Monte d'Or and never see you again?"

"What? No..! No of course not. I just think you could use a holiday. You need to get out of the city."

"I'll be happy to accompany you, Master Randall," Henry added.

"I could stay with Hershel..." Randall said thoughtfully.

Good grief, they couldn't let Randall loose in a metropolis like London. He was a public health hazard. His presence there would be declared a national emergency!

Angela suggested quickly "I think it would be better if you visited the quiet countryside. After all, you spent eighteen years working as a farmer. Maybe a part of you misses that rural lifestyle."

"That's a great idea. ROAD TRIP! " Randall punched the air. "Henry we need to start packing. But I'd still like to see Hershel..."

-0-

The next day, Randall and Henry walked to the barren outskirts of Monte d'Or. The redhead carried a single orange rucksack while poor Henry lugged Randall's gazillion other bags behind him. Randall had packed a tonne of archaeology equipment, snacks for the journey, a suitcase completely filled with different coloured ascots...

"M-master Randall," Henry panted, leaning against a rock. "Where is the cab you called for?"

Randall turned to him in confusion. "Cab...?"

Henry face palmed. "Please tell me you didn't forget... How else are we supposed to get out of Monte d'Or?"

"Oh, don't worry," Randall assured him. "I arranged for someone to pick us up— look, here's our ride now!"

A red car was speeding through the desert, whipping up a cloud of dust in its wake. The vehicle came to a halt in front of them and the driver leapt out, holding the brim of his top hat.

"Randall, are you alright?" Hershel studied his friend in panic. (He ignored Henry.)

"Hershel, just in time," Randall grinned. "Henry, load up the car."

"Excuse me...?" Hershel blinked as Henry started shoving Randall's luggage into the car's trunk. "Randall, what is going on? You said you urgently required my assistance. I left Emmy with Luke and departed from London immediately after you contacted me."

"We do require your assistance," Randall insisted. "You have a car and we need a ride out of Monte d'Or. Do the math."

Hershel groaned lightly as Randall jumped into the front seat of his automobile. Henry sat in the back where Luke would usually be.

"Fine," Hershel eventually conceded. "But I'm driving."

"Ah, c'mon, Hersh, let me try!" Randall begged. "I've never driven a car before..."

Ten minutes later, Randall's attempts to steer the car had resulted in them crashing into a cactus.

"I repeat," Hershel hissed, pulling his face out of the inflated airbag. "I am driving."

"Fine, fine, I'll ride shotgun instead."

"So, where exactly am I taking you?" Hershel inquired once he'd regained control of the wheel. Monte d'Or was fading behind them like a mirage a dehydrated traveller might see on the sand.

"I'm not sure," Randall answered, staring idly out the window. "Anywhere I guess."

"You don't even have a planned destination in mind?" Hershel had to resist the urge to bang his head against the dash board.

Henry explained quickly "Master Randall wanted to do some archaeology work away from city."

"Yeah," Randall nodded. "Have you visited any sites of archaeological interest recently, Hershel?"

"I can think of a place..."

-0-

The Laytonmobile drove out of the dessert. What, you wanted me to describe the whole journey? Well, tough. I don't know. Maybe Monte d'Or is in Britain. But then how would you explain the dessert? For all I know, the Laytonmobile transformed into a boat and sailed across the ocean... or perhaps it turned into a plane. (Wait, that doesn't happen until Unwound Future...) I honestly have no idea.

When they'd reached civilisation, Randall had cravings for French fries so the trio stopped at a fast food drive-thru.

"Alright Hersh, here's the next one..." Randall said through a mouthful of fries (much to Henry's distaste).

"I believe we've had quite enough puzzles, Randall," Layton sighed. Randall had already given him 157 brain teasers on the journey so far. Even Hershel Layton had had enough puzzles for one day.

"Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease Hershy!"

"No!"

Regardless of his friend's protests, Randall plowed into another puzzle "There are three wolves and three chicks standing on the edge of a river—"

"Oh, look, we're here!" Hershel suddenly declared, cutting the engine and jumping out of the car before Randall could finish.

"So, this is Misthallery." Henry also got out and gazed at the village with a smile. "It has a very quaint feel to it."

Randall was fuming because he hadn't been able to finish saying his puzzle. He squinted through the fog that enveloped the town, muttering irritably. "I can't even see the place... And what kind of name is 'Misthallery' anyway?"

Someone replied "Do you need a hint coin to help you discover the answer to that question?"

Layton tipped his hat to the familiar man in a pink jacket and white pants who had just strolled across the bridge to them. "Greetings, Aldus."

"Hello again, my gentleman friend," Aldus clasped his hands under his chin. "Have you been keeping well since our previous meeting in Monte d'Or? I knew you would eventually return to the site of our first fateful encounter."

"Gee, Hershel, you didn't tell me you have a stalker," Randall snorted. Tired of waiting, he marched across the wooden bridge and straight into town.

"Please wait, Master Randall," Henry called. "You don't even know where you're going!"

Hershel bid Aldus a hasty farewell and the two of them chased after the redhead. They caught Randall swinging on the rope bridge that led to the Crossroads as if it were an amusement ride.

Henry wobbled halfway across the rickety bridge, reaching for his friend. "Master Randall, you mustn't do that!"

"Mustn't do what? This?" Grinning, Randall made the groaning bridge swing side to side again.

"Yes, that!" Henry cried, grabbing onto the rope banister for dear life.

Hershel rolled his eyes. I always have to do everything, don't I? The professor calmly walked across the bridge, pushing Randall forward. "Stop it, Randall. Otherwise you'll give Henry a heart attack."

"Alright, alright." They came to the end of the bridge and Randall shouted over his shoulder to the blonde man, who was still firmly clinging to the rope like a sloth. "Hurry up, Henry! We don't have all day!"

Taking a left at the Crossroads, the trio passed South Pier (Randall paused momentarily to admire Bucky's boat) and finally came to Triton Manor.

"Why do we need to stop here?" Randall whined. "I want to see this amazing archaeology site you've told me all about!"

Hershel replied patiently "We will, once we have informed Clark of our arrival." He climbed the steps and knocked the front door. Randall wanted to be the first person inside so he pushed in front of the professor.

"I'm coming..." Doland Noble answered the door; he studied the unfamiliar face of the red haired visitor. "Yes...? How may I help you?"

"We're here to see Clark," Randall explained shortly, barging straight past Doland through the door.

The butler stared after Randall in distress. "Y-you can't just invite yourself inside—!"

"Hello, Doland. Please excuse Randall, he's just eager to meet Clark and explore Misthallery."

"Ah, Professor Layton, welcome," Doland smiled as he recognised the top hated man who had saved the town. Gesturing to Randall, Doland whispered "I suppose he is a friend of yours...? I'll let Master Triton know you are here."

As the butler promptly disappeared to fetch Clark, the three remained in the foyer. Henry admired the spotless work of the cleaning staff.

"Hershel, it's lovely to see you!" Brenda descended the staircase, catching the professor in a warm hug. She also offered Randall and Henry welcoming smiles. "Hello, I'm Brenda. Please make yourselves at home." (Randall had already done that.)

Randall grinned and gave Brenda's hand a friendly shake. "Hi, the name's Randall Ascot, and that's Henry Ledore over there..." He cocked his head to the side, his eyes perusing the woman. "I didn't know Clark had a daughter."

"Oh, no..." Brenda laughed; she put her hands to her cheeks as they tinged pink. "T-thank you, but I'm actually Clark's wife." She turned to Hershel in embarrassment. "S-speaking of which, where's my little Luke?"

"I'm sorry; I had to leave him in London with Emmy. This trip to Misthallery was all very... short notice." Hershel purposely glimpsed at Randall. Perhaps it was better that he hadn't brought Luke. After all, how would he explain to Clark that this was the man who had dangerously suspended Luke from a high wire back in Monte d'Or? True, Randall was no longer to Masked Gentleman, and Luke came out unscathed, but Randall's apologises probably wouldn't cut it for Clark.

"I see..." Brenda looked disappointed at missing her son, but she brightened again. "Never mind, I'll ring Luke later on."

At that point, Clark entered the foyer. Randall 's eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he gawked at Misthallery's mayor.

"Hello, Hershel," Clark greeted his old friend, giving Randall strange glances. "Is Luke with you? Who are these two companions of your's?"

"This is Mr Henry Ledore a...and Mr Randall Ascot," Brenda introduced the pair, blushing slightly again.

Randall frantically pointed at his chin, looking from Hershel to Clark. "Coh... Look at it...!"

"Erm, Hershel," Clark coughed "Is Mr Ascot alright? What is he referring to?"

"It's HUGE, even bigger than your one, Henry!"

"What are you talking about, Randall?" Layton hissed.

"His BEARD!" Randall declared, pointing triumphantly at Clark's facial hair. "It must have taken him years to grow it that long! He's like a... like a Billy goat! Or a fancy caveman!"

Clark rubbed his well trimmed beard, rather miffed. "Excuse me, but I do not resemble a goat. Nor a Neanderthal."

"And I swear, the hair on his head looks like a loaf of bread—!"

"That's enough, Randall," Hershel sighed. "Why don't you politely explain to Clark what we're doing here."

[[Full credit for Clark's "bread hair" joke goes GeorgieSusoWasSuarez.]]