A Bumpy Ride
Disclaimer: We don't own the rights to the Professor Layton series. Kind of a shame, huh? I mean, then this would be canon, and I'd have my hands full trying to make sure Gatita wasn't misusing pens in every scene.
Author's Note: This was co-written by me(SyberiaWinx, writer of the Disclaimer and Author's Note) and Gatita101. It was all just one fic, but it came out so long, that I suggested we separate it into chapters for uploading. Please remember to review!
Also, please be warned that this does contain some SPOILERS for Mask of Miracle, but only really the very last scene. We don't know much about Broneph, and it will be totally creepy if he turns out to be related to Descole or Bill Hawkes-evil, so this fic will be about how we envision the character. This is being written before Mask of Miracles even has a US release date.
And please check out the work of JACKSPICERCHASE on DeviantArt, as it was a real inspiration for this fic. There are spoilers there, though, so you might just want to do a search for Broneph, as there's not a lot of art containing him yet. Another big inspiration was a picture on Pixiv, but I can't post a link here, unfortunately.
This was not good.
A normal person would likely have thought that much earlier, probably around the time they looked up to find themselves being surrounded by a literal army. But then, Descole was hardly what one would consider "normal".
Most ordinary people would not spend their afternoon alone in what could only be called a desert, checking out some ancient ruins. That was what Descole had been doing when the peaceful silence was interrupted by the approach of about a dozen helicopters and cars. He had turned to see men in blue police-like uniforms and sunglasses rushing forward with guns. But these guys were not part of the police. He knew that immediately. They were members of a shadowy organization called "Targent", the true purpose of which even he did not know.
One thing he did know, however, was that they were there for him-to capture him or kill him. In short, to make him disappear.
A normal person would have been worried. Descole was just irritated.
But then he had shown up.
Broneph Reinel-the leader of Targent-had stepped out of the back of an impressive black car. It was easy enough to spot him, as he was the only person there not in a uniform. Unlike everyone else, he simply stood there, his face unreadable beyond the dark sunglasses he wore.
Descole's hands had clenched at his sides, as his irritation turned to rage. There was no one he hated more than that infuriating man who was always getting in his way-always beating him. Before he could even think about the possible consequences of his actions, he had charged forward.
Gunfire erupted, but he had skillfully dodged every bullet, casting his cloak off in the process. In spite of the odds against him, he had managed to reach Broneph unharmed. The man had simply stood there, avoiding his punch with a simple tilt of his head. He had then taken advantage of the opening to knee Descole in the stomach, resulting in the other man collapsing against him in pain.
Broneph had grabbed him by his boa, sparing only a moment to insult him before casting him aside, tearing his boa off in the process. Descole had tried to push himself up after hitting the ground, but he was still in pain and had quickly found himself in his current position-held at gunpoint and pinned down, men from Targent holding his hands behind his back and his head down so that the side of his face was pushed into the hot sand, effectively preventing him from doing more than struggling weakly.
Yes, this was definitely not good.
Descole heard Broneph approach, stopping to kneel in front of him. He flinched as the man reached out to touch his mask, fingers tracing it. Hearing the other man murmur something about finally seeing his face caused him to struggle harder, but it was no good. He could barely move at all.
Broneph chuckled at this, a sound that made Descole grit his teeth in anger. "I could unmask you right now," he informed the helpless scientist quietly. His lips curled into a slight smirk. "But I think I'd rather wait until later. I want to savor that moment."
Righting himself, Broneph snapped his fingers, causing more of his men to come rushing over. He ordered them to tie Descole up and load him into one of the cars, reminding them he was not to be underestimated. Though his tone did not change and no threat ever passed his lips, it was clear when he told them to make sure Descole didn't get away that there would be hell to pay if they failed.
For a moment, Broneph watched as his men started to carry out their orders. His face remained neutral, but he took a great deal of pleasure in watching as a thick rope was used to bind Descole's arms behind his back, from his wrists to a few inches short of his elbows. A part of him wanted to continue watching, but he turned and headed back to his car. Behind him, he could hear an infuriated Descole shouting and demanding to be let go. His men would have their work cut out for them.
Sure enough, before he could even get into his car, he heard them crying out and yelling instructions to one another. He glanced back to see them attempting to drag the bound Descole off. They had neglected to tie his feet, however, and he was putting up quite a fight, ignoring all the guns trained on him as he alternated between kicking and digging his feet into the ground. From the distance, he looked almost like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
That was a pretty accurate description, though, Broneph realized with a smirk, getting into his car. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms folded, the door hanging open almost expectantly. Before long, one of his men ran up to him, out of breath. Between gasps, he informed his boss that they were having more than a little trouble with Descole.
"We didn't have enough rope left to bind his legs." his subordinate explained, still struggling to regain his breath. "We've still got him, but he's already managed to injure more than a handful of our men. Even if we get him in the car, it's gonna take a lot of manpower just to keep him inside, and we'd probably need to bring some extra guys with us, in case he manages to injure anyone else. But you said earlier you wanted most of us to work on securing the ruins…" He didn't finish, clearly uncomfortable now that he had recovered from his exhaustion.
Broneph was silent for a moment, causing a bead of sweat to appear on the forehead of the increasingly-nervous man standing outside the car door. "Throw him in here, then tell the driver to head back to headquarters as soon as the ruins are taken care of." he said finally, turning away.
"Are you sure, sir? He's…" The question quickly died on the lackey's lips as the other man looked at him. He couldn't see the expression on his boss' face, but he was pretty sure there was a glare aimed at him behind those sunglasses. "R-right away, sir!" he stuttered, scrambling away.
The interior of the back of the car was quite large, with comfortable leather seats on either side. There was more than enough space for Broneph to deal with Descole if needed. It was also soundproof, with a black panel that blocked it off from the front of the car. The tinted windows prevented anyone from seeing in, ensuring total privacy, not that that was much of an issue in the desert.
It wasn't long before he heard the sounds of Descole being dragged towards the car, or rather, the sounds of the other man verbally-abusing his men and their pained cries each time one of his kicks successfully landed.
Broneph couldn't help but smirk as Descole was unceremoniously tossed into the car, landing harshly on his side. This had clearly hurt, as the scientist just lay there for a moment, teeth clenched. In a matter of seconds, though, he had managed to get into a sitting position and was yelling obscenities at the retreating backs of the men responsible for throwing him in there.
"You bastards!" He fumed. "Why don't you get back here and fight me?! I bet I could take you all down, even with my hands tied!" His face was red as he shouted, though Broneph couldn't be sure whether it was from embarrassment, exertion, or both. He had clearly not yet noticed the other man's presence and continued yelling at the people responsible for his indignity, apparently not caring that they probably couldn't even hear him anymore. "I'll get you all for this! Just you wait until I get free! These ropes won't hold me forever!"
Broneph actually felt a bit of pity for his men. "I'm surprised they didn't gag you." he commented offhandedly, his tone disinterested. He could almost see Descole's eyes widen behind his mask as he turned towards the voice, recognizing it instantly.
"You!" he hissed. There was no doubt he was glaring up at Broneph, furious. That one word was the only warning given before Descole somehow managed to spring into a crouching position, balancing on one of his legs as he sent the other flying at the side of Broneph's head.
The other man's expression did not change in the slightest as he effortlessly caught Descole's ankle, once again avoiding his attack with as little movement as possible. "You're as feisty as ever."
Descole seethed, struggling to both keep his balance and free himself from Broneph's grasp. He opened his mouth to respond, only to let out a surprised yelp as a sudden tug on his leg found him lying on his back. His ankle was released, and he immediately started trying to move back into his previous position, no doubt so he could attack again.
"Don't you ever give up?" Broneph caught him by the ankle a second time. "You really think you can hit me tied up, when you couldn't even manage with all your limbs free?"
"Shut up, you bastard!" Descole spat furiously, having again found himself struggling to break free of the other man's grip.
"Such language…" Broneph squeezed his ankle, forcing him to quickly stifle a cry of pain. He was stronger than Descole would ever care to admit. "You should really learn to accept when you've been beaten." His grip tightened even further, and Descole couldn't stop a pained groan from escaping his lips. Broneph smirked, but released him. Descole quickly pulled his leg away and made no move to attack a third time, though the other man suspected he was just waiting for the pain to subside. "If you're ready to behave yourself, I'll let you sit up here with me." His condescending tone as he patted the seat beside him earned him a snarl from Descole.
"Dammit!" Descole cursed. "Shut up!" He accompanied that last word with yet another kick, but the result was the same as his previous two attempts.
"If that's how you're going to act," Broneph kept his grip firm as Descole desperately tried to wrench his leg free. "Don't blame me when you end up getting hurt."
"Let me go!" Descole demanded, ignoring his warning.
Broneph did as Descole asked, causing the scientist to go stumbling backwards across the car, his back slamming into the seat there. He managed to remain on his feet, but this only caused him to be thrown forward as the car suddenly jerked to life.
With his hands bound, Descole was unable to do anything as he collided face-first with the floor. It was softer and hurt less than he had expected, but his pride had taken a hit that was much more painful for him. Trying to pretend his face was only red due to the impact, Descole struggled to right himself, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with the other man.
Unfortunately, he could still hear him.
"Would have thought a genius like you would know better than to stand up in a moving car."
Descole grit his teeth angrily, feeling the blush on his face deepen. "Sh-shut up!" His attempt to get up was thwarted as the car hit a bump, causing him to go crashing back to the floor.
"You know," Broneph started. "This is a desert. The ride's unlikely to get smooth anytime soon."
Ignoring him, Descole kept trying to get up off the floor. Unfortunately, the way he was tied up made it impossible. Every time the car rocked, he would end up being slammed back down. He was already sore from everything that had happened earlier, and being thrown all over the car was not helping matters.
Broneph watched him for a while, before finally speaking up again. "As much as I'm enjoying your stupidity, maybe you should stop before you hurt yourself?"
"Just shut up." Descole growled, but he did not try again. His body ached all over, and he was a little tired. He lay on his side in front of Broneph, trying to catch his breath.
"I suppose you could just stay there." Broneph continued, ignoring his words. "The floor suits you, and I kind of like seeing you at my feet where you belong-at my mercy." he added with a smirk. Descole glared up at him furiously, his face turning an even darker shade of crimson. Broneph chuckled. "Look at you, growling and snarling at me, all angry and embarrassed… You look like a dog disobeying its master."
This remark infuriated Descole, and in an instant, he was back on his feet and swinging his foot towards Broneph. The car had apparently reached a smooth section of the desert, allowing him to launch a surprise attack. But even though Broneph didn't see it coming, he was still able to catch the other man's ankle just before the hit could land.
"Damn…" He had come closer that time, but it still wasn't enough. The only thing he could take satisfaction in, was the slight frown that had formed on Broneph's face. He was clearly not pleased.
"I did warn you." That was all Broneph said, before suddenly kicking Descole's other leg out from under him in one quick, smooth motion.
Descole crashed back to the floor, groaning in pain at the force of the impact. That had hurt a lot more than when he'd fallen face-first. Unable to push himself up, he struggled to his knees, glaring up at Broneph. It looked as if the man had not moved at all, and Descole couldn't help growling at him in irritation.
"Just like I said-a dog disobeying its master."
"I'm not a dog!" Descole said through gritted teeth.
Unfortunately, that hardly helped his cause.
"Why don't you be a good boy and stay there?" was Broneph's response.
Enraged, Descole struggled against his bonds, wanting nothing more than to beat the man within an inch of his life. "You think you can talk down to me just because of that lucky hit back there? You're not that strong on your own. Without your army, you're not even remotely as intimidating as you think you are."
Unable to harm him physically, Descole had started aiming for the other man's pride. But Broneph wasn't nearly as prideful as Descole himself. He didn't get angry. No, instead, he grinned. Descole's accusations meant nothing to him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't delight in showing him just how wrong he was.
"Oh, really?" Descole froze as Broneph's hand suddenly moved towards him slowly, fingers coming to rest on his tie. "You should watch your tongue." He trailed his hand up the length of black fabric, before suddenly grasping it firmly. Descole let out a yelp as he was suddenly pulled forward, onto the other man's lap. He found himself sitting on Broneph's knee, with his legs resting on either side. Descole tried to fight, but to no avail. His arms were useless, and no matter how hard he tried to kick, his feet only hit the bottom of the seat.
Broneph moved one hand to firmly grasp the underside of Descole's leg, just above his right knee. The other released his tie and came to rest on his left shoulder blade, forcing him to lean in closer, until his chin rested on Broneph's own shoulder. Though the position was humiliating and beyond awkward, Descole didn't dare move as the other man spoke into his ear.
"Bad dogs tend to get punished."