Layton Group Prologue – This Reminds Me of a Puzzle…?

Professor Hershel Layton of archaeology at Gressenheller University sat in his home, at his desk, during midday, sorting through fossils and making vague sketches of a creature's skeleton based on said fossils. For reference, he kept one novel open on the top left corner of his desk, and as he went back and forth, sipping from his teacup and making marks on his sheet of sketch paper, he marked occasionally on the thin pages of the book.

"Professah! Professah!" shouted a young blonde boy whose name was Luke Triton, as he opened the door, came through it, and slammed it closed behind him at lightning speed.

Upon hearing the distress in the poor boy's tone, he dropped his pencil below where his hand was hovering, snatched his jacket that was resting its shoulders on the back of his wooden chair and bolted out from his study, calling, "What is it, Luke? What's happened?" Halfway down the stairs, he caught sight of the 15-year-old Triton boy, who was looking up at him from the base. "Luke?"

"Come outside, Professah! It's unimaginable what's happening outside right now! Supernatural, I could even say," declared Luke, his left hand grasping the strap on his brown briefcase that was strung around him.

"Luke, please, I have no idea what you're going on about. Could you elaborate a bit?" asked the professor, quickly slipping his arms into the sleeves of his black coat and adjusting his hat at the brim.

"No, Professah, I don't think I could," the boy replied. "You need to come see with your very own eyes!" Luke tugged slightly at Layton's sleeve, and then bolted back outside just as quickly as he had come in from it, this time leaving the door open a crack behind him.

Luke stood on the curb looking frightfully up at the sky, and holding the brim of his newspaper boy cap between his forefinger and the end of his thumb, so the harsh wind wouldn't blow it away from the top of his head. The first thing the Professor noticed as he opened the front door was a purplish tint that covered everything, instead of the orange-ish haze that the sun bathed the scenery in as evening began. As he opened it wider, he felt the wind hit him, cause resistance when he tried to push the door, and observed how unnaturally powerful it was. Then said wind changed direction suddenly and flung the door open so that it hit the wall behind it. As he walked halfway down the staircase at the doorstep, Layton laid eyes on a purplish-blue vortex, swirling in the sky above suburban London.

"Good heavens!" Layton exclaimed. "What on earth is that!?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Professah!" Luke yelled, which was the only way to be heard over the commotion and a very loud humming noise emanating from the vortex. The sounds that could be heard during their pause were panicking people, barking dogs and the whistle of the wind.

"That, my good man," said a voice from behind, "is a rip in the fabric." Luke whipped himself around to see the man who spoke just then, and the professor turned quickly round also.

"Who are you!? How do you know about this thing?" Luke barked at the man as he became a bit defensive.

"Luke, please," scolded the Professor. "'Rip in the fabric', you say… Do you mean the fabric of—" Layton was cut off by the man's swift reply.

"Space-time, yes."

"Excuse my manners at this point, if you will. I am Hershel Layton, and this is Luke. May I know your name, sir?"

"I am Emmerich Frei," answered he. "Perhaps we can discuss more indoors, given you don't mind."

"Of course. My house is right here. Please, follow me," said the Professor. Luke followed behind Frei, who followed Layton, and childishly gave him a proper stink eye because Frei couldn't see him do so. The Professor led his little procession to the dining room table at which they all proceeded to sit.

"Whoo! That wind sure is something! It feels good to be inside, and away from it," remarked Luke, fixing his cap. He leaned against a wall and looked on to the two adults in whose presence he was now in.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, Mr. Frei?" asked Layton.

The man set down a very nice black, glossy walking stick with gold accents at the handle and at the opposite end, so the handle rested at the edge of the table. Then, he got into a comfortable position in his chair and adjusted his sharp-angled glasses. "I am a temporal scientist, as you may have deciphered. I have based my research on the theories of Dr. Alain Stahngun, AKA Dimitri Allen. Although his goal was to deceive you when you encountered him, his research and that invention he created was far from invalid. I am an expert in this area, and I wish to petition you to partner with me in unraveling the mystery behind the cause of that vortex," explained Frei.

"I'll be happy to assist you, sir. But the subject is broad and contains a majority of conjecture and surmise. Where do we begin?" inquired Layton.

"With observation, of course!"

"Of course."

"Just keep your eyes open for the unordinary and report those sightings to me. I would appreciate a daily wire of your findings."

"I can certainly comply. But, may I ask one more question?"

"You certainly may."

"Why are you so intent on finding the answer to the cause of this anomaly?"

"I have a gut feeling we will save some innocent souls with the answer, my friend. And now, if you'll excuse me," Frei picked up his walking stick and looked down at his watch, "I'll be off. Good day." Then he nodded, and saw himself quickly out the front door.

As Frei closed the door behind him and walked down the curb, away from Layton's abode, Luke said, "What a curious man, Professah."

"Indeed."

"Are you really going to help that guy? I mean—this could be dangerous! I know Allen's "future London" was merely a ploy, but this—that can't have been fabricated, could it?" Luke asked, becoming quite worried at the thought of an actual rip in the fabric of space-time.

"Doubtful. Quite, doubtful. However, such careful trickery has been used on us before. Do not let your eyes or your emotions deceive you, or previous circumstances bias you, Luke. Remember, a true gentleman always keeps a clear head."

The Professor had been at Gressenheller all morning and afternoon, seeing as it was a Thursday, and was now walking from the university at which he taught to his home, enjoying himself much less than he normally did during this walk. The vortex still spun round in the sky, making it appear a purplish blue instead of the normal shade of blue. The sun had all but vanished, and there were no clouds. Birds were quiet, and people walked around silently, somewhat fearfully, making his little suburban London feel so unnatural.

Adjusting the position of the strap of the thick, heavy briefcase he toted on his shoulder, he glanced around. He was about halfway home, where all the restaurants, cafes, bakeries, the local butcher, pastry shops, and other shops of odds and ends and miscellaneous components were located. First, he glanced to the left, at the rows of little holes-in-the-walls he was directly passing. Then, he glanced to the right, across the street, directly into the window of a café. What he beheld was the most conspicuous group, not even his wildest of imaginings could have conjured up!

"Good heavens…!" he exclaimed. But then he blinked, and the conspicuousness he saw was there no more. He adjusted his hat and his gaze hardened. "What exactly is going on here?"

As the Professor was making his way to the front door of his house, fumbling with his keys, the postman came up behind him with a, "Hello there, Professor." This nearly gave Layton a heart attack.

"Oh, goodness, you gave me a start." He shook it off and smiled at the bearded man who handed him his mail. The postman tipped his hat.

"Top of the mornin' to ya," he said, before scurrying off.

Layton unlocked the door and pushed it open with his elbow, shuffling through the stack of envelopes decisively before coming across an envelope with a manila tint and a prominent post stamp on the corner with no return address. That's odd, thought he. He flipped over this envelope and sealing it was some kind of city hall seal; it belonged to Wolverhampton, in the West Midlands. Who did the Professor know in Wolverhampton…?

At any rate, he peeled off the seal, slipped out a sheet of paper folded threepart and unfolded it so he could read what was written. At the top of the letter was an address; Layton assumed it was the return address for the home or workplace of whoever sent this to him. His eyes darted left and right across the page and the more he read, the more surprised his expression became. He walked into the parlor where Luke was sitting with a book in his hands as he read the mysterious letter. Luke looked up at the Professor and noticed his distress.

"Professah, are you alright?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes, perfectly fine… except…" Layton stood still in the middle of the room as he read the closing and signature that adorned the bottom of the letter.

'Your old friend,

Clyde Mordecai',

it read. Instantly, thoughts and memories of college days and textbooks and homework filled the Professor's mind—when he was on the other side of such things, that is. He smiled slightly at the remembrance, but then frowned at the contents of this letter—this petition for help.

"Except what?"

Layton sighed. "Why don't you see for yourself?" Luke took the letter from his mentor's outstretched hand and read it from top to bottom, his expression changed subtly the more he read, also.

"My stars… Professah, are we going to help your friend?"

"Of course we are, we have no choice. A true gentleman—"

"Always helps a friend in need, I know, Professah." They both smiled.

Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam! came a noise at the door, followed by a loud, happy voice that could only belong to one person in the whole world. "Layton!" it called. "Layton, old chap, let a friend in, would you? Shhh! Quiet down! Come, come, Layton, I have an old friend or two of yours!"

Luke sighed and he became annoyed in both expression and posture. "What's Dr. Frei want?"

"Now, now, Luke, respect your elders." Luke grudgingly followed Layton as they went to the door. As the Professor unlocked it, Frei burst in, knocking Layton backwards into the wall behind him and startling Luke quite a bit.

"Ah, Layton!" he exclaimed. "Professah?" He turned around to see his companion recovering from quite the bang into the wall. "Oh, do forgive me for that, but things are happening, you see, good things, exciting things!" He hurried over to him and clasped one of Layton's hands in both of his. "I hope you don't mind, but I put together a tag-team of sorts," the doctor explained.

Layton almost tripped as he walked toward Frei, and his hat slipped over his eyes. "T-tag-team?" he said worriedly, adjusting his hat.

One by one, three individuals welcomed themselves into Layton's parlor. First inside was the tall, lanky, prominent person of Dimitri Allen, or 'Alain Stahngun', the man who advertised a 'working time machine' and almost got the Prime Minister of England killed. The second to enter was the hatted, caped and collared Jean Descole, a prominent scientist with a megalomaniac complex and a self-proclaimed rival of the Professor's. The final was a very blocky, strong-faced and nasal-voiced man, with goatee and a bald spot to boot, Don Paolo, another self-proclaimed rival of Layton's. Luke and the Professor deadpanned at the whole scene.

"What in the name of—?"

With a bit of explanation on Dr. Frei's part, Layton calmed his head, and everyone had a spot of tea to drink.

"Well, if it will help us conduct our investigation, then I don't mind at all, although I do wish you would've said something before going ahead," replied the professor, still a bit numb at the adversaries now in the room. "And especially before going ahead and inviting them into my home…" He tugged at his hat again to overshadow his eyes. "At any rate, Dr. Frei," Layton continued, "I received this letter today, and I can't help but suspect that this may have something to do with that vast anomaly in the sky we beheld. You may read it, if you wish." Frei stood beside the Professor and when he nearly snatched the page from his hand, he leaned forward, and placed and adjusted his reading spectacles atop his nose. If it were not for the chatter in the background everything would've been silent for a good five minutes.

"Well… this is quite the development," said the good doctor, putting away his spectacles. After he closed his eyes and thought for a moment, he continued; "Well, up and at 'em, people, we should get a move on!"

"Uh, a move on to where? If you don't mind me asking," said Luke.

"Wolverhampton, of course."

The bus was quickly approaching the train station. The ETA was approximately 20 minutes according to the driver, and that was good news to Dimitri, Layton and Emmy, who were all standing in order to let other, elderly folks sit in their stead.

"Next stop! Gateway Train Station! If you please, be prepared to exit the bus upon arrival," declared the driver through the intercom system. Everyone who was getting off next gathered up their things in their arms, and waited for the bus to come to a halt at the curb. As Professor Layton led his party in procession out the door, he tipped his hat to the driver and smiled.

Inside the actual station, they were almost immediately approached by a young lady with brown hair and green eyes, carrying a medium sized duffel bag and waving at the Professor. She called his name, and clasped his hand in both of hers cheerfully. She behaved as if they had known one another, but in truth, they had never met before. He was a gentleman of course, and engaged in formality.

"Hello, young lady, but I do not believe I know you… do I?" inquired the Professor.

"Excuse my forwardness, but my father talks about you so much, I feel like I know you already," explained she, and smiled. "My name is Celeste." She glanced behind Layton and observed quite a few others accompanying the gentleman. "I didn't expect so much company," she remarked.

"Ahh, what a pretty young thing you are!" exclaimed Dr. Frei, suddenly emerging from the party. "My name is Emmerich Frei, it's a pleasure to meet you! Why have you been sent to meet us here?" He said, seizing her hands in his. Celeste smiled at his compliment and nodded.

"Well, my father said you may need direction to his workplace, and few know Wolverhampton better than me."

"We'll be sure to give him our thanks for his thoughtfulness upon our arrival. Now, then—"

Layton's pleasantry was cut off by the sound of a woman's scream. A man with orange hair and beard came flying across the room, landing, finally, into some tourist's suitcases, the monocle that was once over his eye now shattered. He rolled over, and stood up again. His face was angry, and his brow furrowed. Then, something exploded. (Seemingly the result of a smoke bomb of some kind.) From the smoke emerged a tall fellow, bearded also, except in white rather than orange, and his dark, black brows drawn tightly over his piercing, blue eyes. The first, orange-haired man drew a rod of metal from his coat jacket and pressed a button on the side. From the top of this apparatus illumined a blue light, concentrated into a beam that ended in a point. The other man drew a similar object from his coat, and from it protruded a similar light, but it glowed red. With these light swords they dueled a while, Layton and Dr. Frei ushering people to get into some hiding place safe.

"Dooku, you have no reason to fight me," said the orange-bearded man, pressing against his opponent's sword with his own. "We know, as well as you do, you are behind this horrible mess."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kenobi!" Dooku pressed back with much strength, knocking the other backwards, and then into the ground, his sword hilt sliding from his hand. The white-haired man held his sword to his adversary's neck. "Now, what is it about this being my fault?"

Another man, also in suit coat and slacks, came up to them both, toting an odd-looking pistol. "Count Dooku, General Kenobi, please. If we are to resolve our dilemma, then we cannot afford to quarrel among ourselves!"

A dark figure emerged behind this voice of reason, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak. He said, "As much as I don't like saying this, the clone is right. We need to… work together, at this."

Dooku hesitated as he withdrew his lightsaber. "Yes, Master."

"Good, Lordy, gentlemen! I see someone has gotten up on the wrong side of the bed!" exclaimed Dr. Frei, hurrying over to these interesting individuals.

"More like the universe, good sir," replied Kenobi.

"Ahh, hushushushush," said Frei, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I know you are not from this world, but let's not draw too much attention to ourselves. Come, come, you will accompany us to Wolverhampton!" The good doctor scuffled over to the kiosk and purchased train tickets for all his new acquaintances.

"What is Wolverhampton?" asked Dooku.

"A city, of course! Come, come, come, you must join us!"

"What reason have we to trust you?" asked the dark figure who Dooku referred to as "Master".

"Well, for one thing, if you trust me, there is a nice chance I can return you all home. And for another thing," he paused and looked around, "I can protect you. There are some in this world who would take a happenstance such as this a little too personally. Now, come, come, Wolverhampton is waiting, and so is Mr. Layton's friend! Hurry, hurry, we must get on with the show, now! I will explain everything on the train!"