Karma
Disclaimer: Professor Layton is the property of Level-5 and Nintendo. The only profit I hope to gain from this is personal enjoyment from seeing Bill Hawks suffer.
The elevator was out of order, forcing Bill Hawks to take the stairs.
It was an awful way to end what had turned out to be an awful day.
Bill's Penthouse lay at the top of eighty-nine flights of stairs, giving him plenty of time to fume over the day's trials.
It had begun with his over-breakfast newspaper, which reported that the Prime Minister had plummeted in popularity with the voting populace. Later, Parliament approved not one, but two bills he opposed and vetoed not two, but three bills he supported!
The only thing that had kept Bill Hawks going was his diplomatic trip to Portugal scheduled for departure that afternoon (He was so looking forward to escaping the English winter chill). Well, first, a three-car-pileup had delayed his arrival at the airport by three hours. Then, the jet turned out to have a ruptured engine, and had remained grounded for another three hours while the engine was repaired. Just when the plane was ready for takeoff, an announcement had come via air traffic control: all international flights were cancelled due to inclement weather.
It all added up to Bill not arriving at his apartment building until Midnight, meaning that,-no matter how much he complained- the management would be unable to fix the elevator until morning.
And after all I've being paying them in rent. Despicable, just despicable.
Bill's legs felt like congealed pudding by the time he finally reached the Penthouse Floor. The apartment was dark when he entered, the cook and the maid having gone home several hours before. The Prime Minister resolved to fix himself a midnight snack and soothe his weary bones in the Jacuzzi before turning in.
But before doing any of that, Bill thought that he'd check on his wife, Caroline, though doubtless she was fast asleep…
But then what were those strange noises emitting from the Master Suite?
As Bill crept closer to the bedroom door, the noises were revealed to be voices. One belonged to Caroline… and the other belonged to a man.
Bill froze, heart pounding even more than it had on the stairs. No, it can't be…
The voices behind the door formed into words.
"Oh, Caroline…" said the terrifyingly familiar male voice, "…After I lost Claire…I never thought…never dreamed… that I would be able to love again. One of the few instances where I am glad to have been mistaken…"
What's this?!
"And I never dreamed that I would love at all…" Caroline's muffled voice replied. "… I never loved Bill, you see… I only loved his wallet…"
"You married him for the money?"
"Well I certainly didn't marry him for the sex."
"He's that bad?"
"The only thing dirty about Bill Hawks is his policy!"
This was followed by laughter, which quickly dissolved into moaning.
Snapping out of his paralysis, Bill backed away from the door, retreating into the hall.
The pain in his legs was gone, but his chest ached as though a heart attack was imminent.
The Prime Minister did the first thing that came to mind. He returned to the parking garage, and inserted his key into the side of an antique Mercedes. A flaunting, hugely expensive vehicle; the car was among bill's most treasured possessions, and driving it always helped to calm his nerves…
Or it always had…until tonight.
Caroline…
…Cheating on him…the most important man in the most important nation on Earth…
…With Dimitri Allen… that…that…nerd who looked like a zombie….
What can she possibly see in that man that she doesn't see in me?
Blinded by his pain, and by the pouring rain, Bill barely noticed when he drove out of London into the countryside.
And he didn't notice at all when he drove right pass two consecutive warning signs.
The first sign said simply, DEAD END.
The second sign showed a picture-which in turn showed a car falling off the edge of a cliff.
By the time Bill Hawks noticed the approaching precipice, it was too late to stop even if he had time to hit the brakes.
The antique Mercedes, with its "precious cargo", careened over the edge; smashing against the rocks once, twice, and then thrice before exploding into a fireball of shrapnel and smoke.
People only pretended to mourn.