[[I swear I don't take any enjoyment screwing up the PL characters' lives... I've just never written this kind of genre before, so it's a new learning experience for me. And just a note, these events don't necessarily take place in chronological order.
Disclaimer: I don't own any included dialogue from AL or PL characters or music or art mentioned. Just my OC making a shameless appearance. *Trollface*]]
"I dedicated my life to archaeology... to finding the most precious treasure that mankind could hope for... And yet... And yet..."
"Bronev! Listen to me! Our mission here...was not... pointless!"
...
Inspector Chelmey was irritated. Scratch that, he was infuriated. Of all the times for the world to end, it had to be during his honeymoon, didn't it? He couldn't take a few ruddy weeks off without something going awry. Soon he would be back at hard work helping Scotland Yard organise London for the oncoming assault. (Grosky and Barton had probably done a shoddy job in his absence...)
The inspector and his wife were currently on a cruise ship speeding back to Britain. There just wasn't enough space on the tiny island of San Grio to shelter any extra tourists. However, a generous restaurant owner had provided the passengers with nourishments for the journey, wishing them "true happiness". Easy for him to say, Chelmey grumbled.
"Don't frown like that, dear. I think you're frightening the other passengers..."
Chelmey's brooding was interrupted by Amelie resting a hand on his arm. He looked around, realising that his livid expression was indeed making some children cry. "Sorry," he muttered. The corners of his lips twitched upwards, which only scared the kids even more.
"There's a smile," Amelie beamed; a ray of sunshine to compliment his storm cloud. "Just keep your chin up. We'll be home soon and I'll bake you a delicious cake. How does that sound?"
"Chocolate fudge cake?" Chelmey asked hopefully.
Before she could reply, the ship gave a great lurch that swept most of the shrieking passengers off their feet. Amelie held on to her husband and stuttered, "W-what's happening?"
Dragging Amelia behind him, Chelmey raced to the deck railing to see what had caused the disruption. "Bloody hell..." He breathed.
A body of hostile golems had surrounded the ship, and more were visible on the bleeding red horizon.
Cake would have to wait.
Everything broke out into chaos as people scrambled to the lifeboats.
"Inspector Chelmey of Scotland Yard, coming through!" Chelmey bellowed, brandishing his police badge as he fought his way to the front of the crowd. (He'd brought it unbeknownst to Amelie.) The nearest lifeboat was nearly full, but surely there was enough room for one more person...
"W-wait, dear!" Amelie protested as Chelmey pushed her into the lifeboat.
But he had already turned to address the mob: "ONE AT A TIME! ONE AT A TIME, I SAY—!"
Another purple laser made impact, rocking the ship and sending the lifeboat plummeting into the ocean.
"STOP! MY HUSBAND'S STILL UP THERE!"
Amelie screamed his name as the golems stormed the ship.
...
Katia and her father hadn't seen eye to eye since Sophia's death. But the final straw for Mr Anderson was when Katia stated she was going to find her lost grandfather while the rest of them deserted Dropstone.
"Don't be ridiculous, Katia— you're leaving with the rest of us!"
"I'm sorry, Father. Try to understand; I must deliver a message for Grandmother..."
"Sophia wouldn't want you to throw your life away like this. Those... those monsters will kill you!"
"They could easily kill my grandfather, too. Then I'll never get to meet him, and he'll never know how Sophia truly felt about him. Or that she's... passed on."
"K-Katia dear, please reconsider—!"
"This is good-bye, Father, but just for now. I will see you again soon. I love you!"
Katia made the wisest decision in travelling to Folsense along with Mr Beluga and his nephew, Sammy Thunder. The golems paid no mind to the seemingly abandoned phantom town. They did derail the renowned Molentary Express, on the other hand...
...
Initially, Brenda had been a bit worried placing her young son's life in Hershel Layton's hands. Not that the professor couldn't be trusted— he was an old friend who had saved Misthallery along with the Triton family. Furthermore, Luke greatly admired the professor and with his help he'd matured faster than Brenda could have ever imagined. But Luke would always be her little boy, no doubt about it.
Luke had promised he'd phone home whenever he had the chance on his worldwide trip with Professor Layton; he was always eager to tell his parents about his adventures...
Days went by without any word from Luke. Clark assured Brenda that Luke and Hershel probably wouldn't have any signal at some locations. But then days turned into weeks, and weeks stretched into a whole month. Still no call from Luke.
Clark caved in and asked Dean Delmona and Inspector Grosky if they had heard anything from Professor Layton. They had not.
Brenda spent every waking moment by the phone, waiting, waiting, waiting...
He would call soon— he'd promised. Her bright-eyed boy was reckless, but Hershel would never let anything happen to him... would he? Even if they encountered danger– Luke was rather dismissive whenever he described these parts of their exploits– they always came out unscathed, didn't they?
Things had just been starting to improve for the Triton family. Brenda loved her work on plate tectonics, Clark was content with his job at the museum, and Luke had gradually been reconnecting with his father. After those miserable memories of Misthallery, all three of them were happy.
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
What was Luke doing? Where on earth was he? Was he safe? (Please, PLEASE let him be safe...!)
They organised a Missing Person notice to be placed in the World Times. At best Luke was just lost and someone somewhere would recognise him. If not...No, Brenda couldn't bear to think like that. However, soon the Times became flooded with reports of the missing and the dead. Luke's name was just one in a sea of millions.
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
The golems were about to descend on London? Who cared! Brenda was too distraught over her son's whereabouts. God, if she'd known that brief encounter at Kensington and the museum was the last time she'd ever see her baby...
Eventually, Clark packed their bags. He gathered Luke's belongings along with Toppy, the boy's mouse companion. Then came the hardest part.
"N-no... No, Clark!" Brenda howled as he attempted to pry her away from the phone. "H-he said he'd call us, he promised...!"
"I know, love. I know," Clark choked out, hugging her firmly in his arms. "I'd wait forever to see him walk through that door... But we'd be no good to him dead, would we? Even though we need to leave here, we will never stop searching for him."
They would never stop waiting.
...
Archie Pendrake would have enjoyed being free of Professor Layton's archaeology classes. That is, if it weren't for the apocalypse.
He'd prepared a rucksack of essential items— regretfully lacking in his art supplies, but there were bigger issues to worry about. The student traipsed his flat, phone in hand as he tried to establish any connection across the Atlantic Ocean. (It would only be a matter of time before global cell towers overloaded and crashed.)
In the background the television blared; a blonde man claiming to be Targent's leader who had survived the attack on the Nest was warning everyone that the golems were more dangerous than they'd initially perceived. This archaeological group were being treated like the heroes of the world, when their information hadn't really helped at all.
Before Archie could roll his eyes, by a miracle, someone finally picked up on the other end of the line:
"Hello?"
"Father," Archie gasped. "Are you alright?"
"Archibald!" (Archie was too relieved by the sound of his voice to correct him.) "Honestly, I've been better. Yourself?"
"Fine, just about to leave London... Where are you?" You'd better not be crawling around at a dig site in the middle of nowhere, Archie thought. Then again, it might have been safer away from urban areas...
"I'm currently still in Mexico," Richard Pendrake replied. "We were investigating the Chichen Itza Mayan ruins, you see—"
Archie's usual pretence of pandering to his father's work was forgotten right now. "That's all very well and good, but in case you weren't aware, we're being invaded by golems."
"Of course I know that!" His father huffed indignantly. "They were supposedly created by an ancient civilisation from millions of years ago. Incredible..."
"And dangerous," Archie added scathingly. "Don't get yourself killed trying to studyone or something. Make sure you find somewhere safe to stay."
"You too, son. And don't worry; I'll be back before you know it..." There was a pregnant pause as Richard spoke to someone on his side. "W-what's that—?" He was abruptly cut off by alarmed shouts. Explosions. Static. The line had gone dead.
"F-father...?" The phone fell from Archie quaking fingers with a clatter. On the T.V., news was just in that the golems had reached Mexico. Sickening footage from the scene was being displayed.
For Archie it was a jarring reminder of an oil painting he'd once seen titled 'The End of the World', or more commonly known as 'The Great Day of His Wrath'. While it didn't forecast golems, the gloomy picture portrayed the material world being devoured by fire, dust and darkness, capturing the savage beauty of the cataclysm.
Archie feared that painting had become a reality.
...
Detective Carmine Accidenti had a knack for getting himself into difficult situations. Only he would dare to take on a new case during the apocalypse. He'd agreed to help find a woman's missing puppy, which left him with very little time to escape from London.
Carmine drove like a maniac through the roads leading out of the city, mostly empty now. (Every sane person had evacuated hours ago.)
Just when he thought he'd made it far enough to avoid the golems, he was blocked by three figures in the middle of the road. His black car screeched to a halt, and Carmine was able to discern the human-shapes in the headlights. (Thank God they weren't golems.)
There was a teenage girl with brown bouffant hair; a purple cat in her arms. Next to her were two men: one with a dark moustache wearing a scarf, the other dressed like an explorer.
Somehow this curious combination of travellers cajoled Carmine into giving them a ride. Of course Carmine was willing to help them. Like him, they needed to escape from the golems, and as his former professor would have said, 'A gentleman must always assist others.' But that didn't make the journey any less awkward.
"So, er, where am I taking you all again?" Carmine inquired as they directed him along a bumpy country lane.
The young lady sitting in the backseat, whose name was Puzzlette, chirped, "We're going to stay with my granny in this cute little village called St Mystere."
"Keh heh heh!" The moustachioed fellow beside her, Stachen, chuckled... or coughed. (Carmine couldn't tell.)
"Ja, it shouldn't be too far away now," Pavel the explorer, who had an accent more confusing than Carmine's, said. "Just over this hill... I think."
Carmine sighed, "You just contradicted yourself— Augh!"
Suddenly, there was a purple flash and the garble of robotic chatter. The golems had caught up to them.
"Fais gaffe!" Pavel yelped a warning in French.
Spinning the steering wheel wildly, Carmine dodged any incoming lasers. The vehicle skidded off- road and into a meadow, but Carmine kept his foot on the gas. The car continued accelerating until it entered a copse of trees. Carmine instantly killed the ignition and the headlights, concealing them in darkness.
Puzzlette was hyperventilating. Stachen clamped a hand over her mouth. Carmine held his breath. Had they managed to evade the golems...?
The silence was sliced open when something landed on the hood of the car.
Pavel cussed in some other language. There was a muffled whimper from Puzzlette. Keats the cat hissed and dug his claws into the girl's lap. The four humans stared at the golem in wide-eyed terror. The golem stared right back, scanning them with its beady white eyes.
What is it waiting for? Carmine thought, bracing himself for the end.
Still, the clay crafted doll refrained from firing. Maybe it didn't regard them as a threat? Or was it actually capable of feeling... pity? For whatever reason, they were immensely relieved when the golem leapt off the car and took to the sky once more.
After a minute, Puzzlette let out a shuddery laugh, hugging Keats tightly to her chest. "W-we're okay... we're all okay!"
"Why did it not attack us?" Pavel mused.
"I... I don't know," Carmine murmured, shaking his head in amazement.
"No point in questioning it," Stachen grunted. "Let's move, we have a village to get to!"
...
As a famous opera singer, Janice Quatlane could be considered among London's privileged upper class. However, when offered the chance to enter a reserved bunker, she'd turned it down. Her life was no more important than that of a poorer civilian. She would be evacuated from London, just like the majority of people. Perhaps she put herself at greater risk in doing so, but this was her own life and she would live it how she wished.
So, Janice joined the masses being driven out of the city on red buses— once an iconic London transportation, now essential for escape. The vehicles were packed; there was pushing and shoving, wailing children, arguments, warnings from the stressed driver.
Janice squashed up to the window as an elderly woman elbowed her in the stomach. The diva sighed irritably, closing her eyes. Couldn't they just have one moment of peace?
A respectful hush did fall over the bus when they heard the latest news on a portable radio someone had brought. A cruise ship bound for Britain had been blasted by the golems. Hundreds of the ship's passengers were killed, though a few were thought to have survived in lifeboats. Following the depressing report, a song was played in honour of the deceased. It was a slow, tragic tune that Janice recognised. Surely Someday.
With tears in her eyes, Janice touched the purple pendant around her neck. Then she began to sing.
There were groans and complaints from some of the bus riders, but many of them accompanied her. For the young and old, for the rich and the poor, for the lost and the lonely; they sang together.
Several hours later, their singing was replaced by screaming.
As their bus was enveloped in a purple and lifted into the air, Janice squeezed the hand of the lady next to her. She wondered what would happen when she died.
Was there such thing as an afterlife? Would she be reborn, like Melina? (Would she see Melina again?)
Or maybe there was just... nothing.
...
Clive Dove had heard the reports of death and destruction. According to Spring and Cogg, London had already been evacuated and the golems would arrive in a matter of hours. As Clive had created fake "future" London in an underground cavern beneath the real city, it was unlikely they would be caught by the golems.
The problem was that they ruined the perfect plan he'd spent years preparing.
Bill Hawks (the coward) had been moved to a secret bunker someplace. Hershel Layton, along with his apprentice, Luke Triton, was nowhere to be found. From what Clive had heard, the professor had never returned from a worldwide tour he recently undertook.
How ironic— the primary person Future London was built to fool was not present. And more concerning, he wasn't here to save London (or Clive).
This was a major setback for Clive. But perhaps he could use the golems to his advantage...
"The only thing these golems understand is force," Clive told Dimitri as he led him into the depths of Future London's Research Facility, where Lockjaw and Fisheye were waiting.
Dimitri appraised the room's extensive array of weaponry, definitely not required for building a time machine. "What is all this? I wasn't informed of these developments..."
Clive smirked. "You were too busy with your machine to notice the little project I had some of the scientists working on."
"You went behind my back?" Dimitri uttered.
Clive gestured for Lockjaw and Fisheye to restrain the scientist while he continued. "I'd initially planned on destroying the real London myself... But what's the point if the golems are going to do that anyway?"
"What are you saying, Clive?"
"When I become the city's saviour, everyone will turn to me for authority, rather than Bill Hawks and his corrupt government," Clive put his hand over his heart. "I'll rebuild a better London in my own image."
"We were partners!" Dimitri snarled. "I thought that you also wanted the time machine completed, to save your parents—"
"Did you really expect me to trust a single-minded scientist, after your kind killed my parents?" Clive sneered. "I can't dispose of you yet, however. We know that military might alone can't stop the golems. But if you can find some way to weaken them, my mobile fortress will stand a greater chance against them." He extended his hand to Dimitri. "You can still redeem yourself... Help me save London."
...
When the Mobile Fortress finally emerged from the ground, the golems were drawn to it like moths to a flame. Unlike Targent, Clive's machine was equipped with a method to overcome the golems: Molecular instability. Dimitri had adapted the process to their benefit, creating a weapon that would disable the creatures' bodies for a minute. In that minute the Fortress could shoot them down.
By the time the battle was through, there was nothing left of London to save.
Months later, Claire Foley appeared in the present and witnessed the ruined world. She prayed molecular instability would soon take full effect on her body. Because she couldn't bear to live another moment in this lost future.
...
"Others can learn from this. They don't have to repeat the mistakes of the past. Humanity can move on, look to the future! Mankind... doesn't have to end here!"
"No... It doesn't."
[[Well, there we go. I don't know what's up with the ending. That's the last time I write anything depressing. Now excuse me while I go retrieve my feels.
P.S.- Carmine Accidenti is from PLvsAA.]]