It's been May since I've last updated this, but with the US arrival of Azran Legacy on its way, I realized I need to finish this entire story fast before it stomps on my dreams. But never forget, friends! This is the REAL story about Jean Descole. (And if you are aware of AL spoilers, please don't mention them in the comments!) Hold onto your boas, kids. It's going to be a wild ride.


The London streets were as busy and packed as usual, or so this author who has never been to London would assume. Among the crowds of people their carriage passed by, Descole could have sworn he saw the evil woman from the nursery. She wore dark glasses and walked around with a cane and a seeing-eye dog, due to the effects of the orange juice that was squirted into her eyes thirty years ago when baby Descole made his escape.

"L-O-L!"

More familiar with the area, Layton watched the people hustling and bustling from his window. There was that one kid he admired for handing out puzzles to tourists asking for directions, and then that little girl who also handed out puzzles to tourists, and the homeless guy who asked for puzzles from tourists. Nothing out of the ordinary, except…

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!" Layton demanded.

"I believe you are mistaken," Jonathan chuckled. "This is a carriage, not a car!"

"Pretty sure it's called a horse car," Descole added.

"No, Master. Horse cars are cars driven by horses."

"Ohhhhh yeaaaah. Then what are horses who drive horse cars called?"

"They're called horses, Master."

"Man this is so confusing-"

"I TOLD YOU TO STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"

Jonathan whispered for the horses to halt and they stopped the carriage in the middle of an intersection. A little boy in a blue cap holding a spoiled carton of milk crossed the street without looking. Layton opened the door and beckoned for the child to come in. (It's okay. They know each other.)

"Come on, Luke! Get in the car!"

"I'm not allowed to talk to strangers!" the boy who we now know is named Luke squeaked. "Do you like cats?"

"Luke, it's me, Professor. Please get in the car."

The child skipped merrily to the carriage, humming the Duck Tales theme song.

Even though Descole really liked the Duck Tales theme song, he slammed the door before the little boy could climb aboard.

"What the fuck, Descolay?"

"I hate kids!" Descole huffed and puffed with his arms crossed in defiance. "It's got candy stuck to its hands and it smells like rancid milk. I will NOT let that kid in this carriage!"

In a hilarious turn of events, the next scene will begin with Descole stuck sitting next to Luke in the carriage saying,

"I can't believe we let that kid in this carriage."

The sight of Layton's humble London abode could not come any sooner, for the rest of the ride was spent with Descole, Layton and Jonathan holding their noses from the stench of the kid, and grinning and bearing it through the Duck Tales theme song.

They agreed to draw sticks to decide who would be the one to give Luke his bath. Jonathan's stick was the largest, Layton's was the second largest and the second smallest, and Descole's was the smallest.

"This stick game is clearly flawed! Why the hell can't Jonathan do it? I'm not paying him to sit around and do nothing."

Actually, Descole wasn't paying Jonathan at all.

"Sorry Master, but I have to take the carriage to the store."

"Good. Pick up bananas for the sea monkeys. That is an order."

"Master, sea monkeys aren't...Of course, Master."

Jonathan out.

"And I just remembered that I have a class to teach right now," Layton was lying, "so uh…It looks like you'll be babysitting Luke for a long time. Bye, French cheeks!"

Layton, also out.

A tumbleweed rolled by and brushed against Descole's leg. He flung back and hit the ground. Imaginary stars danced and twirled above his head.

"Ugh, I hate kids!" he groaned.


It took twelve Butterfingers to lure Luke into the bathroom. Once the boy entered his trap, Descole locked the door and swallowed the key…but noticed that he had locked himself inside the bathroom too.

"Luke, you smell like dog shit that stepped into a pile of more dog shit. Take a bath."

"Okay!"

"UGH, WHY ARE YOU SO DIFFICULT?"

He repeatedly poked Luke with the end of a scrub brush.

"Get. In. The. Fucking. Tub…. OH MY GOD, BUBBLES!"

A pink plastic bottle of bubble soap was sitting on the edge of the tub. Descole took advantage of the bubbles and poured all of its fun and foamy contents into the bath. This piqued Luke's interest because what kid doesn't love bubbles?

"Cool bubbles!"

"Get lost, kid."

Descole had changed his mind and wanted to take the bath instead. The bubbles got to him.

He pushed Luke the child out the window (don't worry, it was only two stories) and dived into the tub in his suit.

"Hey, Mr.? I think I broke my leg."

"Just put a bandage on it and you should be fine."

Once the bubbles completely soaked away (he may have tasted and swallowed a few), Descole jumped out of the tub and checked on Luke through the window, who was eating a pile of leaves.

"Uh…do you want to play a game or something?" he called out to the child.

"Let's play fire trucks!"

"Fire trucks? SWEET!"

Really fucking excited to play fire trucks, Descole hopped up and down but slipped on a bar of soap that was lying on the floor. The soap had him zooming across the floor, so fast that he zoomed right through the door, leave a cartoonish Descole shaped hole in the door.

"Now Hershel can always think of me when he's using the toilet."

Descole HAD to find those fire trucks. He tore Layton's entire home apart, ripping cushions off of sofas and throwing rare artifacts off of shelves. The search wasn't going anywhere far, so Descole stepped it up a notch and found a hammer in Layton's tool box. He smashed literally everything in Layton's office, except for a really cool box he found hidden in the back of a closet.

"So cool!"

There was a sticky note stuck to the box's lid.

Do not open this box because you will die!

In Descole's head, this warning was just a diversion. Inside that box were the coolest looking fire trucks anybody had ever seen, probably Hess models.

His mouth drooled as he opened the box. His whole life led up to this holy moment.

The only thing inside the box was a very old piece of paper. Descole smashed the box and went outside to join Luke.

"Hey kid, what gives? There aren't any god damn fire trucks in that house."

Descole rolled up his sleeves, ready to brawl.

"That's because we imagine we're fire trucks," Luke spoke and spat grass out of his mouth. (He was playing "lawn mower" by himself.)

"Whoa, imagination's pretty cool. Can I be the yellow fire truck?"

The child lawn mower shook his head.

"I, Professor Layton's #1 apprentice, am always the yellow fire truck."

"GOD, I HATE YOU SO MUCH!"

He was about to hit Luke, but his puppy ears perked up when he heard a halting screech behind him.

A suspicious black car pulled up beside the curb.

"Ice cream truck!" Luke yelped. He was walking up to the car.

The backseat opened, and a man holding an ice cream cone signaled for Luke to come inside the car.

"Luke, don't you dare get in that car!" Descole yelled across the lawn, not actually doing anything to stop him.

Luke sat in the backseat.

"We're going to the ice cream factory. Goodbye!"

The man in the car closed the door and dropped the ice cream cone out the window. Normally this is when the kidnappers would drive away as fast as they could, but two of Layton's neighbors had just parked their cars in front and back of the black car. The kidnappers made sure not to hit the other cars, then drove away.

"Shit."

Descole picked the ice cream cone off the ground and went inside to watch TV before Layton and Jonathan would come home.


"Descolay, I'm home! ~"

It was two in the morning. Descole was lying on the couch, watching Britain's Funniest Home Videos.

"Hello, Hershel my love. You have lipstick stains all over your face. Your students must really love you."

"Ho ho! I can't see why not. I am the hottest teacher in Gressenheller, after all!"

"You smell like perfume."

"Yeah, well a lot of things smell like perfume."

Audience laughter and stupid BOINK! noises from the TV filled the awkward silence between the two men in the room.

Layton quickly changed the subject.

"Boy, I can't wait to see this new castle!"

"Yes!" Descole sprung from the sofa. "Shut up and go pack your things right now!"

"Where is Luke?"

"GULP!"

Descole wet his pants a little when Layton gave him a terrifying stare. His eyes were almost literally on fire.

"Descolay, where's Luke?"

"Uh, he went to bed. Don't wake him up."

"Well that's too bad because I have to give him his shots."

"NOOOO!"

Descole clung onto Layton's heels, dragged along into Luke's room. The rug burn hurt like a mother.

There was definitely a body underneath the sheets in Luke's bed. Layton pulled off the blanket.

"Descolay, why is Jonathan in Luke's bed?"

"It would have worked if you didn't pull of the blanket," Descole shrugged. "You should just go ahead and give him the shot anyway. He's probably going to die soon – OW OW OW WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Layton had picked Descole up by the boa and shoved him against the wall. It was kind of hot.

"If you don't tell me where Luke is, I will rip off your fucking dick and throw it out the window!"

Glancing at his dick, then at the window, then at his dick again, Descole decided it was for his dick's own good to tell the truth.

"He was kidnapped, okay? What do you want me to do about it? Now please put me down. I'm pretty sure I completely pissed myself this time."

Releasing the boa from his grasp, Layton sighed and shook his head miserably.

"Descolay, you are one hot French fry, but you're also dumb as shit."

They came to an agreement that tomorrow they would tell Luke's parents that their son was kidnapped. They did not want to bother them so late at night.

Banished to the couch, Descole held onto his dick for the rest of the night. He had witnessed the beast within Professor Hershel Layton, and he now knew that this was a dangerous love.


Technology has catered to man our whole lives. From the creation of the wheel to the discovery of the internet and , we've always looked to technology to help us evolve into a modernized civilization with inventions serving for convenience as well as for entertainment. We've built homes with everything we'll ever need to survive. (When was the last time you went outside?) But the truth is, no matter how much we push ourselves to invent and create more, our technology will never triumph over nature. Really everything we needed was there from the beginning, and though our lives would be very different from the way they are now, we are still aware of this. Maybe that is why we feel so comfortable and free when we are surrounded by greenery and creatures who couldn't give a shit about . It is a place, away from the electric lights and droning sounds of automobiles, where we can freely be ourselves and really, honestly think with no distractions, and our main character had a lot of thoughts on his mind.

"Did you guys know that every year we swallow eight spiders in our sleep?"

Descole and Layton, and Luke's parents were on a scenic hike through the woods.

The father was Clark Triton, a former college bro of Layton's. Unlike Layton, Clark realized that looking at rocks was for nerds (no offense to my archeologist readers) and ditched the archeology scene. He became the mayor of a crappy town instead for the hell of it. It was his sexy beard that won the hearts of the voters, as well as the heart of his beautiful wife, Brenda.

Brenda appeared to the normal eye a petite, brown haired angel with a wonderful taste in hip mom clothing, but something about her put Descole off. He wasn't sure why, but he really wanted to throw her into a cellar and lock the door.

"So, Clark asked, "what are we doing in the woods?"

Layton pinched Descole's ass, which meant "tell them Luke was kidnapped" and "hey, nice ass" at the same time.

"Uh, we thought it would be cooler to tell you that your son was kidnapped if we were in the woods instead of your boring house."

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Brenda slapped Descole silly, upside down and inside out. She literally slapped him in every spot of his body. Upon being told that her son was kidnapped and that her house sucked in one sentence, things were not going very well at all.

Now Descole really wanted to lock her in a cellar.

"Who is this chick?" Clark pointed at Descole.

"That's Descolay," answered Layton. "We're banging."

There was a slight sense of embarrassment in Layton's voice when he looked at Descole, still currently being slapped. They had been banging for two days, but Layton was only just realizing that Descole was kind of an idiot. Was their sizzling romance coming to an end?

Layton looked up to the sky, wishing that a really cool plane would fly above him and spell out whether he should or shouldn't break up with Descole. Instead of a cool plane, he saw a lumpy gray object falling from the sky. Thankfully, Layton had a degree in archeology and was able to identify and warn the others of the object before it was too late.

"ROCK!"

Clark started headbanging.

"No, Clark! I mean the noun kind of rock!"

Everybody ran away, except for Descole, who looked up to see the rock. Reader, I don't think I need to tell you whose face the rock landed on. (In case I do need to tell you, it was Descole's face that the rock had landed on.)

"Ow my entire face!"

The lights in Descole's eyes went out. No longer could he see the earthy green scenery. No longer could he see Layton's sexy baby face, and no longer could he see the rock that landed on his face. It sucked, but not for long.

Descole regained his vision, but was very surprised because he was no longer looking up at the sky with the rock on his face but looking down at himself.

"Cool! Is this one of those out of body experiences?"

Why yes, Descole. It is.

"Now I get to see what everybody will say about me after I've died!"

Flapping his little angel wings and munching on ghost popcorn, he watched to see what his friends would do next.

No one said anything. They just kind of stared at Descole's dead body, then at each other, shrugging. The exchange went as this:

Brenda: Should we, like, bury him or something?

Layton: Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Clark: I'll go get the shovel.

Descole started to cry into his popcorn. Usually they put extra butter into your popcorn, not extra tears.

"They miss me so much!" he sobbed. "Okay, enough of this supernatural shit."

He finished his popcorn and flew back into his body.

"SURPRISE, BITCHES!"

WHACK!

His surprise greeting was greeted back by a few hits to the head from Clark's shovel. In all fairness, Clark thought Descole was a zombie.

"Dude, I gotta stop watching those Scooby Doo movies at night."

Okay, Mystery Gang, let's get back to the plot.

Layton screamed when he noticed there was a piece of paper tied to the rock that nearly slew Jean Descole. Sound familiar?

Descole had never taken acting classes nor had he ever stepped a foot into his preschool drama club, but neither of those were necessary for Descole was born a fucking star. The sun came out and shone on him like a spotlight, and all of the little critters in the woods shut up and paid attention to the star before them. He cleared his throat, then gave the performance of his life.

Give us the money or the kid gets it.

P.S. – You're a terrible babysitter.

You'd think the mafia would have more effective ways of threatening people than with puzzles and notes tied to rocks.

He crumpled the piece of paper up and threw it in Layton's face to avoid a littering fine.

"I am NOT a terrible babysitter!"

He may be the world's greatest actor, but he definitely was a terrible babysitter. If only he had acted to be a decent babysitter, this missing child mess could have been prevented.

"Hey Frenchy, how much money are we talking about?" Brenda took out her wallet.

"Like, one bank."

She put her wallet back into her purse.

"Shit, that's a lot of money. I can see why they'd kidnap my son for it. Maybe there is a way around this where you can keep the money."

The gang formed a circle and put their heads together to see if they could come up with an appropriate solution. When that didn't work, they all stroked Clark's beard.

Twirling the beard through his fingers, the scratchy bristles on Clark's face transported a thought through Layton's fingertips and into his brain.

"I have figured out the solution to this puzzle, and the solution is that we need a really, really big gun."

"Jonathan has a lot of guns in his tree house. I can see if-"

"No, fuck Jonathan," Layton interrupted Descole. "We're going to need a REALLY big gun, and I know how to build one. I have all the necessary parts in my office at Gressenheller, but there is just one part that I am missing."

"If it's my boa -"

"The final piece I am missing is my Thomas the Tank Engine toy."

"Oh shit."