Professor Layton and the Angel's Prophecy

The Angel's Pursuit

The sky was the limit, until Emmy had them soaring through the clouds. Luke loved it all, though Clark's knuckles were deathly white as he gripped the edges of the plane tight. On more than one occasion he almost threw up, but then Emmy would steady the plane, giving him time to recover. He would barely get a thank you out before she dazzled with her slick aerial manoeuvres.

But then it became apparent something was wrong. Emmy was about to hold them upside down when a little blinking light flashed on her console, and then there was this ear-shattering screech and crashing sound, akin to that of a small explosion. The plane started to rock violently, swaying erratically, the wind claiming it. Soon control was out of her hands, and she bit her tongue in panic.

She didn't want to alert them to the danger, but when the chance of dying is high up on the list of possibilities, it pays well to tell your passengers they are in mortal danger.

"Alright fellows," she laughed nervously. "We seem to be in a spot of bother. I rather think we should-" the plane lurched suddenly downwards, and both Clark and Luke screamed. Emmy shuddered, but tried to resume her sentence. "I was saying, we should be fine if-"

As a sickening crunch split through the metal contraption, all the lights on her console went out, and at once Emmy felt like the plane had died before her, emptied of all its contents.

"Oh dear..." she breathed. She tried to remain calm. "What's that loud beating?" she cried to no one in particular. "Oh right, it's just my heart. Silly me."

Luke looked at Clark with terrified eyes, wondering if Emmy was losing it. Clark just grimaced in response. Then the plane began to fall.

The old Luke would have panicked. Luke had learned a lot since then. Gritting his teeth, he cupped his mouth with his hands and called over to Emmy.

"Keep a clear head! We can fix this!"

"Fix this!" erupted Emmy, turning over to glare at Luke. "How on Earth do we fix this? My plane has just... died!"

"That is a... predicament!" Luke shouted back, holding on for dear life with one hand, the other holding his hat firmly on his head as the plane shot through the air, the ground drawing ever closer. "However, I have dealt with such a dilemma before. We just need to remain calm and-"

"Really?!" exclaimed Emmy, more petrified than Luke had ever seen her before. Understandably, however. "Really? You mean to say you've fallen thousands of feet in a plane, to your doom?"

Luke rolled his neck.

"Well I mean, not quite. But the Professor-"

Emmy threw her arms up in the air in frustration.

"The Professor isn't here!" And then her words struck her. Slowly closing her mouth, held open only from shock, she blinked once, twice and then turned back to the wheel. She started to fiddle with a few of the buttons and switches, but without panicking – as much as she could with death so imminent – she reached under the console and found the wiring. Lifting her head under, she inspected the smoking mess, coughing profusely but fighting on anyway as she fanned away the worst of the grey smog.

She managed to connect a few together, with varying degrees of success: one sparked wildly, almost singing her eyebrows off, and the other did nothing, but experimenting a bit more, something seemed to hum to life, and the plane suddenly didn't feel so hollow.

Pulling herself back to her seat, her tongue hanging out in grim determination, she flicked at a few switches and suppressed a cry of delight as the plane tilted a little. She began to pull the lever up... to no avail.