((Sorry for the wait, but thank you for the prompt! It’s always so much fun to write about Rook and Bishop. Your blog is such a great resource for their characters, and I included some headcanons from your Hastings family au It’s canon in my heart. I also included a small OC cameo :D))
Set: After Azran Legacy and after Rook and Bishops’ bonus episode.
Spoilers: Vaguely for Miracle Mask and AL, concerning Targent, Rook and Bishop
Warnings: Short discussions about guns I don’t know
Description: Rook and Bishop go to join Scotland Yard, but Bishop isn’t sure he’s cut out for the job. (Rook is Macaw and Bishop is Robin, in the US version of the game.)
If you asked Bishop, the stone steps leading up to Scotland Yard seemed to go higher than the Nest. Bishop had never been scared of heights, but something about those steps, the authoritative blue doors, and the venerable red building made his limbs turn to jelly.
He pressed his knees together and straightened his back, standing to attention— just like they had trained him in Targent.
This was something Bishop had seen police officers do as well, along with a salute. Maybe working at Scotland Yard wouldn’t be too different from Targent…?
Bishop wasn’t sure whether he found that reassuring or not.
It didn’t matter— as long as he had Rook beside him!
Stealing a glance at his partner, Bishop saw that Rook’s face was set with resolve as he stared up at the police headquarters.
(It was still odd seeing Rook’s dark brown eyes…)
Rook, like Bishop, had removed his black sunglasses.
Rook, unlike Bishop, had adopted a stance of cool determination, like he was meant to be here.
Gritting his teeth, Bishop glanced around. There was a constable posted outside Scotland Yard’s front door, and a man in a blue hoodie inspecting the bus timetable, but other than that, no one else was near them.
To any observers, Rook and Bishop must have looked like innocent civilians visiting Scotland Yard. (Right?)
After dumping their… borrowed Zeppelin in a park, the pair had ditched their Targent uniforms in favour of plain outfits from a charity shop. Rook had chosen a green coat and maroon trousers (A colour combination that really suited him!) while Bishop had gone with a sky blue jacket and jeans. (Blue was still his favourite!)
Using their last dregs of loose change, they had paid for the clothes, fair and square.
Now they were completely broke, but they were going to get new careers at Scotland Yard, so it was fine. Rook had said they would be fine.
…Unless someone in the police force recognised them— or a stray agent from Targent!
‘Detective Inspector’ Bloom had been arrested, along with Tommy’s gang of hitmen, but that didn’t mean Rook and Bishop were safe! Targent still had loads of assassins in their employ…
“Chill, Bishop,” Rook breathed.
“Don’t call me that,” Bishop gasped, casting his gaze around again. “We should come up with new code names…”
“Normal people don’t have code names,” Rook reminded him.
Was Blue Hoodie Man looking their way? How long did it take to check a bus timetable? Bishop observed the man from the corner of his eye. (Something was familiar about him…)
“Your new name could be Sketchy,” Rook said.
Bishop elbowed him in the side. “That’s not funny!”
“Heh…” Rook snickered. When Bishop kept scowling at him, Rook suggested, “Alright— what about Mr. Hastings?”
Bishop hummed. He was always rushing around… and Rook was always rushing after him.
Smiling, Bishop nodded. “I like it! You should be Hastings too.”
“I…” Rook’s face reddened. He reached for his forehead, only to remember he’d lost his cap. “I guess…”
“Aren’t we going to need some new ID?” Bishop wondered. “They won’t let us work at Scotland Yard without it, will they?”
Rook slapped his head. “You’re right…”
The man in the blue hoodie finally strolled off.
“Ah, well!” Bishop sighed with relief, slouching. “We’ll just have to find a job that gives cash in hand…” He turned away from the steps, but Rook stayed right where he was. “Rook?”
Rook kept gazing up at Scotland Yard. “I really thought… we could make a difference,” Rook mumbled. “That we could be different…”
“We still can be!” Bishop tugged on Rook’s arm. “Just not here…”
The constable guarding the front door glanced down at them. Bishop lowered his voice.
“Even if we did have some ID, I don’t think Scotland Yard would accept us—“
“Why not?” Rook grumbled. “What’s Leonard Bloom got that we haven’t?”
Bishop listed, “A university degree… a fancy suit… endless charisma… and he’s incredibly crafty…” (Second only to Professor Layton!)
“Yeah, like a weasel. We won’t let the police down!” Rook clenched his fists, squared his shoulders and held his head high. He looked ready to march in and sell himself to Scotland Yard.
Reluctantly, Bishop released Rook’s arm. “You won’t let them down.”
Bishop started to trudge away from the steps— away from Rook— but Rook threw his arm out like a barrier, stopping him.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now, Bishop!”
“I never was cut out for this,” Bishop quietly admitted.
Back at the Nest, when Rook had suggested they should leave Targent, Bishop had been so excited at the prospect of them starting a new life together that he hadn’t put much consideration into Rook’s plan to join Scotland Yard.
Yes, Bishop still wanted to be a good person, but the thought of chasing after criminals (potentially their former colleagues) and being bossed around by police higher-ups… wasn’t very appealing, honestly.
Life would never be easy, but Bishop had hoped they would find some freedom.
If Rook truly wished to be a part of Scotland Yard, though… Bishop had to let him go.
Bishop smiled weakly at Rook. “You know, you can stay if you want to,” Bishop whispered. “Scotland Yard would be lucky to have you. You’re way smarter than me— smarter than Bloom, even— and you’re a thousand times more loyal—“
“You’re loyal too!” Rook took him by the shoulders. “You’re diligent and positive and— and you’re a good person! The best person I know!”
Bishop shook his head dejectedly. “Good people don’t threaten animals and— and other people with guns.”
The constable on the stairs was scribbling something in his notebook. Maybe he was writing down Bishop’s confession.
“But… but you didn’t,” Rook breathed. His hands were digging into Bishop’s shoulders now. “Did you?”
“The big dog in Torrido?” Bishop recalled.
“He was going to rip our heads off!”
Bishop winced. “In— in Froenborg, I pointed my gun at Professor Layton and his friends—“
“So did I! So every other agent following Bronev’s orders!” Rook growled.
“But you never— shot at anyone,” Bishop argued. He swallowed. “I shot at Jean Descole, back at Akbadain—“
“Jean Descole?” Rook snorted. “Wanted Criminal— Jean Descole?”
Rook went on, “As far as I’m aware, Descole escaped from Akbadain— almost like you and the rest of the army missed him on purpose.”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Bishop murmured. “I just… hadn’t fired at anyone before…”
“Or since,” Rook said firmly.
Bishop nodded. Rook patted him on the cheek.
“You are a good person, Bishop,” Rook repeated. He looked up at Scotland Yard once more. “But maybe you’re right— I don’t think you’d cope with police work. Not sure if I would either, actually…”
Hope stirred within Bishop. “C-Could we think on it?”
Rook nodded. “We’ll leave it for a little while— find a place to lay low and get some new ID—“
“We can stay with my mum,” Bishop said, brightening up even more. “She lives in Surrey— that’s not too far from London!”
He grabbed Rook by the arm again.
“If you say so,” Rook chuckled. He got one last glimpse of Scotland Yard before Bishop dragged him towards the nearest train station.
Please find enclosed two passports, a marriage certificate and other relevant identity documents for Mr. B Hastings and Mr. R Hastings.
You will find that your minimal criminal records have been wiped clean from all systems.
Should you wish to apply for a position within the police force, you will not face any opposition…
However, might I suggest a career in the entertainment industry instead? I believe you two have comedic potential. If you are interested, please see below the contact details for a trusted agent…
Rook’s eyes narrowed as he read the letter Bishop had just handed him. As promised, the letter came with all the identification documents Rook and Bishop could ever need to start their new lives.
“So… What do you think?” Bishop asked when Rook was finished.
Rook hummed. The sender hadn’t included their name or a return address, but there was a phone number, apparently belonging to an agent.
Not a Targent agent, but casting agency, for actors.
“If someone is setting a trap for us,” they’re going about it in a very roundabout way,” Rook reasoned.
And if the letter-writer wanted them dead… well, they already knew where Rook, Bishop and Bishop’s mum lived. Why bother going through the trouble of securing Rook and Bishop their new identities, just to kill them off?
Would the letter-writer expect them to return the favour years down the line? Were they hoping Rook and Bishop would make it big as actors one day?
The two of them could take the chance. Acting was a far less dangerous profession than being a police office… and Bishop would probably be happier too.
Rook looked at Bishop, who was beaming.
His partner said, “Are we, like, actually married now?”
