1890, in London.

Charles often wondered if he had a masochism. Because staying around Pierre Gasly really seemed to be that somedays. His best friend and assistant was a bit psycothic and seemed to be always full of mischief and too much energy while Charles was calm and obsessed with poetry. Pierre always seemed to be ready to challenge his arch nemesis Lando Norris the well known detective. And Charles always followed. As weird as it could be, Charles was actually friend with Oscar Piastri, Lando's Norris best friend and assistant. Both of them were in love with their boss and best friend and also had to calm down their chaotic energy. They always comploted behind Pierre's and Lando's back to stop them from being arrested or killed. Like mothers watching over their kids who were little gremlins.

Charles was at his desk in his french class, having a bad feelings. He hadn't seen the criminal and maths teacher since too long. That meant trouble. He was watching the students who were resolving their final exams.''10 minutes left." Some of the students gasped, writing faster and Charles held back a giggle, reading his french poetry book. He taped his fingers on the desk : middle finger, pointing finger, ring finger. Again and again. Keeping the same rythm. Trouble was coming. "One. Two. Three." And at three, Pierre Gasly bursted into the room. "There he is." Charles sighed