The Nightingale Conspiracy [IC]
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August 12th, 2013 (2:42 PM).
Again, he heard that voice that he disliked for some reason... it belonged to a Weavile. She was asking the Scientist to get going with the procedure. Raymond was not sure he wanted to explore his dreams. He wanted to stay here... but trying to break out of a coma would be futile. There was no option. He had to go with the flow...
so, I will meet these people in the past. I will know who I am, and what my name is.
The Scientist sounded from the speaker. "Of course, yes, that is what I want, to get this over with, I have other things to do anyways... well, then, heh. I will simply put you to sleep with some gas! That should get the Dormitus 4.4 working, you don't have to do anything, don't worry, I said don't worry, in case you didn't hear." A bleep sounded and a disturbing
filled the room. "Fastest way to sleep, hehe. Sorry, I guess. Sweet dreams!"
It felt no different to Raymond, when he inhaled the sleeping gas. But after a while, his mind seemed to blur and slow down, until the dark engulfed him, and he was truly sleeping.
. A green liquid was falling from the ceiling, forming a disgusting, dark pond on a dent. The rest of the steel floor was covered by grass, vines that escalated and covered the walls, rocks here and there. The only source of light was the sun's rays, coming through the dark-red tinted window that viewed the metropolis of Newhaven. There was a huge leaf on the far end of the room that served as a chair, a few dark membranes scattered here and there around it. Next to it the only techmaturgical object in the room: a touch screen that allowed access to every computer on the Maverick Manor and its defenses.
Raymond was leaning backwards on the leaf, grasping his membranes tightly, listening to the repetitive sound with his eyes shut. His mind was at ease, now that he had finished the first part of his grand plan and was ready to present it to his associates. He had prepared slides to show them on the big screen, as to make the presentation live. And more comprehensible. There was no detail, no possibility he had left unchecked; in a few days, the government would be drowned in chaos by the endeavors of the Nightingales.
Another sound reached his ears: a
from the screen in front of him. He opened his eyes. The room was painted in the same dim, oddly colored light that gave a sickening impression to anyone but him. He slowly raised a hand to press on a notification displayed on the touch screen. It was his butler, Winston, waiting outside the door. Although Winston didn't need doors to enter rooms, knocking was the etiquette in Maverick Manor. As soon as the notification was off the screen, a tall shadow appeared on the wall, slowly materializing into something dark that was fully past the wall: a bulky Dusknoir who was wearing a golden bracelet on each wrist.
"Sir, the riffraff are arrived," Winston said in a deep english accent and his customary, subtle, mocking half-grin adorning his shady face.
"The Nightingales, you meant to say," Raymond corrected him, unsmiling at his butler's inappropriate comment. He'd gotten used to his butler's atrocious speech, after all these years of having to bear listening to him.
"Of course, as you say," he replied in the same tone that gave his words a sarcastic impression.
"Were they followed?"
"Negative, as far as I am concerned."
"I shall inform them of your grand but belated entrance, sir." The Dusknoir launched himself at the ceiling, becoming a shadow and disappearing out of sight. The room was left in near silence.
Raymond remained motionless, pondering on what the sound suggested... he decided he would find out soon enough.
This room was very different than the other one. It was the formal chamber of audience Raymond would use to greet any guests he might have. It wasn't used in a long time, so he'd had Winston clean it up and bring a few more chairs to host his special visitors today. It was an empty room, apart from the desk and the five chairs forming a semi circle around it.
He made himself comfortable in his chair made of leaves, braiding his hands in front of him. Behind his chair, there was no wall - only a window that allowed full view of the center of Newhaven, Acter, from up high, though not quite as high as the Castle of Acter. His butler was standing tall behind him, having stepped aside to allow view to the visitors; for once, he was quiet. Perhaps he could feel the anticipation in the air, and so he decided it was not the time for a dryly witty and offensive remark to any of their guests.
"Welcome to Maverick Manor," Sir Raymond almost gagged at the necessary courtesy he made to the five people that were sitting across his wooden desk. His eyes fell onto each of them, examining them individually to detect any signs of regrets, tension or reluctance. Hell, he was planning a conspiracy. There was always a traitor. He was determined to find that traitor and expel them from the equation. It could get harsh, then. He had better set a few things straight with them, so they thought doubly before crossing him.
Leaning forward, his hands still braided, his pupils dilated when he spoke, using a low, coarse tone, as if he was afraid to waste too much of his voice. "I am well acquainted with each of you, even though we have not met in person." He glanced at Tesla. She was a different case. "I like to be careful," he continued slowly. "I know your strengths, I know your weaknesses... and I know your faults." A friendly reminder that they were all dirty, and that if the plan was compromised, nobody would come clean.
Raymond looked at every guest of his individually once again, deciding it was to time to introduce them to each other.
First was Tesla, the Weavile who knew him better than anyone in the room, except Winston. She was also the person who could annoy him more than Winston; he had never met somebody more persistent and obsessive... "Meet Tesla Arana," he spoke out loud, "my personal nurse and the medic of our operations."
I dare anyone to doubt her usefulness,
Raymond thought with mild satisfaction hidden behind his serious, professional expression.
His gaze fell to the right, to the female Zoroark. He had spoken to her only through the hard line for business purposes; he only kept her close because of her professionalism. "That is Natalia Alden, the silent element of our company. Call her a thief, if you want."
Next in line was the Porygon Z, whom he had seen only a few times in person. He did good business with Tweet, he liked to admit; she supplied the underground networks he maintained with the latest Hextech weaponry. "Tweet Jonias, our technician and weapon manufacturer."
The person next to tweet was a Blaziken with a stony face.
Another professional. I have made good choices.
"That is Felix Teufel, an Enforcer, indeed. Do not be alarmed, he can be trusted." Raymond was well aware that Felix frequented the underground Casino to play cards with the thieves and the scum that lived down there. He had to be especially careful with Teufel, so he had Winston film him in the act, in case the need to use the material ever rose.
"And lastly, Dominic Harrison, our marksman." The Charmeleon was last. From his sources, Raymond knew Dom was a criminal.
Having finished with the introductions, he rotated his chair to the side and stood up, walking to the window with the majestic view. He stood with his back turned and his hands behind his back. "
I will not make you swear an oath of secrecy. Words are wind.
You all know why you are here. We were all born and raised in a beautiful city, with an ugly regime. The people yearn for freedom, but they fear to step up and grasp it. While they stay motionless, reluctant to take action against their government, we must work in the dark. We must become the idea that will drive them forward into the revolution that will free Newhaven from the tyrants. A force so elegant, simple, yet severe, able to make everything fall into place with the slightest touch..." He was sure not everyone was following him. They would understand, soon.
The Accelgor turned to face them with a hard expression.
My grand plan will, bit by bit, weaken
the government while strengthening the people.
The Generals must be put down, in that instance, we all concur. The question is how," he took a step towards them, then pulled down an almost invisible cord near him. A huge roll of solid paper suddenly unfolded, covering the window behind him and leaving them partly in the dark. A second later, a machine on the ceiling started working, projecting light at the material, forming a screen.
The first slide was showing a tall glass building with many floors, with a sign above the entrance, reading:
"National Bank of Newhaven".
"We hit the bank," Raymond said, straight to the point. "To get our message across. To show the people the government is not indestructibleand does not always succeed in protecting its funds.By hitting the National Bank, we destroy government funds. With no funds, Newhaven will not continue to be the superpower the Generals envision... but that is not the important part. If we make it known that this is an act of liberation, an answer to the government for their crimes... it will be our first step towards stirring the people. They may not feel like revolting, things do not seem so bright at the time being. But revolution is not the apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."
He went and sat on his chair, rotating it so that he could look at the bank. "Hitting a bank certainly does not sound like an easy thing to do. Especially this bank. I have devised a plan of my own, but I welcome suggestions. How would you make your approach here? Is there any place in particular you see yourself being in, when carrying out the plan? Speak up."
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