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Old August 17th, 2013 (11:36 AM).
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The Prince of Sweet Sorrow
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Age: 19
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Raymond


Natalia suggested they move separately, and that was for the best. As Tweet started suggesting their individual escape routes, he leaned on his elbow. He didn't say anything or interrupt her, but she had failed to take many factors into account... Raymond wasn't about to share any of those. Calculations were his part in this. There are plentiful hazards about this, but I am convinced this is our best bet at robbing this bank. There was no other way.

When Tweet finished her suggestions, Raymond raised his hand, tackling Felix's. "We want Felix to stay within the Enforcers. Any hint or evidence against him, you will delete," he said, looking at Tweet, "Felix will have to remain in the bank while they go in. And he will have to improvise to convince them he, too, was put out of commission, like the rest of the security.

Tweet had chosen to keep her escape plan secret. Very well. Raymond was fair, when it benefit him. He kept his secrets, and they kept theirs. He would keep an eye on Tweet, though, in case her plan failed. A captured Nightingale would compromise his entire plan... these little possibilities were what awaited to be thoroughly calculated in his room, for the next week, before the heist. Standing up, Raymond could feel his membranes loosening; he wanted to return to his room badly.

"Everything is settled," he declared steely, his eyes brushing past all of them for one last time. "We hit the bank in exactly seven days from now. Expect additional information on your mail. Off with you, then."


***


Seven Days Later...
Raymond & Tesla


The Accelgor was leaning back on his leafy chair, his membranes peeled off all around, in that same room with the same dim light. The flora there was pretty monstrous, growing off of the filth of the artificial ground. He liked it that way. It had stayed like this since he was fifteen; he hadn't even considered repairing the leak from the ceiling. Liquid was falling on the pond, drip, drop, poisoning the stagnant waters some more. What does that sound mean? He wondered.

The dim light was changing from green to red, to yellow, and back, a circle had to blink through, enough to cause him a headache. After all the brainstorming he had given on his bank plan, he now hoped to rest for some hours before the actual thing happened. But no. There was a persistent, metallic sound coming from the walls, and his head was pulsing painfully. It was a torment of colors, sounds and figures. He was staring at the wall, behind the liquid that was dripping from the ceiling.There was a shadow there, in the same height and shape as him. It was a familiar shadow. He had seen it somewhere else.

"Don't forget," it was saying, "the hidden files, you're going there for the files..."

The last pulse of his headache was sharp, the color of the light changing to dull red. There was another metallic sound that cracked across the walls, piercing his ears. He blinked and after a while, he realized someone was rapping on the door.

"I'm going to come in and give you your meds! Just shouting in case you can't hear me...," the Weavile yelled, opening the door rather quickly. When her eyes met Raymond's, she looked determined. "Obviously you're not fine."

Drops of liquid could be heard, giving the atmosphere a chilly feeling. She walked over to him, taking out the medications and pridefully looking at them. Won't be long until he'll be calmer and perfect. She had to get him better, or else she wouldn't feel satisfied.

"No, get that away," Raymond waved his hand and got off his chair, trying to walk past her.

Tesla forced him back to his chair and showed the medications to him. "As if I'd ever let you go free today! You're gonna go off do something big and you're getting sick before it! Just take the meds and you," she opens the medications, "will be fiiiiine."

"It's gone, Nurse Arana. I have no need for this cure of yours." His irritation was obvious in his voice, but that was to be expected. Tesla had that effect on him, even when she wasn't going on about the meds about his supposed diagnosed psychosis. The government didn't want to lose him into this ailment, so they'd sent Tesla to heal him. Her, out of all the people... perhaps they had predicted he would refuse to take the cure, so they had chosen a stubborn person for the job. All he could do was change the subject. "Your purpose in the mission today will be more dangerous than it sounds. There is a variable I had not taken into account in the equation of my plan. When escorting the civilians out, you will have to face the Commander of the task force of the Enforcers. He is not the as stupid as I would dare hoping. You will be treading on ice with him. Put up your best display of..." he smirked his face, as if he was having trouble believing what he was about to say, "... charisma."

Tesla flinched at his request, not knowing if she could pull that off. Folding her arms, she kept the medications in her right hand. "You'll get the meds one day you like it or not... it's my goal," she looked away. She didn't know how to respond to his new information. "As if I were a robot. Of course I got some charisma in me. It's hard to believe but I got what it takes!" she placed her free hand over her heart, trying not to show her doubt. She wasn't sure if she'll be able to lie, since she never does. With that thought out, her ears folded downwards at the thought of the Commander of the task force. "You know I never lie, Sir Raymond," she put emphasis on his name before continuing. "I'll perfect my lines on my way there till even I believe myself... uh, yeah. In my head of course. Not that i was going to talk to myself or anything."

I trust you will not fail, Raymond almost said, but he held back for some reason. A bleep sounded from the computer and he checked out, holding his head. It was a message from Winston, notifying him that it was time to send the mails. He looked back at his nurse. "Take this," he said, pulling something out his sticky membranes. It was a red button with the word 'Easy' on it. He pressed it once, and the damn thing spoke in a handsome voice.

"That was easy," the button spoke.

"It's the Easy button," Raymond said enigmatically, with the start of a smile. He handed her the device with no further explanation. "Now, escort yourself out of the room. I have yet to make the final preparations."

"Yes sir!" Tesla said sarcastically, copying a soldier's salutation. She then returned to normal and glanced at the red button. "Ladies first," she eyed Raymond before leaving the room. Once out, she closed the door and glanced at the button. The voice... was alluring. "That was easy" it spoke right after she had pressed the button. She walked around, wandering and pondering. What would the button be for? This was from Sir Raymond himself, and he always takes things pretty seriously. This can't be a joke... why this red button that talks? It's odd. She pressed it again, letting out the same voice to speak out into the hallway.

Raymond remained motionless on his chair, at last in peace. He pressed a button on his touch screen, opening the Pelipper Network Services on the Newhaven Web, the city's equivalent of our internet. He started recording a voice mail that was to be sent to all the Nightingales, besides Tesla; his voice was distorted by an application in such way that it sounded metallic, unnaturally deep and scary, as if taken out of a horror movie. It was a voice that surely belonged to any of the known Pokemon. Of course, that was made so nobody could trace him back, in case something went wrong.

"Delete this message thereafter," he started in a serious tone that made him sound alien. "Pay attention," he continued, more demandingly, "you may have received a box, wherever you live - or be about to. This box contains a device. Take it with you. Use it for ranged communication. It is essential we maintain radio contact at all times during the mission. You know what you have to do. For a better future."
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