The Nightingale Conspiracy [IC]
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August 11th, 2013 (10:56 AM).
WITTY CLICHE JOKE HERE
There was a mental image of an Accelgor in the dark, right in front of him. Old and saggy, with his membranes rotted and worn, falling off with the slightest movement. His black eyes seemed forever tired, tortured by a sadness he wasn't but his gaze was piercing and intense at the same time. There was something odd about him.
That is me. Isn't it? No... that cannot be.
The vision shook and almost faded when a shrill voice invaded his ears. It belonged to the Weavile, who was speaking nonsense... the Accelgor in front of him smirked his face in annoyance, making a grumpy impression, a gesture that was disturbingly familiar.
Other breaths became voices, unknown to him, speaking too fast for him to comprehend. He thought he heard the word 'name'.
My name. What is my name? No one has told me yet...
The Accelgor in his mind nodded slightly, knowingly. This confused him to no end.
Is this me?
He asked himself again.
Am I insane?
His head started hurting, and when one of the others started a tantrum, the vision of the old Accelgor faded and he was left in the dark.
A solid voice sounded; it was a question. "W
hy the memory wipe, if we're being held captive anyway?" it said.
Another voice, perhaps one that belonged to a robot.
"Nobody is asking the crucial question. Where are we
and who are you? I don't understand anything that is happening. My brain is still fuzzy. Did you maybe injected us with something?"
I should be the one asking those questions,
Raymond reflected. Then, he heard a soft, awkward and melodic laugh from the speaker - he could not mistake it.
"One by one, the answers!" the Scientist chirped happily. Raymond felt
disturbed. From a hunch, he knew that if the old Accelgor was still there, he would do that gesture to show he was aggravated again.
His inability to answer that person behind the speaker with a hurtful comment gave birth to anger that he thought fueled his strength, but absolutely nothing happened.
He couldn't move, but the Scientist went on. "First! I compressed your memories in a part of your mind you can't access. Why you ask! Heh... to give you a purpose to work with me, of course. Else why would I go through the trouble? You go exploring in those dreams, and I give you back your memories as a reward... that sounds neat, heh-heh."
He laughed again, with that same, awkward laugh, which trailed off to silence that gave Raymond the time to think.
He is not comfortable around others,
he is a loner of a person, probability favoring miserable over insane, no,
he changed his mind,
he is both. And he is attempting to get on the good side of his subjects... does not want to appear like a villain... I can break him...
the thought reoccurred to him, and he felt infinitely confident for a reason he could not process.
"As for who I am," the Scientist suddenly said, in an offended tone, "I just told you. I'm the Scientist. And you're in my lab, as you can see, I mean, where else could you be, right? Scientists have labs... and you do what you're told, when you're in my lab."
He should be.
First Book: Take Off
Joined Feb 2009
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