Freeport 10's Research Deck: Commonwealth Research and Development Wing.

[Eduard]

Out of nowhere, a totally new, and illustrious figure made it's appearance on the research decks. It was a figure which possessed absolutely no legitimate purpose of exhibiting its existence in the confines of the laboratories which sported an intricate grandeur, simulating the idea that plans and ideas of big proportions were molded here and transported from the metaphysical bonds limited only by the imagination and intellect clutched inside the heads of the scientists, to the variety of sheets, PDAs and worktables, and eventually, to reality.

This elusive shadow, a man embracing his thirties, wearing dark, black coloured, finespun clothing and an intriguing hat, was dazzling through the corridors, attempting to emulate the silence of a feline drenching its paws on the ground while stalking its prey.

He held his hands against his chest, as they were holding tight in their clutches a note, a PDA and a sharp knife.

It was obvious that this figure was Robert and he emphasized his presence only to incarnate his plot onto Achille.

Robert was heinously looking for Achille's office, only to deliver a comical punchline at his address.

With a stern determination, his legs carried him through this area, which in his mind, was erected from an entirely different world and placed carelessly inside the Freeport. He walked up and down, left and right, unavailing until he finally reached a door.

The door was locked down shut and, as his hands were occupied, Robert tried relentlessly to open the door by pitting himself against the knob, bracing it with his elbows, and attempting any other futile attempts worthy of a five year old.

As his thoughts resurfaced in his mind, Robert stopped. He peeked through every corner, hoping no one saw him performing such humiliating acts.

A mutter was heard as the items were gently placed on the ground. The door was now open.

Lifting the items back up, Robert entered the room. By the looks of it, it was actually a storage. To his disappointment, Robert left, spend a few more minutes until he found another door only to repeat the operations, only this time, there were no humiliating acts.

As he entered, it was obvious to him that it was Achille's office, or so he thought.

He approached the desk, he calmly put the PDA down, an expensive and intricate PDA with various functions and commands, and right on top of it, he gently and meticulously placed the note, a sheet of paper with ink arranged in rows of letters who would confine themselves into words and sentences while the bottom part was left empty.

Now, the knife. Robert took the knife in his both hands, lunged it upwards, and with a , for him gigantic, physical excruciation, delivered a blow, stabbing through the bottom, empty part of the note, and through the PDA, destroying it and leaving it incapable of function as well as possibly making an unappealing hole or mark in the desk. Robert always thought that the irrational waste and damage of resources gets on Achille's nerves, and occasionally, this proved right.

Delighted and overly filled with pride and satisfaction, he left the room and the items there. On the note, the following words could be read:

" Dear Achille, we hate you and we think you should die. we also hate your stupid flamboyant arrogance and there's not enough room on this sheet of paper to properly describe how much we hate you. Go die. ~Love, you know you.

Signed: Robert, Robert's nomad, Robert's leopard, Robert's python, Robert's raven, Susan, Arlston

PS: Tu es un imbecile!

The last signature, or name was obviously faked, and bolded out by the culprit of this plot to properly send a subliminal message towards its victim. It's unknown whether or not Susan's name was also faked or not.

The writing style as well as certain other elements could easily point Robert as the head of such a heinous intrigue.

The plot was done, blood was demanded, and blood was spilled, in the form of a severely destroyed PDA and a possibly damaged desk.