FicWad

A/N: Inspired by Seether and a match I saw earlier on Daily Motion featuring "The Gathering". Co-writing/Beta credit goes to the one and only Cara Mascara (over on Fanfiction.Net), who is graciously allowing me to use her as one of the OC's. Enjoy!

"I can't believe that bitch booted us!"

"I can, she never liked us to begin with, she was looking for any excuse she could find."

"Yeah, and guess who gave her one?!"

"Okay, seriously, enough with the blaming me already, Cara! We as renters have certain rights, and we agreed when we became roommates that we wouldn't bring drugs into the apartment, and we wouldn't allow anyone else to either. It's a simple rule, and it's the only one I asked to have put into place. I know you and Jeff are into that stuff, but I'm not, and it's a matter of respect."

"It was just a joint--"

"And Hell is just a sauna. I don't care what you put into your bodies, I just don't want it in the place I call home, and I don't want it done around me, where I can get a secondhand high."

"You know Phil, it really wouldn't hurt you to loosen up a little bit. If you tried it, you might like it."

"Cara, baby, stop. It doesn't matter why we got kicked out, the fact remains that we did, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. The bar closed down which left both of us out of a job, and Phil got fired from the lab, which means we're SOL unless we can find this Raven character."

Phil glanced over at the rainbow haired man, his mouth quirking in a tight lipped smirk; at least he could count on one person to be on his side...halfway. Jeff would sooner dye his hair brown, wear a suit and work in a cubicle than completely side against Cara, and she knew it just as well as Phil did.

Jeff wrapped an arm around their blonde female companion, smiling as she snuggled close to him.

"So this sick dude--"

"Sick Boy. They call him Sick Boy." Cara interjected.

"Yeah, that weirdo. He seems to think Raven's going to take us under his wing, so to speak?" Phil asked, choosing to overlook Cara's comment.

"It's not just Sick Boy's word." Jeff stated.

Phil rolled his eyes.

"And you know this how?"

"I saw it in the cards." Cara replied, smiling proudly.

"According to the reading she did this morning, our luck is looking up." Jeff added.

"Luck is for losers, and--"

"And those willing to work towards their goals make their own luck, we know."

"Okay, one more question."

"Yeah?"

"Are we all going to get jolly pirate nicknames like Sick Boy and company?"

"Um, actually? I think we do."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Those that Raven chooses to take into his flock are given new names."

"Great. Are you sure this is our only option? Or that this guy isn't some coked up psycho serial killer?"

"Yes, and would you just chill already? Sure he's not the most normal person on the planet, but I'd much rather put up with his weirdness knowing that I have a roof over my head, clothes on back, and food in my mouth than to live on the streets, cold, ragged, hungry, and wondering if tonight is going to be my last night on earth. Besides that, it's your fault we're in this situation to begin with." Cara retorted.

Phil bit his tongue and kept his gaze focused on the sidewalk they were currently traveling on. For some odd reason, a weird sense of foreboding had settled on him all of a sudden, and for the life of him, he couldn't seem to shake it.

"If I believed in God, I'd be praying to him right now that we're not making the huge mistake that I think we are." he murmured.

-

Raven stalked up the stairs of the warehouse he and his Flock currently inhabited. Another figure shadowed him silently, following a mere step behind him.

She staggered, nearly losing her balance and toppling back down the stairs as Raven suddenly stopped, having met someone on their way down.

"Hey boss, how's it going? Nightingale, lovely as always."

The redheaded woman, known only as Nightingale, bowed her head in acknowledgement, shooting Sick Boy a small smile as soon as Raven wasn't looking.

"It's going alright, how's business?"

"It's a little slow this week, we had to switch locales again--Noctem got shut down, so there's no way we can keep selling there without looking suspicious."

"What about Laree's end of town?"

"The cops are all over her, she's having to take a break until they get off her case."

"What has the world come to? Girl can't even turn an honest trick to make a living these days without someone trying to shut her down. What about the imports?"

"We've still got that guy who works customs on the cargo plane from Colombia in our pocket, but I don't know for how much longer. His people seem to suspect something is up."

"I don't care what you have to do, as long as it gets fixed. The cocaine is our main source of income, I can't keep this place running like it is right now without it."

"I was actually heading down to the docks to meet up with him--maybe if you spoke to him personally it'd be more of a motivator."

"That's a hell of an idea, Sick Boy. Let me go take care of Nightingale, and I'll go with you."

Raven began climbing the stairs again. As soon as he'd passed, Sick Boy shot the redhead a sympathetic smile, mouthing the words "I'm sorry".

Nightingale shook her head, resigned to the same fate she'd had for more years than she cared to remember, following Raven into the room they "shared", if you could call it that.

Life with the Flock beat the hell out of life on the streets, that was true; but if she'd known the price all those years ago, when Raven had found her, ragged and starving? She'd have turned and run as fast as her feet would carry her.

"Come on Nightingale, you know the drill. In."

The woman held her breath, trying to keep a gasping sob from escaping past her lips as she stepped into the cage. She kept her back to Raven, wincing slightly as she heard the metal door closing, and the telltale sound of the padlock being snapped into place.

Because being ragged, hungry and free beats being his pet songbird and living in a gilded cage any day. She thought bitterly, as Raven walked out, gently closing the door behind him.