Categories > TV > WWE > So Much More Than Meets The Eye
A/N: Thank you for all the feedback! I'm just as excited to write this as you guys are to read it. Glad you're all enjoying it. =]
A glorified bird cage...this is what I call home.
Nightingale cast a bitter glare at the gold plated bars that surrounded her. It wasn't an exaggeration to call it a bird cage--Raven had deliberately had it fashioned that way.
He'd said it was to protect her from the rest of the Flock. At first, she'd accepted it, because some of the newer members hadn't been the most savory of characters, and originally it had been her idea to stick close to Raven when she wasn't inside the cage. She had trusted him, considered him to be like a father to her--he'd saved her life, after all.
As time went on however, Raven became twisted, and the rules became stricter. First it was not being allowed to meet the eyes of anyone other than him. Then she was no longer allowed to speak in the presence of anyone besides him. The rule she resented most however, was the one that went into place last. The words still echoed in her mind, as though they'd been spoken just seconds earlier.
"Your sole purpose is to sing, Nightingale. That's how I found you, that's why I brought you into my Flock. You do not need to speak, you do not need to ask questions. All you need to do is sing when you're asked to, and everything will be fine."
That's when it all fell into place. Raven kept up the facade to the others that he was merely protecting the daughter of his heart, but Nightingale knew the truth. She wasn't like a daughter to him, she was his pet, one that was forced to keep his business a secret from members of the Flock who weren't directly involved. And so she began to resent the cage and everything it represented.
Bitterly, she continued to follow him when she was allowed out, just like the obedient puppy she was trained to be. He asked her to sing, and she did so--thankfully, he allowed her a radio, and a CD player, so she had a variety of material to choose from.
I used to sing for fun, because it made me happy...then I sang for a living on the streets, so I wouldn't go hungry so often...now I sing for the amusement of a twisted ringmaster. If I ever get out of here, I swear, I will never sing another note again. It's hopeless though, I'll never leave the Flock, at least, not alive. I know too much to be allowed to live.
She hadn't seen the light of day in years. Sure, there were flourescent lights throughout the warehouse they called home, but it was no substitute for real sunlight. Blackout curtains were over all the windows, another measure Raven had put into place to help keep his operation a secret. They'd stayed here the longest of anywhere, which wasn't saying much, as they were constantly moving, always under the cover of darkness so that they weren't as conspicuous. They stayed no more than three months in one dwelling until they came here. Four and a half months now, and Raven hadn't mentioned moving again, yet. She was sure that it wouldn't be much longer however, since the bar they'd used for a front had shut down and Laree was being hassled by the police.
Nightingale sighed, walking over to the area of the cage where she'd made a makeshift bed. Curling up on the pile of blankets, she allowed a few tears to escape, weeping quietly as Raven's voice echoed through her mind again.
"Sing for me, Nightingale..."
-
"Alright, when are the weirdo and the crow going to show up?"
"Sick Boy said he, Kidman and Raven had some business to deal with first, but that they'd be here as soon as they were finished. Patience is a virtue, you know."
"I have morals Jeff, but I never claimed to have virtues."
"I thought the two were interchangable?"
"Nope. So where do these freaks call home, anyway?"
"Look, you can't be insulting them like that when they show up Phil, or you're going to get us booted again before we even get moved in." Cara snapped.
"This just doesn't feel right is all I'm saying. I don't trust anyone who calls themselves "Sick Boy", let alone someone who forces that moniker on someone who they consider to be a part of their "flock". And you never answered my question."
"Nor am I going to, because all you've done since we told you is fire off questions. Just be thankful we're going to have a place to stay tonight that isn't a cardboard box!"
"Do you two ALWAYS have to argue like this? Phil, they live in a warehouse downtown, I'm not exactly sure where. And Baby, please try to be patient with him, he's got reason to be suspicious."
"He does not, he's just being difficult, like he always is, and you know it just as well as I do. It's bullshit, and you!" Cara retorted, before rounding on Phil yet again.
"Haven't you ever heard the phrase "don't look a gift horse in the mouth"? We're getting a place to stay, for free, can't you just be happy?"
"I like to be informed, sue me, and just so you know, nothing comes for free. On that note, just forget this shit, I'll find a way back to Chicago--at least I know what I'm getting into if I move back home. I'd rather be shacked up with an alcoholic than shacked up with someone who snorts coke or LSD." Phil retorted, snatching up his backpack, and heading in the opposite direction.
"Oh, what are you gonna do, hitch a ride with Traci again? Or better yet, what about Maria? Oh wait, that's right, she dumped your ass for that ape she found, what was his name?"
"Cara--"
"No, if he wants to go, let him go! We're better off, maybe we won't get kicked out again because of his attitude!"
"And you'd know all about bad attitudes, wouldn't you, Karma?" Phil sneered,not even bothering to glance over his shoulder.
Tossing out her old stripper name had been a low blow, but he was sick and tired of being snapped at because he wanted to be informed about what he was getting into.
"You are such a drama queen--" Cara started, but was cut off by another, unfamiliar voice.
"No, don't insult him. Kid's got brains, he doesn't want to go into anything blindly. I can appreciate that."
Phil turned to meet the cold blue eyes of the man who had spoke in his defense. He had long curly hair, bleached blonde--and he looked like he'd walked straight out of the year 1994.
"You must be Raven."
"And you three must be the ones who want to join my flock. Normally I'd sit you down separately and interrogate you, but Sick Boy over here vouches for you, and that's good enough for me. Come on, we'll show you your new home."
A glorified bird cage...this is what I call home.
Nightingale cast a bitter glare at the gold plated bars that surrounded her. It wasn't an exaggeration to call it a bird cage--Raven had deliberately had it fashioned that way.
He'd said it was to protect her from the rest of the Flock. At first, she'd accepted it, because some of the newer members hadn't been the most savory of characters, and originally it had been her idea to stick close to Raven when she wasn't inside the cage. She had trusted him, considered him to be like a father to her--he'd saved her life, after all.
As time went on however, Raven became twisted, and the rules became stricter. First it was not being allowed to meet the eyes of anyone other than him. Then she was no longer allowed to speak in the presence of anyone besides him. The rule she resented most however, was the one that went into place last. The words still echoed in her mind, as though they'd been spoken just seconds earlier.
"Your sole purpose is to sing, Nightingale. That's how I found you, that's why I brought you into my Flock. You do not need to speak, you do not need to ask questions. All you need to do is sing when you're asked to, and everything will be fine."
That's when it all fell into place. Raven kept up the facade to the others that he was merely protecting the daughter of his heart, but Nightingale knew the truth. She wasn't like a daughter to him, she was his pet, one that was forced to keep his business a secret from members of the Flock who weren't directly involved. And so she began to resent the cage and everything it represented.
Bitterly, she continued to follow him when she was allowed out, just like the obedient puppy she was trained to be. He asked her to sing, and she did so--thankfully, he allowed her a radio, and a CD player, so she had a variety of material to choose from.
I used to sing for fun, because it made me happy...then I sang for a living on the streets, so I wouldn't go hungry so often...now I sing for the amusement of a twisted ringmaster. If I ever get out of here, I swear, I will never sing another note again. It's hopeless though, I'll never leave the Flock, at least, not alive. I know too much to be allowed to live.
She hadn't seen the light of day in years. Sure, there were flourescent lights throughout the warehouse they called home, but it was no substitute for real sunlight. Blackout curtains were over all the windows, another measure Raven had put into place to help keep his operation a secret. They'd stayed here the longest of anywhere, which wasn't saying much, as they were constantly moving, always under the cover of darkness so that they weren't as conspicuous. They stayed no more than three months in one dwelling until they came here. Four and a half months now, and Raven hadn't mentioned moving again, yet. She was sure that it wouldn't be much longer however, since the bar they'd used for a front had shut down and Laree was being hassled by the police.
Nightingale sighed, walking over to the area of the cage where she'd made a makeshift bed. Curling up on the pile of blankets, she allowed a few tears to escape, weeping quietly as Raven's voice echoed through her mind again.
"Sing for me, Nightingale..."
-
"Alright, when are the weirdo and the crow going to show up?"
"Sick Boy said he, Kidman and Raven had some business to deal with first, but that they'd be here as soon as they were finished. Patience is a virtue, you know."
"I have morals Jeff, but I never claimed to have virtues."
"I thought the two were interchangable?"
"Nope. So where do these freaks call home, anyway?"
"Look, you can't be insulting them like that when they show up Phil, or you're going to get us booted again before we even get moved in." Cara snapped.
"This just doesn't feel right is all I'm saying. I don't trust anyone who calls themselves "Sick Boy", let alone someone who forces that moniker on someone who they consider to be a part of their "flock". And you never answered my question."
"Nor am I going to, because all you've done since we told you is fire off questions. Just be thankful we're going to have a place to stay tonight that isn't a cardboard box!"
"Do you two ALWAYS have to argue like this? Phil, they live in a warehouse downtown, I'm not exactly sure where. And Baby, please try to be patient with him, he's got reason to be suspicious."
"He does not, he's just being difficult, like he always is, and you know it just as well as I do. It's bullshit, and you!" Cara retorted, before rounding on Phil yet again.
"Haven't you ever heard the phrase "don't look a gift horse in the mouth"? We're getting a place to stay, for free, can't you just be happy?"
"I like to be informed, sue me, and just so you know, nothing comes for free. On that note, just forget this shit, I'll find a way back to Chicago--at least I know what I'm getting into if I move back home. I'd rather be shacked up with an alcoholic than shacked up with someone who snorts coke or LSD." Phil retorted, snatching up his backpack, and heading in the opposite direction.
"Oh, what are you gonna do, hitch a ride with Traci again? Or better yet, what about Maria? Oh wait, that's right, she dumped your ass for that ape she found, what was his name?"
"Cara--"
"No, if he wants to go, let him go! We're better off, maybe we won't get kicked out again because of his attitude!"
"And you'd know all about bad attitudes, wouldn't you, Karma?" Phil sneered,not even bothering to glance over his shoulder.
Tossing out her old stripper name had been a low blow, but he was sick and tired of being snapped at because he wanted to be informed about what he was getting into.
"You are such a drama queen--" Cara started, but was cut off by another, unfamiliar voice.
"No, don't insult him. Kid's got brains, he doesn't want to go into anything blindly. I can appreciate that."
Phil turned to meet the cold blue eyes of the man who had spoke in his defense. He had long curly hair, bleached blonde--and he looked like he'd walked straight out of the year 1994.
"You must be Raven."
"And you three must be the ones who want to join my flock. Normally I'd sit you down separately and interrogate you, but Sick Boy over here vouches for you, and that's good enough for me. Come on, we'll show you your new home."
Sign up to rate and review this story