Categories > TV > WWE > So Much More Than Meets The Eye
The introductions had been given, and the trio had just finished the grand tour of the warehouse. They stood assembled in front of Raven, as he studied them carefully, pacing as he pondered. Finally, he came to a stop in front of Cara.
"I'm going to call you Gypsy. Because you're a fortune teller. Gypsies were fortune tellers with cunning and sophistication, and that seems to fit you best."
Cara raised an eyebrow, a sly smile settling onto her lips.
"I like it."
Raven walked backwards until he was standing in front of Jeff. Reaching out, he picked up a lock of the younger man's hair, smirking at the blue, green and purple intertwined within the strand.
"You I'm going to call Tripp."
"Tripp?"
"Because your hair makes me think of what an acid trip would look like."
While Raven was busy talking with Jeff about hair color, Phil removed a small plastic bottle from the pocket of his jeans. Flipping open the lid, he squirted a liberal amount of lotion into his right hand. After sliding the bottle back into his pocket, he lifted his shirt, and applied said lotion to the tattoo he'd gotten on his stomach, just above his navel, a mere week before he lost his job.
The ink had cost him what little money he'd had left out of his paycheck that week, but to him it was worth it, because this tattoo in particular meant the most out of any other ink he had, or would ever get. Straight edge wasn't a fad, nor a vow one took lightly; it was a lifetime commitment, and to show his devotion to his beliefs, Phil had gotten the words inked under his skin.
"Nice ink. Straight edge, huh?"
Raven's gravely voice jolted Phil from his reverie.
"Yeah, got it about three weeks ago, before I lost my job."
"You're from Chicago, right?"
"Chicago born and bred."
Raven smiled as he noted the proud smirk settling on the face of the younger man.
"Chicago made...welcome to the Flock, CM Punk."
He backed away from the group, fixing a steely gaze on them as began to speak again.
"The Flock isn't just a group of misfits, we are a family; and just like any family, you're all going to be expected to do your part and help out to earn your keep."
He paused, letting the words sink in, before continuing.
"Gypsy, you're going to be helping me plan strategy for my business affairs. Both Kidman and Sick Boy tell me you can do amazing things with a set of Tarot cards, and I'd like to see just exactly how good you are with them.
"Can do, bossman." Gypsy chirped, smiling widely.
"Tripp, you're going to be assisting Kidman, Riggs and Sick Boy in whatever they may call upon you to do. Most of this will be doing deliveries, or helping take inventory when the imports come in. If you do well with that, we'll talk about bringing you into the business portion. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Absolutely." Tripp smirked.
"Tremendous. And you, CM Punk, you get the most important job of all."
"And that would be...?"
"Looking after my pet."
"...Looking after your pet. Seriously?" Punk deadpanned.
"Don't skimp out on the enthusiasm there, Punk." Gypsy replied, sarcasm dripping off her voice as she punctuated her statement with an eyeroll.
"Seriously. Kidman, bring her in."
Kidman entered the room, gently leading a redheaded woman in behind him by the upper part of her right arm. She didn't look up, but rather stared at her feet as she walked. She seemed timid, almost frightened of Raven, as she was placed beside him.
"This, Punk, is my song bird, Nightingale."
"Song bird?" Punk asked incredulously.
"You do realize you're repeating everything he says, right?" Tripp asked, leaning around Gypsy to shoot Punk a mischevious grin.
"You don't believe me?"
Raven raised an eyebrow at the black haired man, who met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Honestly? No. I think you're ribbing us to break the ice." Punk replied.
Rather than respond, Raven turned to the redhead standing next to him.
"Sing for me, Nightingale."
"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye...remember me, once in awhile, please promise me you'll try...when you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me...we never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me...think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the way things might have been, think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned, imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind, recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do, there will never be a day when I won't think of you...flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we, but please promise me that sometimes you will think of me."
Nightingale sang obediently, keeping her eyes cast downward so that Raven couldn't see her glaring.
"That's Christine's Aria from Phantom Of The Opera, isn't it?" Gypsy asked.
"That's right, and she has a beautiful voice, does she not?"
"She does. So. It's going to be my task to take care of her."
"Yes, in fact...Gypsy, how long will it take you to get your cards set up for a reading?"
"A half hour, tops. It doesn't take me long to cleanse the deck."
"Alright. I'm going give Punk here a quick rundown of the rules, when I get back, I want you do a reading for me. Kidman, take Tripp downstairs, and start getting him acquainted with the work routine."
"On it, boss." Kidman nodded, as he and Tripp took off down the stairs.
-
"You keep her in a CAGE?!"
"You did see some of the other members of the Flock downstairs didn't you?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Would you trust them alone with her?"
"...Okay, good point." Punk conceded, biting his tongue.
I don't care what the reason is, it's hardly appropriate to keep her caged. Best not to prove Gypsy right though, at least not this soon anyway.
"Normally she follows after me, but lately I'm called out more and more to supervise Kidman, Riggs and Sick Boy, put my seal of approval on things if you will, I won't bore you with the details."
Bore me with details? Right, I don't buy that for a second. You're hiding something, blackbird, and I'm going to find out what it is, sooner or later. Punk thought, as Raven continued.
"You seem trustworthy, which is why I'm letting you be her caretaker. When you leave the room, she is to go with you. When you are in here, she is to be inside the cage. She's not to even meet the gaze of the others, let alone speak--it's just better not to tempt fate, if you get what I mean."
"Right, I hear you loud and clear."
"Excellent. Here is the key to the padlock--do not let it out of your sight. If you lose it, and something happens to her I will hold you personally responsible, because I hold the only other key in existence."
Nightingale sat inside her cage, her back to the two men, glaring at the floor.
He talks about me as though I weren't here, as if I can't speak for myself; speaks of me like I'm incapable of caring for myself. I hope he chokes on his dinner tonight. Maybe someone would take pity and set me free.
"Out of curiosity kid, when was the last time you had something to eat?"
Punk rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.
"Tripp, Gypsy and I managed to scrape enough change together to get a donut apiece early this morning, but that's it."
"Go on downstairs and raid the fridge, I think Laree made pasta last night, there should be plenty left over."
"Alright, thanks."
As soon as Punk had left the room, Raven stalked over to the side of the cage where Nightingale sat, kneeling next to her.
"You tell him one thing about what we're really selling, and I'll kill you both."
She resisted the urge to smirk and give him the sarcastic remark that was floating around in her mind. She knew full well that he wouldn't hesitate to follow through with it, but she grew tired of his paranoia.
"You know I won't say anything."
Raven narrowed his eyes, glaring at her for the clipped tone in her words.
"See to it that you don't. That one clearly can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut."
And with that, Raven left the room, not bothering to close the door. From where she sat inside the cage, Nightingale had a clear view of the floor below. She watched intently as her new caretaker retrieved a bowl of pasta from their refrigerator, wolfing it down so quickly she feared he'd make himself sick.
Could it be...could it be that I might have some hope for freedom after all?
"I'm going to call you Gypsy. Because you're a fortune teller. Gypsies were fortune tellers with cunning and sophistication, and that seems to fit you best."
Cara raised an eyebrow, a sly smile settling onto her lips.
"I like it."
Raven walked backwards until he was standing in front of Jeff. Reaching out, he picked up a lock of the younger man's hair, smirking at the blue, green and purple intertwined within the strand.
"You I'm going to call Tripp."
"Tripp?"
"Because your hair makes me think of what an acid trip would look like."
While Raven was busy talking with Jeff about hair color, Phil removed a small plastic bottle from the pocket of his jeans. Flipping open the lid, he squirted a liberal amount of lotion into his right hand. After sliding the bottle back into his pocket, he lifted his shirt, and applied said lotion to the tattoo he'd gotten on his stomach, just above his navel, a mere week before he lost his job.
The ink had cost him what little money he'd had left out of his paycheck that week, but to him it was worth it, because this tattoo in particular meant the most out of any other ink he had, or would ever get. Straight edge wasn't a fad, nor a vow one took lightly; it was a lifetime commitment, and to show his devotion to his beliefs, Phil had gotten the words inked under his skin.
"Nice ink. Straight edge, huh?"
Raven's gravely voice jolted Phil from his reverie.
"Yeah, got it about three weeks ago, before I lost my job."
"You're from Chicago, right?"
"Chicago born and bred."
Raven smiled as he noted the proud smirk settling on the face of the younger man.
"Chicago made...welcome to the Flock, CM Punk."
He backed away from the group, fixing a steely gaze on them as began to speak again.
"The Flock isn't just a group of misfits, we are a family; and just like any family, you're all going to be expected to do your part and help out to earn your keep."
He paused, letting the words sink in, before continuing.
"Gypsy, you're going to be helping me plan strategy for my business affairs. Both Kidman and Sick Boy tell me you can do amazing things with a set of Tarot cards, and I'd like to see just exactly how good you are with them.
"Can do, bossman." Gypsy chirped, smiling widely.
"Tripp, you're going to be assisting Kidman, Riggs and Sick Boy in whatever they may call upon you to do. Most of this will be doing deliveries, or helping take inventory when the imports come in. If you do well with that, we'll talk about bringing you into the business portion. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Absolutely." Tripp smirked.
"Tremendous. And you, CM Punk, you get the most important job of all."
"And that would be...?"
"Looking after my pet."
"...Looking after your pet. Seriously?" Punk deadpanned.
"Don't skimp out on the enthusiasm there, Punk." Gypsy replied, sarcasm dripping off her voice as she punctuated her statement with an eyeroll.
"Seriously. Kidman, bring her in."
Kidman entered the room, gently leading a redheaded woman in behind him by the upper part of her right arm. She didn't look up, but rather stared at her feet as she walked. She seemed timid, almost frightened of Raven, as she was placed beside him.
"This, Punk, is my song bird, Nightingale."
"Song bird?" Punk asked incredulously.
"You do realize you're repeating everything he says, right?" Tripp asked, leaning around Gypsy to shoot Punk a mischevious grin.
"You don't believe me?"
Raven raised an eyebrow at the black haired man, who met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Honestly? No. I think you're ribbing us to break the ice." Punk replied.
Rather than respond, Raven turned to the redhead standing next to him.
"Sing for me, Nightingale."
"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye...remember me, once in awhile, please promise me you'll try...when you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me...we never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me...think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the way things might have been, think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned, imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind, recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do, there will never be a day when I won't think of you...flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we, but please promise me that sometimes you will think of me."
Nightingale sang obediently, keeping her eyes cast downward so that Raven couldn't see her glaring.
"That's Christine's Aria from Phantom Of The Opera, isn't it?" Gypsy asked.
"That's right, and she has a beautiful voice, does she not?"
"She does. So. It's going to be my task to take care of her."
"Yes, in fact...Gypsy, how long will it take you to get your cards set up for a reading?"
"A half hour, tops. It doesn't take me long to cleanse the deck."
"Alright. I'm going give Punk here a quick rundown of the rules, when I get back, I want you do a reading for me. Kidman, take Tripp downstairs, and start getting him acquainted with the work routine."
"On it, boss." Kidman nodded, as he and Tripp took off down the stairs.
-
"You keep her in a CAGE?!"
"You did see some of the other members of the Flock downstairs didn't you?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Would you trust them alone with her?"
"...Okay, good point." Punk conceded, biting his tongue.
I don't care what the reason is, it's hardly appropriate to keep her caged. Best not to prove Gypsy right though, at least not this soon anyway.
"Normally she follows after me, but lately I'm called out more and more to supervise Kidman, Riggs and Sick Boy, put my seal of approval on things if you will, I won't bore you with the details."
Bore me with details? Right, I don't buy that for a second. You're hiding something, blackbird, and I'm going to find out what it is, sooner or later. Punk thought, as Raven continued.
"You seem trustworthy, which is why I'm letting you be her caretaker. When you leave the room, she is to go with you. When you are in here, she is to be inside the cage. She's not to even meet the gaze of the others, let alone speak--it's just better not to tempt fate, if you get what I mean."
"Right, I hear you loud and clear."
"Excellent. Here is the key to the padlock--do not let it out of your sight. If you lose it, and something happens to her I will hold you personally responsible, because I hold the only other key in existence."
Nightingale sat inside her cage, her back to the two men, glaring at the floor.
He talks about me as though I weren't here, as if I can't speak for myself; speaks of me like I'm incapable of caring for myself. I hope he chokes on his dinner tonight. Maybe someone would take pity and set me free.
"Out of curiosity kid, when was the last time you had something to eat?"
Punk rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.
"Tripp, Gypsy and I managed to scrape enough change together to get a donut apiece early this morning, but that's it."
"Go on downstairs and raid the fridge, I think Laree made pasta last night, there should be plenty left over."
"Alright, thanks."
As soon as Punk had left the room, Raven stalked over to the side of the cage where Nightingale sat, kneeling next to her.
"You tell him one thing about what we're really selling, and I'll kill you both."
She resisted the urge to smirk and give him the sarcastic remark that was floating around in her mind. She knew full well that he wouldn't hesitate to follow through with it, but she grew tired of his paranoia.
"You know I won't say anything."
Raven narrowed his eyes, glaring at her for the clipped tone in her words.
"See to it that you don't. That one clearly can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut."
And with that, Raven left the room, not bothering to close the door. From where she sat inside the cage, Nightingale had a clear view of the floor below. She watched intently as her new caretaker retrieved a bowl of pasta from their refrigerator, wolfing it down so quickly she feared he'd make himself sick.
Could it be...could it be that I might have some hope for freedom after all?
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