This is not Nightscream.

Stating the obvious, really, as you would think that any of Lady Raven's beloved fanbase would not make such a heinous mistake as confusing me with him... her... it... what have you. However, as the attention span of most Runners tends to be limited at best, I find it most simple to just clear basics out of the way first.

Can you not see the absolute endless similarities? Uncanny, is it not?

Absolutely brilliant, if you ask me.
 

Good Morning, Afternoon, or Evening.

You can call me The Butler.

I am afraid to say that our amazing Hero(ine) is out for the count on the bed currently, so you all have the joy of getting an update from me instead. Yes, because filling you soon-to-be-dead Runners in on the progress of our sooner-to-be-dead mutual "friend" is of such massive importance. I had considered asking if Lord Raven was running a fever when she asked me for yet another favor, but I might as well have asked if Swiss cheese was still made with holes, as that is surely on the same scale of something that requires confirmation.

Seeing as how speaking itself has become so... twentieth-century, Lady Raven chose to write out his intent so we could hope to communicate beyond the wonders of hand-gestures. I must say, it has been so much fun playing charades all day. I honestly cannot think of any other way I would prefer to spend it. Though, certainly, the fact that Lady Raven can barely speak is the crime of the ages - I am sure we are all missing out on such breathtaking lectures of pure wisdom the likes of which would make deaf men see and blind men hear.

As if Lord Raven's consistent ramblings from before were so much more understandable than the scarce words she manages now.

"I promised them a show, love. Getting the chance to speak to you would prove to be a show and a half. Come now, what harm is there? Afraid you might like it?"

Yes, because I have absolutely nothing better to do than keep an online diary of pointless observations and cheap mind-games. Now that I have been exposed to the wonders of this Community, I now see for certain how utterly insignificant my entire life has been thus far in keeping all my thoughts locked tight in my mind as they are. Oh, yes, make no mistake - the very instant I clicked 'New Post', I came to realize just how incomplete I have been all this time. It was as though a deep, dark hole inside my very heart and soul was finally filled and I was at peace with the world at long last.

I feel so healed. It is a miracle.

But this is not about me. Certainly not. I am no one of any importance, once or ever. This wonderfully heartfelt post is about Lord Raven and the pure genius that convinced the Jolly Good Doctor that He should be making house-calls.

The one many refer to as "Nightscream" was admiring the floor of her apartment when I arrived. After I let myself in, I had the divine pleasure of bullets from a silenced gun blasting into the wall about a foot away from my skull. Bits of white plaster and dust marring my black suit. My "friend's" aim is even better than I remember... unless, of course, Lord Raven had been trying to hit me. Using my handkerchief to clean off my shoulder, I inquired as to whether she had been expecting other company other than myself, or if this was the warmest welcome he could muster after I painstakingly traveled so very far on her own request.

He looked so strong and formidable laying on the floor like she was. Propped up on one elbow, his arm holding the gun shaking a bit with the weight pressuring on her muscles, a grimace on his face as though bearing through severe pain. The true essence of a warrior at their finest hour, to be certain.

It appears Lady Raven has been associating a bit too much with fellow birdbrains lately. His Wondrous Plagueness came around again. This time, He left our mutual "friend" experiencing the many joys of shock, amongst other fun bits and pieces of The Doktor's trade that I am certain Lord Raven appreciates to the fullest. Her lips were almost blue when he lowered her gun - forcing forward that oh-so familiar smile. Pale as the undead and making even less sense than usual (if that is even possible), I assisted her to his feet. Noting a heart beating too fast and breathing too shallow. Fever and dizziness. All the fun things, for certain. I merely helped her to bed - most likely the very one he will die in.

Though, in my personal opinion, he appears to be in excellent shape... in comparison to the once-residences of Auschwitz, at any rate.

Apparently our "friend" has taken to the Hollywood Diet. Not that that is any cause for concern, of course. It is not as though eating is a matter of life and death or anything of that likeness, correct? At least not in this case. I have no doubt the Plague Doctor will finish what He began. It is just a matter of how long the suffering will be prolonged...


Ah, for the love of Bloody Mary... how do I always find myself around such oddities as this one? I would say I am cursed if that was not already rather obvious. If it were not for her saving my neck in Detroit, I would not be here at all. But, low and behold, I was called in on a favor. Of course, I just leaped at the opportunity to involve myself in pure suicide. A brilliant mess that should be run from with all haste.

However... Nightscream required some supplies.

So, I brought what he needed.

After all, any butler who can not manage a little delivery is most certainly not worth his salt.

What use it will be in her condition, I have not a clue. However, far be it from me to doubt the glory (read: mind-numbing stubbornness) that Lord Raven is known for. 

Then, of course, because I was just looking for a reason to stay in this marvelous Fortress of Sanitation, Lady Raven requested this all-important post. After all, it is not as though I had anything else to do this evening, correct?

Least he has got some color back in her now. Bloody idiot.




When you wake up and come to read this, my Lord and Lady Hybrid, do be certain to take your time in wrapping up this little vacation of yours. I am certain everyone around you would be more than willing to wait for you to get your act back together. It is not as though there is anything important in the mix.


The Butler