It was a normal day at Castle Bleck. By normal, I mean as normal as a castle housing a count, a brainwashing secretary, a human who used to be a Pixl, a brawn-over-brains Scotsman, a shapeshifting girl, a creepy flying jester and a masked man. The minions were gathered at the Meeting Room, their hair tangled and their eyes constantly drooping. I don't really blame them, seeing as it was four o'clock in the morning.

The Count suddenly teleported onto his podium, quickly accompanied by Timpani and Nastasia. All three were straight-backed and bright-eyed, and they looked ready to start the day.

"Everyone had a good sleep, asked Count Blumiere?"

There were incomprehensible murmurs from the other four.

"C'mon guys, look lively," said Nastasia. "There's a new-minion orientation today."

The atmosphere changed instantly.

"WHO? WHO? WHO?" yelped Mimi, jumping up and down.

"Is it a lass or a lad?" questioned O'Chunks.

"Can they perform magic?" inquired Dimentio, creating a magic blast to illustrate his point.

"What's their name?" yelled Mr. L.

"Calm down!" exclaimed Timpani. "We're not exactly sure."

"All we know is that her name's Raven Featherclaw and she's a friend of the Count, 'K?" replied Nastasia. "So, uh, quit your yelling and stuff. She'll be here around midday. That okay with everyone?"

More murmurs.

"Super," said Nastasia.

"Excellent!" beamed Blumiere. "Now, Raven is... well..."

"Crazy?" suggested Mimi.

"Mad?" said O'Chunks.

"Mentally unstable?" put in Dimentio.

"Dead?" said Mr. L.

Everyone looked at him.

"What?" he said. "I didn't get much sleep last night, alright? No need to look at me as if I'm a squashed antelope."

"A whut?" asked O'Chunks.

Mr. L frowned. "Don't know where that came from."

"Anyway, the point is that I am requiring you all to be open-minded," continued the Count. "Please make sure you make Raven feel welcome!"

"Oh, I'll make sure O Count," smirked Dimentio.

Mimi eyed him with dislike. "You are really creepy, ya know that?"

"Why, indeed I do, Mimi."

"Well then that's good."

"It is?" butted in O'Chunks.

"Of course it isn't!" hissed Mr. L.

"A'course. Sorry 'bout 'dat, L."

"Why're you saying sorry to me?"

"Sorry 'bout whut?"

"..."