Our Story
Scrambling to prepare for his date with the Silver Banshee, neophyte Wayne Enterprises office boy NoMattsLand's prayers for aid were answered by the wandering God of Trekkies and Monster Hunters, Leonard Nimoy. Directed by Nimoy to seek the aid of Lildeath, the Alaskan Surfer in the layout department and master porn archiver, NoMatts got his first glimpse of a photo of his mystery date. Unfortunately, the crystal clarity and superior viewing angle of NoMatts' Planar flat panel monitor stabbed him the back when Lor*, the passing Mistress of Writing Impliments, saw the picture of a "naked dead girl," drew conclusions about our hero's preferences and vented her wrath upon him in no uncertain fashion.
Fortunately, Lildeath took the interruption of messaging to bode ill and sent word to Merc, Blame Adjuster to Lucius Fox's office, to check up on the MIA NoMattsLand.
We now rejoin our hero after his 20 minute recovery, the usual hour cut down by Merc's spirited threats to kick him again twice as hard if he didn't shape up.
"It wasn't my fault! I only looked at one picture of a dead naked girl! And I didn't enjoy it!"
"Easy sport, I'm not going to kick you. Your private life is your own business."
"Thanks- Hey! It's not like that!"
"You are going out with the Silver Banshee tonight, aren't you?"
"Well yes, but-"
"She is a girl, she is dead, and you have to show her a good time, right?"
"You're- wait, how do you know all of this anyway?"
"Honey, it's been almost an hour you left Fox's office and more than twenty minutes since you explained things to Lildeath. Everybody in the company knows."
"Yarg!"
"The point is, you've got to stop thinking about this as a job that's been dumped on you. Live the role. You're escorting a woman to a ball. Forget that she's dead."
"Okay, right, I'll try.. it's just a blind date.. my date is not dead.. she's just Irish.."
"Scottish."
"Right. Sil- no, Siobahn is Scottish. She's also a talented and very successful woman in her field, which is why she's the only one who can help clear Mr. Wayne. She's not asking very much of me in return really."
"That's the spirit. You can look past her superficial flaws right?"
"Yes.. yes.. I can look past her superficial creepy nakedness. It's what's inside that matters."
Six minutes later...
"Merc?"
"Matts?"
"I don't think I'm going to be able to keep this up for another eight hours plus however long the date is going to go."
"I can't help you bone up on self-delusion. I'm a Blame Adjuster. You know where you need to go for help with that."
"No! Not him! Anybody but him!"
"I'm afraid he's the expert. I suppose you could try Lildeath first for an aesthetics logic dress down to try to adapt to the truth instead, but you've got less than 8 hours before the ball now. You think you can change your worldview that fast?"
"I can try!"
"OK, it's your ass on the line first. Good luck."
Galvinized now by fear of his potential allies in the company as well as his impending date with the Silver Banshee, NoMattsLand leaps atop his WayneTech indoor skateboard and charges through the maze of corridors towards the design department.
Will Lildeath's aesthetic parallels of socratic logic be sufficient to convince our hero to swallow the idea of potentially participating in technical necrophillia before the next sunrise? If not, who is the expert in self-delusion NoMatts fears even more?