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Topic Summary

Posted by: Cloak
« on: Today at 08:50:21 AM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Penny-Unwise

Cloak was dispatched to a circus-themed amusement park. He was less than enthused by it -- Cloak never liked circuses. He never liked seeing the animals do stupid tricks for the amusement of humans. He was sure that half of the animals were mistreated behind the scenes, despite the deeply flawed facade of loving them during a circus performance. Maybe it was because he was a tiger-form Realm Walker, but seeing tigers jump through hoops -- literally, in this case -- just rankled him.

It didn't help much that apparently there was also a castle motif and a toy theme competing with the circus theme. It was just so overly saccharine and cutesy and colorful -- Cloak couldn't help but feel really out of place here. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about bystanders as the place was evacuated when the fiend decided to take up residence in it.

Cloak found himself also wondering how this place stayed in business. How could O.S.H.A. have not see what an occupational hazard this place was inherently? There were pitfalls, and trains that crashed into each other far to regularly to be unintentional, and gimmicky boxes that either hit you, teleported you, or left you alone every time a deep bell resonated. Cloak failed to see the amusement in this park.

Eventually, he came to a room with a very high ceiling and electrified walls. And it was in this room he saw the creature, who was at least half his height.

The short creature had a round, black head with a single, yellow vertical stripe with an orange triangle marking pointed down on his forehead. It had a white face, red mouth, brown eye shadow markings. Its human-like eyes had green irises and pale orange sclera. It had two jointed horns that were dark red on the part that connected to its head, a white joint, and silver lance-shaped horns that ended in brown balls. Its shoulders were like jingle bells with black tops, yellow "+"-shaped markings, brown bands around the center, and pale orange bottoms. Its telescopic arms were alternating silver and dark green, and touched the ground even without being telescoped out. dark green ruffed wrists, black hands with white knuckle studs, and yellow fingers. It had a silver collar and upper torso, with the rest of his body, including its upper back. Its knees were black with yellow shins. It had silver pod-like feet with a white vertical stripe with a small brown ball at the toe. It also had a cross-like indentation on the sole of its feet.

When the clownish fiend saw him, it first tugged its horn and babbled. Cloak assumed it meant that it thought he had no chance, but the words -- if you could call them that -- were unintelligible gibberish. It started by telescoping its arms out an reach a trapeze rope that Cloak hadn't noticed. It swung around on it, but Cloak easily dodged it by staying where he was and not moving.

Eventually, Cloak just made thin cyclones with a flick of his wrist, and that caused the fiend to become, momentarily, tangled up in its telescoping arms. He gibbered like a frightened monkey, before encasing itself in an electric orb and bouncing across the room.

Cloak had to admit, he hadn't been anticipating that. But it moved slightly slower than it should have, as Cloak was able to dodge every bounce. It was an annoying attack to dodge though.

Then it punched its telescoping arms through the ground -- through the earthen ground -- to try and grab Cloak and, presumably, shock him. This was a very stupid maneuver on the fiend's part. Cloak just terrakinetically crushed the fiends arms, making them useless.

What happened next wasn't pretty, but it was quick. Brutal, but quick.

***

Demos called it a "coulrosapien". He claimed to have designed it for an amusement park or circus, for entertainment purposes.

***

Malice watched and said, "They probably should stop clowning around. And me too, I haven't schemed in a while."
Posted by: Cloak
« on: Yesterday at 11:47:24 PM »

. . .

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Extradition and Sickness

Officer Justice didn't even bothered to interrogate the Reptilon native, this Al guy -- as he remained perfectly tight-lipped about everything. He had essentially lawyered up, despite being, technically, an illegal immigrant to this planet, so he hadn't much, if any, legal standing in his favor.

So that just left Bud, the full-grown, and thus fully bloomed, Methanosian. But he looked anxious, but in the way Bruce Banner does when he's trying to hold back the hulk. Bud was seated, with his elbows upon the table, his head in his palms. He was clearly very distraught. But Officer Justice had a feeling, a hunch really, that it was the interrogation that was making him like this.

"So," Officer Justice said, breaking the tense silence. "So, Mr. . . . Bud, right?"

Bud said nothing, just did Methanosian equivalent of sweating.

"Why'd you do it?"

"I didn't," he said, rather plaintively, "I assure you that I didn't. He did."

"Who's he?" Officer Justice said, patiently. As if she were speaking to a child.

"He . . . he calls himself Ulter Ultimate," Bud said, ringing his hands now. "He . . . he demands that I call him . . . M-Mister Ultimate."

"And who is this Mr. Ultimate?" Officer Justice said, getting an idea of what was going on.

"He killed the people on that vehicle," he said, ringing his hands more fretfully now. "I told him not to. I warned him, I told him not to, I -- I -- I begged not to. But he didn't listen. He never listens . . ."

"Do . . . do you think I can talk to this Mr. Ultimate?" Officer Justice said.

"No! Don't make me -- don't invite him to -- no! I can't control -- no!" he protested, before his head bowed as he grew silent.

"Are you sure this is wise, Officer?" Phoenix said, alarmed.

Officer Justice didn't answer, which Phoenix took to mean that, no, she wasn't sure that this was the wisest course of action. This did not fill Phoenix with enthusiasm.

Bud's body began to change. His skin became more xylodermic, and its form became more radically different. Then he grew blue gooey shells that contained his face, and an organic blue colored gel-like solutions of napalm  on his arms. He was becoming what Methanosian became under the effects of the Darwin gun.

This Mr. Ultimate personality seemed to know nothing but rage and hyper-aggression that would put an Appoplexian to shame. He immediately moved to attack all assembled in the room, until he grasped his head.

"Stop fighting me, sapling," he roared, holding his head. "You know that you cannot win. You --"

Everyone in the room jumped when he made a roaring grunt. Bud was fighting for control again.

"You can't beat me, sapling! You know it! I know it! Everyone knows it!" he roared, voice echoing off the flat metallic walls. "You only get control when I deem -- ARGH!!"

Yarin had manageburst in and suppress Mr. Ultimate's mind, reverting Bud's body back to normal allowing him to retake control. It was very apparent that Bud couldn't be held accountable for the actions of that obviously separate and distinct personality. Yarin confirmed that it was a legitimate split personality.

***

Yarin was tasked with the extradition, the deportation, of all these aliens -- technically illegal aliens -- back to the planets in which the came for. All except Shurnoble who was allowed to stay to make reparations, basically allowing himself to essentially become a living battery, and Bud, whom the RAFians worked to cure of his split personality problem. Yarin had strong suspicions that the destroyed Darwin gun* was behind this, somehow.

They knew that they didn't act alone, but they had assumed that Odie was dead considering what his hideout looked like when they investigated further.



* Book 20.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: Yesterday at 10:44:46 PM »

Okay, this is the last chapter before Ajit Pai completely ruins and kills the Internet as we know it.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Escape into the Night

He couldn't believe it. He really couldn't believe it. His grand hornswoggle had fallen through. Odie was sure that his plan was flawless -- despite the fact that flawless plans don't exist. Not truly.

But those four idiots did not see his face, which was fortunate as he may now escape. And he was fortunate enough to have another contingency. Thanks to the items those idiots provided him, he would be able to craft another disguise. Not a full bodysuit, like the one he got off the black market (which was expensive enough to get ahold of to begin with), but a suitable mask. A simple facial appliance -- he was glad that he had learned enough of about movie makeup -- always an interest of his that he never disclosed during his time as a RAFian -- to make it look passable enough. And he still had the rest of the bodysuit, which he was currently still wearing. He would also dye his hair, to better layer the disguise.

The making of the mask was easy enough, though it wouldn't look that realistic if people got really close to him -- like invading personal space kind of close. He should be good, as he had no interest in romantic episodes. His survival took precedence in this scenario. Besides, that went for only the most observant people, which was often in short supply.

Anyway, he had only applied the mask. He had yet to blend it in with his skin with the movie makeup. The appliance of the mask went excellently, and he was blending in the lines of the mask with his skin. Granted, one of those black market bodysuits was better at disguising himself, but they were notoriously expensive. He'd have to be rich in order to have two or more. The black market was well-known to have exorbitant prices, and the vendors weren't above price gouging. After all, they weren't regulated by the government -- otherwise they wouldn't be a black market.

There. That looked better and distinguished him from what he truly looked like. All he had to do now is put in the contact lenses to alter his eye color and decide what to do about his voice. He would have to disguise it, somehow. He couldn't afford a voice synthesizer like all the black market bodysuits have built in. He would have to put on a voice, but make it seem like he wasn't. He could always use the "I have a cold" excuse for why he sounds so weird, so there was that.

But he had to be honest with himself. All this makeup and stuff would be a major pain to apply every day before he left his little hidey hole. However, it was necessary for survival -- at least, until he could afford another bodysuit to replace this torn and damaged one. Another bodysuit, and a another new identity with it.

But that was a plan for the future. He had to get comfortable with this mask which wasn't quite foam latex and it wasn't flesh, though it had the appearance of flesh. He called the material a mimetic latex, which wasn't easy to make and the chemicals and items he needed to make them weren't easy or cheap to come by.

He check his reflection in a dirty mirror, with some rust damage around the frame. The application of the mask to his face was still, in his opinion, excellently executed. The application of the makeup was satisfactory to the common layperson on the street. All he needed to do was avoid calling attention to himself. And he needed to hive this identity a name that did not reflect his own and, again, was not obvious.

He settled on John Smythe.

***

Mayor Milton, or Mayor Milquetoast, as he was pejoratively known, was in a bit of a pickle. The whole anti-RAFian taskforce thing had blown up in his face. Their lack of cohesion as a team, with the conflicting personalities which led to that quite public brawl against one another, had made the mayor even more of a laughingstock. His taskforce largely considered to be a fiscal boondoggle, a waste of taxpayer money.

No matter what he tried, the likelihood of him surviving the next election as mayor was dwindling with each passing hour. And, with all the crap that happens in his city, the mayorship isn't even highly sought after! With all that, all the insanity he had to put up with as mayor, he was going to be dismissed because of this.

He managed to keep business going as usual when all these RAFian-related matters just kept coming up. That Heinlin invasion, that killer produce thing, all these Knights of Humanity hoopla -- he's managed to make the city move forward beyond that, he was the one who made them move on . . .

And there was the phone. His donors were not gonna be haply with what he did. And, after all, he, in actuality, cared far more for them, and feared reprisals from them far more than the people he was supposed to govern.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: Yesterday at 08:30:54 AM »

With the almost-certain death of net neutrality tomorrow, this could very well become the very last chapter of Memoirs that I can post. Believe me, I'm not happy about it, as the readers of this should know by now, I have ideas for more Years beyond Year 2.

Yes, the dysphoria about that is more or less why I have basically been posting a chapter every other day, I suppose.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Speed Racers

They interrogated the Citrakayah named Allen and the Kineceleran named E-N at the same time. Broken, Shenmue, and Cerulean was there, with Officer Justice. They were both in the magical chains from Broken's Incarcerous Spell. In addition, considering that both were of speedster species, Broken thought it was prudent to place both under the Leg-Locker Curse, Locomotor mortis, to prevent them from speeding away before even Cerulean or Shenmue could anticipate their escape. The two were thoroughly magically bound now. Although, Broken kind of wished that he carried some Veritaserum with him, but it was a moot point now. The two really didn't have motive he could see with which to lie to them.

Though he was perplexed about their constant questions of who won. They seemed to believe that they were entered into some kind of marathon. Some kind of race of unknown perimeters.

"So who won? Huh?" E-N demanded again.

"Won?" Officer Justice inquired. She clearly understood that these two did not understand at all what trouble they were in.

"It was me, wasn't it?" Allen said, eagerly.

"No, it wasn't! It was obviously me!"

"Oh, now I remember where I saw you two before," Cerulean said, not too terribly enthused about it. "You were the two who had me judge which of you were faster a while ago.*"

"And you were faster than either," Shenmue recollected.

"Didn't count!" Allen protested.

"Yeah, because I won that race!" E-N proclaimed.

"You did not!" Allen protested passionately.

"I did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"ENOUGH!!!" Officer Justice roared. The childish bickering was getting to her. "Why did you shoplift at those fourteen different stores?"

Then she gave a brief and succinct list of the stores in question.

"You were barely caught on camera, admittingly," she said, as both seemed to swell with pride -- which caused Cerulean to facepalm. These two must have been the dumbest, most childish, most oblivious Kineceleran and Citrakayah in existence! Perhaps that's why they're on Earth and not Kinet or Chalybeas, respectively. They're now the RAFians' and the collective Earth governments' problem now -- but perhaps extradition was still possible. "But, the fact of the matter is you were caught."

"So?" E-N said, flippantly.

"It was a scavenger hunt," Allen said, "we had to find all the items on a list first. The one who did would be declared the fastest!"

"You idiot!" E-N spat. "We weren't suppose to tell anyone!"

"Why?" Officer Justice said, fighting an urge to rub her temples in an agitated way.

"Because he said not to," E-N said, "Mr. Judge."



* Book 107.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 12, 2017, 10:27:30 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Unmasked

"You cold-hearted b--" Odie snapped.

"You charlatan!" Mosaic roared.

"Go disappear somewhere, lizard!" Odie snarled.

"You lied to us!" Ignatius said, somewhat dimly.

"Go erode into the sea!" Odie snapped. It was about the breadth of his wit, that insult.

"You should burn for it!" Scorch Hothead snarled back.

"Stuff it, hothead!" Odie shot back. Scorch was promptly perplexed as to why Odie thought his last name was an insult.

"Clearly," Saffa said, in an aside to Cloak, "we were never in any real danger."

"Such a shame when there is no team cohesion or fealty to a cause," Cloak agreed. "Working for solely monetary enrichment always turns out to be a very hollow goal, at the best of times. Look at Ebenezer Scrooge, for instance."

"Pursuit of wealth is ultimately pointless, when you think about it," Saffa said, also waxing philosophical. "I mean you can't take it with you when you die."

"Greed and avarice still is a powerful motivator for some," Cloak said, as he and Saffa watched idly as the fight between this anti-RAF taskforce escalate into a brawl, "remember there is a Lantern Corps out there whose rings are powered by avarice."

"Didn't they only have one member?" Saffa asked, as the two continued to wait until the proper moment to step in.

"One flesh and blood member, if memory serves, yeah," Cloak said, as he and Saffa continued to watch the deterioration of the taskforce team. "Discounting all the orange construct 'members'."

The two fell to silence as the four aliens began to pull at Odie's face in a rather violent fashion, seemingly angered when they did not draw blood. Neither RAFian could really realistically bring themselves to feel sorry or any sort of pity for Odie. He had brought this upon himself. By assuming he could promise to pay people than renege on that promise after they delivered what he wanted? That was stupid beyond measure, but Odie always presumed that he was smarter than everybody around him.

It wasn't long before his face seemed to be slipping and sliding over Odie's real face. But the four, in the throes of rage and wrath, didn't seem to notice or acknowledge this. The disguise was starting to be ripped away from him, and still the two RAFians watched.

Cloak soon realized that if they were being filmed, people like Bern Bridges and the like would spin it as if they were entertained by all of this, and wouldn't lift a finger to help anyone. Of course, they wouldn't bother to add context, as that would.kill their anti-RAF propaganda narrative they were peddling to the stupid and naive. Then the Realm Walker considered the other possibility, had they intervened in this rather brutal-looking brawl, Bern Bridges and his compatriots would just spin it as them getting involved where they had no business getting involved. They would never win favorability from Bern Bridges and his little cultist listeners.

Soon, Odie's face was torn away -- even these blackmarket bodysuits have their torque limitations. Odie managed to quickly escape in the meantime, under the cover of the four's confusion.

"Should we catch him?" Saffa asked.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Cloak surmised quickly, "I think the forum is the least of his problems right now."

"How do you mean?" Saffa inquired.

"He has a lot of people he owes money to, clearly," Cloak said, moving to break up the fight between the four.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 10, 2017, 05:38:53 AM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Torulene

"Why did you do it?" Officer Justice asked.

Torulene did not look at Officer Justice, with a rather nasty scowl on her face and all three of her eyes narrowed angrily. There was nothing in the interrogation room that she could throw at them -- the metal table and chair were bolted to the ground. It was a precaution against some of the more violence-prone perpetrators and suspects.

She was bound by some magically conjured chains (from Broken's Incarcerous Spell, Broken having come by to help the others out). But they weren't tylee chains -- those couldn't be magically conjured. Her abilities were still very much active and she was able to use them, but Yarin was there to mitigate and negate any attempt.

"Why did you do it?" Officer Justice repeated. "What brought you here?"

"I won't betray him," she said, uncooperatively.

"'Him'," the officer took note. "Who's 'him'?"

"I won't betray him," she repeated.

"Someone named Mr. A. Moore," Yarin said, easily having read her mind. It was like she was shouting telepathically without even realizing it. Uxorites were telekinetics, not telepaths. Yarin snorted at the next import of information. "Apparently, he was specifically Adonis Moore."

"Stay out of my head, snoop," she said, caustically.

"I'm not probing your mind," Yarin said. And it was perfectly true. "You're basically shouting your thoughts. You're doing the equivalent of standing on a street corner and shrieking as loud as you can -- you cannot get upset if someone should overhead you."

"Preposterous," she snarled.

"But that doesn't answer the question of why," Officer Justice said.

Yarin looked suddenly disgusted. "She did it because she loved this Adonis Moore guy, despite not knowing him for even twenty-four Earth hours. She believed that they had a whole Bonnie & Clyde thing going on. Despite this Adonis Moore guy letting her take the fall for her."

"Liar!"

"It was pulled from your own thoughts," the Nyac said simply.

"I told you to get out of my head!"

"I'm not 'in your head'," Yarin said. He was already tired of making this point. "I'm not prying through your most private thoughts. You're doing the equivalent of shouting, of shrieking, of screeching with your mind. It takes more effort to tune it out, honestly."

She was still apoplectic with rage, so much so that she became incoherent.

"I guess we could always extradite her back to Ringa Morr," Yarin said, "or deport her back there."

"With what?" Officer Justice said. "We don't have a space craft on standby."
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 08, 2017, 05:33:20 AM »

Sorry, time got away from me yesterday.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Continuing to Unravel

"What? I told you, Freeze," Odie said, almost as he just remembered the role he was supposed to be affecting. "You'll get paid on the fourteenth."

"Freon," she corrected irritably.

"But you said the twelfth yesterday," Ignatius said, expression inscrutable.

"And the eighth before that," Mosaic said. He had the barb on his tail extended now. Almost in a unconscious exertion of his anger.

"I did not!" he snapped. "I have said it was the fourteenth all along, and it is not my fault if you CHOSE to hear differently! Now, do what you were hired to do and apprehend these RAFians!!"

The four hesitated, which just made Odie madder.

"You want to renege on your job duties?!" he shouted, sounding completely unhinged. "You slackers!! Why must I do all the real work, why you four feel adequate to sit back and take shares in glory that your do not deserve?!"

Meanwhile, Saffa was watching this dispassionately. She was bearing witness to what could have been a good, coherent, and cogent plan fall apart due to obvious lack of communication and, presumably, lack of sufficient monetary funding.

Without a sound, Cloak appeared at her side, and she jumped a little when she glanced over and didn't see him there one moment, then he was there the other. She composed herself immediately, and griped in a whisper so as not to draw attention from the five adults arguing like children, "Don't do that!"

"Odie's here," Cloak said, eager to get to the point. "The human in that childish argument over there, I presume."

"I assumed as much," Saffa answered, "he certainly acts like the guy."

"And he has his scent," Cloak said. "He may be wearing one of those bodysuit skin things, but it didn't change his scent. I don't think they even can, unless he showered immediately before putting it on."

"Let's get off this subject," Saffa said, not keen on the image that that conjured up. "They're at their throats -- should we intervene?"

"Not yet, I think," Cloak said. "If it escalates and innocent bystanders might get hurt, then yes. But not until then. They're discrediting themselves."

"Bet that Mayor Milton won't be reelected after this," Saffa stated. It wasn't spoken contemptuously, as would be deserved, but merely an impartial observation. "This whole anti-RAFian taskforce thing of his is a complete fiasco."

"Depends on how much money he begs for from wealthy donors," Cloak said, rather jaded. The Council was much in a similar way -- representing their own interests rather than that of the people. Another reason why Cloak refused their offer to become a Councilman. "At least, it doesn't seem to be escalating much."

"For now, anyway." Saffa added, darkly.

***

They started with Shurnoble first, who seemed genuinely contrite with his actions. His ignorance of the consequences of his actions was inexcusable in his opinion. He felt that he should have known better, shouldn't have been swayed so easily by this Mr. Carson. Yes, he was naive, but that was no excuse. He was responsible, and he had to be held accountable for his actions.

Aggrox, however, was still too loopy to be coherent. He would spout out random things in a slurred and dazed voice. It was almost as if he were drunk, punch drunk. He could barely sit up straight, but they weren't able to get a straight answer from him. They could only make out that it had something about a Morris Norris, but they couldn't tell if it was unintelligible mumblings of a person knocked silly, or useful tidbits of information.

A "Mr. Carson" and a "Mr. Norris". Were they two separate people with similar ambitions or two pseudonyms of the same person?
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 06, 2017, 10:48:20 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Helping Justice

Down at the police station, Parker stood with a remorseful and cooperative Shurnoble and a extremely dazed and out of it Aggrox (who kept sliding in and out of consciousness), Yarin stood behind a disheveled Toluene and a roughed-up Al (the police station couldn't really accommodate Dino really in any capacity), Az stood behind the person who still claimed that he was the real Azguard (which was starting to wear on Az's patience), Cerulean stood behind the apprehended E-N, Shenmue stood behind the recalcitrant Allen, and Phoenix stood behind the apparently mentally-disturbed Bud. They had come to turn these people in, these so-called "Dark RAFians", as the newspapers had taken to calling them.

The officer in charge was shaking her head as she looked upon this strange gaggle of people in her station. There wasn't room to swing a cat.

"There's no way we can hold beings like this," Officer Justice said, pragmatically. "Other than the disarmed boy, there."

"We did everything legally, I assure, Officer --" Shenmue said.

"It's not that," Officer Justice interrupted. "It's more the fact that we quite literally cannot hold them. That is to say, hold them and not expect them to somehow escape. Our jails are designed for human incarceration, and, as such, may very well be unsuitable for nonhuman criminals."

"Oh." Phoenix said. He hadn't considered this.

"Oh, the solution to that is simple," Parker said, shrugging his folded arms. "We brought them in, we'll help keep them incarcerated."

"That may seem to be simple -- and expeditious -- at the moment," Officer Justice said, looking rather weary. She had a stressful job -- possibly made more difficult by her unwavering integrity. The idea that she'd ever be a dirty cop was, frankly, laughable and offensive to her principles -- something that not all cops had. "But it won't be a viable long-term plan, I'm afraid. And then there's the litigation about whether or not they are technically legal aliens --"

"They are aliens," Cerulean said.

"No, no, she means whether or not they immigrated here legally," Shen said, "which is  understandably difficult."

"How so?" Phoenix inquired.

"There is no legislation or precedent for this kind of matter," Officer Justice said.

"This isn't the first extraterrestrial incursion," Parker reminded. "There was the Heilins, the Skrulls, just to name a few."

"Those were a different matter altogether," Officer Justice said, "those were invasions, which has different legislation, different laws from this."

"You really know a lot about the law," Az said. He wasn't aware that police officers were so knowledgeable about the law.

"As a cop, it is my duty to enforce the law. Therefore, it follows that I should know the law well," she answered. "Perhaps I have excessive knowledge, but I like to be thorough."

She sighed, but perked up a little. "Well, since you're here, and you're technically government agents (I know it's a bit of a stretch, but bear with me) perhaps you can help me with the interrogation process? We'll need someone to restrain them."

"Interrogation? Why?" Az asked.

"Like I said," she answered. "I like to be thorough. They may have information we need, and we need to know if additional charges must be filed -- this is also all unfamiliar territory as far as the law is concerned. I suppose the illegal immigration law apply, but deportation would be a far more complicated thing -- and costly -- than ordinary deportation."
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 06, 2017, 06:59:22 AM »

Just wait until we get to the books centered around you. Assuming Ajit Pai doesn't kill RAF along with net neutrality.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Unraveling Fast Now

"Yes, you!" Odie said, apparently forgetting he wasn't supposed to be Odie Michaels, but Captain Michaels. But it was far too lat now. Too much of his real and true personality was oozing out, and the farce was all but shattered to smithereens. "You always do this. You think that you're so smart, don't you? But I have you out--"

"Boss, you know this creature?" Ignatius asked, rather thickly and rather stupidly.

"Of course, he does, Rockhead," Scorch said, impatiently. He was rather like bored three-year-old at the moment. "Why else would he be talking to her like that?"

"Yes," Esther said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, looking at Captain Michaels. "why indeed. This is a RAFian, is she not? So why would the boss be on a first name basis with one."

"Especially with that hateful drivel he constantly spews forth," Mosaic dispassionately. Then, after a moment's pause, he muttered, "We don't get paid enough for this."

"So, the mayor does pay you?" Saffa asked. She was still playing for time, and acting coolly.

Mosaic snorted, "That milquetoast idiot? No. This brainless oaf pays us."

Mosaic indicated Odie, with a jabbing finger. It was clear that Mosaic wasn't particularly respectful of Odie's perceived authority. He even seemed rather antagonistic towards it.

"Not that our first paycheck has even come yet," Mosaic sneered bitterly. From his tone, Saffa could tell that he had several doubts that the check would even clear. Esther's face betrayed similar feelings, while Scorch's face was that of an impatient child, and Ignatius's was unreadable. There was disharmony and dissatisfaction amongst the troops, Saffa quickly surmised. And Odie seemed perfectly oblivious to all this. Then again, Odie did always concern himself with himself first and foremost, and everyone else was to be considered later.

"It'll come on the fourteenth, you impatient dog!" Odie snapped. Yet, Odie still had no intention on paying anyone. He didn't have the money. He didn't have any money, really. He only managed to get this far by lying to everyone. And, yet, he never expected that to no come out poorly for him in the end. He never did think about the bigger picture.

"You keep moving the date," Esther said, shrewdly.

"That's not the point," Odie said, not addressing this point at all. "We're under mayoral orders to arrest the RAFians. There's one right there."

He indicated Saffa, who didn't flinch at all. She saw the discord amongst the ranks, and could see the writing on the wall. Such a pity that Odie couldn't.

"Let's get her before she escapes," he said.

He was trying to tell Saffa to run, to help him get out of this awkward situation. Saffa did not oblige. She would not oblige.

"C'mon, guys!" he said, bracingly.

The four did not move. They all eyed "Captain Michaels" suspiciously.

"C'mon . . . before she gets away . . . !" he insisted, almost desperately.

"You never had any intention on paying us, did you?" Esther asked, her voice tinged with anger.
Posted by: Underseen
« on: December 05, 2017, 07:41:25 PM »

As of late I've mostly been lurking, but just want to say I'm caught up and liking the direction these past books are going. The lore has been growing in the best of ways. Interested in seeing how this will play out.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 05, 2017, 07:11:59 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
A Pulled Thread

While Saffa was diligently distracting Odie and his roughly gathered team, the other RAFians were clearing up their names left, right, and center.

Yarin unveiled the person framing him -- an Uxorite female. Like all female Uxorites, she was a green, reptilian, bipedal creature with a long tail, and two prehensile tentacles on her head. She had three purple eyes with stripes running from them. She had long arms, slim, four-fingered hands, ostrich-like legs, talons, and digigrade feet. Presumably she possessed telekinesis, telekinetic flight, a prehensile tongue, enhanced intelligence, enhanced strength, enhanced durability, enhanced agility, enhanced dexterity, and enhanced reflexes, like other female Uxorites from Ringa Morr. When asked, she refused to tell Yarin why she was willing to impersonate him, sensing the Nyac's indignation at being confused for a being not even superficially similar to him. He arrested her, only managing to get her name -- Toluene.

Meanwhile, Dino battled with her impostor, which turned out to be an Allosaurus and not an ankylotyrannus. But she eventually shrunk down, revealing herself to be a Dinovolved Reptilon native. One who actually seemed to . . . recognize Dino, somehow. . . . Unnerved by this, Dino still brought him in, learning that his name was . . . Al.

All the while, Az apprehended the human impersonating him (and very well at that, as he looked remarkably similar . . .) and confiscated his weapon for the local authorities. The only name this doppelganger gave was Az's own -- and he had the nerve, the unmitigated gall to call himself the real Az, right to the RAFian's face. Naturally, this didn't sit well with Az.

While this was happening, both Cerulean and Shenmue unmasked the Kineceleran and Citrakayah that were impersonating them. Cerulean apprehended the Kineceleran. (Blue face and skin. Long, prehensile tail that had black stripes on it. Three clawed hands. Wheeled feet. White eyes. Characteristic Kineceleran mask which can obscure their face. Black helmet -- long, elliptical, and pointed at the top. Black lips. Black facial markings. Black rings around eyes. Lack of pupils. Superhuman speed. Enhanced agility. Enhanced jumping capability. Enhanced reflexes. Enhanced recovery. Tornado generation via speed. Wall running. Water running. Enhanced strength. Enhanced dexterity.) The only thing Cerulean managed to get out of him was that his name was E-N, which was pronounced as "Ian". And, as such, it was Shenmue who brought the Citrakayah, named simply Allen. (Slim and human-sized. Blue and black fur. Black fur around eyes giving a mask-like appearance. Spiked legs and elbows.

Phoenix proved the bus immolation was by the hands of a full-grown Methanosian . He was a humanoid plantlike species with a green and black-colored body with root-like feet, seemingly holding rocks. His shoulders and head have red and yellow petals, and he had five fingers. He was taller than Phoenix and had a distinct rotten stench that worsens with heat. His voice was very stuffy and nasally because he, as he explained it, did not have a nose. He would not explain why he attacked, but only said that his name was Bud. Phoenix did not miss that there was a note of desperation to him. . . .

More and more of the RAFians were having their names cleared. The mods nodded as they received reports, which they also forwarded to the local courts and law enforcement agencies. Odie's plan was swiftly unravelling,  and yet he was perfectly oblivious to it, Saffa's skillful debate taking his attention.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 04, 2017, 03:43:52 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
A Loose Thread, Unforeseen and Overlooked

"Don't worry, good people of --" Odie said, once more disguised as Captain Michaels, stating the name of the city. "The Anti-RAFian Taskforce is here! We shall stop this insidious RAFian!"

"That is quite a bit of misinformation, there, bucko," said a voice behind him. He whirled around as Esther looked on curiously, Ignatius looked on dimly, Mosaic looked on almost disinterested, and Scorch looked on eagerly. "That creature has no Mark -- she's not a RAFian."

"Are you blind, civilian?" Esther said, "There's her Mark, right there."

The Petrosapien displayed what appeared to be a crude, crayon-drawn "R". It looked more like the Gizmo Duck sigil than the stylized "R" that constituted the Mark of the RAFian. It was a forgery so inaccurate, so obviously fake, that it was insulting and offensive that anyone would be so stupid to fall for it. Unfortunately, there were a lot of stupid beings. Not just of this world, but of others as well.

"Don't listen to more RAFian lies!" Odie said. He was apparently appealing to the bystanders whose attention this incident had acquired. Compared to Saffa's cool, calm logic, Odie came off a bit hysterical. "Don't buy into the propaganda!"

"Propaganda?" Saffa said, in that imperturbable, equanimous manner that contrasted heavily with Odie's nervously anxious and almost unsettled manner. Odie knew, deep down, that Saffa isn't one of those RAFians that you jerk around. She may not have been powerful in raw power like Cloak or Esty, but that didn't mean that she couldn't hold sway over people. Odie also feared her because she was decidedly smarter than him. "I'm not the one here peddling propaganda."

This sudden hysterical side of their leader elected some quite diverse reactions from his team. Mosaic didn't look surprised and did the Merlinisapien equivalent of rolling his eyes. Esther raised an eyebrow, as this was not the person that they were led to know. Ignatius just gaped at the two, rather stupidly. Scorch, however, quickly lost interest, and began tapping his foot, bored.

"All these imposters," Saffa said, in a collected, put-together sort of way, "it must have taken a large amount of wealth to be able to pay them."

"How would I know that?" Odie snapped.

"How?" Saffa said, delicately. "How, indeed."

"Stop talking in circles, Saffa," Odie snorted with a wave of his hand.

Saffa had to stop herself from smiling, turning it inward. She had successfully deduced who she was talking to (after all, his chosen pseudonym hadn't been all that creative as he kept his own true last name and the suit actually bore some superficial resemblances to him, just a different height and build, really) and she had managed to trick him into revealing who he was without him even realizing it.

"Me? Talking in circles?" Saffa said, innocently, hiding her smile. It was becoming difficult. Then again, Odie wasn't really the sharpest tool in the shed.

But, clearly, he had more resources than she knew about. How else would he be able to get a Kraaho, a Pyronite, a Merlinispaien, a Basalt, a Prypiatosian-B, a Petrosapien, and assuredly more alien species and human mutates to work for him. From what Saffa knew, Odie wasn't wealthy enough for such a thing (although, if he was, it would go a long way to explain his sheer arrogance and belief that he was always undoubtedly right). His mother, if she wasn't mistaken, was living off a pension and welfare.

So, another possibility was that he simply lied. He claimed to have more than he really did, and he had no intention on paying them after he got what he wanted from them. This was far more likely. And it would be incredibly stupid for him to do this. People of all species have a tendency to get angry, possibly violent, when they get gypped.

But the longer Saffa keeps his attention the more time the others could clear their names and apprehend those smearing them. . . .
Posted by: Cloak
« on: December 03, 2017, 08:58:19 PM »

Sorry for the delay, work's been kicking my butt this weekend.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
Playing Hero

"I cannot allow you to defame my good name anymore," Cloak growled with a quiet fury. He was better at controlling his emotions, but he wasn't perfect at it, as there was a slight shutter in the ground when he spoke. But Appoplexians are without fear, and Aggrox was no different. "You even made me have to bloodbend you to prevent you from escaping. I hate doing this, but I cannot allow you to leave."

Cloak released his hold over Aggrox, unable to stomach bloodbending anymore. He should have realized that Appoplexians would never back down from a fight. It's in there nature, and Aggrox epitomized this trait. But Cloak's utter offense at being confused for an Appoplexian, especially when there were noticeable and significant differences such as his upper body being slimmer and the fact that tends to fight using the elements rather than direct, close combat (though he could, don't make that mistake), had blinded him from thinking clearly.

Cloak realized this fairly quickly, realized that he was thinking like an Appoplexian. He shut his eyes and calmed himself, calmed his mind, with several deep breaths. Letting the anger go.

"Lemme tell ya sumthin', cloaked guy!" Aggrox said, with a John DiMaggio sort of voice, jabbing a sausage-like finger at Cloak. Cloak wasn't intimidated. He had fought massive foes like Mongul, Galactron, and Garrotik. An Appoplexian was nothing in comparison. "Imma pummel you into gooey bits!"

He charged towards Cloak, as they were garnering attention from bystanders. Cloak waited . . . waited . . . waited . . . until they were within feet from each other. Then Cloak calmly sidestepped, and Aggrox collided headlong into a green dumpster, leaving a considerable dent in it.

"The sanitation companies won't like that," Cloak observed, as Aggrox complained that that wasn't fair. Then he charged again, and Cloak waited again. When he was within range, Cloak grabbed him, fell to his back, and gave him a swift kick to his abdomen, sending him flying over and across the street. Mangling a street light -- which Cloak fixed with a flick of his wrist.

But he knew that the Appoplexian wouldn't give up so easily. Cloak briefly considered breathbending to knock him out, but then angrily barraded himself for even considering that when he already used bloodbending, which he personally considered taboo.

"You're cheating!" he raged. "Lemme tell you sumthin'--"

"No," Cloak said. There was a ringing not of finality to his voice. "You aren't going to tell me anything, Appoplexian, because I'm going to end this ridiculous farce right now. You are not a Realm Walker. You are not Cloak. I am."

Aggrox tore away the cloak he wore -- he didn't care if that Norris guy wanted this or not. All that mattered was next punch thrown to the Appoplexian. But Cloak delivered, a swift, strong punch to his gut. He had used his Mastery over Air to increase the power of the punch's slipstream. It was enough to OHKO the Appoplexian, but not kill him.

Cloak snorted derisively, "I wasn't even in the first tier of my power."

Then he turned his attention to what had distracted him earlier. That scent. He was so sure it was a familiar one. . . .

***

Odie and his taskforce were in the process of "stopping" another jewelry robbery by "Saffa". In truth, unknown to the rest of the taskforce aside Odie himself and the populace at large, it was a setup. A fake. A ruse. A farce.

Saffa had never acquired nor morphed a Petrosapien, a silicon-based species. It was not in her repertoire, like Odie, as Captain Michaels, claimed. He never bothered to consider anything other than the RAFians sitting back and taking this outright slander to their good names by these poor imposters. And his knowledge of them wasn't as complete and comprehensive as he thought.

This illusion wasn't helped by the fact that the Petrosapien that Odie was "paying" was male (which didn't make any difference when morphing was concerned, but still). Odie was actually promising to pay, without any intention on actually doing it, as he didn't have the funds. This was how he conned so many naive-slash-greedy people of various species to do as he wished. He was truly naive one to thing that he would be able to get away with this just by hoping that they'd forget that they're doing this for a paycheck.

When pressed on the issue, he would just dance around it with just enough skill to be believable to the avaricious likes of these people and creatures. But it was a fiscal model doomed to unravel.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: November 30, 2017, 06:33:51 AM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Butting Heads

Shurnoble turned to see Parker standing behind him, arms crossed. He was in his armor, so his facial expression was unseen. But, if his body language was any indication, it was a quite severe and disapproving one. After all, he got blamed for Shurnoble's actions.

"Mr. Carson said that I should liven up this construct," Shurnoble said, with childlike naivety, "like with the last one. He said the people who owned it were screaming with delight."

Obviously, Odie used a pseudonym. He didn't want his real name attached to these crimes, like he wanted his name attached to "Captain Michaels".

"'Screaming with de--'," Parker repeated, almost awestruck with the stupidity of the statement. He unfolded his arms, and could help but gape at the individual in front of him. "That was a housefire, Prypiatosian-B."

Parker would never admit that Tyr had to tell him this alien's species via the uplink to the species database.

"Yes, it was. It was rather nice, wasn't it?"

"NICE?!" Parker roared. Their conversation was garnering some bystanders now, who were realizing Parker's innocence. Odie's plan was starting to unravel already. "That family lost everything when you burned their house down! You're damn lucky you didn't kill anyone! Not to mention that I was accused and blamed for it."

"Kill?" Shurnoble said, perplexed. "Killed by fire?"

Parker sighed, as he held his head, wishing he could rub his temples through his helmet. It was like talking to a toddler.

"You may be immune to such things, Prypiatosian-B," Parker said, with as much patience as he could muster, "but not every species is."

Shurnoble widen his eyes in surprised, realizing the ramifications of what he did, and, seeing Parker's Mark, immediately felt ashamed and contrite.

"Mr. Carson said . . . he said that they would appreciate . . . but that was a lie, wasn't it?" Shurnoble said.

"Who is this Mr. Carson?" Parker pressed.

"I dunno," Shurnoble said, realizing that now he was a criminal like Pandor. He became resolute in making it right. "I just thought that he was a nice old man."

Odie had used special effects make-up to appear much older than he was as "Mr. Carson. Granted, he didn't really have to, since Shurnoble was so naive about humans and Earth.

"But I . . . I have to turn myself in, Mr. RAFian. I did this wrong, I admit it, and I want to make it right."

"Well," Parker said, his name now cleared, "that's the first step, anyway, towards redemption."

***

His name was Aggrox. He resembled an orange and white bipedal tiger with one black claw coming out of each wrist. He had no tail. He is also muscular and has slitted yellow eyes. He had stripes on his shoulders, head, legs and upper body. He had a white jaw, neck, chest, stomach, hands and feet. He was an Appoplexian, from savage Appoplexia, who wore a cloak that was similar to Cloak's eponymous one, only of a vastly inferior quality.

Like all Appoplexians, Aggrox took immense pride his fighting ability and prowess and valued emotional openness, as he would say whatever he felt, which, like most Appoplexians, was often blind rage. Aggrox subscribed to the ideology that any problem could be solved with violence and hitting it a lot. He, like others of his species, also referred to himself in the third person.

Aggrox possesses enhanced strength and agility, enabling him to jump great distances and lift objects heavier than himself. His fighting style was a mixture of wrestling, grappling holds, and sheer brute force, allowing him to power his way through dozens of opponents and smash through tough defenses. As mentioned before, he possessed a large, retractable, black claw on each wrist. This claw can be used to stab opponents, or create a shock wave when stabbed into the ground or when objects are cut apart. He is extremely durable, able to tank a pointblank laser blast with no apparent effect and survive a free fall from several hundred feet in the air, with only a bit of dizziness as a result. His unbridled aggression gives him a psychological edge in combat. There are very few things that he fears and many opponents find it extremely difficult to stop him when he is fully enraged.

Of course, he has all the weaknesses of an Appoplexian as well. His brain is hardwired for aggression and as such, he has low intelligence and a highly aggressive temperament. This causes him to be easily distracted and difficult to stop once he starts fighting. Due to his innate aggression and simplistic method of 'solving every problem by hitting it,' he is not suitable for situations that require finesse, restraint, or subtlety. At times, he can more of a danger to himself and comrades alike, and can make a bad situation even worse. His lack of intelligence also may convince him to needlessly argue with inanimate objects. There is a certain high pitched noise is fatal to Appoplexians, like Aggrox. Being feline, Appoplexians like Aggrox can be controlled by people that have ailuropathy, or the ability to control cats, like Bast.

He had come to Earth to look for people to fight, having found the ones on Appoplexia unfulfilling, and had bested each one. So many times that it lost all enjoyment for him. He was a consummate Appoplexian pugilist -- a very dangerous being.

When he came to Earth, he met a Mr. Norris -- Morris Norris. In exchange for wearing a cloak that caused him to look superficially like Cloak, despite Cloak being significantly and noticeably thinner in his upper body with a more medium build rather than the Bane-like physique of Aggrox. Anyway, Mr. Norris promised to get Aggrox some worthy fighters -- which were actually people that Odie, Mr. Norris's real identity, didn't like or had wronged him in some small, minute way. Aggrox wouldn't have cared one way or the other -- he just wanted to fight, wanted to pummel, wanted brawl.

Mr. Norris had led him to another group of prime fighters, despite their smaller stature. Aggrox didn't question it and hurried to comply, to fight. Only to find that his body had seized up -- he couldn't move. Almost as if someone was prohibiting his very blood from moving from that spot.

"I cannot allow you to do this, Appoplexian," said an angry, disapproving voice behind him.
Posted by: Cloak
« on: November 30, 2017, 12:06:52 AM »

Why does spell check always say "Gorky" is a word? Hmmm . . . according to Wiktionary, it means "awkward or strange". Funny, I've never used it.

Anyway, sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Yes, I suppose you could say that I was distracted by shiny things (a Hippowdon, Barbaracle, and Altaria, to be specific), and still trying (and failing) to get a shiny Poipole.

Anyway. New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Hero Worship

But the attacks continued beyond this mod-imposed quarantine. So much so that they thought it more prudent to lift it and dispatch RAFians to stop these attacks, no matter what their PR rating would come to be. This could not stand.

Of course, fat radio hosts like Bern Bridges, who obviously had no idea what they were talking about, latched onto this to completely misrepresent it and blow it out of proportion. This is why you should always consider the source when taking in information.

***

His name was Shurnoble. He was a Prypiatosian-B, from an undisclosed planet in the Andromeda Galaxy. It was likely that this planet was called Prypiatos, but there was no confirmation substantiating that.

Like all Prypiatosian-Bs, Shurnoble fire radiokinetic blasts (through the visual grillplate in his containment suit a la Cyclops), generate incredible heat and radiation, absorb energy, possesses an intangible physiology outside his suit, flight outside his suit, and is immune to radiation, fire, heat, cold, and ice-based attacks. Prypiatosian-Bs, like Shurnoble, can have a hazardous physiology if they consume enough energy and radiation, which can also cause them to expand and grow to monstrous proportions.

Shurnoble looked upon the gluttonous Prypiatosian-Bs who indulge in such acts with disdain. He didn't understand the need to guzzle down energy as if it would vanish from the universe within minutes -- background radiation was perfectly sufficient enough for him to subsist on, unlike that criminal Pandor.

Shurnoble came to Earth (after procuring the suit that he could comfortable inhabit, with its lean frame and nimble, dexterous fingers), not to gobble up radiation or any energy like that. He heard tell of RAFians -- just bits and pieces, mind you, rumors and conjecture -- and he became intrigued. His mind and heart yearned to go, to see, to maybe even talk to them.

He even heard that one of them was an energy being like himself, one who had to envelope himself in a cloak like he did with his containment suit. Now, don't get him wrong -- he had no intention on eating this RAFian, he just wanted to talk to him. Just wanted to shake his hand . . . the RAFians had become his heroes. Meeting them would be like a Dragonball Z fanboy meeting a real-life Goku.

This is when Odie stepped in, noticing that the Prypiatosian-B was obviously not human and evidently had never been to Earth before. The former RAFian hid his face before engaging with the alien, under the cover of darkness. Odie actually found him astonishingly easy to manipulate.

Odie didn't have to conjole him much to set that house on fire. Shurnoble didn't know about the innocent mother of four was still inside with her four children. He didn't fathom that humans did not have same thermal resistances that he himself had. He was so incredibly naive about this planet, about humans and their culture. It was like plucking a human child and throwing him or her into a different time period, with a different culture.

Unfortunately, his containment suit bore a rather superficial similarity to Parker's SPARTAN armor. In a room with sufficient light and closer inspection would have revealed that they were radically different. But those were not the conditions on that moonless night.

And now Odie was at it again. Trying to convince Shurnoble to incinerate the home of a person that he, Odie Michaels, had a quarrel with. This was a rather extreme way to settle a feud, but this was beyond being reasonable. This time Shurnoble resisted, remembering the terrified screams of the humans inside the house. It did confused him a bit -- as he still was having trouble conceptualizing that what was harmless to him wasn't to other species.

"What do you think that you're doing?" said a voice behind him moments after Odie terminated the call.