Memoirs of a RAFian

[redtailedsaffa]

These mind games were so good.

I had actually forgotten where Bucky the doll had come from, so I had to go back and re-read. It was book LXVII, "Be A Doll". At the end of that book though, Bucky is still alive, but in the chapter here, you mention he's lifeless. Did he actually die as the year went by or is that just referring to the doll body?

[Cloak]

The latter.

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Decision Time

Cloak's indecision could not stand any longer. A choice had to be made, and he couldn't put it off any longer. His choice had to have some finality to it.

"Are you going to to keep me in suspense?" Alluria said. Now it was trying to manipulate him, even though he wasn't infected with its venom, which was a impossibility as a Realm Walker body would be very hostile towards the venom. "Or are you going to actually do something?"

Cloak said nothing. He had made his decision, but hadn't let Alluria know. Alluria was still in the dark, but had come to the conclusion that Cloak didn't have any intention on killing it. It surmised that if he was, he would have already done so. This had made it ambivalent and unconcerned with the Realm Walker, replacing the fear and terror it had.

It was a fool to do so.

"Yes, I have made my decision." Cloak said. Then he muttered in a sidelong sort of way, "You might want to turn away, Rocky. This won't be pleasant."

Suddenly, before Alluria realized what was going on, it was navel-deep in earth with its hands wrist-deep in the earth. It was chest-deep and elbow-deep into the earth before it became aware of what was happening. It tried to struggle, but it wasn't any use and soon it was shoulders-deep.

"St-stop!" it exclaimed with a shuttering scream. It was now neck-deep in the ground. "Pl-please!"

It didn't want to die. Perhaps that meant that it could die. Perhaps that meant that it would be permanent.

No matter.

"You m-monster!" it cried out as the ground had swallowed it up to it's chin so that it to tilt its head up to still be able to breathe. Assuming that it could or even needed to breathe, and it didn't just do that so that it could still be heard. "You c-cold-hearted m-monster!!"

Cloak said nothing. He didn't throw out any hackneyed philosophies or witty one-liners, he just remained silent. He knew what he was about to do, and he took absolutely no pleasure in it, seeing it as something that had to be done, that must be done.

Alluria was going to say something more, but then it was completely submerged into the ground, which smoothed over as if there was nothing there. But Cloak wasn't done.

Cloak placed his hands on his chest, parallel to each other, and perpendicular to his chest. He stood up straight, and took a deep breath, calming his nerves. Then he slowly moved his hands until they pressed against each other, and he felt a scream through Earthsight that only he knew about.

He had buried the siren and crushed it to death.

[guitarhero01234]

. . . Damn. That was unnervingly brutal.

[Cloak]

Yes, it was. Cloak can be brutal when feels he needs to be. Then he questions his decision endlessly.

Anyway, still working on the next chapter, which will have a lot of callbacks to previous books. You have been warned.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Shouldering the Blame

"Can you believe these people?" Bern Bridges was saying on his rinky-dink show that had a surprisingly loyal fanbase, however small it was. "They murder people, cause grievous injury to them, and yet our government does nothing -- nothing -- to stop them!"

He paused to take a drink of his water -- though it was probably vodka, in actuality. It was hard to tell, his cup wasn't translucent.

"Don't believe me? Well, I have a list of names here of lives harmed by these monsters, for want of a better term." Bern was saying, setting his jowls aquiver. "Louis Russell Cannon -- lost his commission in the army for defending us from these hellish jackanapes. And what happened to him? They killed him."

He didn't know about Horse getting massive -- or just deliberately avoided mentioning it, as then he would have to bring up the fact that Cannon acted without orders or sanction. Nor did he mention (or perhaps because he did not know) that it was personal for him, as he hated Parker for "stealing" Helen from him, though there was a significant age gap, and Helen didn't like him romantically. They also didn't kill him. Parker didn't kill him. Just how he died was still unclear, but none of this was mentioned.

"Then Harry Jamal Mason*," Bern said, "found unconscious at the site of a dilapidated circus, which should still be torn down. He was muttering nonsense about possessive book narratives and whatever. Clearly, insane ramblings of a traumatized youth. He could not be reached for comment about these monsters traumatized him."

Harry was the victim of Bibliophaetos. One that the RAFians had forgotten. . . . Could there be more?

"And there is a Mr. Luigi Linguine*," Bern said in that annoyingly "I'm-Always-Right" tone and diction. "Forever asleep due to creatures that they -- those you-know-whats in the government --let run amuck. What do they do to help him out of the coma? The coma that they put him into? Nothing.

"And, about Brian Simon Savage**," Bern continued, blathering on some more. "Disappeared without a trace. Suspicious fire engulfed his home. General consensus says that he faked his death and that he's still out there, somewhere. I submit that this is not true, and the truth is that these monsters, that these RAFians, killed him and covered it up. Now ask yourself, why would do that? What do they have to hide?"

Bern's strawmanning was evident and, really, not that strong when you looked at it.

"And the former children's entertainer, Catherine Gabrielle Daniels***," Bern said. "She lost her business due to these RAFian monsters, and she isn't the only one. They constantly destroy our city, and for what? Nothing. We'd be very well left alone, but, nooooo, they have to constantly push and provoke. Well, they've provoked me, and they haven't faced anything like me!"

Funny how he didn't just elaborate on just how RAFians were responsible for Cathy Daniels's business failing. The truth was that she left children's entertainment to go into law school, and she just hadn't passed the bar yet.

"Redford Victor James Lee, Brendan Lucas Prichard, and Callum Nathan Ketchum****," Bern said again. The guy loved the sound of his own voice. "Three thuggish kids who have these RAFians to thank for their delinquency! See? Not even our children are safe from these monsters! Hear me, dear listeners, when I emphatically say that these RAFians are not good guys. They are not role models. We need to protect our children from this menace. They even are documented to have usurped the position of the Head of Security at the White House itself! Former Major Chuck Norris Touchécrag**** had made copious documents detailing their treasonous acts."

He took a swig of water, before ending it off.

"But we're out of time for this day, good listeners," he said. "But tune in next time for more hidden truths and little known facts about this RAF place. Until then, listeners, good night."

***

Cloak and Rocklobster returned to the forum. Cloak wasn't particularly pleased with what he had done. Yes, it was brutal. But it was necessary, right? Perhaps just the crushing bit was a tad much. Perhaps the premature burial was just sufficient. But crushing it was more human than letting it die of asphyxiation, right?

He was not a cruel man, by nature, but how else could you describe how he executed the siren? He shouldn't have done it. He didn't consider how horrible it was. How inhumane. He regretted his actions. He remembered what it was like when he bore his darkness on the outside, instead of burying inside, when he was under the "negative touch" of Corruption. He knew he had a darkness in him, a darkness he always worked to suppress. Every had such a darkness inside them.

Well, except for Shadow. And the Seven Princesses of Heart, if they were real.

Guilt and regret mixed within him, a great noxious concoction. It left him feeling hollow, and empty. He could come up with all sorts of excuses, a barrel full of rationalizations, an armoire lies told to oneself. It would do no good either way.

"Cloak," Rocklobster said, noticing his internal self-deprecation.

"What?" the Realm Walker snapped. His tone was far harsher than he intended.

"Whoa, there. Don't take out your frustrations on me, Cloak," Rocklobster said, peaceably. "I saw the decision you made. It was a difficult one, and, whatever you may be thinking, you didn't make it lightly. That much was evident. Despite whatever misgivings and regrets you might be having right now, the decision was made and the action commited. It cannot be taken back. You must get pass this."

Cloak wanted to say something scathing about the Chee's hardwired pacifism, but couldn't bring himself to it.


*Book 15.

**Book 23.

*** Book 25.

****Book 40.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

. . .

Okay, yes, it can be considered filler, I suppose.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Faerie Gets Buglizard-ed

With the whole siren thing sorted out, though Cloak inisisted that there might be more to deal with, despite not seeing any or having any relevant spikes in serious injuries and murders, the RAFians reverted to their other mission, which was still active. Faerie was on the job, even during this whole siren debacle.

There were three beasts, three known beasts, that were still on the loose. The Terroranchula, the Buglizard, and the drakon. And Faerie was going in this kind of blind. She wasn't all that familiar with their abilities, as the RAFian morphers did not possess a drakon morph, and the ones that had a Buglizard and a Terroranchula didn't really use them all that much, if at all.

Faerie fluttered quietly through the nearby forest, glittering with a crisp, January snow. She looked around and wondered what creature she would discover first -- as she had already decided that she would discover one of these beasts, dead or alive. Though she was getting the feeling that the latter was more likely than the former.

Wait. There. Tracks.

She landed by the tracks to determine what precisely it was. She was, self-admittingly, not that much of a tracker. She was more of a direct girl -- direct, with combat connotations. Anyway, she scrutinized the track.

It was rather blunt sort of mark with three claw marks coming off it. It was about three times as wide as her foot. She saw were the tracks led, and there was some sort of sweeping line, a tail perhaps. This had to be Buglizard tracks, as the information she had, albeit limited, that was the only one of the three that could possibly fit these prints.

She hurried, hoping the thing was still alive. Her information stated that it came from a marshy swamp planet. This was not really an ideal, or even appropriate, environment for such a creature.

She caught up with the creature fairly easily. It had a white, black and red color scheme, and it had a black head which dons a white patch on each side of its head. Located on these, it had four beady red eyes, two on one side and two on the other. It had sharp teeth and the gums were protruded in lower jaw. It had a row of red spikes running down her back, which also has a black stripe. The Buglizard had four legs with black feet, each ending in three crimson claws which are strong enough to allow it cling to the underside of the hull of a spacecraft, and a tail with a prehensile, red-marked tip. The tail seemed to be drooping due to the weather, which caused the sweeping marks upon the snow.

It would normally possess enhanced reflexes and agility, making it aptly suited for hunting Lepidopterrans. But the cold seemed to have dulled these reflexes and severely reduced its agility. It seemed very awkward, crunching through the snow.

Buglizards are capable of spraying a yellow fog, simultaneously eliminating a Lepidopterran's wide vision and their mucus traps. But this cold air, and cold gusts of wind made thwt ability functionally useless.

Buglizards have enhanced strength, enough to throw an Orishan with ease. But it was clear, this hostile environment, of which it was not adapted for, that the wintry weather was sapping this strength from it.

A Buglizard's sense of smell is powerful, so it was aware of Faerie as soon as she was upwind. But it seemed . . . put out. Indifferent. Weakened and malnourished. Not enough Lepidopterrans to feast upon, and it didn't have the energy to see Faerie as potential prey, though it was clearly starving.

"Guys? You need to come here quickly!" Faerie said, calling it. "The Buglizard is going to die if we don't do something!"

[guitarhero01234]

How'd I miss Chapter 18 when it was posted? 

And gee, thanks for making me feel bad for not getting any but one of those references to other books.

[Cloak]

Saffa and I call it "modify post" syndrome.

New chapter. . . . Sorry, GH, more callbacks.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Whoa, What Do You Really Think?

"And we're back," Bern Bridges was saying. "And we'll further delve into the crimes of these supposed heroes that idiots have been bandying on about."

He made a point to take a drink from his water.

"Valerie Thomas and Charles Mitchell." he said, jowls quivering almost hypnotically. "They were in a car crash last year, and I submit to you that it was the RAFians responsible. They pulled the car into that oncoming lane, and left these poor kids to die."

It was an outright lie. There were a copious amount of proof that it was because Valerie wasn't paying attention to the road. Alluria had misinterpreted what it saw, because it was actually Ian's best friend Chazz that was in the car with her when it crashed.

"Ian Thomas, Ms. Thomas's brother," Berns spoke again, his swiveling chair squeaking in protest at the brief movement. "Found unconscious on his bed, abandoned by his best friend and elder sister. Why? Why did they leave him behind, and yet have no memory of doing such? I submit that they were being controlled, manipulated, to do so. Controlled by the RAFians! Who aren't content unless they are underminding our way of life!"

Wow. So close to the truth to hurdle off in a random, and dangerous, direction. Honestly, it was a wonder why he didn't mention that Czarnian, Bolo. But Bern was probably as xenophobic as any Knight, and thereby would hate portraying an alien like Bolo in any sort of sympathetic light.

"Then there was Mary Susan and Gary Stuart Smith," he droned on, "orphans, whose parents were slain by rather suspicious means. I submit to you that it was the RAFians that led to the death of these good, law-abiding citizens!"

Again, not the truth. The orphans' parents actually abandoned them, and left them to survive on the streets, without any knowledge of what had happened to them, as they were too young to remember.

"Donald and Yvonne Keyes," Bern said again, apparently most of his listeners probably just had him on as background noise. Unheard and unheeded. "Proprietors of evil protests -- they support blasphemous things that I won't go into here -- and who led them down this path? These monsters that call themselves RAFians!"

They were proactive, it's true. But they were proactive in equal rights, civil rights, and such, and vocally disapproving of income inequality, the benefits the rich 1% use to oppress and keep down the 99%. But, to people like Bern Bridges, this was a horrible, disgraceful act.

"Ivan Clyde Skinner," Bern said, crisply. "Disappeared under mysterious circumstances, suppositively. Nothing was ever found of him. The RAFians didn't claim that they had anything to do with him. Coincidence? I think not!"

And that was about as substantive as a ghost.

"Harry Aloysius Gulliver. Ronald Alastor Sheldon. Nolan Theodore Brody." Bern said, although it sounded like he was eating while he was reciting this. "Found with their respective skins missing. Yet reports show that they was seen before the believed time of death. Reason for this inconsistency? A RAFian clearly ate the skins and impersonated as them until they didn't want to anymore!"

Again, close to the truth, but then misses the mark majorly. But it was clear that this man did not want to mill about the truth, but mere anti-RAF propaganda.

"Dillion Chalmers, and, notably, Dustin Ross," Bern said, almost drunkenly, "yet another couple of mysterious disappearances connected to the RAFians!"

He did not elaborate further than the accusation.

"Charles Horace Kelley. Adam Silenus Morgan. Bella Donna Lewis." he said, blaisely naming names. "The first two dead at the hands of the third. Clear cut, right? No! Little Donna said that she was coerced by another. And I submit to you, that it was one of these shape-changing RAFians! That's why she couldn't identify the person who convinced her to kill her two best friends!"

He made a point of drink some water again.

"That's all of the names I have right now, but fear not. I shall dig up some more matters that these RAFians try to bury, like that hole in the ozone layer of theirs!"

***

"Excellent," Malice was saying to herself, in her dark warehouse lair illuminated by a single gooseneck lamp. Talking to yourself is an occupational hazard of being by yourself for exceedly extended periods of time. "Really good. I shall know everything, everything that I didn't know before. Granted, that's not that much."

She cackled maliously.

"But it will all be mine again," Malice said, "like the Unimind. It will all be mine again . . . only a bit more . . . invasive

She had created something that looked like an overweight Gladius ship, only in severe minature. And it was alive, possessing six microfilament-like legs. It was exceedingly mobile, agile, and easy to be missed. And she had not just created one, but a swarm. A horrid, Borg-like nanochip horde, with her, naturally, as its queen.

"Let's see if they can stand up against this . . . assimilation." Malice said, grinning wickedly. "Resistance shall be . . . wait, is that cliche? Oh, never mind. I just ruined the moment."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CIV:
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE
CHAPTER ONE:
Underseen Has a Bug Problem

Underseen was no real fan of winter. It always made him feel rather stiff and he felt that it slowed down his shapeshifting fluidity. He also felt that it increased the difficulty of shapeshifting, making each transition feel stiff and off. It could have been a psychosomatic thing, he didn't know.

He was out here looking for the Terroranchula and drakon. He hoped to be as unlucky a Faerie and Blue. They had managed to save the Mucilator and Buglizard. Last he heard, they were doing well and acclimating just find in their reserves.

Underseen just happened to stumble upon the large insectoid creature. It looked like a giant tetrapod arachnid with a body akin to a silverfish with four pincers with one claw on each and a silver-colored exoskeleton, the lower half of her legs and back of her head is covered with light brown or olive hair. It had reptilian head with a wide, gaping, open mouth grimace. Its eyes were red and had black slits which resembled that of a Gimlinopithecus. It was the Terroranchula.

It didn't look as worse off as the others were, but it was clearly starving, as it more than likely could not find enoughsuitable sustenance to keep it well-fed and healthy.underseen could tell right away, by its wild eyes, it was consumed with hunger.

It couldn't eat Underseen, but it was clearly malnourished. Underseen couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the beast. But he quickly got over that when it began to attack him, clearly desperate for food, as it tended to be scarce in this season. The attack was slow and with reduced accuracy.

Underseen was not very easy to hit due to his very nature as a shapeshifter. But he had to keep his mind on several things at once. He was trying to contact the forum, as well as dodging the attacks while trying to devise a way to subdue it without harming it. It was only acting out of hunger, otherwise it would not have an interest in Underseen.

Underseen was proving to be slippery, as every blow was missed by the Terroranchula. Every time Underseen thought he had immobilized the bug, it managed to wiggle free. Underseen found this to be monotonous and just generally annoying. But he did notice the more it attacked, the more it slowed down. It never tried to use its energy webs, as it couldn't muster sufficient energy to form them.

Eventually, the Terroranchula collapsed as its energy ran out. But, fortunately, the others came and began to bind it and prepared it to be moved to a reserve.

[redtailedsaffa]

I was going to comment earlier but then I forgot. Damn, I did not see the kill coming in the last book.

[Cloak]

Yeah . . . and it isn't the worse one the series will have to offer, I think. . . .

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
Contrast

Malice continued her tinkering. She was making more of the Gladius-like chips. These chips were actually a hybridization of Nanochips, from the Ben 10 universe, and Borg nanoprobes, of the Star Trek universe. Yes, she was essentially becoming "Malice-enstein".

Malice could control the swarm with her mind, and found that each one was easier to create than the last. The swarm had no autonomy, no will, no emotion of their own. And all of them were under her thumb, figuratively speaking. She could manipulate them at will, as she demonstrated by causing the swarm to bubble and froth up, a metallic gray waterspout. She caused it to undulate, and manipulated it into a variety of different forms -- a sphere, a pyramid shape, a cube, a heart shape, a star shape, and a diamond shape.

She cackled at this. She had plans for this swarm. She would eliminate free will. She would eliminate individuality. In her mind, there should only be one will, one individual, one independent mind. She wanted it be like when she had taken the Unimind. She knew that she couldn't just go and take it again, mostly because she never liked using the same scheme twice, although he had no quarrel with using similar schemes.

***

GH was playing his guitar as every one was enjoying the monthly RAFparty. Except Cloak. He was brooding in his thread. He still was second-guessing his actions, still feeling remorse for them.

Anyway, they sang uproariously:

"Join the applause!
Clap with the claws!
Open the jaws and sing!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Music and RAFpartying!
Join the applause!
Clap with the claws!
Open the jaws and sing!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Music and RAFpartying!"

Then GH took center stage, and sang, while playing his guitar very enthusiastically:

"When I was a young RAFian,
Some days had their own frustrations.
I follow along and sing the same old song!
One day, I had the notion,
That I could compose a song ocean!
So I took command
And now I'm leader of the band!"

Then the RAFians sang in chorus:

"Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Don't be such a clam!
Open up and jam!"

It was almost as if they were speaking to Cloak. Anyway, GH sang solo:

"I'm older and yes, much wiser.
A musical improviser!
This RAFian in his prime
Is young enough to be having a good time!"

Then the rest of the RAFians joined in:

"Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Don't be such a clam!
Open up and jam!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Come on out of your shell!
Let the music do its spell!
Join the applause!
Clap with the claws!
Open the jaws and sing!
Dis is de life!
Dis is de life!
Music and RAFpartying!
This is the life!
This is the life!
Music and RAFpartying!"

The jovial and frivolity of independent thought and free will were slathered throughout the song. The sheer joy out of complementary personalities, and the socializing. RAFparties are usually quite festive events.

Cloak, however, wasn't in a very festive, celebratory mood, as of late. He was pretty much the only one that didn't attend. Well, except Estelore, who was probably chasing Freddy somewhere out amongst the stars.

[guitarhero01234]

For some reason, I just imagine someone yelling "THIS IS THE LAMEST PUNK BAND EVER!"

Also holy hell why am I still awake?

[Cloak]

Insomnia?

[guitarhero01234]

Or an eternally messed up sleep schedule.

[redtailedsaffa]

"I'm older and yes, much wiser.

[citation needed]

[Cloak]

What? Is this Wikipedia?

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
The Engineered Plague

Malice had gathered these nanoprobes/nanochips which she called her "Malevolence", but called them "nanites" when not referring to the hive mind of which she was the queen of. She placed them into an interior pocket of her cloak.

She placed her outdate ID mask, one that Earthsight could easily see through, and put it on. It projected an image of an old hag -- long, tangled, silver hair, thick eyebrows, gray unpitying eyes and dark rings around her hem. Her nose was projected to be long and crooked, with a beak-like protuburance, with a large wart, and she only has one visible tooth on her bottom jaw. Her hands were projected to be gnarled and have pointed, dirty fingernails. She was projected to have a black, cowled robe with the hanging sleeves of a black gown, and she wore the same kind of black cloak she actually wore. She also seemed to be projected in wear black slipper-like shoes. This was her default projected form, very much like the one Cloak used to intice Alluria was his default. It was actually pretty reminiscent of herself as a human.

She stalked from her new hideout in an abandoned husk of a forgotten hotel, appearing to clutched her cloak even tighter around her. She walked with a swift gait away, looking to see if someone saw her. She was looking for a test victim for her Malevolence plague. She wasn't sure that they wouldn't create implants, like the Borg, as she didn't want that. At least not yet, they had to still be uncover, until global domination was assured.

She came across a homeless man, bundled up thickly against the January weather. He had a thick, tangled, curly, dirty, gray beard with a threadbare knitted cap pulled low over his brow. He looked rather like a hybridization of Santa Claus and a lion. He had a thick body, sturdy legs but a rather stumbling gait. Whether it was becaue of alcoholism or because of a poorly-healed broken leg was unclear.

He would do.

Malice allowed a small swarm from her cloak to flood the man with the nanites. He could offer no resistance. He was too weakened from the weather, from insufficient foodstuffs, from insufficient clean water. He was taken easily, and control was usurped from his body within a few moments. He was the first victim of the Malevolence, and no implants appeared dermally or subdermally. It seemed that it was working precisely the way that Malice wanted. No one would guess that this man was infected.

Malice decided to keep a close eye on --

"Hand over all yer valuables, lady!" came a swarmy, tough voice behind her. Malice wasn't impressed or intimidated. She didn't even turn around.

Another voice piped up, "My friend asked you a question, b--"

"Oh, I heard," Malice croaked out, turning around of her own volation to witness her would-be muggers. The swarmy voiced one looked rather like a warthog, with his beady eyes, piggy nose, and wide mouth. He wore a red sleeveless shirt, black jeans and hi-tops. He possessed a high mowawk colored purple and he wore a pair of sunglasses, even in this darkness.

His friend was thick bodied with little neck, short blond hair, and a rather stupid look on his jowly face. He wore a short-sleeved, pale yellow shirt, army camouflage pants, and army boots. Malice assumed that he was a military reject or something.

"Apparently, you didn't!" Mr. Warthog said. "Fork over your jewelry and valuables."

They didn't even have any sort of gun or anything. It was really sad. They could have at least painted their fingers gunmetal gray or something. At least show that much effort.

"You want what I have?" Malice said, feigning forgetfulness.

"Yes, you old bat!" Mr. Military Reject said.

Malice dropped the brief facade, smiling maliciously, "As you wish!"

The two became the next two victims of the Malevolence.