Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Ah, the ol' modify-post syndrome, I presume.

CHAPTER THREE:
Something Wicked This Way Comes

"Whatever was here," Parker was saying, picking up a twisted, slightly blackened piece of metal, "it barely made it through reentry. If at all."

"Doesn't mean it didn't have an occupant," Cloak said knowingly, "a Crystalsapien or Petrosapien could have easily survived that impact, and the heat of reentry."

"You're assuming that it was a spacecraft, though," Gaz pointed out. "How can you be sure?"

"The shrapnel from the impact," Cloak said, ferrokinetically holding up the most intact piece, the less blackened one. "It is like warped sheet metal. It indicates the object was hollow, as well as the fact that it obviously shattered, presumably, on impact."

"Still an assumption," Saffa said, secretly glad to get out of her dorm. "But still . . . if there was an occupant as you speculate Cloak, then that opens a question. What was it?"

"A Crystalsapien, a Petrosapien, an Arburian Pelarota, an Osmodian, a Galvanic Mechamorph, Methanosian, possibly a Vaxasaurian, possibly an Ectonurite, possibly a Polymorph, possibly an Orthopterran, an Amperi, a Chronosapien, a Chronian," Cloak listed from his litany of species. He did not mention Celestialsapiens, Galileans, or Transyls, because they wouldn't need a ship as all can survive the vacuum of space without one.

"Be that as it may," Parker said, thoughtfully, "that doesn't speak of the motives. Why come to Earth in such a way? As a refugee? As a fugitive? As a . . . a predator?"

"Well, I think we've gleaned as much as we can from this wreckage." Gaz said. "We probably should bring a piece back so the science boys can do their analysis things."

They were preparing to pull out, which Cloak stopped stockstill. The others seemed oblivious, but then again the sound was faint, and though Gaz's ears were sharper than a normal human, Cloak had the ears of a tiger.

"Hold up," Cloak said, holding his hand up. His ears pricked for the rustling sound, but then again, it was getting louder. Coming nearer. Nearer. Closer now.

A girl of about twelve bumbled out of the woods. While her clothes liked it, she reeked of the acrid smell of.freshly spilled blood -- Cloak's tiger nose was able to pick this up, but so did Gaz apparently, being a vampire and all.

"Uh . . ." she said, clearly surprised to have stumbled upon them. Then she said, rather unconvincingly, "You got to help me! Someone's killed my whole family!"

She was far too cavalier about it to be remotely possible or believable Saffa scolded the kid about lying about things like that, impressing how seriously not funny it was. Cloak eyed the girl suspiciously, and she soon deserted the four. Cloak wo.ders if he made a mistake in letting her go . . .

[redtailedsaffa]

Yes, it was, actually.

That kid is creepy.

[DinosaurNothlit]

This has all the makings of an excellent horror movie.  "The Vampire from Outer Space!"  Or something.

*gets popcorn, turns out all the lights, and bundles up under a blanket for safety*

[Cloak]

Doctor Who fans who haven't already guessed . . . . . . then again, I've probably taken some liberties.

CHAPTER FOUR:
On Alert

". . . And that concludes our findings." Parker was saying.

"You didn't mention the creepy kid," Saffa said.

"She was irrelevant. Just another creepy kid." Parker said differentially.

"No," Cloak said. It was the first time spoke all meeting. He clung to the shadows in the back, and it was easy to forget that he was there. He strode up the middle of the isle, stopping halfway. The sweeping manner was rather akin to Alan Rickman's portrayal of Severus Snape. "The kid was more than simply creepy. She smelled of blood."

"She's a kid. Of course she's got blood." Parker said, dismissively.

"I'm not talking blood in veins," Cloak countered. "I'm talking freshly-spilled blood. And . . . another scent. Like . . . like decay."

"I didn't smell anything." Saffa said.

"You were human," Cloak said. "My sense of smell is more acute."

"I smelled it, too." Gaz said, quietly. "As ridiculous as it sounds, that girl scares me."

"Why should that sound ridiculous?" Dino inquired.

Gaz looked up, there was a haunted look in her eye. Laserbeak attempted to make her feel better with reassuring coos. "That kid . . . she felt like . . . like Madre de Vampyra."

"Did you try using the species database?" Aquilai asked, thoughtfully.

"Of course not," Parker said. "Why?"

"It just puts me in mind of a Plasmavore," the Time Lord elaborated. "Apparently, one had attacked the Nameless Princess of . . . a planet I can't remember at the moment."

"You're not suggesting that it came here to hide?" Abby said.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"And it is entirely possible." Cloak said.

[redtailedsaffa]

I think I might be onto something. I won't ruin the suspense.

[Cloak]

Perhaps, Saffa, perhaps.

Anyway, new book ideas. Funny how I always seem to get these ideas when I'm at work.

• BOOK CCLXXXVII: "Competition Contention" -- The RAFians must deal with a faux organization calling themselves MIB, who challenges the RAFians' "sovereignty" in alien affairs.
• BOOK CCLXXXVIII: "A Phears Debt" -- Phears, the Animal Traveler, comes to collect a debt from Demos. . . .
• BOOK CCLXXXIX: "Tunnel Vision" -- The RAFians discover the existence of the Jackovitch Tunnel.

Don't think that I rehashed anything. . . . Saffa?

[redtailedsaffa]

Nope, don't think you did. And it seems to be a thing that the best ideas usually arise out of boredom.

[Cloak]

Thanks, Saffa. And here we go.
 

CHAPTER FIVE:
The Bloodening

She was seen. She had foolishly allowed herself be witnessed.  She knew that those individuals could possibly be the ones that regulate non-Terran immigration, that one was based on Earth.  Had she been a fool to travel here? To hide out on this simple biosphere?
 
No, this was the perfect choice.  No one would think to look for her here, not with the tales of the planet's egalitarian heroes protecting it so thoroughly.  But still . . . she could not afford the girl's form to allow her to attract unwanted attention.
 
She looked over her shoulder, and was fretting badly. Yes, this form was now a liability. She stepped deftly and quickly behind a tree, and the girl did not appear from behind it, but a boy of about seven.  Unfortunately, recalling a previous form stirred her . . . his hunger.
 
He was a Plasmavore, true.  But he was different from any other Plasmavore.  He was able to recall up to the last five victims to take his form.  He had no gender, but was instead referred to by whatever gender his currently worn form was. But an unfortunate side effect was that recalling a form of a past victim costs him, her, it, whatever, a lot of energy. It nearly always triggers a bloodlusting hunger.

It knew it probably shouldn't have attacked and killed that princess, but it was bored, it was hungry.  It couldn't recall the princess's form now, she wasn't one of her last five victims. Had it been thinking thoroughly, it probably could have disguised itself as the princess. But that wouldn't have lasted forever.

Now it allowed its last form to be seen. Had it been thinking, it may have realized that it would have been more prudent to disguise itself as an adult human.  A child so young, wandering about alone in the forest, would undoubtedly attract more attention. But it didn't really matter much, as the Plasmavore wasn't planning on staying as this young, sandy-haired boy with a scar below his left eye.

It sought out a new victim to satiate its hunger, perfectly aware that doing such may call undue attention. But hunger often overrules thought in such cases.

***

The Plasmavore now wore the form of a stately woman, a socialite and a rather poor choice for laying low.  It was not hungry anymore, having fed off of ten unlucky street people before selecting this rather opulant woman's form. She easily disposed of the lifeless, dried-up husk, which no longer resembled the woman at all.

Of course, this was careless on the Plasmavore's part.  The husk may have not resembled the physically, but she still retained the woman's DNA, which, for the moment, was still viable. Not to mention that no matter what form she takes, though she mimics the innards and such perfectly, and can simulate the scent, she cannot obscure her own scent from the form she affects.

[DinosaurNothlit]

Oh, man, that pronoun thing is gonna get confusing.

But it does lend the interesting effect of making the Plasmavore seem even more otherworldly, which I like.

Also, I obviously need to watch more Old Who. 

[Underseen]

Creatures from Old Who looked really fake, but nothing is unbearable. Most of my knowledge on this comes from reddit so don't take my word on it.

[Cloak]

Oh, it's about to get more complex and convoluted.

CHAPTER SIX:
Oh, Guard, No!

As the RAFians were continuing their discourse, an electonic notification appeared on their monitors. Someone was announcing their intent to search of the planet for a dangerous fugitive, and there was a request for permission to be given.

"What in the . . ." Dino said, blinking with surprise.

Color seemed to drain from Aquilai's face, but not from fear. More akin to having sit a test you haven't studied for. "Oh, no. Not the Judoon. Not the Judoon."

Another polite notification was sent -- stating that an emissary will be sent down for briefing.

"God, why can't it be the Czarnian again?" Aquilai fretted, not as if the Judoon was terrifying, but like a relative you hope never visits.

The red-and-black Judoon craft landed. From it stepped the rhinocerid humanoid stepped from the craft. He was larger than Cloak expected, but the Realm Walker was not so easily impressed by a Rocksteady alien.

The Judoon held some odd device that was obviously some sort of scanner. It was a crimson, dumbell-sized, sonic screwdriver-like device. It was lit blue on one end, and it was scanning the RAFians, determining their species. But when he tried to scan Cloak, it came up a blank -- Realm Walkers weren't in his database. He kept coming closer and closer with the device.

"If you value your life, Judoon," Cloak said in a warning tone, "you will it that thing the Veil outta my face."

"Unknown alien," the Judoon said, with a throaty, guttural voice, "physical violence against a Judoon is punishable by a death sentence."

"My name is Cloak, Captain Dunce," Cloak snarled and seethed. "And, even you lamentably stupid creatures could manage it, you are the outsider here. We are not obligated to your laws -- which sound as painfully stupid and brutish as the Council's lawmaking -- but while here you must abide by Earth's laws."

"Uh . . ."

"I am not dumbing it down for you." Cloak said coldly.

[redtailedsaffa]

Hehehehehe. That episode. *goes to do a rewatch because why not*

[Cloak]

More or less, Saffa. I haven't seen the episode per se, but I've read up on it a little. Oh, and I'm currently planning my way through Book CCLXXVIII ("Tide of Cleanliness"), and "City of Stone" looks like it'll be fun to write. And I'm thinking of changing up one thing in the next book, but more on that when I start on it.

I might aw well reveal that the last book was completely rewritten from my original chapter plans, due to not wanting to explain that Realm Walker past "selves" are little more than echoes, silhouettes, ripples in the water that is the realm's reality. I didn't think I could explain it properly.

Anyway, a new chapter probably won't be up for another twelve hours or so. But don't hold me to this, and be sure to check my sig. If I modify this post, the new chapter details will be in there.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Unwilling Allies

"What business do you have here, Judoon?" Aquilai said, cold but more diplomatic than Cloak.

"A Plasmavore attacked a dignitary," he said, and Cloak was surprised that he managed words longer than two syllables long. "We tracked the fugitive to this backwater planet."

"Gee, tell us what you really think of us." Saffa said, voice drenched in sarcasm. But the Judoon did not seem to understand this subtlety, but said nothing.

"You will not impede this mission," the Judoon said casually, jamming the scanner into Cloak's face again. He was seriously pushing his luck, believing himself to be safe due to his sheer brute power. While Cloak's physical strength was subpar to the rhinocerid humanoid, his elemental power far eclipsed the power. "You will assist me in apprehending the fugitive."

Cloak let out a low snarl, and hissed, "I told you to get this Gateburst thing outta of my face!!!"

When the Judoon did not comply immdeiately, Cloak pulled back his right fist, pulsating with golden-scarlet energy. But Cloak mastered the impulse, turned on his heel and stormed out of the forum. Oh, how he would have loved to hit the arrogant sack of . . . but no. That would have been a waste of time and energy. You cannot beat someone smart, and any attempt to would be futile and pointless.

Cloak would find this Plasmavore, he would prove the Judoon's ineptitude and uselessness. He didn't need a scanner to track a quarry. He was a tiger -- some of the hunting instinct was in him. He just never bothered to tap into it. The sooner the Plasmavore was found and brought into custody, the soon the Judoon buffoon would be gone.

***

Meanwhile, back at RAF, there was a bit of a stunned silence wrought after Cloak's abrupt departure. Only the Judoon seemed indifferent and unconcerned at the Realm Walker's leaving. His arrogance continued to mstch his brainlessness.

"If you don't comply, you will all be sentenced to planetary confinement," the Judoon said.

"You have no righted, no authority, to do that, Hornnose!" Kelly objected vehemently.

"That's Mr. Hornnose," said the Judoon stupidly.

"I don't care!" Kelly said, in a passionate display of outrage, "We will not subvert our own sovereignty, deny our right to independence! We will not defer to you Judoon. We will work with uou if we must, but we retain our autonomy!"

A beat of silence.

"Huh?" the Judoon grunted.

"Oh, lord," Kelly said, facepalming.

[DinosaurNothlit]

The Judoon, now there's a Whovian race I remember!

Mo cho ro to vo ko lo tho!

. . . No idea what I just said.  Hope I didn't insult anybody.

[Cloak]

You just said you will feast on the cones, or that you're pregnant. j/k

Another chapter, methinks.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Really Low-Key, Really

The Plasmavore played the role of the socialite, which put her in the public eye more than she really cared for. She couldn't exactly stay under the radar when she had to attend charity balls and such. She was beginning to think that she didn't think this through. And hunger stirred every now and then, but she put it off as much as she could, after all more than five victims and she would be unable to maintain the socialite's form.

Soon, the hunger gnawed at her again, and she wondered whether it was really worth it, staying as the socialite? But she must . . . the sudden disappearance of the socialite might -- no, assuredly would attract attention. Attention that she did not want. She realized that in her haste, she had trapped herself. The thug was assuredly here by now, the Judoon bounty hunter.

But, she supposed, she should be flattered that a powerful bounty hunter was sent to bring her in. And one that it would reasonably easy to evade. Provided she doesn't drink from a nonhuman, the pathetically simplistic scanner would not be able to tell her real species. She simply must never make that mistake . . . er, again. Earth was not the first inhabited planet she attempted to hide out on.

Of course, she did not realize that a foe far more dangerous than a simple-minded Judoon was about to track her down.

She lurched over, and grasped her bathroom counter. She winced horribly, her legs shook, as her stomach rumbled mutiniously. She could not ignore her hunger any longer. The "socilite" would have to mysteriously disappear.

She allowed a housekeeper in to clean, when her hunger begame far too much to bear . . .

***

After a binge of feeding, having well abandoned the socialite's form (the authorities having found her desiccated, emaciated corpse washed up on the side of the river), she eventually settled in the form of a ten-year-old orphan girl. No responsibilities, no connections, someone people would tend to overlook. She thought this out better. Not much, but better than last time.

Her bloodlust was finally satiated, but she had to deal living without the luxuries she enjoyed as the socialite. No set meals of unabashed opulence, no overlarge beds, no luxurious coats, no nothing. Anything she got for herself had to be by her own endeavors. The Plasmavore didn't mind as much, as she was finally low-key.

But the disappearances of street people and petty criminals, the ones that maintain a low profile, tend to go unnoticed by the general populace. But not everyone neglects such a trail . . .