Memoirs of a RAFian

[redtailedsaffa]

Offended me? How? I have a higher rate of randomly offending people than you do, trust me.

[Cloak]

Eh, I jumped to the worst possible scenario usually. I have a habit of interpreting silences as people being angry with me. It's usually what my mother did when she didn't feel like yelling, so I learned to associate one with the other.

And the new chapter is one the last page, in my last post. I was originally gonna title it "This Is Why I Hate Machines", after that cop's catchphrase in "Transformers Animated", but it no longer fit as well.

[redtailedsaffa]

My silences are usually caused due to extreme time zone differences.

[Cloak]

Eh, I didn't say it was rational.

CHAPTER TWO:
Shard-Given Sentience

Meanwhile, clear across town, in a warehouse that was long forgotten, said an 80s-style supercomputer. At this point, there was nothing remarkable with this forgotten relic of a fargone decade, just an overlarge machine with no will, no ability to see beyond its programming, not intelligence of its own whatsoever.

It would not remain so for very much longer. As the warehouse saw people return to it, to collect the tlitems and begin to work it again. No one noticed that the very smallest of shards from a legendary Cybertronian artifact had managed to work its way onto on of the humans' clothing, unnoticed.

As they worked to dust off the computer, with its prehistoric interfaces and screens, none noticed as the shard shifted, how it dangled from the sleeve of on of the humans' lab coat sleeves. The human, Manny Baxter, fancied himself a scientist, though many of his experiments were against the rules of physics, thermodynamics, and rational thought. He was eccentric, psychotically so. He also had an irrational hatred of flies, no one quite knew the reason.

The other human was a imperious, imperial sort of man named Oroku Yoshi. He was the head honcho here, and did not treat Manny with respect, though the deminuitive, buggy man was the brains. Yoshi was a strict boss, though inept and incompetent in his own right. Skilled in martial arts that he never uses, preferring pilfered energy weapons (illegal for civilians to have, though the more extreme of the NRA were lobbying against the illegality of it).

Then there was Oroku's daughter by an unknown woman, Oroku Miwa. She was as skilled as her father in ninjitsu and sharpshooting. She was a rebellious daughter, who was seriously devoted to her father, believing her mother was killed by her father's enemies. Though evidence pointed to Oroku having a hand in it, which she ignored ignorantly.

There were two punkish day laborers who were under Oroku's employ . . . although he "paid" them by allowing them to still live. Their names were Brock Steadisen and Benson "B" Bopp. Brock was built like a rhino, and had a short stint in the Army before being dishonorably discharged for being too forceful, violent, and -- well, stupid and incompetent. Conversely, B was built a tad smaller with a vividly blonde mohawk, and appeared to possess some cybernetics (which was legally questionable at this point of time).

There was also a man named Mr. Patrick Gaark-Mortu, who kept a fine distance from everyone. Appearance-wise, he looked indistinguishable from Agent Bishop of the 2003 TMNT universe, but, unlike what you expect, he spoke with a highy-pitched, whiny voice. Everyone assembled there suspected that Mr. Gaark-Mortu was as human as he pretended to be.

As such, it was clear that this wasn't a legal entry and this group of individuals weren't permitted to be doing what they were doing. And, while continually dusting off the supercomputer, Manny unknowingly dropped the shard -- once part of the fabled All-Spark of Cybertronian lore -- into the supercomputer. The shard found its way into the computer's mainframe, and activated. It bestowed sentience to the computer, who hid this instinctively from the people working on it.


*Hopefully, with all the hints in this chapter, you'll guess at the source material.

[Cloak]

Need the cure to my anxiety. Only one real way to do that: chapters.

CHAPTER THREE:
Welcome to RAF

Cloak sat on his spot (a rocky outcropping that overlooked the entrance of the forum, that was covered with perpetual, foliage-provided shade), continuing his brooding. He saw that the others were welcoming in the newbies.

He saw them sing one of the customary songs:

"Congratulations, bubs,
You've joined the club!
And everybody here agrees.
We got the finest blend
Of nearly-honest kin,
Welcome to RAF!!
A melding pot of species that you can trust.
There's nothing up our many sleeves!
Got lotsa grub to share!
Pull up an easy chair!
Welcome to RAF!!
Now you get to have yer 'taters and meat.
Never hafta brush your teeth!
But we always aim to please.
Care for one another,
You'll never miss your mother.
Schemin' up a thread,
Out on a limb.
And if you like to lurk,
You're gonna love this work!
Welcome to the RAF!!
Welcome to the RAF!!
As an official member of the gang,
That no one sane ever leaves!
Ya gotta talk and tweak
Or else your future's bleak!
We got a lifetime contract dat yer bound to keep.
Wel-wel-welcome to,
Wel-wel-welcome to RAF!!"

Cloak honestly didn't know why they chose that one. But more surprisingly, no one was ever scared away by it. Cloak stayed put, continually fretting about his future, wondering if he'd royally **** it up. It wasn't the first time he thought about this . . .

·Yes, I know. It is a filler chapter. I'll go ahead and cop to it now.

[redtailedsaffa]

This is looking like an exciting mix of crossovers.

[Cloak]

Dunno I'd call it a "crossover", actually.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Misanthropic Machine

"Is it working yet?" Mr. Graark-Mortu whined. It was seriously getting more irritating than an Iskoort who does take no for an answer.

"It is booting up now," Baxter sniffed importantly. He clearly placed a lot of importance on intellect, and, being the smartest of the lot, thought himself grander then the rest.

"Well, hurry up, you spineless swine." Oroku said forcefully, opening hostilities early.

"It's gonna take time," Baxter said, with that arrogant drawl. "This thing is a relic of a fargone age. I don't see why you don't use a new one."

Baxter found himself at blaster-point suddenly. "I want to use this one because . . . I SAID. That's all you require to know about it, Buster."

"B-Baxter, actually," the slight man said, voice quivering.

"Like it matters." Miwa snorted disrespectively.

"You two!" Oroku snarled at the two punks. "Watch were you're going with those! We may need them later."

"Alrigh', boss," one of them said. It wasn't clear who in the dim light.

The newly-sentient computer watched all this as it pretended to boot up its screen. It had watched all these interactions between the group. It learned from these observations.

These are humans? it thought. Yes, thought.

The group continued to argue and harass each other. They all seemed to forget why they were gathered here, why they needed this computer. They seemed to enjoy their fighting more than the goal they had . . . the very loose goal they had in mind.

What might that have been? World conquest, of course. Ignoring the fact that each an every one (except maybe Oroku Miwa) were completely inept at such a cliched aim.

A nihilist? A scientist with delusions of grandeur? A grown-up schoolyard bully? Two punks without two I/Q points to rub together? A whiny Utrom in synthroid suit? Clearly the computer's thinking level was accelerating to complex thought, but only with cold logic, and no reasoning. It was not looking at Homo sapiens in a good, benevolent light. Didn't help that Baxter had given it internet access, and the power to comb it. It thought, with open disgust, These vile, flawed creatures dominate the planet? These imperfect prodcts of organic matter?

Then this computer made a decision. And named itself.

This cannot be allowed any longer. All the chaotic machinations of flesh and the insubstantial works of flesh must be eliminated and wiped clean from the planet. I, SAL SOMNUS, will purge this planet of the parasite of organic life, and purify it with perfect, metallic order.

[redtailedsaffa]

Didn't help the computer's cause that he got some of the most pathetic types of humans assembled in one room.

[Cloak]

(a la Scar before singing "Be Prepared") Precisely.

It also doesn't help that SAL SOMNUS has a superiority complex, which might not yet be clear.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Suspicious Slaughters

SAL SOMNUS had begun to explore its capabilities and the extent of its control over said abilities, and doing so discreetly (though it wasn't really hard from the small cavalcade of cretins it was around). It found that, unlike most other All-Spark creations, could not transform into a humanoid form, but a more compact form. But it could take control of any sort of machinery within a certain radius.

"Why isn't working?!" Oroku Yoshi demanded. "My patience wears thin, you weak, worthless, little man!"

"Oh, yeah," Baxter muttered, "screaming at me will make it go faster."

"You best not goad my father," Miwa said, bored and indifferent. "Not if you want your vital organs to stay were they belong. On the inside."

"Yeah, and doing that will only make it go slower." Baxter said, showing some backbone at last. "To the point of it never getting done."

"Don't mock me, Buster." Oroku threatened, maliciously sincere in it.

The two punks started snickering, mouths behind their hands, in a childish manner. Oroku glared at them and that silenced them at once. Mr. Gaark-Mortu was curiously silent, face blank.

Then his body jerked and convulsed as if something was seizing control but hand not yet learned to do so subtly or with finesse. He reached out and grasped Baxter roughly. He held him with superhuman strength and with an unnaturally strong grip.

"Let me go!" Baxter demanded.

"Drop him! Drop him now, I say!" Oroku demanded.

Miwa attacked him with a swift punch . . . and broke her hand. The resounding CLANG revealed the nature of Mr. Gaark-Mortu, at least in part. The whiny voice could be heard, if muffled and faint. But the human-looking head's lips did not move at all.

"Stop! Let go of him! Stupid biosuit! Stupid cheap exosuit!" Mr. Gaark-Mortu complained.

"What the devil -- ?" Oroku said, aghast.

But then a face appeared upon the computer's screen. It was old-school polygonal, like Andross from Star Fox. But it was more like an upside-down pentagon in shape, with empty, pitiless eyes that glowed hellish red, like Hal-5000 from that space movie. It had a cross look asits default expression. It was SAL SOMNUS revealing itself.

"How'd -- ?" Miwa began, flummoxed.

"SILENCE, HUMANS." SAL said, keeping his voice synthesizer deliberately robotic. If it had the inclination it could make it sound like anyone it wanted, provided it had vocal data.

"You dare to order --"

SQUISH!

Baxter went the way of the fly when it meets a flyswatter. SAL felt no remorse, felt no emotion at all. Baxter was an annoyance to SAL, a nuisance. So, SAL got rid of him.

"What? What did you do that -- ?"

"SILENCE!" SAL roared. "I've taken over control of the Utrom's exosuit. It is my avatar, so to speak."

"What do you want?" Miwa said.

"From you? Nothing. Nothing but your deaths."

It seemed that SAL was simoutaneously developing emotions, deciding they were illogical, and then deleting them. Or trying to, anyway.

[redtailedsaffa]

Is there a link between Gaark-Mortu and the computer that we don't know yet, then?

[Cloak]

Gaark-Mortu is an Utrom. Other than the fact that SAL took over his exosuit, which is a machine, there is no relationship. SAL killed him (with his own exosuit, no less) with the others.

Think of SAL as kind of a machine version of Madre de Vampyra.

CHAPTER SIX:
Crime-Scene Investigation

"It's a massacre," Gaz said. She wore black jeans with a blue shirt with "RAF" in stylized letters printed in dark purple lettering. She did not glitter in the daylight -- it was an absolutely absurd notion that vampires would. But she did wear sunglasses, as vampire eyesight is more attuned to darkness apparently, like an acklay. "Just a slaughter."

The RAFians were contacted to investigate the scene by the police chief. She said, "On the surface, it looked like simple manslaughter. But then, some strange evidence had shown up that made me think that this is out of our league, and more your territory."

"How so?" Cloak asked, disturbed at all the blood stains. Human blood was red, not like his own golden ichor, and seeing it was still somewhat alien to him.

She lifted a white sheet from one of the bodies. It was clear that this hadn't happened but a few hours before. What he saw was a roughly teenaged girl . . . with a gaping hole in her chest the size of a moderately-sized fist. She was gored.

"Three other bodies were found like that." the police chief said, as the body was carried off to the morgue. "All gored by something."

"I don't get how that makes it our territory." Underseen said.

"Perhaps those don't," the police chief said, "but the other two deaths will."

"Other two?" Ash asked.

The police chief indicated a pile of goo upon the floor that had bits and bobs of gore in it, and something that looked like a mutilated football. Two bodies?

"This one, this glop of gore, we have reason to believe that someone or something squished this guy like a fly."

"That would take a great deal of power and force." Cloak said. "Well, outside the average human range."

"Precisely," the police chief said, pleased that he hadn't needed to explain more beyond that. "But, if this last murder isn't straight into your territory, I don't know what is."

She indicated the mutilated football, and Cloak realized at once that it was no football. It was an Utrom, a dead Utrom. The fact that the Realm Walker recognized it at all was a lucky thing, indeed. The mutilation made it very difficult to discern the Utrom's personal identity.

"What is that?" Ash asked.

"An Utrom." Cloak said, identifying the species. "I didn't know any were on Earth."

"Well, I'd think they'd be noticeable." Gaz said, with a wry smile.

"Not really," Cloak said, seriously. "They disguise themselves in humanoid exosuits."

"Like the Arquillians?" Underseen asked.

"No," Cloak said. "Perhaps 'exosuit' is a bad term. 'Mechanical exoskeleton' might be more accurate."

"Mechanical . . . exo . . . skeleton . . ." Gaz said, gazing over at the spot were the four other bodies had lain. She was thinking what they all were thinking. The exoskeleton must have killed all five people . . . and this Utrom, too, whoever he was. But what was piloting the suit?

***

Meanwhile, a mechanical robot was walking away as the sun was beginning to set. SAL was not piloting the suit, it had intergrated with the suit. It had added the suits abilities to its own, and, as such, redesigned the thing to look rather like one of the villainous characters from "ReBoot" had escaped.

SAL SOMNUS looked around, but the streets and roads were strangely deserted at this hour. It was most likely due to some sort of festival hooha that the town was having. SAL didn't concern himself with the murder of humans, and all other organic life, just yet.

He was just looking for the edifice to launch his rule as the Machine King.

[redtailedsaffa]

Oh oh, modified-post syndrome nearly got me.

[Cloak]

It happens. Especially if I forget to update my sig, like that one time.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Unhappy Merchandise

SAL found itself a derelict, forgotten building, that still had power. It tapped into that power, used it to amplify its sphere of influence, of mechanical control, to include a modest quarter of the city. In doing this its new form became a bit more defined, more resembling Nicholai Technus, facially (except for the crimson-glowing Cyclopean eye), from "Danny Phantom" then a "ReBoot" escapee. It was somewhat a caricature of the masculine form, due to its -- his -- comically broad shoulders, ludicrously thick arms and thin waist with two cartoony small legs. While his face looked like Technus, his body was like a humanoid Klobber from "Donkey Kong Country".

He used a throne-like device of his own design and construction to access both the electrical power and enable wifi. Then he proceeded to use it to activated his sphere of control.

"Go, my brethren," he said, though his mouth didn't quite synch up with his words. But cut him a break, he only had a mouth for a day and a half. "Go and purify this world of the wretched organics. Make it a paradise for us, and only us, my brethren. Go, purge this world of the blight."

***

It was a quite evening in Odd Al's Appliances (formerly, Alien Al's Appliances, changed because the owner thought the name might seem too xenophobic). There was a fair smattering of customers, but, on the whole, it was a slow, lazy night. The heat of the day was already dissipating, as the street lamps were coming back to life as the darkness began to fall in earnest.

Inside the store, a family consisting of two parent and a tween were shopping for a new refrigerator, a young bachelor was looking for a toaster oven of his own, a blonde lady was looking for an electric fan, a newlywed couple were looking at front-loading washing machines, and a formidable woman with a clearly depressed and miserable twentysomething son were looking at electric lawnmowers. The rest were either entering the store, exiting the store with their purchases, or otherwise in line at the checkout. Of course, employees milled around here and there.

Unfortunately that's when it began.

Suddenly, the refridgerators began to attack the family who initially thought this was some elaborate prank. But that was completely dispelled when one of the ice cubes that the ice makers within the appliances struck the boy so hard that it left a very noticeable bruise. His parents were not any luckier.

The bachelor was suddenly set upon by the toaster, which also spat fire at him. You'd have to wonder why Acme decided to go into making toasters. The bachelor was sure this was a joke, that he tripped wrires and such. But he realised that it wasn't when the waffle iron clapped onto his arm.

The blonde woman had long since left, but the fan which she was considering was desperately looking for a new victim. The blade guards on it was somehow taken off by the fan itself, as if it had gained the jntelligence and sentience to do it itself.

The couple ran to escape the lumbering washing machines, as they stampeded after them. The washing machines had decided that the two desperately need to wash their clothes . . . while they were still wearing them. They didn't care much for that idea, obviously.

Meanwhile the lawnmowers began to attack the overbearing mother and her despondent son. She urged him to hurry up so they could get out of here, and he didn't really care. She asks him if he wants to be killed, and he answer with a meek, quiet, but sincere "Yes." which his mother doesn't hear.

It was chaos, utter bedlam in the store. The appliances and electronics were revolting!

[redtailedsaffa]

*looks up nervously at the fan*

[Cloak]

Not a ceiling fan. Yet.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
On the Scene

The chief got a call over her radio. "What? A dog and a bunny? What? What are you talking about? What freelance police? There aren't any such things!"

Then she turned back to the RAFians, and apologized, "Sorry 'bout that. Had a bunch of reports of a dog and a bunny and some 'freelance police' thing. It's inundated my office."

"Too much 'Sam & Max'?" Cloak said, shaking his head slightly.

"More than likely," she sighed, "people really need to tell the difference between reality and fantasy."

"It actually understandable, given our line of work." Gaz noted, thoughtfully. Then she looked around and brought herself back to earth.

"Be that as it may --" the police chief, Chief Maza, began.

Both the RAFians and the chief got a call at the same time. Yarin was informing them of a tremendous power surge over the power grids and wifi, while the police chief was recieving a report of the goings-on at Odd Al's Appliances.

"The appliances at Odd Al's Appliances are acting weird," Chief Maza informed them. "People are reporting that they're acting of their own accord. Looks like another case up your alley."

Cloak frowned as he looked around, "Perhaps it's the same case."

"What do you mean?" Chief Maza asked.

"We might be dealing with someone or something who can bend machines to his, or her, or its will. But there is only the merest of circumstantial evidence supporting this, and -- I apologize -- we cannot dally any longer, Chief Maza. We must investigate this appliance store post haste."

With that, Cloak swiftly swept away from the crime scene.

"You'll get use to that from him," Ash apologized to Chief Maza, who didn't look remotely offended. She didn't rise to the rank of police chief by being sensitive to what could be construed as offensive.

***

"There it is," Cloak said. People, customers and employees alike, were evacuating the store. The appliances were chasing them, and didn't stop when they exited the store.

"What was your first clue?" Gaz teased, but Cloak acted like he didn't hear. Because he had noticed something odd. Each and every appliance possessed a glowing, electrical aura. Cloak surmised that's how they retained the semisentient state they possessed without requiring being plugged in. He saw that push vacuums, two-slice toasters, small radios, goosenecked lamps, and (strangely enough) electric blankets lead the charge. The air conditioners, televisions, fans, and such took up the rear.

"I've heard of unhappy consumers," Gaz said, "but unhappy merchandise?"

"What are we waiting for? We must help!" Underseen said.

"Do any of you see the electronic aura they possess?" Cloak said, very seriously.

"What?" Ash said.

"Yeah! Kinda." Gaz said, squinting.

"C'mon guys!" Underseen urged.