Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Warehouse District Investigation

Instead of causing further mayhem or generally disturbing the peace, the Creep just milled around his warehouse home. He wondered if there was anymore toys that he could slightly tweak to be holiday-themed. Though he wasn't sure how to incorporate Labor Day into the form of a crime.

He came upon seven heavily damaged and fragmented exosuits. He looked around at the detritus around and delightfully discovered that there was enough scrap and whatnot to repair all seven. He may have not been very intelligent when it came to strategy and tactics, but he did possess an intuitive, inventive ingenuity that enabled him to repair all the items that he used.

He just didn't plan how to use them well. This is what makes him a joke. That and his fashion sense, which was almost criminal in its own right.

The Creep smiled creepily as he got to work repairing the exosuits, five of which appeared to be Arquillian in orgin (only with the human exterior peeled away) and two appeared to be Utrom in origin (without the synthetic human "skin").

He knew what he would make these things into. Day Droids.

***

Cloak, Esty, Wild, Blaze, Broken, Oceanspray, Faerie, and Aquilai went to investigate the warehouse, while other RAFians would investigate other viable options discussed. The RAFians quickly went up to the warehouse where Malice had hoarded herself and her schemes, before she indulged in her Tasmanian devil nature to move to a new den.

"I'm surprised that this place is still standing," Faerie said. "It looks like its home to all sorts of vermin."

"And the Creep is one of them," Blaze muttered gruffly.

"We don't know that for sure," Aquilai pointed out. "He might not be using this place as his lair at all."

"And he might," Cloak said. "Malice could have even come back, even though this lair was already compromised."

They opened the door, and Cloak noted how much this district reminded him of Nacrene City of the Unova region in the Pokemon realm. As soon as the door was open, they were quickly approached by seven figures, roughly six feet tall. Their eyes glowed red, and Cloak knew they were not biological.

"You'd think he wouldn't have made it so obvious," Faerie said, as she took note of the calendar pages that littered the floor. They were from calendars dated from 2000 to 2010.

[redtailedsaffa]

I'm trying to recall in which book I last saw the exosuits.

[Cloak]

"Minute Napoleons", I believe it was. Don't remember the number. I never remember the numbers, just the titles or content or both.

. . . Yeah, I don't have the strongest memory. Hence why I have the book outlines physically written down.

New, shortish chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Lackluster Battle

Estelore's natural stellar light, which she didn't think to suppress, illuminated the warehouse dimly. Cloak and Oceanspray didn't need it, and Cloak actually found it somewhat bothersome, though he didn't say it aloud. But a repressed snarl did escape his lips, though it was directed at the seven automatons.

"No, Cloak," Faerie said, firmly.

"What?"

"Don't mechbend them," she replied.

"Come again?"

"Don't rob us of the fun, Cloak!" she mock-scolded.

"You can't be serious," the Realm Walker said, very seriously.

"I'm quite so," Faerie said. "If you mechbend them, and destroy them with that, that would make the presence of the rest of us here very superfluous and --"

"Faerie, this isn't a game."

"Considering how much of a joke the Calendar Creep is," the faerie countered, "I am inclinded to disagree. We so rarely have a moment to enjoy a battle, what with the whole 'the-world-is-on-the-line' or the 'time-is-of-the-essence, rafe-against-the-clock' things interfering with it. Allow us to actually savor the certainty of victory this time."

"First light, Faerie!! You sound like a petulant child playing a video game." Cloak said, unable to confine his frustration anymore. "There is no high score for you to attain! There is a time for fun and a time for serious work! And this is a clear case of the latter."

"When have you ever had fun?" Faerie protested. "You're serious work all the time. You know what they say, Cloak. 'All work and no play makes you a dull boy' or something like that."

Before Cloak could retort, Estelore said, "As entertaining as your back-and-forth is, you two, I must tell you that I already took care of them."

The two looked over and saw seven steaming piles of slag.

"Aaaaaw!! Esty!" Faerie protested, as Cloak rolled his eyes.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Backed to a Corner

A sharp gasp.

It would have been unheard by human ears. But Cloak and Wild possessed superior hearing, and picked up on the faint sound instantly. They also picked up on something else too.

"Fear," Wild said at once. "Someone's here and they feel fear."

"I always hated the pungent odor," Cloak muttered. "I don't know how the Sinestro Corps can stand to be powered by that stuff."

"I don't smell anything," Oceanspray said.

"Count yourself lucky, then," Cloak said, moodily. Then his attention was grabbed as he turned his head in a direction to about 8 o'clock. He had easily Earthsighted a series of running steps with obviously no attempt to cushion them. "There! Follow me."

Cloak streaked onward, with all his feline grace, speed, and agility. Cloak knew he was on the right trail, as the odoriferous scent of fear became more and more obvious. And, frankly, rather noxious and nauseating. Cloak forced himself to stomach the stench, as they come closer and closer with what he assumed was the Calendar Creep.

"Recharge, dammit!" Cloak's acute hearing picked up. The voice was definitely male. And tense. And fearful. "Recharge already!!"

Cloak proceeded on hands and the balls of his feet, he was very feline in his movements when he did this. Cloak found that his tail tip twitching, as he was satiating his feline hunting instinct, but he would never cop to it when pressed.

"Why aren't you recharging?!" came the desperate cry. "Recharge! Recharge!! Recharge!!!"

It was the Calendar Creep. He was definitely in panic mode, but he did not hear Cloak's silent padding uo behind him. Cloak placed every footstep very carefully, not really knowing where he learned this. The feline Realm Walker noticed that the Creep had his back to him and Cloak could see that he was messing about with a device on his belt that also acted as a belt buckle.

Cloak couldn't help himself. A low growl had escaped his lips, just loud enough for the Creep to hear. The Calendar Creep jumped up and pressed his backside to the crate that he had been facing moments before. Cloak stood up, rearing to his full and substantial height.

"D-Don't k-kill m-me!" he said, oozing fear from every orifice. Cloak felt a stab of shame when saw this. He was afraid of him, and Cloak had used that to his advantage.

I truly am my mother's son, he thought ruefully, clenching his teeth at the thought.

"We haven't any intention of killing you," Estelore said, quite firmly. "But we do ask you to disarm yourself. Your gadgetry has great potential to kill others. You've been lucky thus far, lucky that no one has been injured or even killed."

"Th-They're mine," he said.

"Yours?!" came a haughty, disdainful voice. Female. "It was my stuff you've been using and making cruder. Really, silly human, you have no sense of elegance, no sense of subtlety."

"Malice," Cloak said coldly. "Why am I not surprised that you're involved?"

[redtailedsaffa]

I fear for this guy now.

[Cloak]

Oh, only if he really ticks off Malice. She's only miffed right now.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Quiet Quarrel

"I have had nothing to with the scheming stupidity of this simpleton," Malice said, caustically. "Though I was always aware of his use of the items. But I allowed it."

"Wait, what?" the Creep said.

"I've put up with your ineptitude and eccentricities," Malice said, addressing the Creep directly now, "but I've only allowed you to carry on this long because I took a certain . . . delight in following your string of failures. But you've finally become tiresome."

"This coming from the woman who has a longer string of failures?" Blaze said, snarkily.

"Quiet, puny Dweller," Malice said, agressively dismissive.

"You don't tell me --"

"Easy, Blaze. You know how overinflated her ego is," Faerie said.

"Impudent Dweller," Malice sniffed.

"And proud of it!" Faerie said, sardonically.

"I shall deal with you later," Malice said, plucking the belt off the trembling Calendar Creep, addressing Faerie.

"And do what?" Cloak said. "Your scope of power isn't as vast as you like to pretend to be. Your quarrel is with me. Leave all others out of it."

"Yeah, you keep thinking that, Spawn of Sage's Spawn." Malice said, derisively. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"I'll take that as a compliment, then," Cloak shot back.

With Malice distracted, the Calendar Creep, since he no longer had his teleportation belt to use, tried to sneak away. Malice didn't appear to be aware of this, as she had turned partway to face Cloak.

"You are so arrogant little --"

"Funny how you can diagnose the problem in others," Cloak retorted.

The Calendar Creep began to creep and tiptoe away. Very slowly and very carefully.

"How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful way?!" Malice said, in a scandalized tones.

"Disrespectful? You pathetic, hypocritical crone." Cloak said. "You have respect for no one but yourself, and you have the nerve to accuse someone else of disrespect? Really? What have you done to earn anyone's respect? We're all nothing but toys, but pawns, but chess pieces to you. You have no feelings for others beyond yourself."

The Calendar Creep creeped slowly still, gaining a fair distance between the Realm Walkers. His eyes were on two cloaked figures.

"Well, duh," Malice said.

The Creep's strides increased and quickened. He was nearly clear to make a mad dash to the door. . . .

"Malice," Cloak said. "you know how this is going end eventually."

"Yes," she agreed, "but it isn't going to be the way you think."

There! Freedom was just a mere sprint away!

"Malice," Cloak said, with narrowed eyes. "If you don't stop, you're going to end up like Cataclysm. Dead."

Malice got what Cloak was threatening. And it occurred to her that he was trying subtlety to tell her to repent her actions. She laughed heartily and maliciously. "I'm not Abomination, Cloak. You can't talk me into becoming one of the 'good' guys. I'm a bad girl. And I like being a bad girl."

The Creep began to sprint to the door, but was easily and swiftly caught by Estelore as Malice Walks away.

[redtailedsaffa]

Well, that was an impressive monologue.

[Cloak]

Yep. Now the next chapter of the ninety-third book may be late tomorrow.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
The Creep's Crib and Faerie's Special Item

The Creep didn't get off scot-free, which was actually refreshing. Granted, he didn't get as much time as he would have had he managed to seriously harm or even kill someone. But he did have a number of crimes to answer for.

Disturbing the peace, public property damage, attempted public property damage, attempted murder, attempted robbery . . . the list didn't include the crimes against fashion.

He was put in a minimum security prison, which made somewhat more a joke in the supervillainous circles. But he managed to take solace in one very minor thing.

His orange prison outfit was also a calendar-print one, which was intended as a joke.

***

Faerie was in her thread, alone. She didn't have the brooding sessions that Cloak usually indulged himself in. But she was hiding a secret in here. Something that she did not tell the others about.

She held the secret item in her hands, packaged in a long, thin box. It was about the size of an average cane, but it was far more dangerous than a cane. Far more dangerous. Faerie had never used this mysterious artifact, for she did not like the power it possessed.

With in her hands, she remembered how she had obtained it . . . and how its previous owner had found her, with it. This was before she became a RAFian, though.

"Well, hey, how ya doin', have a seat, have a drink.
Boy, it's good to see you, what can I say?
Whoa! Sorry, gotta run! We'll get together again.
Say, what was your name, anyway?
Well, I'm workin' on the problem.
I'll get back to ya soon.
. . . But don't try to call me.
I'll be in a meeting every afternoon.
For a year, maybe longer -- keep in touch!
Thanks for droppin' by, and have a nice day.
Uh, the check's in the mail.
You're beautiful. Don't ever change.
You know what I mean.
My guy will call your girl.
We'll talk, we'll do lunch,
Or leave a message on my machine.
So, sir, won't you resign
To an item decline?
The check's in the mail.
Would I lie to you?
Well, hey, wait a minute,
What's the matter, hold on,
You want me to fork over the loot?
You say you hate my guts?
You wanna take me to court?
And you got yourself a lawyer with a three-piece suit?
Well, I'm proud to say you're not
The only artifact critic of mine.
So, if you wanna sue me,
I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait in line.
Take a number, thanks for calling!
Who loves you?
Don't forget to read the fine print!
See, the check's in the mail.
You're beautiful. Don't ever change.
You know what I mean.
My guy will call your girl.
We'll talk, we'll do lunch,
Or leave a message on my machine
So, sir, won't you resign
To an item decline?
The check's in the mail.
Would I lie to you?
Aw, trust me!
The check's in the mail.
You're beautiful.
Don't ever change.
You know what I mean.
Why don't you leave a message with my girl?
I'll have lunch with your machine.
So, Salem, won't you resign
To an item decline?
The check's in the mail.
Would I lie to you?
The check's in the mail.
Would I lie to you?"

The original proprietor of the item did not seem to think that this was funny, and keep hounding the faerie for his stolen item. Faerie had no choice. She knew to what purposes that the original owner would use the item.

It wasn't for anything good.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK XCIII:
THE BRAND
CHAPTER ONE:
Salem and Saberhagen

"Hello, mother."

Malice scowled at the boy who addressed him. It was his little joke, and one that Malice did not appreciate. She had always been childless, and even if she had mothered a child, she would either be an abusive or negligent parent. Malice had made a vow to herself to never have one.

"Hello, Klarion."

Now it was the boy's turn to scowl as he petulantly petted his American shorthair cat the color of shadows itself. It had intelligent yellow eyes, and the boy's appearance belied his true power. He was a being of magic, a child from Ledgerdomain, a realm of magic speculated to be the origin and source of all magic (this has of yet to be substantiated). The boy's attire was severely out of date. Something a child of his age would have worn a century or two ago, and in predominantly blacks and grayish-blue hues. His hair was like that of Mandark from "Dexter's Lab", with two locks curling up giving the impression of horns.

"I am not Klarion," he said, his voice had the barest trace of a snarl in it. Saberhagen hissed his master's discontent. "As you very well know. My name is Salem."

"Like that's any better," Malice said, crassly coy.

Saberhagen hissed a snarl, and Salem did nothing to silence his familiar. Malice found it nothing more than an irritating distraction. She was well aware that Salem brought him in an attempt to intimidate her. She was an anthropomorphic Tasmanian devil, not an idiot.

"If you called me her for nothing better than to antagonize and insult me," Salem said, with an elegance and refinement in his speaking that belied his age, "well, then, I have much better things to do with my time."

"I do have the information you seek," Malice said.

"Information? About my lost item, or the thieving faerie called Larka?" Salem said, interest aroused again.

"Perhaps a little of both," Malice said, deliberately vague. She was actually enjoying toying with him like this, knowing full well that he couldn't really do anything -- Realm Walkers were essentially magic-proof.

Salem, however, wasn't a real big fan of this game. He was rapidly finding it rather tiresome. "Okay, will you drop the pretense? Are you going to tell me what you want for the information or not?"

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
The Auction Gala

"Ugh."

"Now, don't be like that, Uncle."

"Ugh." Cloak said again. He wore an ID mask, which projected his normal human form, only in a tux. Which he wasn't so fond of. He never liked dressing up all formally. Granted this wasn't exactly the same, but still.

"Now, now, Uncle." Shadow said bracingly. Her ID mask projected her normal human projection, only in a modest dress of royal purple, her projected black hair done up in a very fun hairdo, and black dress shoes. "You need to get out every now and then. C'mon now."

"Ugh."

"Now don't you start, Faerie." Horse said, glamoured to appear as a human in a glittering, formal, snow white dress, long flowing hair of the same color, and modest little white shoes. "This gala is just the ticket for a fun evening."

"Fun for who?" Faerie said tonelessly. She had glamoured herself to look impeccably human, in a glittery, emerald green dress and flat-heeled black shoes. She had also glamoured Horse, as well.

"Oh, come on, Fae, Cloak," Mr. Guy said, dressed in an attractively careless manner. He wore a tux, like Cloak's projection, but he seemed far more at ease about it then the Realm Walker. "It could be interesting."

Cloak curled his lip in disgust. He never liked formal events. Never. He never enjoyed events like this, with all the obnoxious pomp and circumstance. He did not like the constant judging of events of this nature, and he felt there would be a lot. And he was judged too often in his nearly thirty years -- er, that's in Nexusian time. If one was to go by the Dweller planet of Earth's time, it would be nearly three hundred years of judgement that Cloak had endured.

And it wasn't just the fear of judgement, it was that Cloak was never really too partial to crowds. That's one reason why, during any assembly of RAFians, he tended to stand off to the side, or to the back. The reason could be as simple as his tiger form, as tigers aren't the most sociable of animals.

But then another person came to the gala. An unchaperoned child, holding a black cat with rather intelligent yellow eyes. Cloak fixated on the cat, while Faerie fixated on the boy.

"Not him," she muttered, irritation evident. "Not him."

Nobody else heard her, though. The boy's gaze was just as fixated on her as hers was on him. His pale face, toped with his pitch-black hair, gave the appearance of an ugly, spooky, porcelain doll. His face was masking his unbelievable rancor at the faerie.

"That's no ordinary cat," Cloak muttered to himself. He was sure in his assumption.

[redtailedsaffa]

Just a heads up, I'll be out of town for the weekend from this evening until Monday morning, and while I will have my phone with me, I might not check into RAF too often. So, here's the PDF of the last book before I forget:

[Cloak]

Noted. Have fun!

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
Terse Approximations

Salem only eyed Faerie for a moment, clearly relishing her discomfort and her flight-or-fight response, knowing full well that her scope of what she can do was exceedingly limited. Even the cat seemed aware of this conflict and relished it, same as his master.

The others did not know the history behind these two, and were a bit concerned by Faerie's demure reaction and lack of her usual bravado. It was rather out of character for her, and so they came to the only reasonable conclusion.

This strange newcomer was the reason. And yet, the cat is what held Cloak's attention. He knew the cat wasn't what it pretended to be. This benign state was just a disguise, he was sure. But a disguise for what? Cloak could not be sure. But the cat was far too intelligent to be a garden-variety housecat.

"Hello." the boy, Salem, said.

Faerie was fighting her desire to run, to check and see if the item was still secured, both physically and magically. She could not allow this boy to get it. At any cost. It would be far too dangerous. Too dangerous . . . far too dangerous . . .

"Larka, you have something of mine," Salem stated, without preamble. "I would very much like it back."

Faerie hesitated. Faerie never hesitated like that. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid."

Her attempt at her usual bravado actually felt fake. But only those that knew her would have detected it. Salem's face showed absolute seriousness, devoid of joviality and frivolity. He didn't like to play games, and he preferred to be cut and dry about everything. His bluntness was rather odd for someone who looked as young as he did.

"Larka, let's not play games." he said, firmly, as if he was the one calling the shots. "You know you have it. I know you have it. The transaction is a simple one. Give me the item, Larka."

"Will you stop calling me that? What was it? 'Klarion'?"

The boy's composure slipped just a bit. "My name is Salem, as you full well know, Larka!"

"My name is Faerie," Faerie said, genuine irritation showing in her tone.

"No, that is your species," Salem said. "And an inferior one at that."

"Well, that was unsurprisingly speciesist," Cloak noted.

"Give me what's mine, Larka."

"I do not have whatever you want," Faerie said. Cloak could tell that she was lying.

"That's the way you want to play it?" Salem said, quite seriously. "Fine. I shall take it from you. Even your human -- and seal -- pals will not be able to help you."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Faerie's Flight

Faerie dropped all pretense. "You don't know where it is."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Salem said, but his face showed no emotion. "Now go get it and return it to me."

Faerie rankled at this. "You don't tell me what to do."

"I just did."

"Doesn't mean that I'm going to obey, you spoiled brat," Faerie countered.

Salem's tone grew cold, quiet, and demanding, "Get it. Give me what's mine."

"It isn't yours!" Faerie replied swiftly.

"Feel like we're missing something?" Horse asked rhetorically to the others.

Faerie continued into a tirade. "Just because you stole it doesn't make it yours! I have no intention on using it for my own personal gains, like I know you will. I'm just lucky I manage to get it away from you when I did, before you could use it with your full maliciousness.  With your full cruelty. With your full inhumanity."

"Give back what you took!" Salem said, petulant, losing his composure. He had dropped Saberhagen, who landed daintily to Salem's right side without complaint. "Give it back!"

"No!"

"Then I'll just have to take from you," Salem snarled.

"I don't have with me, you prepubescent idiot." Faerie said.

This was starting to garner unwanted attention. Neither Faerie or Salem wanted this, but Salem couldn't help but smile. Faerie noticed this and quickly realized what it meant. She quickly fled toward the forum as the boy vanished with a slight warbling whooshing sound, leavjng Saberhagen behind.

[redtailedsaffa]

That cat reminds me of the cat we used to have years ago. We harboured a mutual hatred for each other.

[Cloak]

That ain't gonna last long, Saffa. And since I posting this now, tomorrow's chapter may come later than usual.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Nice Kitty . . .

"What was that about?" Mr. Guy asked.

But Cloak continued glare the cat, and saw that it began to glow in an eerie, supernatural light. His eyes glowed bright yellow, as if they were lit from behind.

"I knew that wasn't an ordinary cat," Cloak said, quietly.

Saberhagen grew to about six feet tall, taking the appearance of a yellow-eyed, black-furred Appoplexian -- without pants. He had four-fingered hands and three-toed feet. He had boned, quill-like black brows on his skull, over each one of his eyes, and he had a large, single retractable claw coming out of both wrists that was rather like the sickle claw from a velociraptor. Instead of keratin, the structure of the claw was mostly pure bone. The jaw was pronounced and had two yellowed fangs sticking out.

"Well, that was unexpected." Mr. Guy said.

"Yeah. We're really getting off our game," Horse added, still wearing her glamour provided by Faerie.

Saberhagen roared, and Cloak roared back, in challenge, ripping of his ID mask. Cloak was actually slightly larger than Saberhagen, but size doesn't always guarantee victory. Cloak's elemental might would indeed put him at an advantage, but he seemed to have forgotten about them for the moment, given into the throes of his animal form.

"This could be bad," Shadow said, immediately. She had assessed the situation quickly and glanced over to the other two. They had assessed the situation and reached the same conclusion as they did.

"Shadow, go along to the forum and help Faerie," Mr. Guy said, at once. "We will stay here and try to evacuate the gala if need be."

"If Uncle loses his lucidity, I will be the only one to bring him out of it," Shadow pointed out the problem with this plan. "Besides, if Faerie's at the forum, she should have plenty of backup there, right? It's not abandoned, right?"

"Good point." Horse conceded.

The roaring and snarling did not stop as the two bipedal felines did battle. Their hands were clasped firmly as they attempted to push each other back with their brute strength. Cloak clearly had superior strength, as he managed to throw it towards a back wall, a bricked wall, away from the entrance of the building the gala was held in. Cloak allowed himself a triumphant roar.

Saberhagen didn't like that, and decided to pull out his last trick.

He changed again. Doubling his size to about twelve feet tall. He had thicker fur everywhere except on his feet, hands, chest, neck, and lower jaw. He had two giant claws now on his hands rather than the one, and his fingers and toes now had small sickle claws. He now also had giant claws coming out from his elbows. He now had three, giant red spikes on his back that are covered long, thick, black mane. His face was black with flipped-up hair and sideburns, and his eyebrow quills were now a golden amber and sharp.

Saberhagen roared, and Cloak roared back, sounding somewhat meeker in comparison. Cloak tried to engage him battle again, but Saberhagen's brute strength actually surpassed Cloak's for the moment, as the change replenished Saberhagen's stamina, whereas Cloak did not have so much as a senzu bean.

Cloak would not be deterred. He prepared to engage him aga--

SMACK!! Shadow slapped him across the face.

"Stop screwing around, Uncle!" she scolded. "You're just going to exhaust yourself to death!"

Cloak was still momentarily dazed and stupefied.

"The cat is just a distraction, Uncle!"