Memoirs of a RAFian

[guitarhero01234]

I'll be honest, that fight sounded like it would have been a lot of fun to read.

[Cloak]

Hey, there's gotta be some mystery. Some things that you have to wonder what would happen.

Now, since I'm posting this now, the next chapter probably will be after work tomorrow.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
C is for Coward

Gamemaster fled from his balcony in utter terror, unaware and currently indifferent to how weak this made him look to his "toys", as Gamemaster considered his kidnapped gladiators little more than that. They were nothing but intruments of entertainment to him, and nothing more. To him, they were not people with histories and lives before he had kidnapped them, just beings to fight for his amusement.

He really wasn't any different from Malice in this regard.

He wasn't accustomed to being the one who felt terror, but the one who inspired it. He got drunk off the feeling, he loved it. Now that he was feeling it, he was finding it highly undesirable, he found.

"Grrrrrr . . ."

Gamemaster foolishly gave away his position with a chimpanzee shriek. That was a feline growl! It was definitely feline! Gamemaster shrieked again and ran harder. But soon enough he was cornered, with no where else to go.

Gamemaster began to quake in his cloak, wringing his hands, as well as the hem of his cloak, agitatedly. This made him seem rather oily and sycophantic, not the detached overlord that he had affected not more than thirty minutes ago.

Then, lurking somewhere in the dim light, unseen by Gamemaster's admittingly crappy night vision, was Cloak. Approaching closer, and closer, and closer all the while, hidden ensconced in the shadows. His footsteps made no sound, and the suspense was causing Gamemaster to crack.

Then, quite suddenly, Cloak's eyes glowed in the dim light. It was like a jumpscare for the pretentious primate. Cloak was indifferent to his fear, still finding the scent odiferously pungent. A Garbodor would be more fragrant in his opinion.

"You've shown your true colors, Gamemaster," Cloak growled. "Not the big man that you fancied yourself to be. Just a craven coward playing big. I have very little patience with cowardice, Gamemaster."

"D-d-don't k-k-kill me," the chimpanzee whimpered.

"In all good sense, I probably should," Cloak said, curling his lip in disgust, and panting with the sheer effort of keeping his emotions under control. "It's no less than what you deserve, to be sure. But I'm not heartless, like you. I possess mercy in my heart."

Cloak's fearsome glare intensified.

"Killing you will not satisfy me, I admit," he continued, "but may be the Council will get their heads out of their collective backsides and see that they were wrong about your demise."

Gamemaster's terror seemed to slowly seep out of his body and evaporate.

"But you killed Cataclysm," he said.

"I did." Cloak confirmed. "It was not a decison I made lightly. It was a decision that still weighs on my mind to this very day."

"You killed Collector." Gamemaster said. It sounded like an accusation.

"I did not," Cloak said, very openly. "That was Malice."

Gamemaster looked at Cloak with a very odd look on his face. After a long moment, he said, "Why was I ever afraid of you?"

[theyoungphoenix]

Oh crap. This is gonna get interesting.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Ideals Clash is in Session

"Is that a challenge?" Cloak said, wearily unimpressed.

"You better believe it," the chimp said cheekily.

Cloak sighed, "First Light, I thought you had some modicum of intelligence, Gamemaster."

"I do. I am far stronger than you," he said.

Cloak easily understood what he was getting at, and sighed again at the sheer stupidity of it. "Why do the naive and morally corrupt believe that disregarding life directly equates to strength? Why do the naive and morally corrupt think that sacrificing a life is an easy thing to accomplish without a second thought? Gamemaster, just because you view the lives of those that you kidnap and enslave as worthless does not make you the stronger person here. Just because you are callous enouh to throw away their lives without a second thought, unrepentant, does not make you stronger or superior. That is a fallacy."

"And making lectures and posturing doesn't make you stronger," he countered. "Save your smugness, feline Walker, for you are your grandfather's embarrassment."

"You go too far, primate Walker," Cloak said, growling intimidatingly. He had not meant to growl, but Gamemaster had pushed a button he shouldn't have. "You have seemed to forgotten that I'm master of the Six Elements. I can crush your C.S.I. into nothingness with minimal effort."

Cloak had to stop and reassert control over his emotions, but he was breathing heavily from spurting anger.

"But you won't, will you?" the chimp said, smirking smugly.

"You'd be surprised what you can live through," Cloak snarled the threat.

"Is that a threat?" Gamemaster said, lighter than Cloak's tone warranted.

"Yes," Cloak said, roughly. Then he snapped his fingers and Gamemaster's feet were encased and embedded in the metal flooring. He could not free himself. "But, better yet, I'll bring you to the Council, corrupt as they may be. They'd be forced to see that they were wrong. They might even believe that --"

"Ugh!!"

An energy blade had appeared in Gamemaster's chest. The ape collapsed into energy, leaving only a cloak behind. Cloak was momentarily surprised before he cursed his allowing himself to become so narrow sighted in his lambasting of the chimp, and forgetting to observe his Metalsight. That mindset was problematic for Cloak.

"Sorry, Cloak. I can't let you -- whoa!"

Cloak fired an aerokinetic blast at Malice, furious at her impeding him, once again, from presenting positive proof that the Council was wrong. Not to mention that he was trying very hard to keep control over himself.

"Touched a nerve?" Malice said, infuriatingly coy.

Cloak said nothing, but felt an irate irritation at Malice. He wanted to hurt her . . . but, deep down, despite what outrage he felt, he knew that he couldn't kill her. It was hard enough to deal with slaying Cataclysm.

Malice quickly Walked away, and Cloak couldn't help but feel a little residual lividness.

[guitarhero01234]

DAMN, this chapter was intense. Too bad Gamemaster had to die, he was a cool, if sadly realistic, villain.

[redtailedsaffa]

Oh my god.

[theyoungphoenix]

Dam. I forget that Malice has like "perfect" timing when it comes to stuff like this.

[Cloak]

It's always wonderful when you see the precise reactions you want and are expecting after posting a chapter. And yes, this is the last chapter of this book. And I know the last bit is nust slightly evil.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Loose Ends

Estelore decided to undertake the responsibility to return all the former combatants to their former homes, based off of their species. This would take a while, unless Estelore found some sort of "home" button for the various species collected across the Prime Universe. She was willing do sacrifice her time and energy in this endeavor.

The other RAFians returned to the forum on Yarin's ship.

"So," the Nyac said, "anything interesting happened in there?"

A beat of abject silence.

"No," Cloak said, almost too forcibly, "no, nothing at all."

He shot a look at everyone to remember not to mention the entechment machine to the Nyac.

***

Malice, however, was none the worse for wear after her encounter with Cloak. Instead she was practically giddy about it. It was odd, seeing this new spring in her step. But she recently rediscovered the thrill of irritating Cloak and watching events that she spurred into motion come to their inevitable conclusion. Though one could make the argument that she was getting rather careless with her antics.

Or she could just be insane.

She was currently hurriedly burying what appeared to be a black box with ornate gold trim. She wasn't burying it to hide it though . . . she wanted it found, yes, but not by the weary-eyed owner of the box. It was some Titan who owned it . . . and Malice rather an innocent find the box and open it without an idea of what lurked within . . .

***

"Y'know," Saffa said, conversationally. It was a rather blustery winter day, and she and GH were bundled up tight. "It was fortunate that the others showed up when they did."

"Yeah," GH agreed, his favorite guitar slung over his back in the most carefully careless way, "it is. I would have destroyed you, otherwise."

Saffa stopped walking immediately. Her tone was dangerous. "What?"

"Oh, c'mon, Saffa, you know it's obviously true."

"No, it is not true," she replied heatedly, "obvious or not. If anything, I would destroy you."

GH snorted, "Surely, you jest!"

Saffa glowered at him, but GH wasn't quelled under it. Saffa decided that only one thing would settle this.

"You. Me. Danger Room. Five minutes." she growled dangerously. "Prepare to die -- or lose, I should say."

"We shall see who wins, Saffa!" GH countered.

[guitarhero01234]

In all fairness, Saffa could probably wipe the floor with my dead body if she wanted to. You mentioned that my tactics mostly involved faking the other combatants out, and being another RAFian, I'd imagine Saffa'd probably know all my tricks. Plus, there's that pesky morphing thing that I've heard about.

[Cloak]

Doesn't mean that you can't have a little bravado.

[guitarhero01234]

Wait . . . was I being humble in that last post? OH GOD, SOMETHING'S POSSESSED ME! THE MARK ISN'T WORKING!

[theyoungphoenix]

Omgs gh, you are too much.

[redtailedsaffa]

The morphing's not the only trick I have up my sleeve. Although Cloaky's worked that out brilliantly for me.

[Cloak]

Did I now?

New chapter.

BOOK XCVII:
THE BOX
CHAPTER ONE:
Uncovering

Two young boys, both from fairly affluent families, were walking along the beach. Their names were Dan Aplistia and Don Oburluk, and they were dressed rather preppy. They had escaped their nannies and came to thus beach where they felt safe. Don's father was just another generic, rich businessman that was never home, and his mother was a busy socialite. They only gave him enough to not be charged with child neglect. The overall effect was that Dan tended to overeat to compensate for this overt lack of love, obvious or subtle, in his life.

Meanwhile, while Dan's parents had similar parenting skills (or lack thereof), and their fathers were actually worked for the same company, they gave him whatever he wanted to placate him. This had the effect of making him spoiled, and making him expect not to have to work hard for anything. He was very possessive and controlling, and whatever he had was never good enough. He had to have more -- he always had to have more. He was lucky that Orange Lanterns do not recruit, or else he might very well possess an orange ring.

But considering how their family continually lobbied the government for programs and policies that would allow him and his fellows to make exorbitant profits at the expense of the middle-class and poor. And somehow the policies and programs go through.

It was remarkable that Dan and Don were friends, considering how much their personalities could clash. But they tended to compliment each other more times than not, though it was clear that Dan was the leader of the two and Don was the follower. But no matter how you sliced it, it was a toxic friendship.

They were talking about stupid inane political things, but they were really too young to really understand the concepts about what they were talking about. They were just really parroting their parents, what little they saw of them anyway.

Anyway, the two were walking out on the beach, nearby where Malice buried the box in loose sand. A corner edge peeked out of the sand, which was a semi-deliberate move on Malice's part. Though these kids were far from innocent, though that was more of a "sins of the father" thing.

Dan was the one who saw it first. He ran to it, easily unearthing the box.

"What is it, Dan?" Don asked.

"Mine!" Dan declared, selfishly.

"Hey!"

"What's mine is mine!" Dan said. Apparently, this sudden shift in his attitude was nothing new, according to his friend's reaction. "And mine and mine and mine, and mine, and mine!"

Dan dashed away.

"Not yours!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Don said, indignantly.

[redtailedsaffa]

What a shady book title.