Memoirs of a RAFian

[redtailedsaffa]

Well, that took a turn.

[theyoungphoenix]

Oh goodness do I have a lot to catch up on. Way to keep on these Cloaky! I'll have to catch up after all the craziness goes away.

[Cloak]

Yeah, especially because I have ideas for over 800.

Anyway, still workin' on Chapter 15. Probably gonna end with this book being the shortest one out of all 109.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
A Secret

"I disagree, Friend Cloak," Anomaly said, after a few minutes of considering. "Forgive me, but I believe your request wasn't selfish. Naturally, your concerns were not for yourself, and not me, but for your friends lost."

Cloak had not expected this response.

"Their opinion cannot be spoken for, with the universe in this state." Anomaly said, almost pensively. "While they technically can be put back as they once where, they do technically no longer exist."

"That doesn't mean that they don't matter, though," Cloak asserted, though he felt a pang of sadness as he thought of them. Well, except for maybe the one.

"I did not mean to imply they did, Friend Cloak," Anomaly said, very sincerely. "Forgive me, but I was just pointing out a technicality."

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, as Cloak looked around the white void, seeing no other Celestialsapiens. But he wasn't surprised. The void was vast and he had finite vision, as he had no earth with which to Earthsight, no metal to Metalsight. His eyesight may have been superior to human vision, which was a fact, but it was not infallible.

And he knew the reason why they didn't come over immediately from where they were, wherever that was, because they were not able to such unless both personalities were in agreement, and always spoke with two synchronized voices. If they didn't, they remained immobile and an encumbrance. Apparently unaware of their environment, while their duel personalities debate and bicker.

Anomaly did not know such debilitating drawbacks, and seemed to be actually sad about it. The reasoning was obvious, however. He was an outcast that had more individuality and paradoxically more personality than the others, but he was lonely. Not many other Celestialsapiens move or even speak.

"Forgive me, Friend Cloak," Anomaly said, "I don't think your request would be a problem, I don't think it would violate the Omniverse Protection Act."

"Then why are you apologizing? I don't think I understand, Anomaly," Cloak said.

"I am sorry, because," he said, almost if it was costing him something to be honest, "because my reluctance was . . . was not because I couldn't do it, legally. It was because . . . because . . ."

He lapsed into a sheepish silence. But Cloak got the gist, he thought.

"Because you were lonely," Cloak said. "You were lonely and . . . you didn't cause the reversal of time, did you?"

[Cloak]

Okay, I think this is the meat of this book now.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Means and Motive

"No!" Anomaly protested earnestly. Cloak thought he sounded genuine. Cloak sincerely wanted to believe that he was genuine. "No, I didn't! From what you told me, it was just an accident."

Cloak wanted to believe him. He really did. But his innate paranoia wouldn't allow him to leave the subject alone without a sound, solid answer. His suspicious nature would not allow the subject to drop.

"Please, Friend Cloak . . ."

Cloak said nothing. He kept his face inscrutable and blank. He had to be wrong. He had to be. He knew it in his heart. . . . But facts were facts. And thing about facts are, no matter how you try to distort them, they still remain, they linger, waiting to be discovered. No one could manage to bury the truth forever . . . but Cloak chose to look at this practically and pragmatically.

"Please . . ."

Anomaly had the motive, the motivation. He knew that were the universe destroyed again, that Cloak would be standing -- er, floating -- here. With him. He was lonely . . . quite lonely. Cloak understood that. He had experienced such loneliness firsthand. No one around to talk to, to understand, to love, to feel loved . . . he understood the loneliness of being an outcast as well. He was an outcast for being different as well, being an Elements Master and choosing to habitate with Realm Dwellers. But, honestly, the arrogance and pretentiousness and supercilious natures of the Realm Walker majority wears thin very quickly, not to mention the holier-than-thou attitudes a majority have toward Realm Dwellers, that gets old fast.

"Friend Cloak, please believe me. . . ."

Anomaly had the means to do it. It wasn't beyond the extent of his his powers or his abilities to accomplish. Cloak did not know what they couldn't accomplish. He did not the upper limit of Celestialsapien reality-warping abilities. He knew that a single one can recreate a universe, and surmised that it may take more to destroy a universe. But he did not know this for sure, for fact.

"I didn't do it, Friend Cloak," Anomaly insisted earnestly.

He took all these facts and weighed them all equally by relevance.

"Please, believe me, Friend Cloak," the Celestialsapien said, emphatically and sincerely.

"I do, Anomaly." Cloak said, having made his decision. " I do."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Remaking What Was

"You do?" Anomaly said, sounding relieved.

"I do," Cloak said, sticking to his decision, though his inner critic was picking apart the flaws in such a decision. But he made his decision, and he would stick to it.

"Thank you," Anomaly said.

"Since it wouldn't be against the Omniverse Protection Act," Cloak said, slowly, "do you think that you could recreate the universe?"

"Yes . . . but . . ."

Then an idea occurred to Cloak. "You can keep an eye on the universe, after you make it. Become this Realm's Watcher."

"Watcher?"

Cloak had gotten the idea from a species in another Realm, the Watchers. They were one of the oldest species in their Realm, and humanoid in form, with unusually large heads, though they apparently, as cosmic beings, were able to manipulate their own molecules. They were committed to observing and compiling knowledge on all aspects of their universe, preferably without any interference. This policy of non-interference of theirs was due to a well-meaning attempt by the Watchers to bestow knowledge on another, more primitive race, which resulted in the aforementioned race destroying itself.

"Someone who passively watches over the universe and ensures that this would never become necessary again," Cloak said. "To protect the universe from such threats."

Cloak could tell that Anomaly seemed very taken with the idea.

"But only interfere in the direst of circumstances," Anomaly mused.

"You look like this idea appeals to you," Cloak said.

"Because it does," he said, voice full of more purpose than he had last time. "But let's make everything as it it was. . . . except for the Planchakule -- at least that's what I assume that he or she was called -- getting anywhere near the TARDIS. Or else this will just happen all over again."

He closed his hand and said, with a resounding sound, "Motion carried!"

Then he drew his hand in a clockwise circle, and Cloak's vision suddenly exploded into a flurry f furious color and blurred shapes.

[Cloak]

New chapter. Penultimate one of this book.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Doubt

Everything was as it should be.

Aquiali's TARDIS was never attacked by the Planchakule, and, as such, he had no memory of the time reversal. Rotiart was still dead. Skinwalker and the like were still dead. So not everything was all happy-go-lucky.

Yet Cloak had his doubts.

Doubts about his decision to trust Anomaly. Doubts about his suggestion to Anomaly. Fears that he may have made a worse situation down the line. And, of course, he was the only one who remembered everything in its entirety.

He worried and fretted whether or not his decision was a good one. True, everything was perfect and just the way it was supposed to be. Even the nitty-gritty, unpleasant things were intact -- the Knights' hatred and fear of the "other" and the bigotry derived from that was in tact, resident blowhard Bern Bridges was still making outrageous claims with little merit or verification. There was still a wage disparity between the 99% and the uber-rich 1%. Racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism, narcissism, and such still existed.

Considering the alternative was no universe at all, you had to take the good with the bad. Otherwise, the world would be overly saccharine and just not real.

And, yet, Cloak felt . . . dissatisfied, in a sense, somehow. He did not know why. It made no sense. But, then again, he was rarely happy. So, perhaps that was the reason.

***

"What was that?
What was what?
What was that?
What was what?
Where, what, where, where,
What was that?!
SHH!"

Pause from the RAFians singing in an ensemble.

"Quick before the RAFParty ends!"

Parker shouted, "Clear!"

"Post a thread-a,
Post, post a thread-a.
When you're done,
You post another thread-a.
Post a thread-a,
Post a thread-a,
Quick before the RAFParty ends!
Post, post a thread-a.
Post, post a thread-a.
You could post
And never get done.
Post a thread-a.
Post, post a thread-a.
What was that?!"

Pause.

"Quick before the RAFParty ends!
Post a thread-a is what we do,
Life's a post, we dig that, too.
Posta thread is what we sing,
Post a thread is everything.
Text and smilies are a RAFian's friend,
Always more around every page's bend!
And when you get to your post's end,
Hallelujah, let's post again!
Post!
Post a thread-a,
Post, post a thread-a,
When it's done,
You post a bigger post!
Post a thread-a,
Post, post a thread-a.
What was that?!"

Pause, as Richard strolled by.

"Quick before RAFParty ends!"

"Post!" GH declared.

[Cloak]

Ooh -- so close. Last chapter of this book.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Malice Business

Meanwhile, Malice remained oblivious to all this goings on in the realm.

She saw to it that the current Realm Walker Council -- which had been reasonably good, considering they were really all that experienced with their posts, and not as greedy and selfish as fheir predecessors -- were replaced by people she thought that she could manipulate far easier, while disguised as a goat-form Realm Walker, using an ID mask.

Funny how no one ever considered an application of an ID mask like this in the Nexus. At least, before now.

Just how Malice unseated the previous council was unclear and a mystery, but it was quite possible she used misinformation and propaganda that they couldn't disprove satisfactorily to the people of the Nexus. The caustic damage that rumor and speculation can wrought is rather legendary.

She placed first a female snake-form Realm Walker with a wicked tongue, metaphorically-speaking, on the council . . . but, no, it wasn't Cloak's younger sister. Though she would be ambitious enough for the job, but she wouldn't have been a puppet to Malice, even disguised as a goat Realm Walker. This snake Realm Walker, however, was a bit less hostile and more flexible in her scruples.

She placed second a male leopard-form Realm Walker on the Council. He was naive, but stubborn. Easily-swayed, yet resilient. He would bend, but not break, to Malice's whims.

She placed third a male, ursine Realm Walker on the Council. He was powerful, yes, but he possessed a lot of inner darkness. Darkness that Mqlice, in her guise of course, could manipulate easily.

She placed fourth a male unicorn Realm Walker on the Council. He had allowed himself to succumb to the darkness inside his heart once, and had been fighting it off ever since. He was pretty much gonna be used as a "flag", using the misconception that unicorns, and unicorn-form Realm Walkers, could do no wrong.

She placed fifth and finally a vixen Realm Walker on the Council. It was not Faith. But this one would be a wild card that Malice might come to regret placing upon the council.

She had her puppets in place, so she was basically free to do as she pleased in the Nexus, as long as she wore her disguise. And she felt validated and vindicated through this underhanded political corruption. It was a coup, but it remained to be seen whether or not this grouping would last.

Especially as Malice got bored fairly easily with this, considering the ease she did this due to the diseased and rotting way the Realm Walker system tended to work. Soon enough, she quickly abandoned her scheme, even though it had worked and had seemed to continue to work, to torment Cloak and his RAFians some more.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CX:
DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY
CHAPTER ONE:
GH's Minstrel Ditty

"Tra-la-la!
We’ve got a pass of gold,
To lead us into times of old.
Pray let this weird minstrel be your guide!
Come see what treasures wait inside.
The wee lass, she had a hound,
‘Twas not allowed on the ground
Of this wondrous RAFfestival most merry.
But good Sir Hunter, he let her go,
Though he was clearly dealt a blow.
A blow most pay-ay-ay-ay-ay-nful and sad.
He felt dreadful, awful, and bad."

Hunter groaned dejectedly, as he walked away. Meanwhile, Cloak was blinking.

"Wha . . ."

"Don't ask," Saffa supplied, "just don't ask."

GH gave a theatrical gasp, and addressed Abby, Gaz and Genies:

"Beware, m’ladies, of the beast
Whose come to spoil the RAFian feast.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la."

Leatherhead roared, or tried to, as GH mimed fleeing in terror. Cloak looked at Saffa, who sighed resignly.

"The wee lass was all alone,
Upon her RAFaward throne.
Not one single friend to help her."

"Alright, already!" Saff said, getting annoyed.

Leatherhead smacked himself into the table right beside Saffa, falling over, looking somewhat confused, but unharmed.

"Brave Saffa, she slew the deadly beast.
Huzzah, Saffa, huzzah!
Although oddly-shaped and very small,
Saffa did not ignore the call.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Hey!"

Saffa was glaring daggers at GH. Leatherhead got up, rubbing his head. GH gave a theatrical gasp of fright.

"Oh, woe to all in west or east.
Saffa has failed to slay the beast!
She’s blundered, floundered, flopped.
Her incompetence shan’t be topped. --"

Suddenly, Saffa the girl was gone. Saffa the Shear Goliath was in her place. She was really irritated.

"Over the line?" GH asked.

<Way over the line,> Saffa agreed.


*Song source: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=RBi46T1BnJo

[guitarhero01234]

. . . What just happened?

[Cloak]

Exactly.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
Job Dissatisfaction

He wore a black cloak. It was his job uniform, and he wasn't sure that he particularly liked it. It was more like a hooded robe. Honestly, he didn't see why he had to. Especially in these modern days. Chiron got to were a suit -- not these stuffy robe cloak things.

He approached his first client of the day. It was an old man, asleep on his bed. The cloaked person was relieved. It was rarely this easy. This was good, considering how understaffed -- the old man flatlined and died. His spirit, soul, mind or whatever you wish to term it, left for whatever was beyond. This figure would not know -- he has never been, nor did he possess any curiosity about it.

His next client was not as simple and clean. It was a pyrophobic woman paralyzed with fear in a burning house. She was the next client upon his list, but she was not quiet ready. He had to wait but a moment or two before she was ready for the release he offered. It was not pleasant, very few were.

His following client was a surfer who wasn't particularly good. He had had his neck snapped on a hidden stone ledge, and he was offered immediate release. His spirit went wherever spirits went to. It wasn't his job to made sure they went to the other side. Not technically.

The next client he had was buried alive. Air was running out quickly. Too quickly. He wasn't gonna get free. His arms were thoroughly pinioned to his side. The figure had to ignore any feelings of altruism. He had to be basically heartless in his job, as he was performing a necessary function. He ended suffering. And yet there was a certain . . . unpleasantness to this business that prevented it from being a fulfilling -- oh, there. He's ready to be released. He obliged, as he was obligated.

He trudged toward his next client, feeling thoroughly aggrieved. It was someone who decided to jump out of a plane without a parachute. The lesson here was to never go skydiving while drunk. He released him the moment of impact. Ugh . . . they never appreciated what he did. He did a necessary service! It was essential to balance of things . . . talk about having a thankless job.

The part that broke the camel's back when he had to release people en masse in a mass shooting where a disturbed man had gotten his hands on a few high-magazine rifles. It was not an easy task to do, and no one was even grateful.to him for doing it!! All the angry, mutinous glares of the souls, or whatever the proper term for them was, as they lingered or went on.

Not one thankful! Even the ones who actively chose their moment of release! Their moment of death! Millenia he's been at this, and every soul or whatever blamed him for their poor decisions! Or instead of the people who were truly responsible!! Do they have any any idea just how much more they'd suffer had he not interceded? How much more pain they'd have to endure had he not released them from their prisons of matter?

No, of course not. But that doesn't matter to them. They assume that they know everything. They always assume that they have nothing to learn. The surreptitious arrogance! The conceited presumption!! The sanctimonious . . .

You know what? he thought angrily. I'm done!!

He collapsed his scythe and pocketed it.

Millenia I've been at this, now, he thought savagely. And I've never took a sjngle break! I've worked so hard, so diligently, and for what? I don't get any respect. People either fear or hate me for doing my job. A job that I've been doing FLAWLESSLY for century upon century!!

Then he spoke aloud.

"I have had enough. They can get someone else to do it from now on. They won't have Death to kick around anymore!"

[guitarhero01234]

Great, now you've made me want to listen to every Death album.

. . . PUUUULLLL THE PLUUUGGGG!!!!

[Cloak]

. . . And I have no idea who they are. This book is based off an episode of The Outer Limits.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
Breaking News

"Well, they did it!" Bern Bridges said. "I don't know how they royally screwed this up, but they did! These RAFians, media darlings as they are, have wrought the beginning ofunending torment for good poeple like you, dear listeners, and me!"

He paused, as his jowls still quivered, to partake in his drink some.

"Death has gone from our world, listeners," he said. How he could have said that with a straight face was anyone's guess, but he spoke it with such total pedantic authority, which would make the gullible believe him immediately. "Even Death itself has been n offended enough to forsake us!! Now, I don't expect you to believe me, so I'll give some evidence."

And he prattled off a list of things that could be easily argued against as either coincidence or Bern Bridges reading too much into. But he chose to present it as undeniable proof of his thesis, thst Death is no longer doing his, or her, job. And that it was, somehow, the RAFians' fault. One had to wonder whether or not he actually worked on being so infernally difficult to listen to. Or being such a caustic personality*.

"Now, I know my opponents will come up with a whole littany of excuses to disprove these facts," he wheezed. He was yelling and screaming a few moments ago, as people who haven't the substance to back up their claims and policies often do. As the people who don't have a metaphorical leg to stand on are often inclined to resort to. "But none of there excuses -- none -- hold water. None are viable. I won't waste your time -- or mine -- by going though them."

In another words, he couldn't. Classic Bern Bridges misdirection.

"But this, dear listeners, is why we must do something about this RAFian menace!" he declared, setting his jowls aquiver once more. "We cannot allow their kind from continually interfering with our way of life! We managed things just fine before they came here! Well, listeners, I've said my piece, and I leave you to the capable hands of -- those two idiots."

***

But it was true. Death would not come, no matter what. Bern Bridges may have been a blowhard and nearly always wrong, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.

A couple of teenagers impale themselves on the stone teeth of a dragon statue when they learn of the deathlessness state of the world. They had taken it to mean that they couldn't be hurt. Just because deathlessness occurs does not mean that invulnerability occurs as well. Just because you can't die does not mean you can't feel pain and you can't be maimed. They did not die, of course, though they woukd have had Death himself not decided that he was due a vacation. They were in incredible pain, pain that they would have to suffer through.

A teenager allowed himself to be buried alive, knowing that he wouldn't die. But that did not eliminate the fear. And, with such an inescapable fear, comes trauma. Just because you can't die, it doesn't eliminate the fear of death overnight. That fear is ingrained biologically in most species. In most individuals.

A teenager who was to be a sacrificed in some satanic, pagan ritual by those he once called friends, didn't die. And this painstaking ruse his "friends" worked to craft began to unravel. They weren't satanists or anything, they were just play acting. And they just wanted to kill this teenager, and when he didn't die, they panicked and left.

Another teenager, having heard about the deathlessness and assumed that made him basically Superman, decided to prove it by . . . lighting himself on fire. All he proved was just how bad of an idea this was, and he was severely burned. And in agony, suffering. And nothing to end that suffering.

Yet another teenager, no longer fearing death, swam a loch in search for the monster living there and, had death existed, he would have drowned. He didn't find anything, by came up to discover that he had numerous problems with his body, including having is left lung ruptured. Just because you can't die, doesn't mean you're immune from negative consequences.

More and more such scenarios occurred, whether due to carelessness, recklessness, or sheer dumb luck. They all suffered, and there would be no end to their suffering.


*Is this too on the nose? Considering who Bern Bridges is somewhat based off of?

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Council

"Is this real?"

"Are we really immortal?"

"That means we're invincible, then!"

"Don't be stupid. One does not mean the other."

"Don't call me stupid!"

"I will call it how I see it."

"I'll kill you for that insult!"

"You can't! No. You literally can't."

"Settle! Settle down, everyone," Richard said. The mods had called an assembly to brief the RAFians of this new discovery. "We called this meeting to discuss what we can do about this new event. It would appear to that no one . . . uh, that no one can . . . can, um, die."

There was no getting over how stupid that sounded, no matter which why it was put. The concept of death was so ingrained in any society of beings who can die, no matter how long-lived they were. It was not a foreign concept to them.

Cloak himself held no fear of death, no held any desire for immortality outside the metaphorical kind as in immortality through a legacy. He never understood the attraction for literal immortality. He would find it boring after the first decade, or century in Dweller Earth terms. And if he hated one thing, it was being bored.

"You can't be serious," Parker said, dismissively.

"I assure you, Parker," Richard said, calmly and evenly, "we wouldn't have called this meeting if we didn't have evidence on the subject matter. A number of incidents should have ended in the victim's death, if the reports of their injuries are accurate. The government believed that this was our territory."

"Yeah, I doubt this is a problem your average police officer can solve," Saffa noted.

"But can we?" Sam said. "I will do whatever I must, but I must know -- what exactly can we do about this."

"I have a theory," Cloak said. "I postulate that perhaps there is a personification of death itself."

"That's stupid," Parker said, with acerbic dismissal.

"So says the guy in the spaceman outfit," Cloak retorted easily, before continuing. "And this personification has stopped performing his -- or her or it, as the case may be -- duty."

"Assuming that's right," Abby said, "why would he, she, it, whatever, want to quit?"

Cloak took a brief moment to consider, "Perhaps he felt . . . underappreciated."

"What makes you say that?"

"Would you be happy to meet death?" Cloak asked.

[guitarhero01234]

And then Death got a job at Texas Roadhouse and quickly realized that things are no different.

[Cloak]

Housekeeping at a long-term facility wasn't much better. Especially considering how much nepotism the administrator had. Then again, Death had already visited the place a few times --

Wow. That got dark. Sorry!

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Goin' Fishin'

Death himself was sitting on a pier with a yew fishing rod, whose line was a mixture thread of sphinx hair, unicorn hair, and thestral hair intertwined with each other almost imperceptibly. Death found himself favoring this instrument rather than the typical scythe that he was expected to be seen with.

He had disposed with his usual uniform, in favor of a pair of black slacks, black shoes, a white shirt with a black sports jacket. He did not appear to be the rail-thin, Jafar-like character mostly seen in caricature. He was a little hefty, a little balding -- more like what one would assume of Dionysus or Jason Alexander. He did not look like the embodiment, the personification, of death itself, with this easily-overlooked, unassuming, if.not somewhat morose form.

It was about time he took some down time. The offices of death had been severely understaffed for eons, with him being the only member! Eh, the office stuff was all metaphorical anyway. He was the personification of death, and it was all he had ever known. But how can someone do what they need to do, when all they get is resentment and uncloseted hatred? Sure, he could be aloof, turn the other cheek, and pretend that it didn't bother him. That's how he got through the first few million years. It was easy as those creatures didn't attain sentience -- at least as far as he knew.

But then, more recently actually, when you looked at the scale of things, it had been harder. He had to harden his heart, knowing that he was just doing as his job description demanded. There was no joy in it. No satisfaction. It was just something that needed to be done. But no one was ever grateful for it. No one was ever satisfied, especially with the finality of it.

No. He definitely needed a break. . . .

Then why was this injustice dominating his thoughts? He came here to relax, to release some pent-up frustrations. Yet, he kept coming back to dwell upon these embittered memories and unhappy thoughts. Why? Why was he doing that? It was preventing him from enjoying himself.

He had to let it go . . . but it was not an easy thing to do. Death isn't suppose to hold grudges, and he knew that. But he couldn't help the fact that he carried a grudge on how unfair his lot in existence. He couldn't help but feel hard-done-by, and wronged. He tried to be what people expected him to be -- cold, unfeeling, and without mercy or morals. But the truth was, that wasn't him.

He actually did feel for the souls he released. Some of them deserved what they got, he felt, but others, more than the former by far, didn't. But his jib called for a certain ruthlessness that he did not like having. He knew that these were people with lives and loved ones. But . . . his job was to stop them from suffering the ceaseless pain they would have felt otherwise.

Not to mention, that it was part of the natural order. Immortality was a myth, and all things will die eventually. And, considering that he was Death, it would be him who reaps them all. It did not fill him with a masochistic glee, as some are wont to expect. Then, when all is said and dead, he would reap himself.

What a sad life, or death, or some twilight of the two, he had led to this point. He felt depressed . . .

And, to top it off, he still hadn't caught a single fish!