Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Yes. Yes, I did.

New book ideas.

• Book CMXI: "Return of the Black Lanterns" -- A Mormo ressurects the Black Lantern Corps.
• Book CMXII: "Touchy, Touchy" -- The RAFians try to help a terrified Osmosian.
• Book CMXIII: "Goom's Rivalry" -- Goom's rival arrives at the forum.

Don't think that I rehashed anything. Let me know what you think!

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
You Can't Handle the Truth!!

"Your fault?" Broken said at once. "But how --"

She tried to meet his eyes, but found that she couldn't, so her gaze returned to the floor. She did not know where these feelings of shame and guilt came from precisely, but she felt them overly-judiciously. She felt very anxious, as Broken seemed to understand everything at once.

"Your mock Veritaserum," he said, quietly. "But you sealed in a bottle. It was well-sealed, as well. How could it --"

Melissa broke into fearful tears when she thought of what the two Lascivia brothers had intended to do to her, had she not had means to defend and protect herself. And she cried for their previous victims, as she was sure there was.

"Melissa?" Broken's tone wasn't hard or severe. His tone was as kind and as gentle as the situation called for. "Melissa . . . what . . . what happened?"

Melissa finally managed to meet Broken's eyes with her watery, teary eyes. Then she started to regale everyone present with her tale. . . .

***

And while all this was happening the city was ensconced in the Veritaserum mist, which meant that no one who wasn't magical, or prepared and skilled Occlumency, could lie.

Both parents of a small child confessed to the boy that his birth was a mistake and an accident, and could stop it from coming out. But it was the truth, at least, as both parents saw it. The boy fled from the people that apparently didn't want him . . .

The parents of a small girl, who was overlooked by them in favor or her glamorous, older siblings, had confessed that they did, in fact, love them more. But t wasn't really clear if their crass answers to her query was due to the Veritaserum mist or lack of common sense.

A man was discharged from his military position because he had lied about his age to enlist. He was actually underage, too youn to enlist, though he looked older. This was a result of being questioned under the effects of the Veritaserum mist, which compelled him to tell the truth, but it was clear that he was fighting it.

Another man was driven from town when, under the effects of Veritaserum mist, he admitted to being a peeping tom, when questioned about his plans for the night, in public.

Another man revealed himself to be member of an assassin's guild that a certain RAFian has had a history with. He confirmed his killings and those of his daughter. All because of the Veritaserum mist.

A woman -- a self-proclaimed psychic in the vein of Ms. Cleo and Yuri Geller -- outted herself as a fraud and charlatan due to the Veritaserum mist. It was quite by accident, as she was called up by some douchey teenager who asked if she was real, and she was compelled and forced to be truthful.

A man with a fondness of riddles was forced to admit whrn he didn't know the answer to one, much to his embarrassment.

And another poltician was forced, by the Veritaserum mist, to confess that he no only had links to organized crime, but they were even his donors. He struggled against revealing it, but did just the same.

An heiress was forced to abandon the airhead persona that she had adopted to get people to underestimate her, proving her true intelligence. While thst wasn't somethjng to be ashamed or embarassed, she was. But considering how heartless her father was, it was probably not too surprising she had this persona as a coping mechanism, to ignore her father's overt neglect and indifference.

A Dan Hibiki-type of characterhad to admit the only reason he opened a martial arts dojo was for the money, and he was overtly disappointed at the considerable like of revenue.

And an old fraud passing herself off as a medium to con desperate, gullible people out of their money was forced, due solely to the Veritaserum mist, to come out with the truth, which led to a conspicuous downward spike in her profits.

And a has-been actor admitted to taking illicit substances and several suicide attempts, and just generally being unhappy. Though this may not have been prompted by the Veritaserum mist, it was difficult to tell.

And a neighborhood bully revealed to be really insecure about his own self-worth, so he took it on others, transferring mentally the qualities he most hated about himself onto them.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
For Good, For Bad

More and more was this inability to tell even the whitest of lies was causing strife and turmoil. If there was any positive consequences of this Veritaserum mist, it was so thoroughly overshadowed by the negative.

A police officer confessed to his blatant corruption and abuse of power, which was already evident.

A boy admitted to having some eco-terroristic tendencies and proclivities.

A girl admitted to pretending to cry to manipulate others and get her way.

Another boy confessed his suicidal tendencies, and he was immediately given help. One of the positive things that the Veritaserum mist wrought, but it was few and far between.

A flappy man opened a dojo and he had to confess that he didn't know a thing about martial arts, street fighting or anything. He was compelled to admit that he was a charlatan and a fake.

A demurred, studious, reserved woman was allowed, due to the Veritaserum mist, to tell what her heckling classmates what she really thought of them, which in turn humiliated them into silence.

A cold, embittered man outted himself as a racist, sexist, and all-in-all horrible bigot, due to this Veritaserum mist. This alienated him from most -- but not all -- of his neighbors.

A promiscuous woman was forced by the Veritaserum mist to confirm that she had slept around to her rather flighty boyfriend, who demanded that he was his chosen mate's first . . . this led to a downward spiral of the dysfunctional relationship decending into the depths of misery.

A professional wrestler reveals the secret complexities and theatrics of the sport, though not saying whether it was fake or not.

Then a particularly evil woman was compelled to admit that she was a black widow, a woman who marries a man, kills him, declare it was an accident, and move on to the next victim, after securing the wealth of the previous one.

***

"I'm sorry," Melissa said, sincerely, as she completely her story, including her speculatikn that her emotions had busted the two-liter bottle, and, perhaps, transfigured it into a mist.

But Broken, Cloak, Saffa, and Abby dismissed the apology as unnecessary.

"It's hardly your fault," Broken said. "If you didn't do what you did -- well, I'd rather not think about it, to be honest."

"But it was my Veritaserum that caused all of this," Melissa said.

"But it wasn't Veritaserum," Broken said, without any asperity in his tone. When Melissa made to tearfully protest, Broken intercepted it with gentle alacrity, "Please, do not misunderstand me, my apprentice. What I meant was that Veritaserum does not have the ability to become an aerosol mist, like yours did. While it may share some properties with Veritaserum, whatever this mist is, it is not Veritaserum, but something new entirely."

"Veritaserumist?" Melissa said. "Truth Mist?"

"As good a name as any," Broken said.

"But just what do we do about it?" Cloak said, piping up from his corner.

"What do you mean? Everyone's telling the truth now. That's a good thing, isn't it?" Melissa asked.

"Perhaps on paper it is," Cloak said, his voice firm and serious. "But believing that only good can come out something like this is a bit naive, Melissa. I know you're still young --"

"I'm eighteen-years-old!" she protested. "I'm not a child!"

"I didn't say you were," Cloak said, oddly placid.  "I said that you were young."

"You're not that much older," she countered, evidently feeling defensive.

"Melissa, he's over two hundred and fifty years your senior, in our years," Abby said.

The girl looked nonplussed.

"Realm Walker years are equivalent to ten of --" Saffa began.

"Never mind all that, it's not important," Cloak said. "This Truth Mist cannot remain hanging around. It will plunge the city in to sheer and abject chaos."

"How can you be so sure about that, though?" Melissa persisted.

"The truth," Cloak said, unintentionally dramatic, "is not always painless."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Talk of Antidotes, Song of Confessions

"I don't . . . what did you mean by --" Melissa said.

"It's immaterial," Cloak said, using his favorite phrase to dodge questions he rather not answer, "the point is how we can neutralize this Truth Mist. Veritaserum has an antidote, right? Broken?"

"For Veritaserum, yes," Broken said. "But, again, Truth Mist is not Veritaserum, but something new entirely."

"But Veritaserum was its basis, yes?"

"Not . . . not quite," Broken said, struggling not to be overly and overtly harsh on Melissa and her concoction. But he knew very well what the Realm Walker was getting at. "An antidote could be synthesized, it's true. But, taking into account the numerous unknown variables, it would be exceedingly difficult, if not nigh on impossible, to do."

"We've done impossible things before," Saffa pointed out.

"This," Broken said, quite seriously, "is different. We have no leads, no starting off points. Melissa has said that she didn't know what happened precisely to make the Truth Mist as it is, in its current state. Failing that, who knows how long it would take to find the proper antidote to this?"

Melissa shrunk away from the cinversation, feeling horribly, horribly reaponsible for this.

"We have to stop this somehow," Cloak said stubbornly.

"If you have a faster alternative, Realm Walker," Broken said, getting rather testy, "I would love to hear it."

***

Meanwhile, the chaos of being unable to deal in mistruths continued, and the societal and cultural chaos that went with it continued as well.

A man was singing to his girlfriend:

"These are my confessions.
Just when I thought I said all I can say,
I came up with more secrets to tell you today,
These are my confessions.
First, I told you 'bout the skunk furry that I was cheatin' with?
Then I mentioned she's havin' my kid?
That's not all, now I recall more, you see,
So I'll give you all three of my confessions.
Now this gon' be the hardest thing I think I ever had to do.
Gonna tell you everything I left out, before you toodle-loo.
Like, remember when I told you that I knew Mandy Moore (Mandy Moore)?
That's a lie, I don't know what I said that for.
I borrowed your chopsticks from you ,without asking,
Oh, and I tried out your back hair trimmer, too.
And by the way, your 'Pokemon Diamond' version is really cubic zirconium.
I killed your Nuzlock Goldeen accidentally, just replaced it with another one.
These are my confessions.
Just when I thought I said all I can say,
I need to get some things off my chest right away!
These are my confessions.
Slipped my mind the last two times, silly me,
Now I guess I gotta give you all three of my confessions.
Threw up on your cat last time I had too much to drink,
There've been times when I peed in your sink.
Don't know why but you and I should agree,
That belongs in all three of my confessions.
Honey, forgive me, I'm still trying to figure out
Why I used your toothbrush to clean off the bathroom grout!
Oh, and sometimes in private,
Really like to dress up like Justin Bieber
And spank myself with a leek stick, (leek stick).
My boss thinks I'm a jerk, didn't get that raise,
I haven't changed my mind in twenty-seven days.
And when I'm kissing you I fantasize you're a Poké,
I'm so sorry Bridget, I mean Debbie!
These are my confessions.
Just when I thought I said all I can say,
I got a few more secrets I'd like to convey.
These are my confessions.
Slipped my mind the last two times, silly me,
Now I guess I gotta give you all three of my confessions.
Gave you buttered toast I dropped and picked up off the floor.
FYI, it was not a dinosaur (not a dinosaur).
Whoops, my bad!
(Hope you're not sore at me!)
But you'll be madder at me when I finish all three of my confessions."

Then he switched to regular, though somber speech, saying, "You don't know how hard it is for me to tell you this, but you remember that shirt you got me for my birthday? Well, I returned it for store credit. That thing was hideous, what on Earth were you smoking? Oh, B-T-W, I wasn't really sick last week. I just didn't want to go to your stupid office picnic. Oh, and when I told you at breakfast we were all out of Apple Jacks, what I meant was . . . there was only enough left for me. . . . Sorry."

Then he switched to song again:

"These are my confessions.
Just when I thought I said all I can say,
I thought of some more things that should scare you away.
These are my confessions.
Slipped my mind the last two times, silly me,
I guess I gotta give you all three of my confessions.
Once I blew my nose and then I wiped it on your mat.
And I lied, yes, that dress makes you look fat!
Anyway, I shouldn't say anymore,
'Til I give you all four of my confessions!"

Then he switched back to spoken word, saying, "I mean, I'm just getting started here. I'm not even halfway down the list! This thing could go on for . . . hey! Hey, where are you goin'?"

For his girlfriend had rose and quickly crossed to the door.

"Honey?"

She exited the room with a quick snap to the door.

The man was still nonplussed, "What? Was it something I said?"

No reply came back. No response could be seen or heard, from behind the door. The man was only left to say, in a rather misogynistic manner, "Women . . ."

[redtailedsaffa]

So, the truth really is out there.

...

I'll excuse myself now.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Sampling the Mist

"Boys, boys, boys!" Saffa said, defusing the situation as only she could -- with wry sarcasm and acerbic humor. "There's no need to get all tense and all that. You two or overlooking a simple solution that could alleviate this."

"What?" the two irascible RAFians said, rather snappishly.

"Hey, no need for that tone," Saffa said, asserting herself easily. She allowed the briefest of pauses before stating her solution, "Guys, just go and get a sample of the mist and concoct the antidote from that."

"I've already sent Cerulean out to collect some samples," Abby said, coming away from the door. She had crossed to the door when Broken and Cloak were having their difference of opinion.

"But we don't know how long it'll take!" Broken protested profusely.

"If Goom, Yarin, and Aquilai can do it in a span of a few hours --"

"They are three, I am one," Broken said, testily.

"But," Melissa spoke up, her voice quiet and timid, "there will be two working on the antidote."

***

Meanwhile, the city's quiescence had seemed to be instantly changed into chaos. There were fights, arguments, emotions running high. It was remarkable how much damage, how much hurt, how much pain, simply speaking the unvarnished truth.

The naked truth, the honest feelings.

Yet chaos spewed forth when it was told. These honest feelings of likes and dislikes caused people to feel so horrible about themselves. Surely, it couldn't be all negative, Cerulean found himself thinking as he filled up one bag with the Truth Mist.

The sober truth, the earnest beliefs.

Funny. Funny how beliefs can be so hurtful. The old adage that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" was flawed logic. Words can and do hurt, no matter whether truthful or lies concocted to wound. And words leave no physical mark, but they can leave marks upon one's psyche. And beliefs can be the culmination of such vitriolic lies, and such beliefs are difficult to dissuade with facts, by the more stubborn lot of society.

The gospel truth, the unchanging attitudes.

Interesting. Interesting how stubborn, inborn attitudes become more pronounced when any deception was taken off the table. How overt their bigotry and hate became, especially when the niceties of societal decorum of hiding such ugly things becomes moot.

The straight-up truth, the straightforward thoughts.

Fascinating how violent, how destructive, how volatile people could be when all filters were removed. How candidly they wore their thoughts on their sleeves, how overtly they wore their emotions. And how by doing such proved to be dangerous and volatile.

Cerulean had collected several bags of the Mist, which seemed to contiually span outwards, but didn't seem to be losing any potency. Having seen the disarray and chaos of the city, unable to tell even the whitest of lies, unable to spare people's feelings . . .

The truth was about to be out there . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Labels and Samples

"Here's the samples," Cerulean said, handing them over.

"You didn't need to get so many," Melissa said, almost tentatively.

Broken indulged himself with a small smile, "Apprentice Spellman, your optimism is decidedly refreshing. But make no mistake, we will problem make mistakes. We will probably take risks, make miscalculations, and (it's very likely) get messy."

"And he's Ms. Frizzle now," Abby smirked impishly. Saffa allowed a small smile, while Broken and Cloak looked less than amused.

"Wait, I thought it was 'Mrs.' Frizzle," Cerulean interjected.

"No, no, it's 'Ms.'" Abby corrected.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Cloak said, seriously and humorlessly, as Broken and Melissa had already taken their leave. The three looked at him, noting his surly behavior.

"Cloak," Saffa said, knowingly and compassionately, "what's going on?"

The Realm Walker said nothing, and simply turned his back on them. He didn't want to talk about it. About his frustrations with this paternal ancestor of his, of Aniyu. He kept silent on his frustrations with a Realm Walker long dead.

He didn't know why it was so important to him, and he would never be able articulate it aloud. But it was. And the fact that he he didn't know why, this uncertainty was maddening for him.

Perhaps it was because Aniyu was paternal ancestor of his. And Cloak knew nothing about his father's family. His mother, Ursa, wouldn't have it when he was younger. He only knew her side well, and that just the way she wanted it, the incurable selfish narcissist.

He had never even met his paternal uncles, and he suppositively had two of them. Uncles related to him by ichor, his father's older and younger brother. He didn't even really know their names. And he only spoke to his paternal grandfather once, when he was fifteen. A conversation long since forgotten.

"Cloak . . .?" Abby prompted.

"It's nothing," Cloak said, repressively. Then he left the room, and the board building entirely, before going to his thread.

Cloak knew he might be labelled as an emo for this, but he didn't really care. The thoughts of others who live to disparage others mattered very little in the grand scheme of things. And they are usually the people who the worst thing to happen to them was having a poorly-timed pimple and other such trival matters.

He would just wait for Broken and Melissa to come up the antidote, and innoculate the mist with it. While he didn't like deceptions and lies, the mist also prevented the most meager lies crafted to spare the feelings of others. And hurt feelings often lead to anger. And anger leads to hatred. And hatred often led to hostility and violence. And violence led to suffering.

It had to be stopped. But there wasn't anything the feline Realm Walker could do at this point to stop it . . .

[Cloak]

Buttload of new book ideas.

• Book CMXIV: "A Touch of Silver" -- The RAFians must help an argentokinetic.
• Book CMXV: "Jockeying For Position" -- The RAFians must deal with creatures called Spine Jockeys.
• Book CMXVI: "Not Very Sharp" -- A sharp-witted boy, who hides his intelligence, finds a very special suit.
• Book CMXVII: "Punch Drunk" -- A recovering alcoholic finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXVIII: "A Joint Venture" -- An orthopedist finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXIX: "For the Birds" -- A birdwatcher finds a very special phleobotium suit.
• Book CMXX: "Filth" -- A dirty man finds a very special phlebotinum suit.
• Book CMXXI: "Glutton For Nourishment" -- A greedy boy finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXII: "This is Not the Thread You're Looking For" -- A fashion designer/fashionista finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXIII: "Frag!" -- A demolitions expert finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXIV: "Fungus Amongst Us" -- A fungologist fjnds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXV: "Gene Domination" -- A geneticist finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXVI: "Blood-Stained Glass" -- Twins find two very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXVII: "Kinetic Potential" -- A pacifist finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXVIII: "This Isn't Logical" -- A political campaigner finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXIX: "Sign By the Dotted Line . . ." A businessman finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXX: "The Muscle Man" -- A muscle-bound man finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXXI: "You've Got a Lot of Nerve" -- A neurologist finds a very special phlebotium suit.
• Book CMXXXII: "The . . . Pain . . ." -- A masochistic CNA (certified nursing assistsnt) finds a very special phlebotium suit.

All titles are subject to change.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
The Process

Melissa and Broken went swiftly to work, as apprentice and teacher. It was in this that they happened to develop a rather cordial, platonic relationship. But their task still laid before them, weighing on them.

They tried to Transfigure the Mist -- FOOM!

A burst of yellow, green, and red smoke beget a raincloud over Broken's head, which eventually rained itself out. On his head. He wasn't too thrilled about it.

They tried to heat it up using Firaga -- very dangerous in mixing magicks, but Broken was really hoping for a miracle -- FOOM!

A burst of purple, red, and green smoke and Melissa abruptly took on the appearance of the Queen of England.

"What?" she inquired, as the illusion thst manifested began to evaporate away in odd strips.

"Nothing," Broken lied.

They tried to Charm it -- FOOM!!

A burst of yellow, green, and purple smoke and suddenly Melissa let loose a tremendous roar-like burp. She said, in an embarrassed timid voice, "Excuse me."

They tried to cool and coalesce it with Blizzaga --FOOM!!

A burst of purple, red, and yellow smoke and suddenly the Mist were rather disgusting-looking marshmallows.

"Don't think the housekeeping elves will be too happy with that," Broken muttered, "it's stuck to the table."

"'Houskeeping elves'?" Melissa queried.

"House-elves," Broken clarifed, before saying, " let's press on."

They tried to curse it -- FOOM!!!

A burst of purple, red, and orange smoke, and suddenly Melissa was a mouse, but Broken muttered some incantation and reverted her to her normal form.

"Let's no do that again, please," Melissa said.

They tried to use electrolysis on it with Thundaga -- FOOM!!!

A burst of orange, green, and yellow smoke, and suddenly it was raining brains. Broken quickly Vanished the brains, and ended the spell with but an incantation.

"Brain storming," Melissa said, more to herself than anyone else.

They tried to Vanish it -- FOOM!!!!

A burst of purple, green, and blue smoke, and, suddenly, Broken was invisible. But he became visible again with a wave of his hand and a mumbled incantation. No more did they dwell upon it.

The tried using Aeroga on it -- FOOM!!!!!

A burst of purple, orange, and green smoke and Broken had to stamp out a fire on his coat.

"This doesn't leave this room," Broken said.

"My lips are sealed." Melissa said, indulging herself in a furtive smile.

More and more they tried, but they seemed unable to get more than simple, although comical, side effects. Broken didn't like that this was taking so long. They didn't know how long it would be before that Mist spread to the whole world. . . .

Broken was also having doubts about his own magical ability, and qualms of whether or not he was up to this challenge.

[redtailedsaffa]

Heh, you went full Yoda back there.

[Cloak]

Anyway, sorry for the delay.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Agitation and Restlessness

You are needed . . .

Focus . . .

They need you . . .

Focus now, Cloak . . .

You are letting them down . . .

Focus . . .

You are shirking your responsibilities . . .

It was no good. He couldn't meditate. His mind was too busy, buzzing with distracted thoughts, irritating memories, and the like. Focus of the sort required was just short of impossible.

And if he couldn't meditate, he couldn't find Aniyu, couldn't find out more of his father's side of the family. He burned with curiosity about that, which could possibly be a failing due to his feline form and nature. In any case, it didn't matter as he would not he able to do it while this whole Truth Mist thing was going on.

His condemnable sense of duty would not allow him to just ignore it. He was always a worrywart and took everything as his responsibility. Again, probably due to his past working hard to appease his mother in any way, and never succeeding to reach her high, lofty standards.

He had to do something to help with the effort.

But Realm Walkers, if anything, are only rudimentary magic-users, if anything. Cloak supposed that can from them being essentially magic teflon. Granted, he managed to use "expellocorpus", but that wasn't really a recognized spell by whoever's authority it was to officially recognize such things as legitimate.

He left his thread, as he strode toward the boundary of the forum, thinking and pondering the extent of what he could do. He wasn't accustomed to being unable to help, though he wasn't capable of doing everything.

Doesn't mean that he wouldn't try, though.

He may not be able to stop it, but maybe he could contain it somehow. . . .

[Cloak]

Now, the daily chapter tomorrow will come later. Roughly 6:30 or 7:00 my time.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Synthesis Successful and the Voice of Vitriol

"Wait," Melissa said, acknowledging the two's lastest concoction, "no flashes. No bangs. No spontaneous combustion."

"Let's not talk about that last one," Broken said, clothes still steaming. Then, in the same breath, he changed tact, "but, yes. It does appear that we found a way to neutralize the Truth Mist."

"We wouldn't have made this kind of head way if we didn't go off the Veritaserum antidote you had," Melissa said. "We probably should have started with that, Cody."

They were on first name terms now, due to a mutual respect.

"I wanted to cover all the bases," Broken said. "Granted, it probably was against my better judgement to mix magicks. Fortunately, the volatility wasn't particularly . . . explosive."

"Was that a real consideration?" Melissa inquired.

"Possibly," Broken replied vaguely. "But now that we have this, we must find the best way to innoculate it into the Truth Mist. We don't want it spreading any further."

"Allowing deception to exist again," Melissa said, admitting some doubt.

"No spell or potion is absolute or infallible," Broken said. "There would always something or someone that could get around it. Infallibility is a ruse, Melissa. Everyone and everything is fallible. The Truth Mist is no exception."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, earnestly.

***

What was amazing, though, was Bern Bridges was still able to make his vitriolic, specious rants without any ill effect. All his anti-RAF propaganda, all his fallacious arguments, all his erroneous factoids -- none of it seemed affected by the Truth Mist.

How could this be?

The answer to that question was simple, as the Truth Mist disabled any deception, not really forcing the absolute truth unless directly confronted and asked accordingly. Also, it was possibly because he "drank the Kool-Aid". That is to say, that he honestly and earestly believed every word he uttered about the RAFians. This perception meant that, in his view, he wasn't lying, despite the numerous illogical errors, surreptitious assumptions, and shaky conclusions in his assertions.

This proved the fundamental Achilles' heel in both Veritaserum and this Truth Mist. Both took the truth to be rather subjective, based on the individual perception of the individual in question.

Though it could just be proof of just how warped Bridges' mind was, that his perception of the truth was grossly off-kilter. Yeah, that was more likely.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Containment Considerations

Cloak had formed a golden-scarlet energy disc. He stood upon it, and flew over the city, in the hopes of seeing the spread of this Veritaserumist, this Truth Mist. He was trying to see how viable it would be to try to contain it.

It was a bit disheartening. At least 96.2% of the city was covered by the Truth Mist. It was inconceivable that this mist came from a simple two-liter bottle. Came from such a bottle and expanded so much so quickly. It almost like an invasive animal or plant which had no natural checks and proliferated with astonishingly rapidity, like kudzu.

Cloak considered the course of action he should take.

He could not enclose the city in earthen wall, as it would essentially blocking every city dweller inside the city. With the Mist. It might, though unlikely, contain the Mist, but the denizens of the city were not likely to see it that way. That was out.

The same thing with anything metal or his own bichromatic energy. That was out.

He would not use the Fire Element, he could not use the Fire Element. He did not know if the Mist, despite the term "mist", was either flammable or explosive. It would most likely not go over well. Not to mention his innate pyrophobia.

Maybe if the Mist was water-based he could halt it that way, using that avenue. . . . He tried, but it was potion droplets suspended in air. And Cloak had no mastery over potions, not like he had mastery and command over the Six Elements. Granted, he didn't really try (perhaps if he used his powers at their absolute zenith, but he was too afraid to ever go to that level).

Perhaps if he could generate trees from the ground to filter out the Mist? He never really formed fully-formed trees like that plan would have to account for. And he wasn't even sure if a tree could filter out the Truth Mist, so it would have been an exercise in futility in that scenario.

The last consideration that he conceived was rather more simple. A simple aerokinetic dome. But he was sure that there ramifications and consequences that he did not see as of yet of committing to such a tactic.

He hesitated . . .

***

"This all a part of the RAFian agenda," the obese Bern Bridges said, setting his jowly face aquiver. His genuine belief in his own faulty, specious, fallacious facts protecting him from being effectively silenced for the Truth Mist for very long. He couldn't go off on a tangent that he knew was deceitful or not entirely true, that much was true. But it did not stop him from extrapolating from conclusions that he wholeheartedly believed to be truthful, though they were not the absolute truth. "I know this for a fact! All this chaos, it's due to their cr-- their delib-- their actions."

It was amazing how he managed to stay on the air, considering his ratings were essentially in the toilet. He had a small -- very small -- fanbase. Most only listened to him as background noise, and a sparse few took what he said as gospel truth, usually the older set.

"They planned for this accursed mist permeating our beloved city," he said. "Tthey have no in-- they do not want to protect us. That is a fallacy. They want to stop our way of life, they want to usurp all that we value. They cause all these problems to blight our city so they can prance in and look like heroes, when really they are the villains of the story."

He paused to take a drink of water before launching into another pointless tirade that sparce people would listen.

[redtailedsaffa]

His point is actually valid sometimes.

[Cloak]

It's hit or miss, really.

Sorry, there might not be a chapter tomorrow. I'm still a little livid.

[spoiler=All the rage]My mother sent me a friend request on FaceBook. After all the sh-- er, crap, that she put me through, did she honestly think I would accept?

She used and abused me.

She told me the proper way to slash my wrists.

She kicked me out of the holy use when the beef stew I made to her specifications did not meet her standards.

She constantly scapegoated me.

She doesn't even have the right to use my last name, the surname of my father.

She kept me from him and that side of my family, made me think that he left because of me.

She hurt me so much, and she knows how much she hurt me, and she expects me to actually WANT to contact her? That I would want her back in my life to manipulate and use me some more? She used Shadow as a weapon to manipulate me, just like she used me to manipulwte my father!!

I will not go back. I will not go back to being the friggin' doormat I was all those years ago.[/spoiler]

Sorry, had to vent. This was very emotional for me.

[guitarhero01234]

I'll be in chat when I get home, if you want to talk. I'll probably be there in an hour or two

[Cloak]

Sorry, I hafta go to bed earlier tonight because of that blasted Daylight Savings Time thing. But according to my aunt ("Wheeza") its just a thing FaceBook does. Somehow I doubt it, but you never know.

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Long Contained

An air dome had formed over the city, forcing the Mist to stay within the city limits. The denizens seemed to see it as a curiosity, but didn't see it as a threat, just an odd natural phenomena.

But it wasn't natural, not technically. It was Cloak, naturally, with a single stream of golden-scarlet energy coming from the edge of each one of his eyes, almost like tears. He was containing the Mist, and succeeding in this endeavor.

Cloak, however, was worried. He wasn't sure if he could maintain this air dome at this current level of power. He was concerned with having to tap into a higher level of his power, and he feared the possible upper limits of his abilities, though he did not know what that upper limit was. He wasn't too sure he wanted to know.

But the main goal of this task was clear. Prevent the Mist from expanding beyond these boundaries he had just crafted. He had to keep it contained . . . he had to . . . he had to. . . .

***

"YOU SEE?" Bridges practically screamed into his microphone. "It isn't bad enough that they had proprigated that truth-inducing gas --and, listen to me now, because I am not lying (as thanks to the RAFians I can't) -- this is the absolute truth. The RAFians are NOT heroes. They are a gang. A gang of thugs. Thugs who espouse vigilante justice!"

He slurped his drink rather loudly and crassly. So much so it sounded as if he was getting drunk, and, in a way, he was. Drunk on his own perception of power, and intoxicated by the sound of his own voice.

"Now they are trapping us in our city with this noxious gas, which is probably p-- . . . probably po-- . . . probably pois--"

He wasn't able to get that last bit out because it was a lie and a deception and he knew it. He quickly recovered well enough, to continue his impassioned schlock.

"Now, the big why." he continued. "The sixty-four million dollar question -- why is it so important for them to stop us," he was obviously not talking about the voting public but his conservationist party, the upper crust of it, "why is so important for them to prevent us from usng deception? I'll tell you, my dear listeners," he intoned conspiratorially, "they're paranoid. They are afraid, dear listeners! Afraid of us lying to them and them being none the wiser!"

He slurped his drink again, seemingly getting thoroughly sauced.

"Being able to lie is our God-given right! These RAFians don't have a right to take it from us!" Bridges said, forcefully. His words were starting to slur as he went off-air, then completely passing out, laying nearly-lifeless in his swiveling chair.

Yep. Bern Bridges was a paragon of political prowess.