Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Indeed.

In case you're wondering, Hundred is Lee Johns (and I don think that's a spoiler at this point, though it might just seem obvious to me as the writer), but he was based off of Carl King, an obscure Spider-Man villain.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Awareness and Unawares

Cloak felt irritation. He couldn't make contact with Aniyu still. Yeah, she was a long-dead Realm Walker, like the first Elements Master, one of his ancestors on his mother's side, Master Avatar. But he had a feeling that he was somehow connecting to her beyond the Veil.

Which, he had to admit, he thought was impossible. But he had managed. He had managed, but had no idea how he was able to breach the Veil in this way. Perhaps all this was his imagination . . . perhaps Aniyu did not even exist at all . . . perhaps she was just a mental construct representing his yearning to find out about his paternal lineage . . . or perhaps, just perhaps, Cloak was a complete and utter fool . . .

He felt thoroughly displeased and disappointed, though not at all angry, which surprised him. He just felt as if she was waiting for something, waiting for him to do something.

But what? What could it --

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, every muscle tensed, his ears and nose on hyperalert. He know he sensed something, something evil somehere. But he couldn't begin to guess at its meaning.

Cloak hated how infernally vague that sense was. . . .

***

A boy was watching a television screen in a display window of an electronics store. The boy, about twelve or thirteen, wore a blue and white hat, with a blue brim and a blue tree on the front. He had somewhat messy brown hair and relatively pale skin, and his nose was a bit darker hue than the rest of his face. His eyes were brown with noticeable bags underneath. He wore a navy blue hooded vest, (which had an inner pockets on both sides) a reddish-orange t-shirt, gray shorts, white socks (each with a red stripe), black sneakers, and a gray digital wristwatch on his left wrist.

There was something off about him, but the casual passerby would have never noticed or sensed the truth. Most people don't really attune to their senses any more than is necessary.

"Hey, dweeb," the kid's moody, apathetic, sixteen- or seventeen-year-old brother said, pulling up in a rather ramshackled rust bucket of a van, whose black paint was chipping noticeably. He had shaggy black hair in a typical eye-covering "emo style" hairdo, pale skin and several piercings in his ears. He wore tight skinny jeans with a keychain attached to the pocket, and a light black hoodie with a picture of a red bleeding heart with stitches on it, along with black fingerless gloves. He wore black flat shoes with white bottoms and he had a sparse stubble (two strands of small hairs) on his chin, and a few blemishes scattered around his face. "Hey! Dweeb! I'm talking to you!"

The boy looked around, his face remarkably blank and placid. Almost as if it were a porcelain mask. The teenager apparently wasn't too swift on the uptake, as he saw nothing wrong with this.

"Dweeb, stop looking at me and get your butt in," he said, opening the passenger side door. "Mom wants us back home ASA-- hey! What are you doing, nimrod?!"

The "dweeb" had bypassed the passenger seat and gone to the windowless back. Then, before his brother could protest, he bit him on the neck. Then, with surprising strength, the boy pulled the poisoned and incapacitated teenager into the dark back of the van, which only rocked very slightly.

After a few tense moments, the teenager retook his place at the driver's seat, looking slightly thinner than he was just moments before, before ballooning to his proper medium-sized build.

"That place," he murmured to no one, his voice unmistakable for the teen's, "that forum. I have to go there. I want to be a RAFian. I wanna be a hero . . ."

It wasn't enough for Hundred to wear a RAFian, that would mean he was wearing a RAFian, it wouldn't mean that he was one . . . he did not know where this desire came from, just like he didn't know where his compulsion to victimize others and wear their skins came from, but he knew one thing, the only thing that he could remember from Before. A simple, childish desire . . .

"I wanna be a hero . . ."

[Cloak]

If anyone's interested, "Lee Johns" = "Legions".

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Something Wrong Here

Cloak had arrived at the entrance of the forum. There was an impossible something that attracted him to the spot. Saffa, GH, Gaz, and Underseen were gathered around a very perculiar individual.

With every step, Cloak realized the truth.

"Look, pal," GH said, his iconic guitar shouldered, and then laying flat against his back, "it doesn't work like that. You can't just come here and demand to join."

"Tell me how do I become a h . . . a -- a RAFian?" the pale boy said. "Tell me. I'll do anything asked of me."

"What's going on here?" Cloak asked, very seriously, as per his norm.

"This kid came crashing in here, uninvited, demanding to join," Gaz said. Then she continued, uncharacteristicall y jaded and suspicious. "For all we know, he may just want the Mark."

Cloak took a step with his plantigrade feet, feeling every vibration he could through the Earth itself, as well as using his Earthsight to determine the truth of the teen's words.

"What are you?" Cloak said.

An uncomfortable silence stretched for a bit before the teen answered, and the teen seemed intimidated by Cloak.

"Wh-what d-do you m-mean?" he said, and Cloak thought he heard a scared, skittering sound issue from the boy. "I'm . . . I'm a human."

"No," Cloak growled, suddenly encasing the boy in a golden-scarlet bubble. "No, you aren't."

"Cloak, what are you doing?!" Underseen demanded, which the Realm Walker ignored.

"Your mass does not match your dimensions," Cloak said, explaining himself. "Every step is not as heavy as it should be. And every step, my Earthsight registers as if you nothing more than shifting sand in a burlap bag."

"And I smell no blood in you," Gaz added.

"You cannot be human. At least, not purely human. So, I ask again, what are you?"

"I'm hu--"

"I've already explained why that cannot be, with Gaz," Cloak said. The bubble seemed to shrink ever so slightly. "So that fabrication, that deception, will not work to your advantage. So, answer the Gateburst question!"

The teen seemed stymied, and seemed unable to come up with a plausible lie. He seemed to try find a way to maintain the facade, but found that he couldn't. Hundred knew the jig was up as he sighed.

Then he opened his mouth wide, declaring himself as the Hundred, as his eyes went glassy an rolled up into his head. Then Hundred's constituent parts streamed out of his mouth, leading to several reactions from the RAFians, except Cloak, who looked unsurprised.

Saffa screamed, Gaz looked sick, and Underseen's form became opaque in color before he managed to right it. GH prompy threw up in a nearby bush -- and made a note never to eat so much again, although how could he ever expect this?

Cloak had expected this because he was aware of an isolated incident happening in another Realm. An obscure one, at that. Cloak narrowed his eyes, at the skin. It was evident that the skin was not artificial in origin.

Cloak allowed it to flutter to the ground, keeping Hundred in the bubble, sure that he didn't over look anything. Then, perhaps wrongly, incinerated the contents of the bubble with the Element of Fire.

Cloak had spared the skin as to give the families something to verify their loved one's passing. Although now that he considered it, now that the Hundred was dead, it may have been more of a slap in the face to them. They would surely be in denial at this, at leadt at first. Then the denial will subvert into anger, then into bargaining, than into sadness. But acceptance may never come.

He couldn't imagine having such a thing happen your family member. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to.

But they had to right by them, even though one RAFians was jeering and calling it "PC culture". Cloak ignored -- he was an idiot, anyway. Amazing how someone found a way to out-Rotiart Rotiart.

But Cloak should have been more diligent.

[guitarhero01234]

You know, my reaction was probably more effective than you'd think, when you consider that I actually haven't thrown up once since I was in middle school.

[Cloak]

Speaking of which, I don't think that there is gonna be another new chapter today, as I'm feeling rather ill right now.

[guitarhero01234]

Sorry to hear that Feel better soon!

[Cloak]

I do, apparently it was just a momentary bug that I had to get out of my system. Or I'm Wolverine and didn't know it.

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER SIX:
Tricky

But Hundred was not dead. One of his constituent parts had managed to escape by staying behind in the skin. It was in this way that it escaped immolation and incineration. One could say that this was an ingenius self-preservation tactic, while another could say it was just a happy mistake on Hundred's part, as he was not truly dead. At the last moment, while everyone was distracted by the burning of his other constituent parts, he fled the forum as the small arthropod now encapsulated the entirety of Hundred's consciousness, with no seemingly ill effect.

Hundred was now One.

One did not like being one. He was so small, helpless, and vulnerable. He was not safe in the open. He could not hide himself in a skin, not as One. He didn't care about the lives he took, but he only cared about his own survival, his own wants, his own desires. Considering what he was like before Malice got to him, he had fallen a great deal.

He had managed to make it back to a dank alleyway. Not the same place where he took his first skin, but one that he found it comfortable just the same. But he was still One. He would never be a hero, or a RAFian like this. The cloaked one would be as problematic as the last one, the one who . . . who did what, exactly? It hurt to remember, to try. So, he refrained.

Then he felt a strange thugging sensation, while suddenly simultaneously suffering from a headache and nausea. He did not know why or how, only knowing the discomfort and inconvenience of the sensations.

Then he realized soon that he had regenerated more of his constituent parts. More than a hundred. More than five hundred. There was at least a thousand of constituent parts now. He was no longer Hundred, but Thousand!

He had replicated not unlike a Sonorosian or Splixson or Panunsian. Yet it cost him some the strength and energy that he had in abundance when he was Hundred. He was hungry. Collectively hungry. And he needed a skin in which to sheath all his constituent parts.

Fortunately, he would be able to satiate both needs in one go . . .

[redtailedsaffa]

What the hell?! How?!

[Cloak]

The ****tail Malice had in the syringe it had a little bit of Spixson in it, manipulated by her, just enough to grant him exaggerated "Multiple Man" powers. As a result, it drains him of his strength and power, requiring him to take more victims to replenish it.

Alternatively, one could say that he "steals" mass from Z-space. *shrug*

Er, not buying this, are you?



New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Concerns

"I haven't thrown up like that since middle school," GH moaned, feeling a little weak-kneed. "But seeing that? It was just so -- so -- there are no words."

"It was vile," Saffa said, looking sick herself.

"Cloak, why do you look . . . unsurprised?" Underseen asked.

"You've seen something like . . . like that before, haven't you?" Gaz said, knowingly.

"Yes," Cloak answered honestly and wearily. "But not in this Realm. It was in another, and it was an isolated, obscure occurrence. Not many people native to the Realm itself knew about it, I believe. If any but one."

Cloak sighed, before continuing, "I should have known that it would be a matter of time before something like this would happen here. A lot of the creatures we've seen -- a lot, but not all -- are also native to other Realms I visited in the past. Granted, the same could be said of humans, as well, but I digress."

"What?" GH asked.

"Didn't you know? Humans are one of the more common Dweller species found throughout the Realms." Cloak said, with mild surprise. "The ones I've personally visited, anyway."

"Going back to that swarm creature in that other Realm," Gaz said, "what was his story?"

"He was a bully to one of the superbeings of that Realm, before he got his power," Cloak elaborated, "name of Carl King, if I'm not mistaken. He was consumed by jealously, as he witnessed the gaining of the superbeing's powers, and he insisted that it should have been him. He ate the radioactive spider that gave this superbeing his powers."

"Sounds like bad judgement," Saffa commented.

"It didn't give the powers he wanted," Cloak said.

"I'm surprised it didn't kill him," Gaz said.

"He became a swarm of spiders inside his own skin," Cloak continued. "A corporeally gestalt creature with a hive mind consciousness. He took his mother's skin after this happened. Then his father."

"What?" Underseen said.

"He eventually confronted this superbeing, and he was electocuted accidently," Cloak said. "But one bug survived. Only to be squished underfoot by an unaware passerby."

"So, you think that this applies to Hundred?" Gaz said.

"But he's dead," Saffa said.

"So is Spectre," Cloak countered.

***

Thousand felt his old strength returning, strength and energy that was stored and saved away, should he need to replicate again. It was due to the manipulated Splixson DNA in the serum ****tail that she had injected him with, thiugh he wasn't aware of this, as he only ten or so when he was kidnapped. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary, as he wore the skin of a frat boy pledge.

The rest of the fraternity was reduced to skins, and some visiting sorority girls as well. There was at least twenty skins laying around the fraternity house, like forgotten clothing. Thousand showed his utter disregard for his victims as he relished in his new strength, which bordered -- or even exceeded -- superhuman strength. It is this strength he lost when he replicated. He did not know if he had a limit to the number of times that he could replicate, but he did not bother to think about that, though he was actually relying on it.

"That's better," he spoke aloud, if only to break the oppressive silence of the house.

Then he considered his situation. He still desperately wanted to be a hero, and, to him, that meant being a RAFian. He may no longer be human, he still had the mentality of a human child, and thus made rather naive mistakes. But he does learn from them, and, as such, he learned that he couldn't just rush in and demand to be made a RAFian. He had to be more careful about this.

But he was certain that he would eventually get what he wanted. He would. . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Naivety and Dangerous Mist

"You can't, dear," Helen said, caringly, to a small boy who had wandered to RAF. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and wore dark blue pajamas with yellow duckies on them that was purple at the cuffs and neck.

"Why not?" the lost boy whined.

"You're too young, little fella," Helen said, as Parker, Saffa, and Gaz came strolling up, with Cloak a few steps behind.

"What?" the boy's voice was no longer whiny. It was serious, and flat-toned. "Then what on God's green earth do i have to do to join?!"

That wasn't the vernacular expected of a boy this age.

"What's going --" Gaz said, before sniffing. She immediately addressed Cloak. "Cloak, we need you front and center."

"What?" Helen said, here Star Sapphire glow bursting around her, without cinscious thought. "He's just a little boy. Lost, perhaps. But no more alarm than thaf."

The boy seemed to think that this was a proper time to break down and bawl. But this was a ruse. He no longer had tear ducts in which to produce tears, and as such couldn't really cry convincingly. But he had a ulterior motive for doing this.

"He has no blood," Gaz said, unusually blunt. "Just like the first one. If he did, I would be able to smell it. And I doubt he has ichor, like Cloak."

Cloak confirmed this, "Yes, and my Earthsight yields the same thing about the swarm-worn skin of that teenager. His mass does not match up with his appearance. And I can actually since the evil from him."

"Evil? I'm not evil." he said, keeping up the facade. He still pretended to be bawling despite the conspicuous absence of tears. Though the words were sincere in his mind, though not truthful objectively. "I'm not!! I'm not evil!!"

"Drop the pretense, Hundred," Cloak said, dryly contemptuous, "you're not fooling anyone."

He tried to maintain the deception despite this, only abandoning it when it became very obvious that no one was convinced of what he was trying to sell. When he spoke, he sounded a few year older thna he was, but only in word choice, his voice still matched his skin. "Very well, then. And it's Thousand, now."

Cloak narrowed his eyes, as that was also the name of the Carl King from that other realm gave himself. But King did not have the ability to replicate, as this. There was more to this Thousand, Cloak suspected. He also couldn't help but suspect that Malice was behind this, though he had no proof other than his paranoia.

"What do you want, then, Thousand?" Parker said. He was wearing his full armor regalia, but didn't seem to intimidate Thousand.

Thousand did not deign to answer, instead he vomited up his constituent parts, deating the boy to nothing but a skin. They made a beeline for Gaz, who shrieked and immediately went to her mist mode. This was rather fortuitously auspicious, as the mist that comprised this form of Gaz's seem to affect the Thousand constituency rather like a pesticide, somehow, considering it did not show this effect on any other arthropod.

Thousand immediately recoiled his constituent parts that were not killed by Gaz's mist, and prepared to flee the forum, which was a bad move as it gave Cloak ample time to collect them all, the living ones, into a whirlwind of air, which he then ignited. The new Thousand was now a bunch of burning embers or ash.

"You did it," Parker said.

"Not quite," Cloak said, "unless there are more than one of these hive-minded beings, which I doubt, that means that it was the same one from before. Check everywhere. Make sure that none of the arachnoid spiders that made up Thousand died. Parker, scan the entire forum for them. I don't care about the specifics of your armor's specks, just do it."

"Wait the hell?" Saffa said, still looking at the place where the young boy vomited up the bugs, "How? It was dead."

"At a later time, Saffa," Cloak said, "we have more pressing concerns. We have to nip this in the bud now. If it could replicate like that once, it can most assuredky do it again."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
Recoup and Regroup

Thousand was no longer a thousand strong, he was now Two. He had pretended to bawl so long so he could deftly remove these particular constituent parts in case the rest had to be sacrificed so that he would still survive. As the others were incinerated, he fled in these meager two constituent parts.

He knew that this was necessary when he saw that cloaked figure. Just like the other one. The one who may have done something to him Before, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. The desire to be a hero, to be a RAFian, became an obsession. One that consumed his every thought, though he did not know why.

It was almost if he was programmed to desire it. And almost as if programmed to think he needed to appear human to do so. But Two was not nearly as strong as Thousand. He needed to replicate, but he was finding difficulty do it.

He thought, with a lurch to his stomachs and sinking hearts, that maybe the replication was just a one-time use thing. Maybe he had gotten careless and reckless, thinking that he could just regenerate again. Perhaps it was because of that toxic mist?

Dammit. If that were true, he would never accomplish goal! He would never be a hero! He would never be a RAFian!

He came across another homeless person, a woman with ratty, flyaway hair. Her clothes were torn and threadbare, and she was rail-thin and bony, to an almost skeletal degree. Her lanky, flaccid hair, sunken eyes, and pale complexion would have brought to mind the stereotypical image of a banshee. She was clearly malnourished and starving. She spent her days wishing for death, wishing to forget her troubled life.

Two helped her out in this, though his intention was quite different from a mercy kill. Two discovered, after making a skin from her, inadvertently relieving her of her pain, though in the most disturbing way possible, that by doing so was sufficient enough to give them the strength and energy to duplicate, to replicate again.

But he was not Thousand anymore, but Million.

***

"If Thousand survived, he isn't at this forum." Parker said, bluntly.

"That's not our only problem," Mr. Guy said. "Remember how Mitch and Carly Roberts reacted when we presented Joseph Todd Robert's skin to them?"

"And they told us about their other son -- Jason, I think it was -- his skin was found in Joseph's van. What about them?"

"They went to Bernard Bridges," Saffa said dully.

"What?" Cloak said sharply. "Why?"

"They've decided that we, that RAF, was somehow at fault," Abby said. "That we skinned them for some perverse experiments. There was a faternity that lost a lot of their members to this thing as well. Most of them, actually. They are trying to scapegoat us for that as well."

"Hey! Don't you dare look at me like that!" Demos protested, at once. "I don't experiment like that."

"But that's not true," Dpsb said. "Are people really that stupid to believe such ridiculous things?"

"People believe what they want to believe," Cloak said, quietly, thinking of his species back in the Nexus, "humans are no exception."

"What about Les and Leslie Carey," Helen asked, "what did they think when they found out little Tommy was a skin?"

"They didn't seem to care all that much, to be honest," Underseen said. "It almost seemed like they were relieved."

"Not all parents are the stereotypical loving bastions as one might believe," Cloak said, waxing philosophical. "If only Tommy didn't have to go in such a vile, sinister manner . . . by a selfish, self-indulgent conglomeration of a creature. . . ."

"Great," Faerie said, in her usual caustic manner, "we might have missed a bit of Thousand, and our PR image is in the toilet. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
PR Hell and Strengthening

Million decided to hold off on his goal so that he could gather strength again. He needed to feed again. He manages to maneuver his constituent parts into the nearby building, abandoning the skin he wore.

There was a small wedding going on. And Million should have recognized these people. The groom was Eugene Johns -- Lee's elder brother, marrying his childhood sweetheart Aphrodite Jennings. His mother, Angela, and his father, Dillon, were seated on the groom's side with other assorted relatives, and Aphrodite's mother Gabrielle, father Devin, sister Hera, and brother-in-law Dan sat on the other side, with their side of the family. Aphrodite's little nephew, Tucker, was the ring bearer, and Lee and Eugene's smallest cousin, Gwendolyn, was the flower girl.

Tucker was Million's first victim. Then Gwendolyn. Then the parents . . . until the very moment that Million aftually inhabited both Aphrodite and his own brother, Eugene. He didn't even recognize them as family. But only as a means to get stronger, and access more energy.

But he inhabited two skins at once, and was able to make them appear as they would if they were still alive, and he was able to puppeteer the both of them in tandem, as well. He didn't know that doing that would even be a possibility.

This opened more avenues for him. But he decided he probably should practice, as he was unable to stop the rather annoying habit of each skin he wore speaking a single word back and forth when he wanted to speak and address others.

But he will achieve his goal . . . but was it his . . . dah! Didn't matter!

***

"PR hell," Faerie said, rubbing her temples, "that's what this is. Pure and simple. PR hell."

"They cannot do this!" GH protested. "There is no truth in anything they're saying about us! They're pulling their so-called facts outta of their --"

"What do you guys knew about this Lee Johns kid?" Cloak said, ignoring the obvious anti-RAF propaganda.

"Where did you get that name from?" Saffa asked.

"They name him as the first victim, his skin was found," Cloak said, pondering over this quandry. "But something about it, it strikes me as strange. Lee was missing when we were dealing with that Bureau nonsense. I saw the 'Missing' poster just outside the entry point we used."

"You're just being paranoid, Cloak," Sakki said, dismissively.

"Honestly, I think it does bear some investigation." Spectre said. "At least, a little."

"I think it would just be a waste of time and resources," Sakki said, harshly dismissive.

"Or not," Parker said, "it may lead to some closure about this Thousand thing."

"Assuming he's actually dead." Saffa pointed out. "We thought he was dead once."

"It's just a hunch," Cloak said. "It may lead nowhere, but it just might lead somewhere as well."

"Stunning logic, there, Cloak," Sakki said, dryly, "conversely we could screw up and have the media delivering more hit pieces on us. Hell, I could wallpaper my thread with the ones that are already circulating out there."

"That we cannot do anything about," Mr. Guy said. "We can present the people with facts and figures and the like, but there will always be those that refuse to believe it, and reject the truth. I mean, there are still people who believe the Earth is flat! In modern times! People who believe the world is only six thousand years old!"

"We're getting derailed from the topic at hand," Richard said. "Since there is some contention with this decision, I put it to a forum-wide vote. For or against. Choose and choose wisely."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
The Investigation and the Thing

With a swift vote, it was decided that an investigation was called for. Underseen, Ash, Blue, and Cloak (despite insisting that he needed to stay lest Thousand returned).

"Uh uh," Sakki said, authoritatively. "You championed this waste of time and effort. You get to go along with the investigative team."

"But if and when Thousand shows up again," Cloak began.

"It'll be none of your concern," Sorunome said, gently and friendly. "Honestly, Cloaky, you worry too much. Let your guard down a little."

Cloak spoke very seriously, "No. When you let your guard down . . . er, never mind. Fine. Fine. But Parker? Gaz? You keep all unMarked newcomers under surveillance, would you?"

Sakki shook her head, befie walking away, as Gaz said, "Will do, Cloak."

Parker replied seconds later, "Don't even worry about it."

That was kind of like asking a dog not to bark. But Cloak acknowledged the solidarity shown, and, albeit still reluctantly, went on with the other.

***

It was several hours since the investigative team left, and the afternoon was wearing on. But Parker, Gaz, and even Saffa and GH were on the look out, both actually wearing Scouters. Or they at least looked like Scouters.

Sakki was still as irreverent as ever, though she still thought this entire exercise would yield nothing. She was sure that she wasn't alone in this sentiment and resented that she was the only one to speak up about it.

"Excuse me," said a handsome, young man in his mid-to-late twenties, "is there a registry here?"

"What?" Oceanspray asked.

"We'd like to join up," a young woman said, evidently the young man's spouse. "Where can we enroll, or register, or something?"

"I'm not the right person to . . ." Oceanspray, the android, had stopped the scan to the biometrics of the two, as he felt something off about this, just by the way they spoke and the underlying, slightly monotone sort of tone to their voices, almost imperceptibly.

Saffa, Parker, GH, and Gaz immediately came over.

"What are you two?" Oceanspray said, very seriously. "Declare your species, if you will, please."

"Human," they said, in disturbing unison.

"Liar," Gaz said. Then she stopped before the two, and spoke with a rather accusatory tone, "You have no blood. It's you again, isn't it, Thousand?"

"You're in two skins? Is Thousand a species?" GH asked. "Like really perverse Nesk?"

"We -- I'm no loner Thousand," both spoke in unison, sounding reminiscent of those twins in "The Shining". "I am Million!"

"This is a thing now?" Saffa asked, wearily. "Why? Why is this a thing?"

Million hesitated for some reason, and looked as if they were almost . . . inert. As if they were almost grotesque mannequins. It was stilted moment, as if some movie editor made an obvious cut and there was not-so-subtle skip in the flow of said movie.

Saffa did not miss this act, and immediately began to scan the ground for stray arachnids, but could not find any. She really had enough of this Million guy, or whatever nomenclature he chose next time.

It was at this time that Million began to vomit up the bugs that were his constituent parts. But this time, Parker and Oceanspray did not waste any preamble -- Parker fired his Megatron/Galvatron fusion cannons while Oceanspray fired charged shots from his arm cannon.

Milion was obliterated, leaving three small craters where the shots had impacted.

"Done," Oceanspray said, with a tone of finality.

"For now." GH added, ominously.

"Seriously," Saffa demanded, "why is this a thing?!"

[Cloak]

Guess Saffa isn't fond of this book. *shrug*

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Investigation and Replication

"So, let's see if I got this straight," Ash said, democratically, "not only is the kid, Lee Johns missing, but the rest of his family is as well?"

"No," Underseen said. "They were skins. Littered over the floor like dirty, forgotten, and discarded laundry."

"Thousand was there," Cloak summed up.

"What about Skinwalker?" Blue pointed. "Couldn't they be old victims of his?"

"No," Underseen said, shaking his head, "Dillion and Angela Johns were on the local news some time ago, a couple of weeks, tops. They were looking for Lee, and he had just gone missing, if I'm not mistaken."

"Which lends credence to Cloak's hunch," Ash said.

"It could dispute it just the same." Blue said, shrugging noncommittally. "Seriously, no matter the subject or fact, people can -- and some will -- in any direction that they choose.

"Was Lee's skin found there?" Cloak inquired.

"I don't think so," Underseen said, "has it even been found? Isn't he still missing?"

"I thought that one of the news outlets was declaring that it was found," Cloak said.

"Yeah, Faux News," Blue said, scathingly.

"Oh. So, it hadn't been found yet," Cloak said.

"Cloak, what are you thinking?" Ash prompted.

"I have no proof," Cloak said, slowly, "or real undeniable evidence, only speculation and hunches."

"Spit it out, Cloak," Blue said.

"I suspect that Lee," Cloak said, slowly, as if hoping to spot any glaring inconsistencies, "that Lee is Thousand."

***

Million had managed to escape,even under Saffa's scrutinizing glare, during the momentary immobilization of the two skins he was puppeteering, only he was no longer a million strong, but merely four strong. He was now Four, and his petulant attitude certainly acted like it.

He had never expected that it was this difficult to accomplish the first thing of his goals! He should already be a hero! He should already be a RAFian! Why were they so resistent? Why were they so stubborn about this? Why were they so ardently obstinate obstructing his eventual destiny to be the hero of heroes? Why were they so deadset on preventing and denying him his right to fulfill this destiny?

It shouldn't have been this hard. It should have been this hard! He deserved this. He deserved this! He certainly had earned it by know, right? Earned his seat at the table of gods, of heroes! Why hasn't he been given it yet? He has done nothing, in his view, wrong. He had demonstrated his powers, his strength, his resilience, his adaptability, hadn't he?

No matter. No matter.

He would begin anew. He first would need to amass new constituent parts, but he could not do it spontaneously again. That appeared to be a one-off ability. He would need to feed first before he could replicate in sufficient numbers to try and reapply, ignoring the fact the RAFians had thrice rejected his requests and demands to be a member. Ignoring that such deception was a factor in such rejection.

Four found himself in a dirty bathroom of some dive bar, oft forgotten to all but the more shady characters and destitute. He was not out of place here, as there were many other bugs hidden in the walls, floor, and ceiling.

Four was feeling hungry, though, and it wasn't too difficult to find a suitable victim. A thick-bodied man with face stubble and a shiny, bald head, and reflective sunglasses.
He wore a black shirt that looked stretched taut over his considerable belly, over which he wora jean jacket with sheared off sleeves. He also wore black jeans and thick, worn, brown boots. Yeah, he had the looks of one tough customer, who came to the bathroom to -- well, you know what he was after.

He went in, unaware of the danger that lurked there, somewhat innocuously. When he came out . . . he was now piloted and puppeteered by Billion.

[guitarhero01234]

A thick-bodied man with face stubble and a shiny, bald head, and reflective sunglasses. He wore a black shirt that looked stretched taut over his considerable belly, over which he wora jean jacket with sheared off sleeves. He also wore black jeans and thick, worn, brown boots.

gh in 20 years?

Also, billion? Oh, this is gonna be a problem . . .

[redtailedsaffa]

Haha, sorry, I've had to clear up a very annoying project this week so I decided to save up the chapters to read when I got free.

What gh said. This is ridiculous.