New chapter. I'm gonna go ahead an apologize in advance, Quaf. I don't think you're gonna like this book any better than Book 17.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
Rampage of the RAFians
The RAFians had finished ravaging the forum that they had once held so dear. They found the space inadequate for all of them. Their minds had been extinguished with the diminishing of their intelligence and sentience, until they two ceased to exist. The RAFians were all fundamentally dead now, since neither Leatherhead or Andy were an official RAFian and neither carried the Mark. They were honorary members at best, like Shadow.
They were little more than beasts, beasts fighting over territory and feeling the need to move into new territory to claim for their own, if they could keep the land, the territory they currently have.
So, naturally, brutal clashes occured. Most the RAFians lost their powers as they became gigantic monsters, but that did not make them any less dangerous. As proven when they eviscerated Underseen-Zilla and Ash-Zilla, who lost their shapeshifting ability. Or simply lost the intellect necessary to activate and utilize those abilities. They were truly dead now, though with their minds extinguished, one could argue that they were already dead.
Yarin-Zilla was vivisected by Goom-Zilla, Demos-Zilla, Xeno-Zilla, and Aquilai-Zilla. That was the kindest way of putting it. Anyway, after they were done with that, they swiftly turned on each other, until Demos-Zilla came out on top -- his regeneration abilities still effective, though not nearly to the near-Deadpool degree he enjoyed when he was sentient and intelligent.
Hunter-Zilla managed to overpower Wild-Zilla and he began to worry him like a dog with a bone. While Wild was still alive, although not for long from this kind of punishment. It was savage.
Saffa-Zilla and GH-Zilla were locked in deadly combat, each one having the upper hand at one or another point in the battle. But it did seem to be a battle of equals.
That obnoxious RAFian-Zilla was killed by Dino-Zilla, paradoxically the smallest RAFian-Zilla. He put up fight, despite being accustomed to being brainless.
More and more clashes occurred, some with a definitive, indisputable winner, and others were still contesting and competing in the close-quarters combat. It was savage. Brutal. Naturally it spilled into the evacuated city. Buildings were crushed to rubble, foundations ruined, and the like.
It didn't look good.
***
"The answer is effin' simple!" said a rather tall, combative woman. She has a pointed, upturned nose, plump lips and an unusually long neck. Her blonde hair was a short bob with two spiked tips. She had black eyebrows, and black markings around both her eyes, which are bright yellow with diamond-shaped pupils. She wore a white and olive bodysuit, as well as a yellow coat with very large shoulder pads. She also wore gloves of a slightly darker purple and very dark olive boots. "We
bomb them! We nuke them into oblivion!"
A woman with a dark complexion seemed to agree with her. She had plump lips and a straight nose. She wore a long, orange cloak of a slightly darker shade, and a light orange bodysuit. She was also noticeably tall. She had long, thick, dark hair. She spoke in a very measured way. "I agree with Patty."
"Thank you, Estelle," Patti said, in an unintentionally agressive way. Two others in this safe house, one in pink and the other in white, nodded in aggreement.
"Isn't that a tad excessive?" said the voice of a shorter, plumper woman with her young son at her side, who was fearfully hiding behind her. She had very long, and curly red hair styled in thick, tube-like ringlets. She also had defined lips with a pale pink color, bright skin, and a taller and heavier build than the other women in the safe house. She had black eyes. She wore a strapless, floor-length, lilac and snow trimmed, a white and pink dress that had multiple layers which resembled the petals of a rose, and had a pink star in the stomach area. She was also barefooted. "There may be a way to help them, after all."
"Shut up, Susan," Patty snapped angrily.
Her son recoiled heavily at the rebuke. He was relatively short with a thick, stocky build. He had curly black-brown hair and full black irises. He wore a brown T-shirt with a silver shooting star in the center of it. He also wears blue jeans with sky-blue cuffs and gray flip-flop sandals. He couldn't have been any older than four. He whimpered.
"Shhhh, shhhh," Susan said, comforting the boy. "It's okay, Zachary, we're safe here."
She was, of course, wrong. Nowhere was safe.
