New chapter.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Species: Unidentified
The Weapon Master turned around, as a gentle wind blew throughout the forum, causing Cloak's eponymous cloak to billow around him dramatically. Neither said anything as they stared each other down.
"Error: subject's species is unidentifiable," Inspector #86 stated. "Subject's species is not known."
"Whereas yours is clearly evident," Cloak said, not moving, "a Weapon Master of Techadon. I thought your kind never left Techadon. What's the occasion?"
"Assessing threat potential . . ." Inspector #86 said.
"Not gonna answer me, are you?" Cloak said, a trifle miffed, but altogether unsurprised. He sighed, "You're really gonna make me do this aren't you? You can't just give it up, return the RAFians and be on your merry way? Oh, no. You just
have to do things the
hard way, don't you?"
"Assessing . . ."
Cloak sighed heavily. Why was it all the villains with the smarts to reform are never the majority? Why was it that species like the Weapon Masters were so convinced in the right to do anything they like regardless of the freedoms of others? The whole thing, the whole schtick, Cloak was finding to be rather bothersome and tiresome at the same time. It never really seemed like the RAFians got a break.
The spring weather was nice and enjoyable, and then
this decided to happen. Do they ever seem to get any real enjoyable downtime? Alas, the answer is always, invariably, no.
"Assessment concluded," Inspector #86 said.
"Took you long enough," Cloak said, acidly, "you must be on dial-up or something."
"Threat level," Inspector #86 said, "minimal."
Suddenly, it was as if all the air was sucked out of the forum for a few minutes. It ended when the dragons and Dino -- all still conscious -- groaned pityingly.
"What?" Cloak said, flatly. All the sardonic flippancy left him in this instance.
Pure silence met this single word, as the Weapon Master moved to leave. Until, with but a gesture, Cloak crumpled his engines like soda cans. Cloak was irate at the arrogance. They weren't even all that great of weaponsmiths! The Galvin and Walker weaponsmiths easily put them to shame.
"Say that again," Cloak growled. His ire was growing, and yet he was managing to keep his powers in check.
"Error: Assessment does not bear repeating. Assessment was obvious." Inspector #86 said.
"Now we're in for it," Dino moaned.
"Perhaps you need a
DEMONSTRATION of my
power," Cloak snarled, his pride hurt. "You worthless piece of" -- uh, yeah, it was a good thing that this word wasn't translatable into English -- "if you hadn't your tech, any RAFian would have creamed you. You pompous, arrogant, sack of --"