Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
City in Chaos

The city nearby the forum was fortunate that the only damage was really cosmetic. Only the Couch Tower saw any real, considerable damage, but no one (except the rich douches known as the Couches, which included Donald and his equally prickish father, Jeff, and mother, Betsy) really cared about it. The Couches were a business family where fraud and underhanded (if not straight up criminal) tactics was their business model.

For the most part, most of the populace, if not all, didn't know that it was due to a gravikinetic species called Galileans*, from Keplorr, a planet that they orbit. Galileans are bulky, lithodermic aliens. They are reddish-brown in color and have a red and orange core on the center of their chest, and have four reddish-brown fingers and three grey toes. They have black markings on their face, as well as a big mouth filled with rocky teeth. They also retract their limbs and assume a rocky sphere form, like a planetoid with a face.

There were, at most, three Galileans in the city, using disguises to appear human. Even then, they couldn't mitigate the damage alone, though they managed to prevent any undue casualties. They were good Samaritans, doing this for no other reason than it was quite simply the right thing to do.

It was fortunate that no one saw them (or if they did, it would simply look like one of those blurry, uncredible UFO pictures that UFO conspiracy theorists are always banging on about). For had the Knights saw them, they would use their clout and their hidden members in positions of power to denounce them despite the Galileans' good intentions.

That's the thing with bigotry. It doesn't matter how much a victim's party, or the victim themselves, contributes to society and everything, that will all be thrown out the window in the mind of a hopeless bigot. Bigotry feeds off of hatred and misunderstanding. Bigotry itself is rather ugly parasite, feasting on prejudices and misconceptions, devouring hatred and anger. Bigotry is not strength, but shameful weakness.

Still, despite being saved from death's cold clutches, the people of the city were confused, and many were panicked. It was a bad situation, made worse by the fact that gravity went from hypergravity to seemingly vanishing slowly. Such a catastrophe was bound to instigate such a panic, such a riot.

The mayor was scrambling for a way to explain this satisfactorily to the city's populace. It didn't really help that this mayor wasn't really all that popular, and prone to scandals and conspiracy theories. Considering all the things that happened over the course of the last year and a half, he should have been better prepared to deal with extraordinary circumstances like this.

But he wasn't.

When he ran, he had completely underestimated that this kind of thing happened with fair regularity in the city. Well, granted, it's usually not as severe as a partial reversal of gravity, or hypergravity, but the point still remains. He had to declare a state of emergency until this reduce gravity phenomena was reduced.

His only thought was that there went his chance at reelection.

His flustered appearance and out-of-breath voice did nothing to reassure the denizens of the city, and mass panic reigned supreme. Although the city's youngest denizens, oblivious to the possible impacts of the reduced gravity, were having fun literally bouncing off the walls to their harried parents' chagrin. It was a hard time to live in the city -- but the rent was still dirt cheap. And this, of course, was why. The citizens paid for it in other ways, ways such as this.


*

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
In Overdrive

Yes. Yes, this place should be safe. It's like a cozy basement. Sure, it was bare, but decorations and furnishings were just luxuries that could be discarded at a moment's notice for more important things to prioritize.

He set his device down, and began cleaning it up, treating it as if it was a messy child. He even cooed at it, before stopping, realizing how insane doing that was. There. Good as new.

Boom!

No! G.C. turned back to his machine, and saw that now it was stuck on the setting for Plutonian surface gravity. A two hundred pound man now weighed a little more than thirteen pounds. G.C. tried to turn off his machine, but it was no good. It was locked into an active position. It was malfunctioning, almost as if it had a computer virus or something.

G.C. tried everything he knew to stop it. Nothing. No dice. It was just going to continue to suppress the gravity -- and there was great danger of it expanding beyond just the city and the forum. And there was nothing G.C. could do to stop it. It was going to continue to suppress Earth's gravity until there was nothing left. Until buildings, animals, trees . . . even people . . . started to float out in space.

What had he wrought?

Boom!

No! Not again! Now gravity was akin to Enceladean surface gravity! A two hundred pound man would weigh a little more than two pounds! And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it! Not one damn thing! What . . . what had he been thinking? How could he allow himself to be so consumed with anger and bitterness? How . . . how could he create this horrible machine? Why didn't he consider the ramifications of this?

He should destroy the machine! That -- that would put everything right! He knew it would. But he found that he couldn't. He put so much time and energy into creating this gravity manipulation device -- he still didn't have a good name for it -- pours so much blood, sweat and tears into it. He worked so hard . . .

But for what?

Boom!

Not again . . . he examined the machine again and discovered that it was now suppressing Earth's gravity to Phobian surface gravity. This meant that your average two hundred pound man would weigh less than a pound. And he couldn't stop it. Try as he may, he could not stop this.

He began to wallow in self-pity. He was a fool. He should have seen this coming. He should have been smarter. He should have been so much wiser. There was a reason why Earth's surface gravity wasn't meddled with before. It wasn't that scientist before him were incapable of designing and manufacturing something that could, they were wise enough to know that should not. They were wiser than he was.
 So much wiser.

Now he had nothing -- nothing -- but regrets. If he was remembered at all, assuming he doesn't destroy the planet itself once this antigravitational field expands, as it assuredly would eventually, he would remembered as a doddering fool. His name would become synonymous with scientific foolishness, just as Benedict Arnold's had become synonymous with betrayal.

It was over. And it wasn't just over for him, but for everyone. It was hopeless.

[Cloak]

Tomorrow's chapter may be late or not posted at all. Gotta work late tomorrow.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
These Boots Were Made For Walking . . .

"Two boot sets completed," Aquilai said. "I still have my doubts though."

"And Parker's add-ons are completed as well," Xeno noted, as if checking things off a list.

"We probably should be making more," Yarin said.

"We don't really have the materials," Goom said, taking inventory. "We knew on the onset that we wouldn't be able to outfit every RAFian with a pair of these boots. That would just be impossible."

Yarin said nothing.

"Unless you have material -- resources -- that we're not privy to?" the Goomba inquired, knowingly.

Yarin remain silent on this issue, and Goom did not press it.

"Well, we know Parker can be outfitted relatively easy -- that armor of his rather easy to build off of -- but what about the other two to wear these to help Cloak out?" Xeno said, thoughtfully.

"Can't be a morpher -- their abilities would complete contradict the use of the boots, unless they have a humanoid morph in their repertoire," Aquilai put in.

"Or a shapeshifter of any kind," Yarin amended. He seemed almost thankful that the discussion had veered away from secret resources to cobble together things, and seemed a bit too eager about the change of subject. "That would be a liability to their powers."

"And best not have anyone whose powers can be affected by hypergravity or the absence of gravity." Goom acknowledged benignly. "Or else they'll find themselves a liability to the mission."

"Shame that more species aren't like Realm Walkers," Xeno said. "It could be really beneficial right now."

"But the cold, hard fact is Cloak is the only RAFian Realm Walker," Aquilai said, "and from what he said, and from what I know, that's probably a good thing. Cloak has always described them -- at least many of them -- being lofty and holier-than-thou. And that incident a while ago, when they tried to claim sovereignty over our reality, didn't exactly give them the best PR image. And I don't know about you, but I've had enough people speaking to me as I'm dirt to last me a lifetime, let alone thirteen."

It seemed to be a gross generalization, as Xeno saw, but he didn't argue the point. Semantics. They had priorities, and those, by definition, came first.

"Fliers, obviously, are out of the question," Yarin was saying, "as with all the fluctuations in gravity going on, they would not be able to fly reliably."

"So, then," Xeno said, "who?"

This was met with a contemplative silence as the four considered the options. They were only going through the ones that were on the active duty roster -- something Cloak rarely, if ever, left. But he was already on the mission, and he had no need of the boots.

"I nominate Broken and Demos," Goom said, with a deliberative air.

"Seconded," Aquilai said, after a moment's hesitation.

"Agreed," Xeno and Yarin said, in unison.

"Then it's decided," Goom said.

[Cloak]

Sorry that this is so late. Got called into work again earlier today.

New book ideas.

• Book MCLXIII (1,163): "Extreme Germophobia" -- A germophobe is so disgusted with germs, she decides to get ride of her own corporeal body, and all life on Earth.
• Book MCLXIV (1,164): "Pawning Off" -- Shenecron pawns off three annoying demonic fanboys onto Demos.
• Book MCLXV (1,165): "The Red Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure a red Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXVI (1,166): "The Orange Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure an orange Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXVII (1,167): "The Yellow Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure a yellow Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXVIII (1,168): "The Green Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure a green Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXIX (1,169): "The Blue Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure a blue Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXX (1,170): "The Indigo Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure an indigo Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXXI (1,171): "The Violet Crystal" -- The RAFians must procure a violet Aeon Crystal.
• Book MCLXXII (1,172): "Na-Zaron Comes" -- An ancient Aeon comes to RAF, demanding the Crystals.
• Book MCLXXIII (1,173): "Yin and Yang" -- Two lightsaber wielders come to RAF to demand the Crystals.
• Book MCLXXIV (1,174): "Army Building" -- The RAFians face a army that's being built against them.
• Book MCLXXV (1,175): "The Demented King" -- An old, forgotten foe of the RAFians returns as the Demented King.
• Book MCLXXVI (1,176): "The Rainbow Dementors" -- A red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet-colored Dementor is created by the Demented King.

Don't think I rehashed anything.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
. . . And That's Just What They'll Do

"Remember, these are prototypes," Aquilai said. "We haven't a chance to test them as thoroughly as I would have liked, due to the utmost necessity of the crisis at hand."

"They look . . ." Parker said, before trailing off. He didn't much care for the design which made him look like a Robot Master from Mega Man from the knees down. Then again, Broken and Demos's were much the same as well. Granted, Demos's were red, his were green, and Broken's were blue.

"Function before fashion, Parker," Goom said, sagely. "These boots will cancel out any gravikinetic effects around your body. You will maintain normal Earth surface gravity as long as you were these boots."

"Why us, out of all RAFians?" Broken asked.

"Well, your magicks should be unaffected by the gravitation," Xeno reasoned.

"Well, depending on the magic, I suppose, " Broken added on, thoughtfully.

"Well, these boots do go well with my suit," Demos said, as if he wasn't concerned about the gravity of the situation. But, yes, the boots did match his silk suit of which he was so partial.

"Fashion before function," Aquilai said. Then he realized what he said, and hastened to correct himself, "I mean, function before fashion."

"Why me, though?" Demos asked, seriously.

"Your pyrokinesis isn't affected by gravity," Xeno said. "Fire, like magic, is energy. So --"

"Okay, we have wasted enough time," Parker said, a note of urgency in his voice. "Remember, Cloak is out there, looking for this thing -- alone -- and he is in desperate need of backup."

The assembled group gave him a look. Parker knew what this was about already.

"Look, this isn't hypocrisy on my part," Parker said, annoyed. If Helen could forgive him for that blunder, why is everyone else holding him to it? "I have apologized for that stupid mistake I made without thinking. Can we please just move on from it? I don't want everything I do from now on being judged by that one event all the time. I'm sorry that I didn't think it through, okay?"

"I'm well aware," Xeno said, "but don't write off Cloak just yet he knows what he's doing."

"I'm not saying he's not powerful," Parker said, after silencing Tyr with a hint of frustration. "But he'd be the first to tell you that he can't do everything himself. And -- Yarin, is there a chance that this antigravity or hypergravity thing could expand beyond just the limits of the forum and city?"

Yarin looked as if he didn't want to speak, but nodded his head. "There is roughly a thirteen percent chance, assuming if events stay on this course, and no unexpected variables are introduced, that this device will expand. And a point-nine-zero-three chance that it might even encompass the entire planet."

"And what would the likely result of that scenario be? Worst-case scenario, I mean."

"With hypergravity, depending on the power of the device, it could possibly condense the materials withing the Earth's crust. Could possibly force the crust into the Earth's mantle and core." Yarin extrapolated. "With the sheer absence of gravity? The Earth will likely fall apart."

"Sounds really dire," Broken said.

"But, I should say, this is all educated conjecture on my part," the Nyac said, feeling a need to put up that disclaimer. "I could be drastically mistaken."

"Still, if I know Cloak like I think I do," Parker said, "he'll do whatever he can to stop the world from being destroyed. Even if it means that he has to push and fight gravity or even hold the planet together -- and I don't know if even he has that kind of power. We need to help him."

Parker fell to silence fr a moment, before concluding with, "Let's go."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Unstoppable Regret

All this . . . all this that he had wrought. And for what? Some juvenile attempt to force people to recognize his genius. He still thought of it as genius, of course, but now he came to the understanding that it was not genius with perspective, but genius inexorably paired with ambition. Blind ambition. One of the most dangerous things to have in any world.

And for what? For something that mattered very little in the grand scheme of things. For recognition. He would get recognition alright. It just wasn't the kind of recognition he wanted. Was it really worth it? Was making this godforsaken thing even worth it? He was the most foolish of fools. He saw it now.

He never gave much thought about the consequences of his actions. He never considered just how brutally reckless he had been. He had been so hellbent on vindication that he prevented himself from seeing the ramifications of this stupid device he had created.

All for nothing.

The gravity was already at Phobian levels. Phobian, as in Mars's moon Phobos. And it will decrease from there. There was no turning it off. The power source was far too hot to remove, even with his protected hands. It would have melted away the plastics of his PPE. It was completely insalvageable, completely irreversible.

He had doomed the world. He had doomed the planet. Soon the planet's gravity would dissipate into nothingness, and, soon, the planet would literally fall to pieces. And it would be all his fault. Everyone shall know that it was his fault. He would know that it was all his fault. His name would become synonymous with foolishness, a fitting fate he thought, self-deprecatingly.

If somehow this was all put right, he would willingly turn himself in. He would go to prison -- although, at this point, he felt that jail was better than what he deserved. He felt that he deserved death for a crime of this magnitude. What he had set in motion, with no real malicious intent but intentions of vengeance and vindication, was unforgivable. That's what he earnestly believed. What he did was unforgivable, and she should be punished for this misguided, stupid mistake.

He watched as the machine began to wobble and warble. The gravity had lowered to that of Deimosian surface gravity. This meant that a two hundred pound man would weigh far less than a pound. Something like six-hundredth of a pound. It was just a matter of time now before gravity ceased altogether.

And he would have caused it. Him. Galileo Caliga Domable. His reputation couldn't get more in shambles at this point -- his family had already disowned him for his reckless gravity experiments. He had just thought that they abandoned him for no real reason . . . now he lamented that he didn't see their pleas for him not to go through with this until this moment. This moment where it was too late.

He had last everything. Everything to this accursed obsession with proving his genius. This stupid obsession for proving himself smarter and wiser than everyone else, when it was clear he was the least of them. He wasn't an asset, he used to believe wholeheartedly. He was a dangerous liability. One too dangerous for even Cadmus to abide by. One so dangerous he wasn't even aware of how dangerous he was.

Then he sensed that he wasn't alone. And he sensed that this person had been standing there for a while. He found that he didn't really care. He found that he was feeling apathetic and hollow.

"So," he addressed the stranger without even looking at him, "come to kill me?"

"You sound hopeful," was his reply.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
A Different Kind of Standoff

"So," he addressed the stranger without even looking at him, "come to kill me?"

"You sound hopeful," Cloak replied, tonelessly. He had found the person behind this whole mess. And, though the Realm Walker would never willingly admit to it, part of him was disappointed to see how pathetic this man looked, how morose and dejected he sounded.

"So what if I do?" he countered, indifferently.

Cloak said nothing. But G.C. didn't wait long before spewing for all the emotions he couldn't hold back.

"So you're judging me?! Fine! Go ahead!!" he raged. He still could not be bothered with looking at Cloak, though. "The Earth may very well cease to exist!! All by my hand!! By my clumsy, naive hand!! My reputation is shot. My family disowned and disavowed me. I've got nothing but this rubbish piece of waste that I -- that no one can just shut off!! The power supply cannot even be detached!! The Earth is doomed!!"

He took a ragged breath. A stilted, raspy breath. Cloak said nothing, and just allowed him to speak. Allowed him to speak and get whatever it was off his chest.

"I've lost everything," he said, and Cloak could here the cry of misery and despair in his tone. "I lost everything and have no one. And I haven't anyone to blame for it . . . other than myself. I was reckless -- idiotic and stupid. Foolish. I dismissed any safety concerns and protocol and things. I just wanted to show them that they were worrying about nothing. I thought that they were just being belligerent and purposefully interfering. I thought they worried far more than was prudent or necessary. I thought they were too 'cloak and dagger' about everything."

Cloak shifted silently at the term 'cloak and dagger', and his chosen name was Cloak and his younger sister (by two Nexusian years, twenty Dweller time) chose Dagger. But still Cloak said nothing. He could tell this man, whoever he was, was feeling repentant.

"I have nothing to live for," he said, clearly drowning a sea of despair. "I don't deserve to live."

"Death is just a way to run away from your problems," Cloak said, knowingly. He had felt these feelings this human was no doubt feeling. "It is not a way to solve them."

"How'd you know?" he snapped.

"I . . . I grew up in a dysfunctional household, with an abusive mother," Cloak said, succinctly. He decided that this man would need a frame of reference, and he was clearly not supervillain material. But he would not give him details beyond that. "I know that it feels that death would be a great escape from the burdens you feel -- but that's what it would be. An escape, with messy implications to everyone that cares about you. And nothing would be solved."

"Everyone I've known has forsaken me," he countered. "No one loves a fool."

"Do you know that for a fact? Or are you simply jumping to the worst possible conclusion, distorting what is true and what is not?" Cloak said, with surprising insight.

"No one wants me," he continued, stubbornly. "I'm worthless."

"No one's worthless," Cloak said. He was tempted to say no one's inherently worthless, but he thought that might muddle up his message.

"It doesn't matter anyway," G.C. said. "It's armageddon. It's just a matter of time before the world falls apart."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Cracking On

Before Cloak could query about this, there was a loud crack. Cloak vaguely recognized it as the sound of Apparation. He looked around to find Demos, Broken, and Parker behind him. Parker looked fairly motion sick.

"I don't think . . . urp!" he said, apparently fighting against a nausea he was experiencing. "I don't think I like . . . like Side-Along Apparation."

Cloak sympathized. He felt similar, if not identical, whenever he travelled through time. He always found the experience uncomfortable, and always preferred to avoid it whenever possible.

But when Cloak turned back to look at the man, the instigator of all this, he saw that he didn't move. He was just sort of slumped on the ground, given in to despair. All hope had left him. All thought of salvation and redemption had left him. He was just a quivering mass wishing for death. Cloak didn't know if it was sad or pathetic, but leaned toward the former.

"So, that's the machine?" Demos asked.

"Yes," came the morose voice of G.C. He didn't care who came to see his foolhardy endeavor firsthand. They were all doomed anyway, in his opinion.

"Doesn't look that impressive."

G.C. didn't say anything, nothing even so much as indignant. He was feeling to much grief, sorrow, and self-pity to care much.

"How do we stop it?" Broken asked.

"You don't," G.C. said. It wasn't a threat or anything malevolent. It was a mere statement of a cold, hard fact that gave G.C. no pleasure whatsoever in saying. "It cannot be deactivated. The power source cannot be removed, even with protected hands. The process is unstoppable and irreversible. The total gravitational suppression is imminent any time now. Then soon, very soon, thereafter . . . all will be lost. Earth as we know it will crumble away, and every creature on the planet will die. Die a slow, painful death, I presume, including you and me. The damage will be irreparable. This will happen and struggling to stop it would prove utterly futile."

Cloak wasn't exactly fond of the bitter resigned tone and cold acceptance that G.C. had about all this. This was no time to give up. Then there was a quite audible boom and suddenly Cloak's eponymous cloak lifted up as if he were standing in space.

"The total gravitational suppression has begun," G.C. said, gloomily. "And it cannot be reversed."

"Try us," Cloak said, challengingly, before turning to the others. "I'll hold everything together with my Mastery over the Elements. You find a way to destroy that machine."

"It's impossible," G.C. said, still sounding defeated. "The machine can't be destroyed."

"Don't sell us short, mate," Demos said, inappropriately jovial. "We've done more impossible things on a Tuesday than this."

"I'm going to the surface, to see if I can hold everything together. You three destroy that machine. I trust you'll figure out how." Cloak said, before tunneling up. But he had to be careful -- he didn't want to expedite the crisis.

"This attempt is an exercise in futility," G.C. said, not even bothering to look up. He not only had already given up, he he had further given into apathy and despair. A potent, noxious ****tail of emotions to experience. "There is no hope. It is too late."

"Haven't you heard yet?" Parker said, gruffly. "It's never too late."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
An Exercise in Futility

"There's no use. There no going back." G.C. said. His defeatism was starting really chafed the RAFian trio. The circumstances were causing them to be rather more impatient than they might have been usually. "It is useless to try. All hope for salvation is gone. You might as well gracefully accept the inevitable, like me."

"You say inevitable, I say editable," Demos said.

"That makes no sense," G.C. replied.

"Good!" Demos replied brightly, very Deadpool-esque. "It wasn't supposed to."

"In any case," Parker said, apparently recovering from his Side-Along Apparation nausea, "it is our prerogative to decide whether anything is truly futile or not. You'll excuse us if we don't take what you say on face -- what the . . . ?"

Parker was examining the case that housed the power source for the machine. It appeared to be a small, yellow sphere just slightly larger than a PokeBall. Parker thought he recognized what this was. He was in utter disbelief, until Tyr confirmed it to him.

"Are you serious? Or are you just very much insane?" Parker said. His throat and mouth were dry. "You are powering this thing . . . you're powering this thing with a dwarf star?! A friggin' dwarf star?"

"How is that a star? It's too small." G.C. said, actually turning to address the RAFians. Apparently he wasn't disturbed to see a demon, a magician, and a guy in SPARTAN armor, all with legs like Proto Man. "Dwarf stars are as large as the Earth, at least."

"That's what it's called! I dunno why. I guess pygmy star and nano star were already trademarked." Parker said, testily. "All I know is if we destroy this thing it could lead to a massive explosion. I just hope this is one of the weaker ones, or that most of its power has been expended."

"Sounds fun!" Demos said.

"Alright, no more Deadpool for you," Broken said.

***

When Cloak reached the surface, he found that buildings were straining to break free of their foundations, and this alarmed the Realm Walker. This wasn't anti-gravity -- it was a reversal of gravity if anything. Instead of holding everything down, holding it firmly to the ground, it was repelling them. Repulsing them.

"Bern Bridges must be in town," Cloak quipped quietly to himself.

Cloak used his mastery over the Earth Element to manipulate the earth in the concrete and other building materials, his mastery over the Metal Element to manipulate the metal and wiring in the buildings. Despite the power he displayed, it was not easy. Not even when he went into his first tier of power, signified by a single trail of scarlet-gold energy streaming from his eyes, like the tongues of flame on a Mega Blaziken's wrists.

Even the three Galileans, while most helpful, could only do so much with this reversal of gravity. Cloak knew that this wasn't a permanent solution -- even if he forced himself into higher tiers of power, he didn't possess infinite stamina. He would tire, there's no question about that.

The others had better find a way to destroy the machine. That's the only permanent solution to this mess. And even Couch Tower was giving way and freeing itself from its moorings. It was an all-metal skyscraper, and there was no saving the glass. Cloak was trying his best to keep the entire city together and on the ground.

He wasn't able to save the cars and things that were floating upwards, as if being raptured. It was like hold a palmful of sand and not letting a single grain slip between your fingers, and not drop the palmful for hours on end. Not a terribly easy task, to be sure.

Hurry, guys, Cloak found himself thinking. Hurry. I dunno how much longer I can manage preventing this entire city from being flung off into space. I may have to go into the second tier.

Cloak never like using more power than absolutely necessary.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Rapid Response

"Time is of the essence," Parker said, at once. "Cloak can't last forever, no matter how powerful he is.

"Then we must get to the root of the problem," Broken said.

"You can't remove the power source from the device," G.C. said. He still sounded rather hopeless. "I don't know why you're still acting like we have a chance."

"Because we still do," Demos said, now losing all the merriment he had. "You give up far too easily."

"And you don't give easily enough!" G.C. said, emotion flaring back into his voice momentarily only to be quickly snuffed out with the perceived futility of everything. "No action can be made to remedy the situation! No act of mercy can be doled out to save everyone. All is lost! Can't you see that?! Surely . . . surely, you see. Surely, you can understand."

"We do understand," Broken said, "you allowed yourself to give in to despair. You allowed your mind to distort your own perception. But, in any case, do not interfere with our endeavor. We will set this right."

"Demos, can you absorb the heat from the dwarf star as Broken and I try to dislodge it from its compartment?" Parker asked, switching the conversation unceremoniously to shoptalk.

"I've never tried it before," Demos said, seriously. "I'm pyrokinetic, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm thermokinetic."

"What is thermokinesis but an application of pyrokinesis?" Broken said. "Try. If it fails, we will come up with a way."

"Hopefully before this thing goes critical mass on us," Parker said, with an acrid tone. "Give a try -- the thing already hot enough as is. I can actually feel it through my armor -- and that's never a good sign."

Demos tried and was surprised when it seemed to work. But it required an immense amount of concentration from him -- and he knew immediately that he would only be able to use this very sparingly, due the sheer amount of effort it was taking to just siphon off a little heat, and basically redirecting it behind him, where it dissipated.

The Parker pulled out one his basic SPARTAN guns and began taking potshots at a very particular juncture which connected the dwarf star power source with the device proper. It loosened it to be sure, but it was deciding to be stubborn.

"Reducto!" Broken roared, casting a powerful Reductor Curse. The blue light severed the dwarf star from its moorings, causing the machine to no longer be powered by it. It took a few minutes to be fully powered down, but it did and gravity returned to how it should be.

"Well, that was a bit anticlimactic," Demos said, irreverent.

"Uh, Parker? I don't think that this is a dwarf star," Broken said, looking at the sphere which powered the machine. "I think this is liddium-90."

"But --" Parker began, but was distracted when Tyr told him, "oh, Tyr, you decide to tell me this now? You could have said that it was liddium-90 before instead of deceiving me like this!"

Then Parker remembered something about liddium-90. And he looked around at their environment -- and realized there's just enough pressure and whatnot to . . .

"BROKEN! GET US OUT OF HERE!" Parker ordered, seizing G.C. around the middle and grasping Broken's hand, gesturing for Demos to do the same hurriedly. "APPARATE!! NOW!!!"

"Why?"

"DON'T ASK QUESTIONS! JUST GET US OUT OF HERE BEFORE IT EXPLODES!!!" Parker said. He didn't want to see if he could tank the explosion -- whether not he could or couldn't, it still wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

Broken complied, and the resounding crack of their departure missed the explosion that followed by mere moments.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
The Odd GH Show

All four made out okay, and the explosion seemed to do no structural damage (despite what the Couch family claimed) to anything. Any relevant damage was purely cosmetic and forgettable.

True to his unspoken word, the first thing G.C.did was turn himself in. However, the police didn't believe him and dismissed him. He insisted that he he did wrong and wanted to rectify it. He said that he deserved to be jailed. But he had no proof of his crimes.

They just ordered him to get therapy and sent him to a shrink.

***

"Oh, this is a story 'bout a guy named GH,
And he lived in a sewer with his adopted son, LH.
But the sanitation workers really didn't approve,
So he packed up his guitar and had to move
To a city in Johto where he lived in a tree
And he worked in an armadillo mascot factory.
And he played on the company soccer team.
And every single night he had a strange recurring dream,
Where he was wearing a silk suit in a vat of sour cream,
But that's really not important to the story!
Well, the very next year he met a guitar hygienist
With KOH tattooed on his arm (on his arm)!
But he didn't keep in touch,
And he lost his number.
Then he got himself a job on a Heartless farm
And he spent his life-savings on a split-level cave
Twenty miles below the surface of the Earth (of the Earth)!
And he really makes a mighty bland jelly bean and pickle sandwich
For what it's worth!
Then one day GH was in the forest, trying to get a tan,
When he heard the tortured screaming of a funny little man.
He was caught in a bear trap and GH set him free.
And the guy that he rescued was grateful as could be.
And it turns out he's a big-shot producer on TV.
So, he gives GH a contract and, what do ya know?
Now he's got his very own odd GH show!!"

Then jovial mess of a song vanished for a deep void of blackness, with GH just floating aimlessly through it, confused about what was going on. He was having nice dream . . . such a nice dream.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Logan," said a deep, gravelly, demonic sounding voice. GH turned around him and saw a massive pair of red glowing eyes and white glowing teeth that gnashed as the thing spoke. "I'm still here. And I want OUT!!"

GH seemed dazed and confused, as if he had blocked off any memory pertaining to this creature as a means of self-defense.

"Don't pretend that you don't remember me," he growled, clearly deeply offended. "You know who I -- argh!"

This creature, whatever it was, was feeling pain but from what and how? GH couldn't be sure. GH was even sure what this thing was, or if it was even real.

"I see what you're doing, Logan," it said as its eyes and teeth dimmed. "You're telegraphing your tactics so obviously."

GH stared on dumbfounded.

"You can't bury me deep enough, I'll always claw my way back out. You'll never be rid of me, and I will never be rid of you." it said, nearly faded away altogether now. "It may take me years to claw my way back to the surface again, but I will. You mark my words, Logan, I will. Then I'll come out when you least expect it."

GH floated there, mouth agape.

"You won't remember any of this, anyhow," it said, its voice faint as a mouse's squeak now, "but . . . I will . . . be . . . baaaaaaack . . ."

***

GH awoke, and he indeed couldn't remember his interaction with this monstrous mental construct. He just sighed and said, "Abby's TV show rhetoric is getting to me."


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=XEOwTeI9geI

[guitarhero01234]

Damn, got chills reading that

[Cloak]

You know who it was, right?

And it wasn't originally going to be that dark -- I just thought I'd slip in some not so subtle . . . NO, SAFFA! PUT DOWN THE SKILLET!!!

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Sparky Sparky Boom Boom Man

Blue was dispatched to an evacuated machinery plant of some sort. It had a proper name, but Blue didn't take enough care to remember precisely what. All he knew was that he had his ninjabo and a few shurikens, some of which were explosive, and that was all he needed. He was a ninja after all -- he didn't need bulky armor or brutish weaponry. He had speed and stealth on his side.

He climbed up a wall. From there he moved to the right, staying away from any roaming lights, as was in his ninjitsu training. He skillfully and stealthily dodged any security cameras and whatnot -- though this was probably wholly unnecessary, as the building was evacuated. Barring Demos's fiend, anyway.

He moved closer and closer to the heart of the location, where this fiend was rampaging. Blue was of the opinion that stealth in this case was absolutely necessary. There wasn't much information to go off of. There was an educated guess that this might be an electricity-themed fiend, but no concrete evidence. Even Demos hadn't a clue -- he made too many fiends.

These brothers of Maul weren't exactly dangerous -- not like the majority of threats RAF had beaten and thwarted in their time, but they were still dangerous to civilians, to the layman without any specialized training in this kind of thing. Hence why the RAFians had to be the ones to take this thing down.

Xeno would have come, but he's asked for some personal time. And the mods were not real hardasses on issues such issues. So he was temporarily taken.off the active duty roster. People need some time for themselves from time to time. Pity some of the greediest rich Scrooges can't understand it.

There it was. Blue kept out of its eyeline and in the shadows. It seemed to be very angry -- like the rest of the fiends. Perhaps it didn't appreciate being kept in a dehydrated ball. Although all of these fiends seemed to be of questionable intelligence.

The creature had human-like eyes with dark blue sclera and black irises, set into a head shaped like a sparkplug. It did not have hands but a single, high-voltage electrode that was as long as a lance in place of each hand. These electrodes were connected dark blue lower arms, which lightened to white for the upper arms and returned to dark blue for its shoulders, torso and head. It had a ribbed abdomen, with the ribbed parts being dark blue and the sections between being a dark gold. It had rather pontoon-looking, black feet with dark blue at the toes, and white thighs.

There was a flash of.light that Blue wasn't prepared for. A flash of light from the creature's electrokinetic sparks. This flash outted his position and, outraged at Blue for some reason, the creature attacked.

The creature leaped at Blue, but Blue was no longer there. He had dodged around beneath it, under its jump. It tried this tactic another three times before it seemed to realize that it could use electricity against him. It fired several small sparks, which Blue dodged using his ninjitsu. The it fired a large ball of electricity, with Blue deflected using his ninjabo. Fortunately, the ball of electricity wasn't as strong as he feared.

He threw shuriken after explosive shuriken at the creature. Each exploded after a five second delay. After three or four hits -- nearly exhausting Blue's supply of shurikens -- the creature perished.

***

Demos called the creature a "gnistasapien", and intended for it to be like a portable charger. Everyone thought that this was very impractical.

***

"The spark still lives," Malice mused, "only to be eaten by a pony."

Then she laughed at her not so subtle Death Battle reference.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CXLV:
HITTIN' THE DINO-SAUCE
CHAPTER ONE:
Needling

Cloak was dispatched to a subdivision that was either unoccupied or abandoned when one of Demos's fiends had decided to move in. Looking around, he wondered. He wondered if any of the slightest bit of damage he saw was due to that whole gravity fiasco a few days ago.

Anyway, he proceed into the eerie quiet and stillness of the town. Cloak quickly headed to the oddest looking building in the subdivision and immediately saw crude evidence that whatever this fiend was, it had decided to take up lodgings there. Regardless if it was welcome or not.

Cloak made not a sound as he walked, as if the ground itself was trying to eat up the sound of footsteps, like a loyal puppy following the orders of its master. Cloak was on guard, so his senses were hyper alert -- alert to every possible sound, sight, or scent that could provide him with trouble.

It didn't take long to find the fiend. Like the others before, it seemed quite angry and hostile. Cloak knew that it could not, and would not, be reasoned with.

The creature had no discernable head, as it was inset in the body. It had human-like eyes, with orangish-pink sclera and black irises, and purple eyebrows. It had three long, sharp gold spikes where its head would normally be, and could be thrown outward, tethered only by a length of chain-like blood and sinew and skin. It had no hands, just launchers for bullet-like spike projectiles. It had a yellowish-orange body with stout legs and pod-like feet. It had no mouth to speak of, and just a green jewel right below its eyes. It also had retractable spikes on its chest, back, and shoulders. It was slightly taller than a ten-year-old child.

Cloak appeared to have not been noticed y-- oh, never mind.

It jumped up high -- higher than it should have been able to do reasonably with its body shape and weight -- and began to rain spike bullets down on Cloak, who dodged them all, but very narrowly. It was an experience that he, in all honesty, did not care to relive.

Cloak blasted it with some golden-scarlet energy, and it just backed up dazed. The fact that it managed to survive was a feat in and of itself. But Cloak wasn't about to let this.opportunity pass. He pressed his attack, firing a second blast. Then a third. Then a final one.

It was slain now. Cloak felt a certain sadness. It needn't be this way. Granted, Demos created these things without souls (apparently that's not something you create arbitrarily, if, indeed, you can create a soul).

***

Demos called it a "agosapien". He claimed his purpose was for land development, to help burst through bedrock and boulders and such.

No one believed him.

***

"Had me on pins and needles." Malice said, with a laugh. This was television to her.

[Cloak]

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER TWO:
I'll Go It Alone!!

Meanwhile, back at Odie's mother's place, Odie was blowing up at his mother because she refused him an item he wanted, a rather expensive item that his mother just could not afford, being a retired seamstress living off of Social Security and was on a shoestring budget.

Even with his mother, Odie put himself first and foremost, and everyone else, even his own mother (who cares for him deeply, blind to the selfish, spoiled brat that he was) was dead last. It was one reason his relationship with RAF and the RAFians was so strained.

He was packing his bags, preparing to leave again. Like when he first joined RAF, after an one-sided row with his affable, kindly mother.

"Why does everyone always have to tell me I'm wrong?
Why does everybody make me feel I just don't belong?
Well, if everybody doesn't like the way I sing my own song,
I'll go it alone . . . I'll go it alone!
How come the word I hear most often is 'no'?
The way I'm treated I feel lower then below.
It's very clear that I'm not wanted here, so
I'll go it alone . . . I'll go it alone!"

His mother, as wrinkly and emaciated as she was, pleaded in reply:

"I know that you're upset, but don't rush off just yet.
You can't take the world on singlehanded!
What if you should end up dead or stranded?"

"Better that then being reprimanded!
No matter how hard I try I can't seem to please.
What does everyone want -- should I go down on my knees?
If all everyone knows to do is holler and tease,
I'll go it alone!
Why must everyone criticize whatever I do?
My days of suffering everyone's insults is through!
Goodbye! So Long! Tah-tah! Farewell! Too-da-loo!"

But his mother pleaded again:

"I don't like thinking what might happen to you,
If you strike out on your own!"

Odie countered:

"Mother! I'll brave the unknown!"

His mother begged:

"But, Odie, dear, you can't!"

"And go it alone!"

"Don't go it alone!"

"I'll go it alone!"

"Don't go it alone!"

His mother waited a beat, before offering, "I'll go with you."

"No!" Odie said, sounding more like a tempermental child than the teenager on the cusp of young adulthood that he was supposed to be. "I don't need you! I don't need anyone."

Then he left, as his mother started to cry. And he didn't care. All he cared about was making everyone who he felt wronged him pay. And the RAFians were up on the chopping block. . . .


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=RUKJh77bCrI

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
A Colloidal Byproduct

Yarin was tinkering his his thread, which he had made part of it into a makeshift lab and machinist foundry. It was here where he crafted his inventions. Most of which he used to trick out his ship, but he did not approve of the phrase "trick out", as the implications sounded harsh to his Nyac ears.

He had put perfecting his F.Y.I. on the back burner (he didn't care what anyone said -- the thing could be used for philanthropic means when he worked out all the bugs from it -- some literal bugs, as well). He would devise and troubleshoot the problems in it later. Right now he was working on a strange carburetor-like device colored yellowish-gold and was attached to a device looking rather like a flux capacitor. There was no telling what this cobbled-together device was meant to do, but it would be a safe assumption that it was something for his ship that he pulled out and was maintaining, or a simple add on.

He almost didn't notice the colloidal goo issuing from the bottom of the device. The goo was strange as one moment it looked eerily similar to ketchup and the next moment, it appeared to look like salad dressing. It was almost like a sauce or condiment of some kind in its own right.

But Yarin didn't see it in such a way. He just saw it as a useless byproduct of his tinkering. Something that was pointless and was meant to be discarded. At least this byproduct wasn't radioactive, like last time. Fortunately, Cloak used his corona to safely dispose of it.

Yarin decided that it wouldn't do to just leave it there. He managed to seal the byproduct into two silver packages, not unlike the ones that salad dressing came in at the commissary, or mess hall, whichever term is preferred. This was a rather big mistake as Yarin would later discover. The substance had no odor, and the viscosity of a condiment.

Yarin deftly sealed the packets. Fortunately, it wasn't very much of the substance. While he deemed it harmless, it wasn't. It wasn't toxic or radioactive, but it held a secret danger, unknown to all, even the Nyac.

Then the telepath looked and saw the bright sunlight streaming into the window of his thread. It was a lovely day outside. It would be a shame to be cooped up in here and not enjoy a little of it, at least.

But, first, he would have to safely dispose of these packets. Then he would head by the commissary (mess hall, whatever) for a meal. He had to admit that those house-elves were quite masterful at replicating Nyac cuisine. Something he didn't hesitate to mention to exaltation of the house-elves on staff. Their happiness made him happy, as well. He loved it when happiness caught on, like a pleasant outbreak.

Anyway, he grabbed the two packets and left his thread (which was the closest to the hangar which housed his ship and the personal vehicles of the RAFians who had any, though they were on a lower level than his ship. The roof could retract, so he could fly straight up. His was basically the only ship that the RAFians possessed. And despite furiously denying it, he was proud of that fact.

He made his way to the commissary, apparently forgetting that he had the packets in hand*. His stomach was telling him that it was time to eat. On the way there, he reflected that he once considered going on a Namekian diet -- but there were so few cuisine options with just water.

Oh, yes, this was a lovely day indeed. Not too hot, not to cold. Only a breeze every now and then. It was an absolutely fantastic day for the stroll to the commissary. True, he supposed that he could just eat in his thread -- they all were equipped with the kitchen necessities of any given species. Threads were a bit like the Room of Requirement in this way. The commissary was most for social interactions and a social hub of the forum.

This was going to be a great day.


* Something that I arguably do all the time.