Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
The Ghostwriter

Gary Stu, "the Ghostwriter", was very glad that he got this reality-rewriting typewriter. And, like all people with newly manifested powers, he freely abused it. But, unlike some others, he would not stop misusing this power. He would soon go mad with it, believing himself untouchable -- and if he wasn't, he'd just simply type it out to be true.

He was smugly glancing over at his manuscript -- the narrative of which was rather hodgepodge and amateurish, but he thought it was the greatest epic ever written. And he would severely punish any naysayers by manipulating their personal realities into torturous, nightmarish creations.

He had used to the typewriter to give him wealth -- which was empty and unearned. He had used it to give himself a beautiful girlfriend that was crazy about him -- not too possessive, but demurred and submissive, and lacking a real personality. He also used it to make alterations to his physique and attractiveness -- because he was shallow like that. He also used it to make his Victorian house solid gold -- and, no, he wasn't compensating for anything, in his opinion. Nothing that he couldn't freely change, anyway.

He had so much power to do so much good with. He could have made a new paradise, a heaven on Earth, for everyone. He could have eliminated war, pestilence, famine, and even death itself. He could have done many things for the betterment of mankind, for the benefit of mankind.

But, no.

No, he had opted to be selfish with the power. He opted to make his life easier, and decided to live in luxury, at the cost and expense of those who wronged him. Gary sought to selfishly hoard this power for solely his benefit. He didn't care about anyone else's well-being other than his own. Even if the cost was the misery of another, he didn't care. As long as he gets what he wants.

His arrogance quickly evolved into hubris. He started to believe the power was his -- as if he was generating it, instead of the typewriter -- and the typewriter was just an instrument. One that he just didn't want to discard just yet.

He didn't realize that all his reality manipulations may have been detrimental to the fabric of reality. But, then again, even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. He had really degenerated into a self-serving, egotistical piece of work. The thought of him making a miscalculation or even the slightest misstep had become inconceivable. He had come to see himself as the pinnacle of perfection, incapable of failure.

It was a very dangerous state of mind to have. Having confidence is one thing, but overconfidence is quite another. Overconfidence has a nasty habit of allowing stupid mistakes to ruin your day, to have your comeuppance. More often than not, it is overconfidence (which often intertwines with hubris) that leads to people's downfalls.

Despite his quick assumption of his perceived omniscience, he was unaware of one individual. One individual that was steadily making his way towards him, undeterred by the changes to reality that Gary made and was still making. Unaffected and determined to stop them.

He actually noticed this individual once or twice while he was luxuriating lazy by the pool that he used the typewriter to write into existence. He loved swimming in the crystal clear water -- perfectly content in his absolute safety, the surety of his superiority.

That individual was of no concern to him. He couldn't do anything to him. He, in his mind, was perfectly omniscient and omnipotent. He could do anything he wanted -- quite literally, with his typewriter. He was in no danger. Danger was, in his view, an impossibility. He could be the danger, true, but being in danger?

Nah.

[Cloak]

Wow. Nine guests reading this as I post this.

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Barren and Bleak

Cloak felt the reality "transition" yet again, and discovered that he no longer needed it so much. He could detect the source of these "transitions", although it was far from easy. He could only infer that it was due to him getting so much closer to the source of whatever was behind this. The more he did, the more his qualms of the return of the Reality Gem -- as well as its brothers -- became more pronounced.

But that's not possible. The Reality Gem shouldn't have been able to do all this without being backed up by the other Infinity Gems, particularly the Space and Power Gems. Could this mean that they're coming back even more overpowered, or was this thing really powered by . . . by more than the Reality Gem?

Of course, if the Gems are reforming, logically that meant their opposites, their countering force, the Eternity Stones should be doing the same. Which also possibly meant that their weapon forms, the Eternity Blades, might be reforming as well. But whether that meant that they would return to their once-chosen wielders remained to be seen.

Cloak took this time to look around his surroundings. Everything was dark and washed out, in browns, reds, and blacks. Buildings were little more than hollowed out husks that were falling apart. None were fulling enclosed anymore, all were missing at least a large chunk of wall. Some even had three walls missing, and were soon to collapse to the ground. Even some walls and buildings that remained stubbornly were well eroded to having naught a sharp surface.

There was no plant life. Only sticks and tumble weeds. Red topsoil blew around, with nothing holding it in place. The water seemed to have all evaporated or was poisoned by fracking or other such means.

There was no life whatsoever, barring Cloak himself. No obnoxiously barking dogs, no aloof cats, no scurrying mice. No squirrels clamoring amongst nonexistent branches. No activity of any sort. None.

Of course, weather was still a thing. Climate was ridiculously hot -- Cloak's own Realm Walker physiology preventing him from feeling any real ill effect other than momentary discomfort.

Thus was truly a sad sight. This was the Earth's death. It was just now an empty planet hurtling around the sun. A corpse of a planet that perhaps an attack from Galactus or Unicron may have been a more humane death, instead of the slow choking and virtual immolation of her children.

As he walked on, he spied the shattered remains of a rutile gem. Further on, to his immediate right were the shattered remains of a brownish-red rhodonite, with a shattered pearl and ruby in between these shards. A rare orange-pink padparadscha sapphire shattered to pieces behind it. Behind this were six massive fluorites which represented many colors was shattered into many shards. Cloak wondered if this meant anything.

No matter, no matter. This reality would "transition" like the others, and be forgotten.

But this wasn't true. It wouldn't be forgotten -- not entirely. This whole reality, despite Cloak resisting it, had left an indelible impression in his mind. The bleak image was seared involuntarily and unwillingly into his memory. He would give anything to forget this reality shift and everything it represented, but he knew, deep down, that he never would.

He had to keep going. Keep moving to the citadel in the distance. That was where the reality distorting, the reality shifting, source was. Cloak was sure of it. It wasn't that far away, not really. Just a three-quarters to a full hour's walk away.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Chilled Chaos*

The "transition" came as Cloak knew it would. He really was starting to think this was just a bad writer causing all this who had no concept of consistent storytelling, whose vocabulary consisted of mostly single-syllable words, maybe some two- or three-syllable words.

Cloak had come to really dislike whoever was behind this. Reality was now as cold as it was on Cryolacier. He remembered how the Cryolacite humans -- all having white hair and eyes a shocking myriad of colors, as was the trend of all humans within the Fractured Realms -- treated such temperatures as if it was balmy and lovely. Whereas Cloak had never liked snow, even as a child.

He saw what appeared to be a white, saber-toothed wolverine eating from the carcass of oversized marmot, only with thicker fur and a smaller nose. It was almost as if someone remade the Darwin Gun and used it on a wolverine and marmot -- but there would be no guarantee that they would look like this, even if they did. Evolution is basically an adaptation of a species surroundings -- it is a planet's particular ecosystem that shapes its creatures, as well as the niches that need to be filled. And if a species cannot adapt to these changes, they will die.

His kind have observed it happen time and time again since the Realms came into creation, having been the first species (which some more bigoted Walkers use as just cause for Walker superiority and sovereignty over all). That was long before his time, though, naturally. He was just in his late twenties, after all.

As Cloak continued to trudge through the snow -- which made it difficult to the point of impossibility to Earthsight, he found -- he wondered if whoever was behind this knew about his pet peeves. Cloak found snow a hassle, because, even though it was technically water, Cloak never could manipulate it, just as he had never manipulated steam. Snow is different from water, more resistant, but less sturdy and stubborn than earth. Perhaps it was well within his power to manipulate it, but Cloak was hesitant to try. Last thing he needed was more power.

Seeking power and having power could be very dangerous. It can be addictive. And you'll always seek out more and more and more . . . until it completely consumes you, until it complete encompasses you, until it completely subsumes your identity. Such is a fate that very few would want, including Cloak. He was born with his potential power, despite not really liking to use more than is absolutely necessary, fearful of any collateral damage and possible slaying of innocents. This is why he always tries to be so measured in everything -- he alone could cause a lot of destruction and devastation. He could possibly have wrought a world like the . . . like the last reality.

It is also one of the reasons he was glad to have found the RAFians, and the forum. He felt that they grounded him, that they . . . that they gave him a sense of family and community that he hadn't really known before. Yes, he had family with Mercy, Faith, Wheeza, and Shadow, but they were family, not a community. He had fallen in love with RAF's free exchange of ideas. He had fallen in love with how, despite disparate everyone was, they always managed to come together in the end.

Cloak held out his hand, generating a ball of fire that melted the snow in front of him. He still harbored some pyrophobia, despite being a Master (albeit rather reluctant) of the element. It all stemmed from a house fire that happened when he was five (that would be about 220 years ago, in Dweller Earth time). Fortunately, Faith was there to not only comfort him, but, as she often did, talk sense to him. She would have been around thirteen, fourteen at the time, too.

If whoever was behind this reality shifting thought that this would be enough to deter him from ending this whole thing, they had another thing coming.  Snow and ice didn't stop him from dealing with the ice ifrit, it would not stop him here. They would have to put forth a little more effort if he, or she, wanted to impede his path.

All they did was slow him down momentarily.


*Yes, I'm referencing one of my favorite YouTubers. So what?

[Shenmue654]

This looks neat! Hope Cloak manages to make it through the crappy weather and find what he's looking for. On a more rambling note, about the whole device of giving a character that much power...

Storytelling Rant: There's an interesting sort of commentary I've written at different times about the idea of someone who can alter Reality at will. Of course, most of the characters with this ability have some sort of odd constraint on the form they receive, but they still end up with godlike power. In both cases the individuals who receive the power are extremely complex people, and the results of their actions vary drastically.

• In one variant, a member of an oppressed race gains the Gran Grimoire (as in yes the one from Final Fantasy Tactics Advance) and he creates a world where the oppressed race have a circumscribed and specific role, but rights as citizens and tremendous power. He himself becomes a kind of judge in a world of checks and balances, laws and systems, where no one ruler holds ultimate power. This reflects the man's tremendous love of rules and his belief that a society governed by Law is the most noble. Given the chance to distort Reality to his liking completely, he settles for mere respectability.
• The second person to obtain the Grimoire is much, much more selfish--- A being of already incredible power who uses the Grimoire to gain a world tailored to his ideals. However, the rules of the Grimoire in the Roleplay dictate that he is trapped with a world that reflects him too perfectly--- In Persona 5 terms, a Palace. Therefore every citizen of the place is just as neurotic and sexist as he is, and they've built a society that exactly mimics his own beliefs and aesthetics. He realizes quickly that this isn't exactly what he had in mind.
• Another person gains the ability to rewrite time and "Fate" to her liking, essentially the ability to change any probability so that it runs in her favor and any event so that it happens the way she wants. The problem is that this ability comes with a complicated series of "butterfly effect" constraints and the responsibility of leading an entire group of people. A group of people almost inordinately bad at thinking for themselves with devious leaders who understand that ability way better than its user does. She tries to change Reality so that her lover's parent doesn't die and gets what they want, only to come back and find that her actions have set off a series of consequences so complicated that her lover is actually *dead* and replaced with his previously dead twin brother. And that because of the will and self-possessed nature of the lover's parent, there is *no* outcome in which they are actually alive and happy.

Basically, I think there's a lot of potential with these ideas as investigations into the human mind and heart beyond stories of greed and excess, but well....yeah. Not sure why I said all that. <__<; Hope to see where this goes!

[Cloak]

Honestly, I don't know how to respond to that without giving something away about this book. And Saffa has a skillet to ka-bong me upside the head if my lips get too loose. I think all I can say is that I outline these books very much in advance (as you can see by my profile, which is very up-to-date), so chances are there is some foreshadowing for future books, and chances are high that you'll forget when that book comes up.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Sweltering and Ruminating

The "transition" happened again, and the extreme cold quickly flipped from freezing to sweltering. This did not help Cloak's disposition in the least.

"What, is he -- or she -- being lobbied hard by the Heat Miser and Snow Miser?" Cloak grumbled. He did not find extreme heat any more enjoyable than extreme cold. If whoever was behind this thought this would soften the Realm Walker's resolve, he was quite mistaken. His mother's side of his family has the hallmark stubbornness, and was equal to any of them when it came to being obstinate.

He had his goal. And he would not be deterred. He would not be thrown offtrack.

But he was invariably reminded of Pyrosun, from the Fracture Realms. The Earth of that Realm was little more than a star orbiting a larger sun, like a stellar moon. The humans -- yes, humans, strangely enough, all with red hair -- swam through lava like water, and treated it like water. A small number of them utilized fire in a pyrokinectic manner, but called it "pyromagic".

He remembered the flora and fauna was incredibly diverse as well, with the lava slugs being preyed on lava koi, which in turn were preyed on by humans and lava kaiju. It was a surprisingly balanced food web, a startling stable ecosystem. One wouldn't expect to be so -- but that was true of all the shattered Realms there. The sprawling forests of Florest. The hot sun-like Pyrosun. The oceans of Alanthydrias. The jungles of Hivect. The lightning-torn Thundelectro. The mountains and deserts of Terraseismo. The floating islands of Floafly. The tundras of Cryolacier. The prehistoric world of Drise. The poisonous world of Venoxica. The mechanical world of Ferromor. The eternally dark world of Noctumbra. The mountainous Geolith. The savage world of Savawl. The ghostly world of Necrectopolis. The townships of Psychesp.

All these environments were so different, so diverse. And, yet, all had humans there, somehow -- green-haired Florester humans, red-haired Pyrosunnurite humans, blue-haired Atlanhydrian humans, olive green-haired Hivectoid humans, blonde Thundelectroan humans, brown-haired Terraseismoan humans, gold-haired Floaflier humans (who were winged with wings of an array of different colors), white-haired Cryolacite humans, tan-haired Driser humans, purple-haired Venoxican humans, silver-haired Ferrormor humans (although, even though they looked perfectly human, their bodies were mechanical automatons inhabited by the minds of the humans before some great cataclysm occurred in Ferrormor), the black-haired Noctumbran humans, the gray-haired Geolithling humans, the orange-haired Savawler humans, the ghostly indigo-haired Necrectopolian humans, and the violet-haired Psychespian humans.

How? Cloak thought as he trudged through this unnecessarily extreme heat. How did humans get into all these realms with these extremes of environments? And how did that Realm fracture in the first place? Will I ever find out?

The Fractured Realms were so long before his time. Before his parents time. Before the times of Master Sage, Aniyu and -- well, not Master Avatar, perhaps. But whatever happened was not recorded and recollections of what happened did not survive the ravages time has on memory.

It's really to hot here, Cloak found himself thinking, before considering the Fractured Realms once more.

It must have been catastrophic, or maybe it happened simply within the realm itself, within the realm cuticle, as the fragments of the realm -- Pyrosun and the rest --  floated around as portals in the vast, uninhabited abyss of Void Space. The Fractured Realms seemed to have gotten along just as well, never knowing that it was one continuous Realm. Perhaps it was just as well. The burden of knowledge can prove to be a terrible one.

Nearly there, nearly there, said, as he continued to trudge toward this citadel shaped like a two-story Victorian house. . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Everything You Know is Wrong!

The "transition" seemed to come quicker than last time. Maybe it was because whoever was behind this really didn't like excessive heat, or maybe it was because Cloak was far closer to the source now. Nonetheless, he continued forward.

Until he was distracted by what appeared to be a redhead GH in a Weird Al wig. Very odd. Even for GH. When he heard what he swore was GH's voice singing in voiceover.

I was walking by the freeway in the bike lane
With a rabid Joltik in my underwear,
When suddenly a guy behind me from the back road
Popped right up and cupped his hands across my eyes."

Cloak slowed his gait to watch this.

I guessed, "Is it Uncle Frank or Cousin Louie?"
"Is it Quaf or Poe or Parker?"
"Could it be Cloak or Blue or TJ or Gary or Steve?"
I probably would have kept on guessing,
But, about that time, we crashed into the truck.

Cloak watched this as it all played out in real time. What that truck was doing driving on the sidewalk was beyond Cloak.

And as I'm laying bleeding there on the asphalt
Finally I recognize the face of my guitar dealer
Who takes out his prosthetic brain and tells me --

Cloak continued to proceed, but he seemed quite literally unable proceed any further than the song would allow.

Everything you know is wrong!
Black is white, up is down and short is long!
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter!
Everything you know is wrong!
Just forget the words and sing along!
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong!

Then the scene shifted to a house that looked nothing like GH's thread. It looked more like the kitchen set from "Home Improvement".

I was walkin' to the kitchen for some saltine crackers,
When I accidentally stepped into an alternate dimension,
And soon I was abducted by some aliens from space
Who kinda looked like Jafar.

Cloak still tried to move forward but if felt as if his feet were mired in a swamp. He was starting to suspect --

"They sucked out my internal organs
And they took some selfies,
And said I was a damn good sport.
And as a way of saying thank you,
They offered to transport me back to
Any point in time that I would care to go.

Cloak was starting to suspect whoever was behind this knew that he was hear and he was heading for that Victorian house, that citadel.

And so I had them send me back to last Monday night
So I could pay my Internet bill on time.
Just then the floating disembodied head of
Armadillo Anderson started yelling --

Yep, he or she definitely knew.

Everything you know is wrong.
Black is white, up is down and short is long.
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter.
Everything you know is wrong.
Just forget the words and sing along!
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong!

He or she definitely knew about his presence, and Cloak also had a sneaking suspicion that --

I was just about to mail a letter to Leatherhead
When I got a nasty papercut
And, well, to make a long story short,
It got infected and I died.

-- That he was being toyed with. "Being made a fool of," as Markiplier would say.

So now I'm up in heaven with St. Peter
By the pearly gates,
And it's obvious he doesn't like
The death metal jacket that I'm wearing.
He tells me that they've got a dress code.

Cloak was starting to feel irritation at this same old song and dance. He wanted to end this already.

Well, he lets me into heaven anyway,
But I get the room next to the noisy ice machine
For all eternity,
And every day he runs by screaming --

Cloak was tired of trying to slough through this, as if he was pushing his way through a snowbank, a thick one, made entirely of the stuff of reality itself.

Everything you know is wrong!
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you used to think was so important
Doesn't really matter anymore,
Because the simple fact remains that
Everything you know is wrong!
Just forget the words and sing along!
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong!
Everything you know is wrong!!!

You know what? Enough of this. He had been too nice about this, playing by the rules of whoever was shifting realities.

That was about to end.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=KThlYHfIVa8

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Stop Sending That Crud to Me

Gary was speaking to his reality-fabricated girlfriend, having taken her hands into his own as they sat, and he sang-spoke:

"Oh, the sand keeps falling through the hourglass
And there's no way you're going to slow it down.
You say we gotta treasure each moment.
Who knows how long we're gonna be around?"

He released her hands and turned slightly away from her, before continuing:

"Yeah, you keep on telling me life is short,
And it's hard to disagree with what you say.
But if time is so precious, why you wasting mine?
'Coz I'm always reading, always deleting,
Every useless piece of garbage that you send my way."

He stood with his back to her, apparently oblivious to the stricken look on her face. If he was aware of it, the. He simply did not care.

"Every stupid hoax,
All those corny jokes!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Well, I don't need tons of cringe-inducing puns!
Stop sending that crud to me."

She started to protest, but was quickly silenced by Gary's glare. He wasn't done being mean and cruel to her.

"No, it isn't okay if you brighten my day
With some cut-and-pasted hackneyed Twilight poetry.
And I didn't request a personality test.
Stop sending that crud to me."

She started to cry, but Gary wasn't moved.

"You're sending virus-laden bandwidth-logging attachments
To every single person you know.
You're passing around a link to some dumb thing on boob tube
That everybody else already saw thirty years ago,
And wacky poorly Photoshopped billboards
Were never that pleasing to me.
And I just can't believe you believe those urban legends,
But I have high hopes
Someone will point you toward Snopes
And debunk that crazy junk you're spewing constantly."

He ignored her sobs as he continued to lay into her.

"No, I don't want a bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Send more top 10 lists and I'll smash your wrists!
Please stop sending that crud to me.
Well, I'm sorry I can't accept your paranoid rant
And I don't want the Cookie Monster cookie recipe.
Won't you kindly refrain 'cause it's hurting my brain!
Stop sending . . . that crud to me."

Far from feeling sympathy, Gary felt disgust and disappointment. This woman was supposed to be everything he wanted in a woman. And, at first, she was. Then he found her becoming increasingly irritating and possessive. Granted, he didn't give much when he wrote her into existence. Just that she was crazy about him, and she lacked anything more than that for personality. He hadn't even thought enough of her to write her a name. He just called her pet names that sounded more like platitudes at this point. Things like "Sweethart", "M'Lady", and "Babe -- mostly the last one.

Anyway, he picked up the tempo as he sang:

"Like glittery hearts and unicorns
And pictures of somebody's rat.
Now tell me, in what written reality
Would I care about something like that?
And, by the way, your quotes from K. A. Applegate
Aren't really K. A. Applegate,
Mr. Couch never fought the Viet Cong,
And the government is never gonna give me somethin' for nothin',
And I highly doubt some dead girl is gonna kill me
If I don't pass her letter along!!!
Well, now I know you're wishin'
I'll sign that petition
But stop sending that crud to me.
And I don't want to read your series
Of conspiracy theories.
Just stop sending that crud to me.
And your two million loser friends
All have my address now
'Cause you never figured out the way to BCC."

"Brevard College catalogue?" she asked, through sniffles, as Gary facepalmed hard before continuing.

"Now I gotta insist
Take me off of your list!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Just stop it now.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Oh, no.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
I can't take it.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Aw, please!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
You gotta stop.
Stop sending that crud to me.
Right now!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me.
I'm not kidding!
Stop sending that crud to me.
At the risk of being slightly repetitious,
Gonna ask you now to stop! Stop!
Sending me that . . . crud!
I don't want it!
Don't send it to me!
Don't send it to me!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Just stop!
Stop sending that crud to me.
Stop sending that crud to me . . .
To me."

His unnamed -- unnamed in the most literal sense of the word -- girlfriend was now bawling. Gary wasn't just breaking up with her, as he picked up a piece of paper with text typewritten on it.

"Babe," he said, tearing it, "it's over."

The woman turned the color of parchment -- her clothes, her hair, her skin, everything -- as she quickly mimicked a two dimensional drawing, that ripped in half. Her existence was no more.

"Wow," said a low, unimpressed voice. "You certainly have a way with women, boy."


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=KCSA7kKNu2Y

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Word Crimes

Gary must have jumped six feet straight up. He hadn't heard anyone enter. He hadn't written it, either.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded, sounding more like a scared, young child than his actual age.

Cloak wasn't really paying him too much mind. He was reading through his manuscript -- and was feeling a tad offended without how poorly written it was. Yes, he had been writting his memoirs (granted, in secret), and this schlock was just horrid. The narrative was all over the place, and he would ramble on noncongruent tangents. It was difficult, nigh impossible to read.

"If you can't write in the proper way,
If you don't know how to conjugate --
Maybe you flunked that class,
And maybe now you find
That people mock you online!"

"You don't know me," Gary snapped. "And the Ghostwriter doesn't need your --"

"Okay, now here's the deal.
I'll try to educate you.
Gonna familiarize
You with the nomenclature.
You'll learn the definitions
Of nouns and prepositions.
Literacy's your mission
And that's why I think it's a
Good time,
To learn some grammar.
Now did I stammer ?
Work on that grammar!"

"My grammar is perfectly fine!" he spat. "There's not nothing that is wrong with it."

But Cloak continued as if he had not been interrupted by Gary's protest.

"You should know when
It's 'less' or it's 'fewer'.
Like people who were
Never raised in a sewer."

"I know how to write!" he snarled. "I've written and published three books!!"

Cloak knew he was lying via his Earthsight. Still, the Realm Walker continued:

"I hate these word crimes
Like 'I could care less'
That means you do care.
At least a little.
Don't be a moron!
You better slow down
And use the right pronoun.
Show the world you're no clown."

"I'm not a clown!" he screeched like a coulrophobic -- that is, someone who's irrationally afraid or dislikes clowns.

Cloak ignored this outburst, and continued:

"Say you got an 'i', 't'
Followed by apostrophe, 's'.
Now what does that mean?
You would not use 'it's' in this case,
As a possessive.
It's a contraction.
What's a contraction?
Well, it's the shortening of a word, or a group of words, by the omission of a sound or letter."

"You pretentious, supercilious, overzealous --" he blustered, and Cloak wondered how many of those words he actually knew the definitions of. But the Realm Walker proceeded.

"Okay, now here's some notes.
Syntax you're always mangling.
No 'x' in 'espresso'.
Your participle's dangling.
But I don't want your drama,
If you really wanna
Leave out that Oxford comma."

"What? What are you talking about?" he said, perplexed now.

"Just keep in mind
That 'be', 'see', 'are', 'you'
Are words, not letters.
Get it together.
Use a spellchecker.
You should never
Write words using numbers,
Unless you're seven.
Or your name is Buffoon!"

"Huh?"

"I hate these word crimes
You really need a
Full time proofreader,
You dumb monkeyfeather.
Well, you should hire
Some cunning linguist
To help you distinguish
What is proper English."

"Hey!" Gary said, not missing the jibe.

"One thing I ask of you --
Time to learn your homophones is past due.
Learn to diagram a sentence, too.
Always say 'to whom',
Don't ever say 'to who',
And listen up when I tell you this.
I hope you never use quotation marks for emphasis.
You finished second grade,
I hope you can tell,
If you're 'doing good' or 'doing well'.
Figure out the difference.
Irony is not coincidence.
And I thought that you'd gotten it through your skull
About what's figurative and what's literal.
Oh, but, just now, you wrote that
You literally couldn't get out of bed.
That really makes me want to literally smack a crowbar upside your stupid head!"

"Don't act like you're better than me," he growled.

"I read your chapter.
It's quite apparent.
Your grammar's errant.
You're incoherent.
Saw your summary.
It's really fantastic.
(That was sarcastic.)
'Cause you're craptastic."

"Hey!!"

"I hate these word crimes.
Your prose is dopey.
Think you should only
Write in emoji.
Oh, you're a lost cause!
Go back to preschool.
Get out of the gene pool.
Try your best not to drool."

"I don't drool!" he protested yet again.

"Never mind I give up
Really now I give up."

He replied, in rhythm:

"Go away!"

"No," Cloak said, "I've come to destroy the source of these reality shifts."


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=8Gv0H-vPoDc

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
The Power is Gone

"You can't kill me," Gary said. "I'm the Ghostwriter! I'm impervious to anything you try to do to me!!"

Cloak waited a beat, before saying, "The Ghostwriter, eh? You chose that for your nom de plume?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"Well, you're not a ghost, nor having any ghost-related powers, and you're not a writer. Not a good one, anyway." Cloak said, with acidic, acerbic tones.

"Hey!"

"And the fact of the matter is that I was not referring to you, boy," Cloak said, choosing not to use to use the moniker. "You are merely using the power of the source of the shifts which clearly has no sentience or will of its own."

Cloak glanced at the typewriter, which was more black than yellow now. Cloak greatly suspected that the power was --

"You're stupid!" he cried, sounding even more childish. "The power is mine, and mine alone. That typewriter is nothing but my instrument -- I can always use another one with its destruction. The power is mine."

"I see no indication of that," Cloak said, coolly.

"The power is mine!!"

"Who are you trying to convince?" Cloak asked, bluntly. "Me or yourself?"

He spluttered a bit at this without any really answering. And, without another word, Cloak blasted a now fully monochrome typewriter with a concussive blast of golden-scarlet energy. It was smashed to smithereens. Cloak was weary, finding it too easy.

The look on Gary's face was priceless. "You had no right to do that!"

"You had no right to treat reality like your plaything," Cloak said, turning to face him. This caused Gary to cower a bit before Cloak's intimidating presence, before catching himself. "Especially since you clearly have not fathomed the possible ramifications and consequences of such actions. You never even considered what possible destructive impact of your meddling with forces you do not comprehend, have you?"

Of everything that happened today, Gary never thought that he would be told off by some loser in a cloak.

"You still have the mindset of a child, obviously thinking your actions affect no one but yourself." Cloak continued his scornful lecture. "But they do, boy. Other people are not just NPCs in your self-serving, self-indulgent, egotistical narrative. There are people in this world -- people who you'd like and people you won't, people who would like you and people who won't -- all people with feelings, emotions, desires, hopes, and dreams, just as you have your own. You need to learn this. The world doesn't revolve around you."

"You don't know me," Gary growled in false bravado that Cloak nonetheless saw through. "You don't know me! I am the best writer in the world, and just because the idiots like you can't recognize them for they are --"

"Oh, I recognize them for what they are," Cloak said, cutting across him, "a manifesto of a disturbed mind with lousy, second-grade grammar and structure."

"My power will make everyone see me for the wonder I am!"

"'Your' power has seen its end with the end of the typewriter," Cloak said.

"Then why has everything I written remained?" he said, as if he had just shown a trump card. But Cloak held up Gary's crappily written manuscript. "Where'd you get that? Wh-what do you plan to do with it?"

Cloak tightened his grip and ignited the manuscript, and all the changes to reality began to burn away with the manuscript.

"NO!!!" Gary shrieked.

[Shenmue654]

There's an element of strangeness to this. Probably because I have a genuine (and contextually understandable) soft spot for the children who write so called "Mary Sues." I was one once, ten or twelve years ago now. I may have been a precocious teenager with excellent grammar, but the tropes were all still there. "Something Seriously Bizarre For You To Peruse," way back in the archives, is that plot made manifest for laughs and entertainment. I never had grandiose fantasies alone. ; ]

So...I'm a little defensive of these scared selfish kids, living in a world where they have no power over anything in their lives. Lives that are often broken by violence and abuse, or alcoholic parents. A person who wants to run into a fantasy where they are all-powerful is often someone who wants to escape a world where the opposite is true. They get better eventually. Wiser.

With alllll that aside, I suspect from some of this that you have a plan of sorts in mind, and I shouldn't rush to be wary. Let's see what they do. Also Cloak's grammar song was the best, as was your deliberately bad grammar. XD

[Cloak]

Yeah, but remember, Gary is nineteen, despite looking younger. (And that quality is like me, I look younger than 320. ) But Gary also had rather closeted sadistic qualities to those he felt that wronged him. He is also quick to write off people. As not all people in abusive relationships are inherently good people, nor are all inherently bad people. If you've read the other books, you know that I've had a verbally abusive mother, so you know where i stand on it.

And I also wanted to show that Cloak didn't exactly handle this in the best of ways, that Cloak can be as flawed as anyone else.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Gary Gone

"NO!!!" Gary shrieked.

"It's over, boy," Cloak said, as reality bounded back to its original state.

"No! I'll just . . . just rewrite it all!" Gary said, sounding very much like a person grasping at straws -- or a corporatist at a town hall. "I'll just rewrite everything again."

"The power was never yours," Cloak said.

"IT WAS TOO, YOU LIAR!!!" he raged, as he used a brooen piece of pencil and hurriedly scribbled on a scrap piece of paper, stopping every now and then, expecting it to have come true. Whennit did not, he just tried again.

Cloak was concerned now. He didn't think Gary would take it this hard, that Gary would cleave so ardently to this idea, this fantasy, this delusion that the power was his and not issuing from the typewriter. The Realm Walker had no idea how desperate that Gary was for that kind of power over people, how much he wanted not to be that bullied kid that no one seems to like.

"It won't --"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!" he shrieked, sounding quite demented.

Cloak felt a stab of guilt. He did this. He broke this nineteen-year-old kid. He had to destroy the typewriter -- the thing was too dangerous. It was as dangerous as the Reality Gem, especially in the unstable hands of someone like Gary. But Cloak acknowledged that he didn't have to be so rough, cold, and dismissive with his rhetoric, but he never thought that it would shatter him like this.

"Listen," Cloak said, gently, "you have to stop this. It won't work, reality will stay the --"

"GO AWAY!!!!"

Cloak was tempted to try to talk him out of his delusions, but he also knew when a task would prove to be futile.

"Just go away," he said, as he tried again.

Cloak, despite feeling aggrieved and guilt-ridden, complied.

***

It took his parents a long time before they realize anything was wrong. They blamed him and scapegoated him for their problems, and it was a very unhappy household. They did not immediately recognize that something was wrong until several days later.

Gregory ate very little and very reluctantly took care of himself, still desperate to able to change and alter reality at a whim like used to. He was still convinced that the power was his, and the fact that it was working . . . well, he didn't dwell on that for any extended period of time. It would go against the narrative he had, and he rejected anything that debunked or contradicted it.

The power was his. Not the typewriter, not the manuscript. It was his. His . . .

Eventually, both his parents had him commited to a mental health facility with a questionable reputation, despite the financial expense. It was just something else that they could blame him for. They both found him an absolute disappointment in a son and a human being. They saw him as a constant source of shame and embarrassment.

Parents of the Year, they were not.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Just One of Those Days

Life at RAF, meanwhile, returned to normal relatively quickly.

Got to work late 'cause my alarm was busted
The boss chewed me out and everybody's disgusted
'Cause it's one of those days, it's just one of those days.

Shenmue found herself feeling pretty disgusted as this happened to her, as she facepalmed.

"I lost one of my socks in the drier.
I can't find my wallet and my hair is on fire!
Just one of those days, it's just one of those days.

This happened to Gaz, as she put out the fire rather quickly and found the sock clinging for life on the top of the drier.

I just wrapped my ship around a tree.

Yarin stood, wondering how he did this, and what a kukui tree was doing here.

A big swarm of locusts is following me.

And Noelle fled on all four of her hooves, leaving great noticeable tracks behind her.

"There's not even anything good on TV!
It's just one of those day, it's just one of those days."

A displeased Abby was calmly flicking through channels on the television in her thread.

"Left all my Megadeth CDs out in the sun.
Got a Coke bottle stuck on the end of my tongue.
It's just one of those days, gonna be one of those days.

GH was despondent about his CDs, but when questioned about the Coke bottle, he claimed that Cloaky dared him to do it. Something the Realm Walker ardently denied.

The Knights tied me up and covered me with ants
And I spilled toxic waste on my brand new pants!
Just one of those days, ever have one of those days?

Demos was more distraught over his pants than the Knight thing. But they were stupid enough to use ordinary ropes to bind a pyrokinetic. Their fault.

The bank called me up and told me I'm overdrawn.

Mr. Guy was rubbing his temples at this, because it was obviously a mistake. A clerical error.

Some freaks are burnin' crosses out on our front lawn.

Blaze found this and quickly removed and extinguished them. Then he went to find the perpetrators.

And I can't believe it, all the Cheetos are gone.
It's just, just one of those, one of those days.
Just one of those, one of those days.

A sad Leatherhead looked at an empty Cheetos bag, before discardingnit into the trash can with all the other rubbish.

The F.B.I. has got a tap on my phone.

This happened as Parker discarded a rather beaten up-looking smartphone.

Those darn Cadmus spies won't leave me alone!
Shouldn't have got up this morning, should've known.
It's just one of those days, it's just one of those days.

Saffa was in the middle of taking care of these Cadmus spies as this played silently.

A 747 crashed into a pigpen.

And Oceanspray was on the scene with Duff and RYTX as part of a cleanup crew.

And there's nothin' but tater-tots for dinner again
It's just one of those days.
Never mind, it's just one of those days.

Ash sighed as she stopped rummaging through her refrigerator, and shut it, as she plopped down in a comfy chair in her thread.

"Big steamroller just ran over my com
And I cut myself shaving and they're dropping the bomb.
It's just one of those days
That's all, it's just one of those days.

This detailed Aquilai's current day and mission.

"It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days (just one of those, one of those days).
It's just one of those days.

It was just one of those days for RAF.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=6ePTkWZlxZU

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Wave Goodbye

Dino was dispatched to take out a fiend that was threatening the water control administration at a water purification center. Dino was questioning whether she was the right RAFian for this job. She wouldn't be able to get into any really small, enclosed areas. Her compact form could only do so much.

As she made her way through the facility, she was honestly surprised with how large and -- well, not extravagant, but expansive it was. These people clearly took water purification very seriously. Which she had to applaud them for (but not really, ankylotyrannosaurs have a difficult time applauding, or applauding to be loud enough to be heard).

Each footstep of hers echoed ominously. The facility had been evacuated when the fiend decided to take on the water control administration. It was a good thing, in Dino's opinion. Reduce the chance of losing human lives. Hopefully, any collateral damage would be kept to a minimum. It was thinking about this she ran into the fiend.

The creature was the size of an adult with human-like eyes with yellow sclera and black pupil. Its head was yellow with black, cauliflower ears and it had no mouth, just a tube that connected to its chest. It had a silver crest, not unlike the yellow one of an Empoleon, directly above its eyes. Its round, spherical body was emblazoned with a silver "X" with green studs on this "X", with it being yellow above, left and right of this "X". It was orange below the "X", and there was a growth on its back that resembled a yellow Hal 9000 with a red light. It had no hands, just a metallic harpoon for a right hand and a compressed water generator on the left. Its shoulders were round and orange, and its upper arms were white. The lower arm housing the short harpoon was yellow with purple at the orifice in which the harpoon extruded. The top of the compressed water generator that replace his left lower arm was yellow with purple studs with a white ribbed accordion structure below it, ending in a silver ring with a yellow nozzle. Its thighs and crotch were white and its lower legs were yellow with purple bands near the knee. Its feet were white flippers with yellow edges.

It had instigated the battle, showing outright hostility towards Dino. Dino blinked, surprised by this, because she was still intimidating in her compact form. She could easily eat him in a couple of bites.

It slammed its left arm down, and forced up a wall of water. Was it trying to use it as a shield? It wouldn't work, Dino decided, as she was quickly sizing up the room of this place, trying to decide whether or not that there was enough room for her full size.

But, suddenly, it fired a harpoon, before giving a small hop backwards. It bounced off her ankylosaurid shell, but she felt the force of impact. It was enough make her angry. And it wouldn't like her when she's angry.

She charged forward, easily breaching the water wall, and savagely headbutting the fiend a fair distance away. And this was in her compact form, mind you. But the creature recovered annoyingly quickly.

At the second harpoon, Dino made a snap decision. There was sufficient space here to grow to her full and considerable size. Maybe not to be comfortable, but just enough to maneuver around and end this quickly. So she did.

Then she wasted no time in chomping down on the fiend, feeling the life drain from it, then spitting it out. She wasn't about to eat it, especially as it tasted like a week-old liver and onions.

She returned to her compacted form, and walked out. Mission complete.

***

Demos called it a "webusapien", and he actually designed it to protect the administration. No one believed him.

***

"Well, it certainly made waves," Malice said, with a laugh.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CLII:
THE COMING OF GALACTRON
CHAPTER ONE:
Star Light, Star Bright

Cloak was dispatched to fight a fiend that had somehow gotten onto an abandoned satellite base's platform. Cloak knew why he was chosen for this mission. It was due to that whole mess with the hypergravity machine. His physiology allows him to adapted the easiest to shifts in gravity, whether sudden or otherwise, the best out of anyone.

Cloak had hitched a ride from Yarin to get to the satellite base -- he hadn't any idea that this was here. Apparently, this evolved from the international space station, and Cloak remained oblivious to it. He wasn't aware that human technology advanced to this point yet.

The minute his foot touched the metal surface of the base, Cloak could tell that, insofar that he could Metalsight, the base was abandoned. But it did not have a feeling of being a derelict relic of a bygone age. Everything was clean and in working order, though the absence of anyone else gave a rather ominous feeling. There was still oxygen production and such, but the gravity generator (which Cloak suspected was taken from G.C. Domable's hypergravity unit designs -- which was both quick for the timeframe considering and probably plagiarizing his work).

Cloak stepped quickly and quietly through the corridors of this satellite base, until he saw the fiend through his Metalsight. It was just on the boundary of his Metalsight. There were many twisting corridors between him and it, though. Cloak was starting to find this monotonous.

But he did it anyway. He walked the winding, labyrinthine corridors to find this lightfooted fiend. There was a few times where the fiend vanished from his Metalsight, and Cloak knew immediately it was because it was jumped. They were in a low-gravity situation here, so it wasn't surprising.

Cloak knew that this would eventually lead to low-gravity combat, something that he, admittedly, hasn't had a lot of experience with, nor really trained in. But he believed that he would equip himself well. It was then the creature showed itself in some sort of hangar structure.

The creature was roughly the size of an adult human with human-like eyes with star-shaped pupils, dark purple irises, and pale purple sclera. It had a greenish-blue head, crotch, forearms, and lower legs. It had anime-like silver hair and a long, silver, star-tipped ponytail. It wore a silver upside-down-star-shaped tunic with a green "V" on it, and had a white chest and a black abdomen. Its feet and right hand (it didn't have a left one, possessing a silver-tipped arm cannon with a star-shaped orifice instead). It also had silver star on its right elbows, both its knees, and its forehead. Its upper arms and thighs were white.

It saw Cloak and growled, as it jumped up and forming several star-shaped energy projectiles which orbited around the creature, forming a sort of shield. Then it tried to run into Cloak with this star shield. Cloak dodged it, flipping and somersaulting over it. But he had failed to account for the low gravity, so his flip and somersault was higher than intended and he landed further than intended.

Cloak quickly took inventory of which elements were available to him. Earth and Wood elements was a no go -- the only presence of those elements here were in pencils and they weren't going to be useful to him.

He dodged another charge.

The Air element probably would prove ineffective -- and it was fortunate that Air was even available as element here. But, sadly, Cloak write it off as not useful in this situation.

He slide under the creature who tried to jump into him.

The Fire element would possibly eat up the air in here, and potentially be more dangerous. Not to mention Cloak's mild pyrophobia still makes him hesitant to implement it.

Another slide under the creature.

Metal is very possible -- the walls, floor, and ceiling were steel. But he could feel something else beneath his feet, and when the creature attack again, Cloak just reacted.

He opened a fissure, ruptured a pipe, and the creature was sprayed of water of the force of a fire hose. Then Cloak froze the water in place, as if someone hit a pause button. Then he returned the water to the pipe, as if someone hit rewind. Then he ferrokinetically sealed the rupture and then the fissure.

"He looked over and saw the creature's lifeless body, and deduced that water must have been its weakness. He turned and called Yarin to pick him up.

***

Demos called the fiend a "sutasapien". He designed it for space exploration and low-gravity combat.

***

"Made it see stars," Malice said, with a chuckle.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
There's a Party Here in RAF

GH strummed his guitar before sing:

"There's a party here in RAF,
There's excitement in the air!
People pouring in from near and far
'Cause Firmitas and Cloaky are gonna have a wedding."

Firmitas* was a swan-form Realm Walker that became the second RAFian Realm Walker.

"There's a party here in RAF,
Everybody will be there.
So if you're a yearly or a mod,
Do somethin' with yer hair!
You mustn't wear an outfit that's naughty!!
A dress that's unraveling just won't do.
No earrings that are tasteless or gaudy.
You're gonna look gorgeous when I get through!
There's a party here in RAF,
So, I'm goin' to paint ze town.
If you want to see what colors are,
Follow me around!"

Then the rest of the RAFians sang with GH.

"Cloaky's gettin' married, and it's gonna be
The wedding of the century."

Then GH sang:

"My buddy's gettin' married, and you're gonna see
Just how much I can do!
You've heard of your safari, bar mitzvahs,
Baba-tua-luau, a sweet sixteen.
Well, none of them compare to what this is!
The food'll be disgusting, by evening you'll be busting!"

Saffa, Abby, and Gaz sang, noting:

"There's a party here in RAF,
And everything's all aglow."

Then GH sang:

"And now we take you down to the forum
Where everyone has celebrated all night long.
Without Malice and all of her, uh, malice,
Everybody's happy!!
What could possibly go wrong??"

Then some sneaky Cadmus agents sang:

"There's a party here in RAF,
And we're gonna rob 'em blind!"

Their Amanda Waller-type leader sang:

"While they're all munching caviar --
Create a small disturbance,
I'll sneak up from behind."

Dylan sang:

"There's a party here in RAF
And the loot is pourin' in!
I like this wedding stuff so far!
Maybe if I'm pleasant,
I'll get to keep a present!"

GH sang:

"We've ordered just a few tasteful flowers.
The valets, sir, will carefully park for you.
The bridesmaids have been dressing for hours!
Girls, you look just lovely, and so grownup too!
There's a party here in RAF.
Guests are filling up the room.
But there's something missing . . . yes . . . ah hah!"

Richard sang:

"Where is the groom?"

GH immediately went to fetch him, and he was by his favorite meditation spot, and GH chided, "Guess who's going to be late for his own wedding!!"

Then he noticed the look on Cloak's face, "You're . . . you're not getting cold feet are you?"

"No, it just -- never mind."

Then he sang:

"There's a party here in RAF.
And the party's all for her and me.
Just look, you guys, at where we are,
And how our dreams have come to be!"

Meanwhile, in her separate thread, Firmitas sang:

"There's a party here in RAF,
And I can't believe it's true.
After all this waiting, here we are,
We'll finally get so say 'I do!'"

"I never, ever had a real family."

"I never, ever had a real true friend."

Then both sang:

"Someone who could just understand me . . . "

Leatherhead sang:

"Hey, c'mon, Mr. Cloak! This mushy stuff has gotta end!"

GH sang:

"There's a party here in RAF
And it's starting right away.
Let's getcha ready, 'cause you're the star!
Hey, c'mon, it's your wedding day!"

The rest of the RAFians sang:

"Cloaky's gettin' married, and it's gonna be
The wedding of the century.
Amazing how Cloak could've come so far . . ."

GH said, "They're finally gettin' married!"

Richard said, "They're finally gettin' married!"

The Cadmus agents queried, "They're finally gettin' married?"

Dylan said, "Look at all these presents!"

Firmitas said, "We're finally getting married!"

Leatherhead said, "You're finally gettin' married!"

Cloak said, "I'm finally gettin' married!"

The rest of the RAFians sang:

"They're finally gettin' married
At the party in RAF!!
Such a sight to see!
Come on, go with me,
To the party in RAF!"

Then Cloak awoke. He easily recognized why he had the dream -- he still had underlying wishes to be married, to be a family man. But he also believed that it was an impossibility.

He was an outcast from the Nexus and other Realm Walkers. He was a pariah, spoken of and about with scorn and dismissal. Having a Realm Walker wife . . . it would never happen . . .


SONG SOURCE: https://youtube.com/watch?v=8H8HlBGP594

* Latin for strength, according to Wikitionary.