Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Sorry for the tardiness of this chapter. Work, and all that. Well, that, and I am sort of developing a story that I hope to turn into an actual book. Completely disconnected from "Memoirs", of course, one that I might try to get published if I think it's good enough.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Disguised Danger

It was with great trepidation that Danger approached the door. With great hesitation that it nudged the door open. It would have been a bold-faced lie to say that it wasn't scared. It was, but it was ignoring the fear. It had listened to this fear for too long now. It had to have a little . . . initiative, now.

It took it a moment to realize that it was unconsciously cycling through projected images that made it look like a human slightly younger than its fourteen-year-old, androgynous, bald self.

First, it projected the image of a sandy-haired kid whose hair was carefully coifed. The projection wore a loose, light blue, short-sleeved shirt with reddish brown shorts, white socks, and orange hi-tops. The projection had a lively, friendly sort of face, with large eyes and dimpled smile.

Then a bald boy with a large mouth, small eyes, and a button nose. The projection wore a yellow, long-sleeved shirt with red bands on the upper arms, scarlet slacks, white socks, and light blue hi-tops.

Then it projected the form of a generic security guard in a khaki shirt and black slacks, with a black tie, and uniform hat. The build was thin, and the face more genial than severe.

Then it projected the form a girl with long black hair with a pale yellow alice band, expressive eyes and mouth, and button nose. It wore a light green blouse, red skirt with white polka dots, and red clogs.

Then it was a projection of a girl with black, curly hair with a blue-petalled flower in it. This projection wore grey hi-tops, pink leggings, and a teal, short-sleeved shirt. The projection's face had an approachable, inquisitive sort of quality about it. This one, too, had large eyes and a dimpled smile.

Then it projected the form of a boy with black, flattop hair, button nose, and expressive eyes and mouth. It wore a white shirt with a horizontal red stripe at the chest, blue shorts, white knee-length socks, and green hi-tops.

Then it projected the appearance of an older teen in a backwards, tie-dye cap, a black shirt, blue shorts, and clog-like black shoes.

Then it projected the appearance of a girl with short, curly, black hair with a pale pink alice band in it, a button nose, and expressive eyes and mouth. It wore a white blouse with pink overalls, white belt, white socks, and navy blue shoes with sky blue soles.

Then it was a projection of a boy with short black hair. The projection wore blue hi-tops, rolled-up blue jeans, and a green, short-sleeved shirt. It had bright, round eyes, and a dimpled smile. The face was an enthusiastic, spirited one.

Then it projected the form of a dog mascot costume. Which was basically exactly as it sounds.

Then it projected the form of a creepy man with a large head, large hands, and wearing only a blue jumpsuit. Its face looked like a rude caricature of a man's face, and its head was rather misshapen.

Then it projected a boy with coifed brown hair. The projection wore a bright red t-shirt with dark blue shorts, white socks, and blue hi-tops. This projection, too, had large eyes and a dimpled smile. The face was one of cunning and exuberance.

Then it projected the form of a bipedal lion. Not remotely convincing, though, as lions don't make it a happen out of standing and walking on two legs.

Then it projected a blond boy with thick black glasses. The projection wore dull green hi-tops, blue jean overalls with a off-white shirt. The project had large, round blue eyes, and wide, dimpled smile. Its face was one of smart excitement and shy modesty.

Then it projected a blonde boy with rather notable bangs, a button nose, expressive eyes, and a boisterous personality. The projection wore a white t-shirt with red at the sleeves, and a gray, long-sleeved shirt beneath, green slacks, white socks, and white shoes with blue soles.

Then it projected a blonde girl who had her hair in pigtails. The projection wore a pale red t-shirt with a light blue skirt and clog-like pink shoes. It had piercing, expressive blue eyes and a dimpled smile. Its face was one of cheering passion and devotion.

Then it projected the form of a redhead boy with a button nose, expressive eyes, and notable cowlick, and a bombastic personality. It wore a backwards red cap, a red shirt, blue jeans, white socks, and red hi-tops.

Then it projected a boy with black hair. The projection wore a green hoodie sweater, and light blue jeans, white socks, and gray-blue hi-tops. It wore a cross, grumpy scowl on the projection's face.

Then it projected the form of a girl with long brown hair, pink-framed glasses, button nose, wide mouth, expressive eyes, and a passionate personality. It wore pink clogs, a white blouse, and a navy blue skirt.

It went back to the projected form of the grumpy kid, as it creaked the door open. Unprepared for what lay next . . .

[Underseen]

Those forms have to be some sort of reference that I'm just not catching yet, I will put more time into thinking. Glad to hear your writing something in hopes of publication, I look forward to see how that will develop.

[Cloak]

Nah. Just randomly generated.

And sorry for the delay -- I was still developing that idea, trying to furnish the rules of the world, as well as the terminology. I had "Intro Randomness" to help me for "Memoirs" on that account oh-so-long ago.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Unnoticed and Noticed

Safely ensconced inside the hologram projection, almost like a security blanket, not unlike how Leatherhead's human suit had become to him, it exited the room. Within the hologram, Danger's body had matured to be analogous to a bald, androgynous, fifteen-year-old human child, despite its hologram of the grumpy human boy looking to be somewhere between ten and twelve.

The door creaked open, which sounded ominous to it. Fear had enveloped its heart, as it did, indeed, have one. Its mind, quite intelligent in comparison of an analogous human child of a similar age and maturity, was constantly extrapolating reason as to whether or not this was a wise decision. But it had made its decision. There could be no going back on it now.

It had to move forward.

And as it peered beyond the opened door, which was charred black upon Danger's side of it, it was surprised to see that the metal door was just metallic gray and nondescript on its other side. But it was surprised mostly that all its misgivings about it being nothing but a void out here were wrong. The grass looked vibrantly green, the sunset was very orange. Sun . . . set . . . it knew what a sun was from the screen within its "nest", so to speak, but it had never witnessed a sunset, or a sunrise, for that matter, despite not seemingly requiring rest like a human does. At least not so much anymore.

From the few strangling RAFians on their way to their threads to retire for the evening, Danger noticed that they all had a strange marking of a stylized "R". It looked at its projected hand, and saw that it was bare. It quickly, and correctly, deduced that it would make him stick out like a sore thumb. So a random series of ones and zeroes -- which someone versed in binary might be able to decipher if it slowed down a bit -- as the hologram that ensconced its left hand vanished for a brief moment revealing the black shape flecked with gold circuitry shapes that laid beneath, before the holographic hand reconstituted itself with a rather crude, but believable Mark on it. But this was, of course, a deception, as it could not truly access the powers of the Mark as it did not truly have one.

But this seemed sufficient that many a RAFian walked by with little to no notice. Allowing Danger to be left alone. Allowing Danger to ruminate on what could be considered as dangerous thoughts.

They were out here all these years (Danger's concept and perception of time was obviously skewed a bit), and they said nothing to it. They never came for Danger. They cared nothing for Danger. It spent those years all alone, knowing nothing but a glowing screen. Having nothing but an unresponsive box for company. Danger, now analogous to a bald, androgynous, sixteen-year-old human (though his holographic projection remained unchanged), had become rather bitter about this with astonishing rapidity.

Danger felt as if they should have told him something -- anything! -- but no. All these years (well, to it -- in reality it has barely been two, three days), and they never spoke to it. Never made their presence known. It was alone for, what it felt to be, seventeen years. They had abandoned it, left it to its own devices. It could have killed itself! Fortunately, it didn't need sustenance in the way a human did.

It kept the hologram of the grumpy boy up, but now the holographic form reflected how it felt on the inside. It was angry. It harbored resentment. It felt slighted. And its feelings were hurt. Hurt at the fact that it was left behind, that it was evidently forgotten and overlooked. It wasn't fair.

The mature thing to do would be go and tell someone. Inform them of this perceived slight that incurred, and come to a peaceful solution, with each side compromising, perhaps with a concession on each side. Or some sort of variation, or derivation, of that.

But Danger was not at all mature emotionally. It may have grown and matured physically (despite still not having a gender, so remaining definitively androgynous), its emotional growth and maturity had been . . . stunted. It was still quite childish, and rather emotionally-driven -- a serious departure to the technology-themed foes that the RAFians had fought before.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
A Bit Whiny

They left it alone. All alone. They abandoned it. It called itself Danger, but it wasn't dangerous. As it matured to a bald, androgynous, svelte framed, eighteen-year-old (physically, as it still had the mindset of a child spurn of something that it felt that it was entitled to), it began to seethe with anger. With resentment. With bitterness.

Were Cloak present, he would have easily identified how dangerous an emotional ****tail this was. Having sat on such feelings for a long time when he used to reside with his mother, he had experienced this all too often than he would have cared to. And he foolishly tried to suppress it -- you can only push your feeling down so much, before the pressure builds and it finds other avenues in which to relief this internal emotional pressure -- like a volcano, in a way.

This wasn't fair! How come they got to live life with love, compassion, and empathy when they never deigned to show any to it? Why were they so deserving? Why was it denied? What had it deserved to be ignored and neglected? The answer, as far as it was concerned was simple -- it had done nothing to deserve such shoddy treatment.

They would all pay for this mistreatment, it decided, as its body matured to that analogous to a bald, androgynous twenty-year-old. Three little nodules appeared in its forehead in a rough "V"-shaped orientation. It didn't seem to notice, as its anger, resentment, and bitterness congealed into a rather toxic need for vengeance.

Danger roared so the whole of the forum could hear it, "HOW COULD YOU?! ALL OF YOU?!"

This garnered it attention, but then it quickly hologramed itself as a gumball machine outside the mess hall area. It had spoken before thinking. It was not the way Danger wanted to go about this. It wanted them, all of them to feel as it did for the pass few years, as its body aged to be analogous of a twenty-two-year-old bald, androgynous human.

It would make them feel terror. It would make them feel misery. It would make them wish that they never abandoned Danger.

***

"Who was that?" Parker demanded, having seen Danger's shout, but not noticed its former hiding place.

"I didn't recognize the voice, if you could call it that," Mr. Guy said, almost pedantic. "I did notice that there was a slight electronic buzz, like one of those voice modulator things."

"Are you seriously suggesting that someone penetrated the forum's defenses?" Dylan said, skeptical.

"No defense is impenetrable," Cloak said, surprising Dylan. He hadn't heard him walk up. "No protection is unbeatable."

"Philosophy debates aside," Shenmue said, thoughtfully, "does anyone know who could that be?"

"Could have something to do with that lightning strike a couple days ago?" Abby inquired.

"The one that hit the training facility?" Yarin asked.

"Has anyone checked to see the condition of the facility?"

Silence.

"Seriously?" Cloak said, with a bite of irritation.

"It wasn't on fire or anything," Parker said, defensively. "Tyr and did a preliminary sweep of the area, and found nothing wrong."

This was before the birth of Danger.

"But did you actually go inside?" Cloak asked.

"Didn't need to," Parker said, still rather defensive. "All scans showed everything was normal -- no excessive heat or electrical damage."

"But you didn't go inside." Cloak pressed.

"The scans showed --"

"But you didn't go inside," Cloak pressed again.

"Hey, if you Earthsighted it was safe, you wouldn't have gone --"

"Yes, I would have." Cloak said. "Earthsight is not perfect -- nothing is perfect -- and has its limits. I would have entered the facility to double-check. Cautiously, of course."

Parker said nothing, and his face was inscrutable behind his helmet's mask. Cloak had a sneaking suspicion that Parker didn't believe him, but found that Parker's disbelief mattered little in comparison to the matter at hand.

"Maybe we should investigate, then," Az said, trying to defuse things.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Invasion and Investigation

Danger was now analogous to a twenty-four-year-old androgynous, bald human. But only physically, not emotionally. It had retreated back to the burned out husk of the training facility, the place where it was abandoned, the place where it felt the safest.

It was from here that it would plot out its revenge. But, considering the type of person Danger was becoming, it was very dubious that any sort of plot or scheme Danger concocted was not going to be very well thought out. It came up with the sort of unlikely scenarios that a child would conceive -- and actually believe could work.

It had shifted from the grumpy boy's appearance as its primary one to that of a barefoot little girl around nine with a yellow raincoat, thin limbs, small nose and mouth, and black hair obscuring the top part of her face. It looked a nine-year-old girl, despite, physically, being analogous to twenty-six-year-old, bald, androgynous human.

It stood stationary, practicing how large it could make its holograms. But this had a detrimental effect on its physical body that it did not notice. Either that, or it recognized the effect and just chose to ignore it.

Each and every time it did it, it had the nasty aftereffect of accelerating its already accelerated aging process. It was now analogous to a thirty-four-year-old, bald, androgynous man.

Then came the problem of maintaining the holographic illusion. It took a lot of energy to maintain. Far more than maintaining a hologram around its own personal size. And it had a finite amount of energy before needing to rest. It may not have needed to eat anything, but that did not mean that it didn't need sleep. Maybe it required less sleep than an regular human, but it still required rest.

Then it reverted back to its raincoat girl projection, as it head the door creak open . . .

***

Cloak, Parker, Helen, and Az were quickly nominated to investigate it. It was immediately evident that an accident happened in here. The wide room was charred and soot was everywhere, as if it was only on fire inside, leaving the exterior untouched.

"Parker, honey?" Helen asked. She reached over as if to yank him by the ear, before continuing, "Next time something like this happens, CHECK INSIDE."

A myriad of protests -- about how he could have know that it was like this, when the exterior was unharmed and undamaged, why the house-elves did not report this happening (and why they haven't cleaned up this mess to begin with), etcera -- died in his throat as he quelled under Helen's stern, serious gaze. Parker was lucky that Helen was perfectly human and not Medusa. His only reply came out, "Yes, dear."

"I didn't know Helen had a kung fu grip," Az said, hiding a jovial smile.

"You have no idea," Parker said, vaguely enigmatic. He didn't elaborate as Az raised an eyebrow, skeptically thoughtful, at this response.

Cloak far too busy scanning the room with both his eyes and Earthsight to care much about this exchange, and the possible lewd nature of it. But it was difficult to penetrate this gloom within this soot-covered room and discern from the shifting rubble. It was as if the room was carved out by a melon baller or something. Even the house-elves apparently hadn't even came to clean to this area to cleanup. Even they were unaware of this happening -- an extreme rarity, actually.

But, still, Cloak sensed it. He knew that they weren't alone.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Grabby

It wasn't long before the RAFian's inspection was rudely interrupted.

A creature had dropped from the ceiling, and the creature was huge -- at least three times taller than Cloak, who was the tallest RAFian present. It had a body type rather like an orangutan. Its long, thin arms were at least twice its height with long, probing fingers. It wore clothing, and it was clear that it had the same fashion sense as Mr. Mxyzptlk from "Superman: the Animated Series". It had stubby feet in well-worn boots, that were partially hidden by the tail of his coat. The creature had a face where its eyes were wrapped in bandages and small, brown bowler hat sat upon its noggin as it seemed to be constantly smiling like Ren from "Ren & Stimpy", with needle-like teeth. It had rounded human ears and its eyes were hidden beneath what appeared to be white bandages.

Az and Helen took a step back at this, the floor around Az quickly gathering frost. Parker was busy because apparently Tyr had suddenly and unexpectedly became unresponsive and frustrating, refusing to scan the creature. Cloak was the only one who didn't seem to react, almost as if he didn't see this creature, nor the threat it was. Frankly, he looked bored and unimpressed.

It approached closer, and Cloak was still the only one who hadn't react, who hadn't moved at all. The creature looked even uglier the closer it got, and still the Realm Walker did not recoil. It was almost as if he was stubbornly refusing to so, and, to be honest, that wouldn't be anything new for the Elements Master. And, yet, this seemed to steady the others resolve -- except for Parker, who was busy yelling at Tyr and becoming rather irate with the A.I.'s silence.

The creature, which appeared to be male (but none of the RAFians had any intention on checking to be sure), stayed where it was, using his long arms to reach out and capture people with his long fingers. Cloak said nothing, as if he were waiting for a specific time, a specific moment, to present itself as auspiciously as possible.

Az was about to query, when Cloak moved, a blur of feline motion. He had formed scarlet broadsword blades with golden edges from his energy mounted to his wrists. With a single leaping strike, he severed both arms, which shattered like a Duel Monster in the Yu-Gi-Oh anime. When he landed he crossed the golden edges of the blades in front of his face, then slice them downward, unleashing a mighty roar that could be heard in a two mile radius.

But Cloak wasn't done. He crossed these energy blades above his head, and they lost their concrete, substantive forms and became powerful, fiery, gold-and-scarlet energy that formed much like a Solar Blade. The powerful energy beam looked superficially like a blade with energy dancing around both it and Cloak's fingers (which had his feline claws unsheathed unconsciously).

"Isn't that a bit overkill?" Helen asked, rhetorically.

Cloak bared his teeth, as he dropped the blade, which only reached the ceiling. It caused the creature to shatter as if it was a destroyed Yu-Gi-Oh! monster from the anime. Cloak looked as if the exertion didn't cost him anything, but the others were sure that that wasn't true.

"It wasn't real," Cloak said, very seriously. "Clearly, whatever caused the damage here has incorporated the training room's holographic tech into its being, or otherwise devised a way to weaponize it."

Cloak continued to scan the room for it. "That technique didn't destroy it. It's still here somewhere."

"Where'd -- how'd you come up with that technique?" Az asked.

"That doesn't matter," Cloak said, disregarding the question in its entirety, "the person or thing behind this is still in here."

"Why are you so keen on destroying it?" Helen asked. "Maybe who or what it is can be reasoned with."

"If it could be reasoned with," Cloak countered, "then why create a holographic construct of a monster from 'Little Nightmares'?"

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Substance Suckers

"Self-defense," Helen answered, as Parker gave up trying to have Tyr reactivate himself.

"It attacked us, remember?" Cloak said, still searching for the source of the holograms. His Metalsight was frustratingly not being helpful -- probably because he was too distracted to use it properly. "Unprovoked."

"Cloak, you, of all people, should know how people tend to lash out when you invade in their personal space," Helen countered, "whatever or whoever this is clearly considers this area its 'safe zone'. And, in order to investigate, we may have, in its view, violated this place. May have made it feel a need to defend itself. The very same reason you don't put you hand into a beaver's lodge or go parading yourself into a bear's cave."

"It caused this," Cloak said mulishly.

"You don't know that," Helen argued. "You can't know that. You don't have premonitions, like future sight or something."

Cloak still hadn't been completely honest about his Truth Dreams to the others. He said nothing, as he considered he may have been misconstruing some of them. He could have been making leaps in logic, as when these Truth Dreams are usually presented to him in a jumbled, mismatched mess.

Helen said nothing more, but wore a slightly smug smile that clearly said that she thought she won the argument. Cloak found it irritating and infuriating, but there were more pressing concerns at the moment.

Parker had completely missed this exchange, still fuming about Tyr. Angry with him for deactivating, angry at himself for his hubris in telling Tyr to deactivate while he was inside the training room -- he didn't want Tyr to become a crutch, and he wanted to have some achievements that he could call his own. And boast about. He never actually thought that the training room would ever . . . would ever get like this. It was a foreign concept, an impossibility. He was eating those words now, and sorely regretting his flippant actions.

As Parker had some rather . . . creative names to call Tyr, a shambling mass of tentacles, not unlike a legless, eyeless, black Tangela, shifted ever slowly forward. Its general shape recalled that of an eyeless shaggoth, only composed of writhing black tentacles that were like the bodies of many leeches that had formed a land-going composite, gestalt form, not unlike Wishiwashi's School Forme. Each leach part, however, recalled more of the Leviathan physiology. Despite happening a while ago, the incident was still fresh in the RAFians' minds.

Cloak's attitude towards this thing was proof of enough of its true nonexistence, but it was Parker who took the initiative here this time. He, in one swift movement, had his energy blade in his hand, and he spun it around, rather like an industrial fan blade. This stopped the slaggoth-shaped creature in its sick, wet tracks.

Parker probably could use one of his plethora of firearms and other, rather impersonal, gadgets. But he wanted a more . . . tactile means, as a way to help vent some of his anger and frustration. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, but this creature was clearly not real and just a hologram, like any of the training sims.

Then Parker pulled the sword to his left shoulder, and made a downward diagonal slash. It made contact, and the hologram shattered, a la a summoned Yu-Gi-Oh! monster, even as Parker was preparing for an overhead strike. Which wasn't necessary.

"Parker!" Helen said.

"It was just a hologram, Helen," Parker said, moodily.

"And whatever created it was not in it, " Cloak pointed out. "Just like the last one."

[Cloak]

Sorry, still developing that other idea. And catching a shiny Grumpig.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Chef Boy,-Are-Dead

"That still doesn't disprove what I said," Helen said. Cloak was starting think that she was being fairly sanctimonious about this.

"No one said that it did," Az said, trying to defuse the tension. He really should be applauded for undertaking such an endeavor.

Cloak said nothing. He wasn't even really paying attention to the conversation anymore. His interest in it was lost completely.

He was hunched into a more feral position, acting very much like a hungry cat having smelled a mouse. He watched, very carefully observant, with both his eyes and Metalsight (as the floor was metal, despite the heavy soot). Only the tip of his tail moved, twitching ever so slightly, as he pulled his ears flat against his head. He was incredibly focused -- well, as focused as any cat was on a hunt. And he waited. Waited for the one who was creating these holograms to make a move, to make even the slightest vibration through the metal floor. He'd be on them in an instant, with just a feline pounce.

Then came a shrill sound. A sound of exclamation that caused Cloak's fur to bristle. He did not move, though he was tangentially aware that the others had a brief battle with their respective flight or fight responses. They all chose fight, evidently. Cloak chose fight as well, as he was a rather obstinate sort.

The creature was at least five or six times Cloak's height, the top of the dirty white chef's hat it wore actually appearing to clip through the ceiling. It was a fat humanoid creature wearing a filthy white smock and an equally filthy apron. Its head and face looked as if it was melted and had many rolls of fat, and looked far more like a mask that sat directly on the wearer's shoulders, akin to the way the helmet of the Juggernaut (from Marvel Comics) did. Its main body looked rather like a stereotypical fat suit one would wear as a mascot character. In its short, stubby, sausage-like fingers on its left hand it wielded a meat cleaver, that glistened ominously threatening in the low light.

"It's not real," Cloak assured the others, having not stopped his scanning of the room. The one generating this holographic construct was not within the construct again. Cloak tried to pay extra attention to the area that the creature construct did not want them to go near -- but this was exceedingly difficult to discern. The low light wasn't a problem, of course, as Cloak's feline eyes cut through the gloom, but the amount of detris that it could be hiding behind.

It gave another one of those shrill calls -- Cloak really wished it didn't. He really didn't like the sound. But he was prepared to --

But Az beat him to the punch.  The RAFian held his hands outward, forming several thick icicles around this chef construct, sharp points aimed toward the chef's person. It was not unlike Kyurem's Glaciate attack. The chef gave a shriek in alarm.

"I've really have had enough of this," Az said, before his chopped his right hand down as if he was calling for a scheduled fight to begin. The thick icicles became spiked and barbed as the rammed into the chef construct. It shattered within minutes, like a Yu-Gi-Oh! monster.

"It's just scared," Helen insisted.

"Be that as it may, Helen," Cloak said. "It's dangerous. We can handle it because we've experience and powers or equipment in which to competently deal with it. Have you considered the kind of damage it could inflict if it went beyond our borders?"

"It wouldn't --"

"It wouldn't mean to?" Cloak finished. "You can't know its intentions anymore than the rest of us. While it is admirable to see the good in people, its foolish to not even acknowledge the bad, as well."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Please, Don't Be Our Guest

Helen was silent, glancing at Parker for help, but he was still too busy cursing Tyr with every name under the sun that the SPARTAN could conjure up.

"Point is," Cloak continued, "we have to make contact with whatever is making these constructs before we can discern his, or her, or its, intentions. Good or bad, that is the first step that must be taken."

Helen couldn't find a fault with this logic, and said nothing. She felt a bit mollified at this, but did her best not to announce the feeling. While she could be empathic, she was not an empath. She couldn't manipulate emotions, or sense them with absolute certainty. And, if she was honest, without her Star Sapphire ring, she'd be an ordinary, if athletic, flat-scan human. A human without powers of any kind.

Suddenly, the entire environment blinked in and out of existence seeming. Although, to Cloak, it was more like a ghostly environment was striving to take over reality but remaining somewhat translucent. The hologram present a hardwood floor, with Japanese paper walls and sliding doors. All four appeared to be a sixteenth their normal size, in scale with the furniture in this holographic corridor.

"Well, this is new," Az commented.

Then, suddenly, a wave of flesh and Armani suits came barrelling down towards the four. These were apparently very gluttonous people, who wanted to eat them, despite having had plenty of flood set in front of them. All of them seemed incapable of walking on their stubby legs, so they moved along rather like a seal or a walrus. Cloak did not flinch at all, but did not see the reactions of the other three.

"Oh, look," Cloak said, dryly, "it's the one-percent."

"Huh?" Helen asked, not really paying attention to anything but the hideous mass of holographic bodies and holographic flesh that was undulating their way towards them with alarming rapidity.

"They never can have enough," Cloak said, more to himself. "Even in this realm, they never can have enough. These voraciously greedy, ravenous, gluttonous, pantagruelian, rapacious, edacious esurients -- all they know is 'take, take, take', and they think that they they're entitled to it."

Cloak didn't flinch as they proceeded ever closer.

"Sadly," Cloak muttered, "such things seem universal."

"Cloak, can we focus here?" Parker said. "These slobbering things --"

Cloak formed the two swords mounted from his wrists again. Then he slashed the right blade left, leaving a crescent of energy behind it, apparently breaking off the sword in a deliberate fashion. Then he made a downward slash, intersecting the other energy crescent, breaking off the sword at the bottom of this arc. It made an energy "+" construct, and Cloak pulled back his right arm. Then he slammed his right hand, open palm, at this intersection.

This fired the construct forward at the speed of a sluggish bullet. It shattered this hologram just like all the others. Cloak watched intently, as he forced the construct to dissipate. He was hoping to notice a reaction of some sort.

[Cloak]

Sorry for the delay, still developing that idea. Oh, and a week from this Thursday, "Memoirs" will be turning six years old. Yes, that's right. SIX years old.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
The Lady Hologram

Cloak saw movement through both Metalsight and his own feline eyes. He reacted in much the same way that an ordinary housecat that might do when they sighted a piece of string slithering along the ground. He immediately pounced on the site of the movement, but there was nothing there. Just the detris of . . . of whatever happened here, two days ago, by his estimation.

Perhaps Az, Helen, and Parker talked amongst each other, but Cloak had stopped paying attention. He was allowing his feline instincts to hunt to rule. But whatever he was hunting had no scent. The only scents he found was the three others and his own. This would be difficult, even for some who can Metalsight.

But they should be able to find the culprit soon enough. It was just a matter of time. Cloak circled around a particular area, as if he got the scent, which he hadn't. But he was sure whoever or whatever was behind this mess once sat here. There wasn't much evidence left behind to say what it was.

Cloak crossed off the names of probably species in his mind. One of those Jury Riggs? Nah, too quite. A Galvanic Mechamorph? Possibly, but his gut told him no. A Psycholeopterran? No -- it didn't fit at all. A Nemuina? Nah -- they were perfectly awake. Sylonnoids? Not likely. Synthroids? Not straightforward enough.

As he pawed through some of the detris and debris, looking for whatever could be at fault, going through the litany of alien species he knew of with some sort of disguising ability or illusionary ability.

Skrulls? Nah, he'd be able to see through the disguise. Though it would be potentially dangerous if one was lose on Earth. Dire Wraiths? Cloak dismissed it as highly unlikely. A Chitauri? He dismissed it tentatively, despite his knowledge of the species was spotty at best. Outside the fact that they were shapeshifters and had 192 ways to say "hate", he didn't really know much more. Durlans? Nah, they're, for the most part, too xenophobic to leave Durla, if Cloak recalled correctly. Chee? The projections were similar in their rendering quality, but Chee were hardwired for pacificism, as Rocky proved time and time again.

Then Cloak noticed how he was ensconced in darkness. But his eyes easily penetrated through it, due to their feline nature. He looked back as only saw Helen's violet glow. Though the hologram attempted to make it look like they were further away (via forced perspective and the like), Cloak could see through this and knew that they weren't that far away.

Cloak sighed audibly. Darkness may be a useful tool for hiding or distracting or stealth purposes, but for simple frightening and spooking purposes? It was too Slenderman for his tastes. Too "jumpscary". But maybe it was because Cloak was able to see in the dark, due to being a tiger-form Realm Walker, that he didn't find darkness an obstacle. Or maybe because he's used the darkness to disappear into unnoticed before. But, all in all, he didn't find it getting dark all that scary.

Then, right before him, coming from the darkness, was a tall, slender figure. She was dressed like a Japanese geisha, but with a mask on in lieu of facepaint. Her raven hair was done in an updo like a geisha. Cloak supposed that this sudden appearance was supposed to be frightening, but the effect was completely ruined on him, as he could see through the hologram, as if it were nothing more than a harmless ghost. He knew that it couldn't harm him, so he wasn't afraid.

But he was blinded by a bright spotlight that he couldn't determine the source of. He closed his eyes so they could adjust. Then he heard a shriek, like a hawk diving on a mouse, coming from behind him, about eight o'clock. He fired a blast of golden scarlet energy in that direction. He heard a shriek of pain, and he knew his blast hit its mark. Twice more did he do this before the darkness vanished.

[Underseen]

Six years old? That's pretty impressive, but when you look at your future book list, it's only a drop in a bucket.

[Cloak]

Yep. And it also means Memoirs will be the same age as Leatherhead.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
The Unseen Crone

Cloak kept his mind on tracking whatever was behind this. He kept very attentively searching for it. It had no scent and kept perfectly still, which made this quite difficult.

These holograms must have seriously drained the energy to maintain the physicality of these holograms as hard light constructs. The cohesiveness and texture rendering would surely, Cloak reasoned, be the first to go if whatever was causing this was running out of power. These huge environmental projections couldn't be kind to its power supply either. Well, unless it bore the same power source as the forum itself did (the one they had as a backup supply, which slumbered, forgotten, deep in the bowels of the forum), but if that was the case . . .

Well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Suddenly, the environment changed again. It was now as if the floor was several feet below them, and the building had flooded, with detris such as boxes and boards floated upward to serve as platforms for which they stood on. Az instinctively made an ice floe for him to stand on, and Helen generated a platform from her ring for both her and Parker to stand comfortably on. Cloak, however, couldn't be bothered.

Even when he saw the creature, which appeared horribly translucent to him, like that of an insubstantial ghost, which slithered into the waters with a sickening splash. The creature from beneath the simulated waters was a large humanoid, looking rather like an old, decrepit woman with long, thin limbs and relatively small, slender hands and feet. Her head was balding, with only wispy tufts of stringy, dead, gray hair clinging to it. She had a waddle-like neck folds, and her face looked as if it was just beginning to melt off her face. She had rather distinct bags under her eyes, and rather beady, dark eyes. Her nose was moderately broad and blunt. Her teeth were small and needle-like. She wore a ratty, moldy rag rather like how Dobby from "Harry Potter" wore his original enslaved garments.

Had Cloak not known that it was a fictitious monster, he would have marvelled at how well and how long she was holding her breath. He would have suspected her possessing marine respiration. But this monster wasn't real, so it was pointless in fretting about it.

Not to mention the hologram was already losing its coherency, consistency, and cohesiveness. Cloak's feet sank through a wooden box, and it appeared that he was wading in water up to his ankles. Cloak folded his arms over his chest, and scrutinized the holographic image with narrowed eyes. It was clear that he wasn't impressed.

He noticed that the hologram even had a sort of reality wobble to it. The hologram was not succeeding in its rendering so much anymore. The texturing renders had apparently blinked off, and the water looked rather like amateurish CGI and the detris looked like half-rendered shapes you'd see in some sort of animatic or something.

Then with another blink it was back to the realistic rendering. This just served to confirm Cloak's thoughts, as he glanced back at the others, Helen and Az having done away with their platforms. Even the hand, reaching for Cloak, from the CGI water, looking eerily like an Inferius, wasn't really all that frightening. Especially when it cut out for that rough cut animation.

"I think it's safe to say," Parker said, matter-of-fact, "that whoever, or whatever, is behind this is running their batteries dry."

"Agreed," Cloak said. "Time's on our side here."

He would come to regret that logic.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
The Failed Escape

The environmental hologram collapsed completely. Shattered as if a field spell card in Yu-Gi-Oh! was destroyed.

"Not long now," Az noted.

"Come on out," Cloak called out. "It's over. You clearly have a finite power source. Make things easier for yourself."

Cloak Metalsighted it before he heard the slapping footsteps. And Cloak noticed a rather large discrepancy between the two. The footsteps he Metalsighted were heavier than the slapping footsteps that he heard. So, clearly the perpetrator of this was finally making a move himself, or herself, or itself, whatever the case may be. And it was clear that it was sheathing itself in a hologram to hide whomever it was from visual or audio recognition. Although, it clearly didn't really think it through all the way.

Within a matter of moments, this person of interest came into view, Cloak saw the true form hidden within the sheath. The holographic sheath was a boy that wore blue pajamas, a puffy, long-sleeved shirt with a small zipper, and light blue sweatpants, and has a metal strip around its left foot with a broken lock. It had large amounts of black hair with long bangs, which cover its face and only revealing a tiny mouth and nose. His feet and hands are bare. It appeared to have possessed no objects.

But, within this sheath, was the true of form of Danger. It looked like a bald, androgynous, geriatric, techno-organic human. Cloak was surprised when he saw Danger -- the poor individual was horribly emaciated and rail thin. Like a skeleton with skin stretched taut over it, without any flesh between. Eyes that must have once been a sharp gold was now more of a tarnished gold color.

It took Cloak a moment to remember that the others couldn't see this. They saw it as the holographic boy sheath. Parker may have been able to see it within the tech of his armor -- Cloak didn't know, especially since, apparently, Tyr decided to go silent.

Suddenly, Danger tried to run by the four, but the hologram wobbled as he stopped. It looked as if it was in pain. Cloak was at a lost for words. There was this techno-organic being that looked like a geriatric humanoid Technarchy, horribly emaciated and frail looking, ensconced within a hologram that disguised it as a boy around nine years of age, while it looked to be an octogenarian, at least. There may have been a statement to be made there, but Cloak wasn't of the mind to make it just then.

The hologram wobbled each time Danger staggered. Old age was affect it as it would any average human of similar age and build.

"Cloak," Az asked, "what's inside that hologram?"

Cloak assumed they saw the wobbles of the hologram and came to the right conclusion. Cloak told them with a few words as necessarily possible.

"Is that why it's just . . . just standing there?" Helen asked.

"It's not standing," Cloak said, sadly.

"What do you mean?" Helen said, quickly.

Cloak trained his eyes on the creature within the hologram. It was on a knee and Cloak though he heard heavy, labored breathing. It seemed to be aging rapidly . . . and there was nothing any of them could do to stop that.

"It's on it's knees," Cloak said, as the hologram gave its largest and longest wobble yet. "Its aging to death."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Bore Witness

The hologram was now whizzing in and out of resolution. The texturing on the holographic model had been long gone for a few minutes now. The hologram was deteriorating, but that was nothing compared to what was happening within the hologram itself. Where this creature had resembled an enfeebled, emaciated, bald, androgynous octogenarian to an enfeebled, emaciated, bald, androgynous centenarian.

Within moments, the hologram would give out all together. Danger, despite no one else knowing the name it took for itself, was dying. Dying, and there wasn't a damn thing that anyone could do about it. No one but a chronokinetic could possibly reverse the effects of rapid aging. And there was no time, no time at all, to seek out a Chronosapien, a Chronian, or a Celestialsapien. And there was no guarantee that all they'd be doing is buying this poor creature another few minutes to live.

The other three apparently could not see this poor creature languishing like this. This . . . this was not what Cloak had anticipated. He hadn't even suspected that this would be how this would end. He felt guilt and shame at his attitude towards this thing -- and they never would know precisely why it lashed out at them.

Its black form was graying and the gold markings in addition to its golden eyes were becoming paler, and more silver. It seemed to age fifty years in the span of two minutes. The hologram was struggling to be displayed. The render was gone and the boy it projected looked like the rough animation of a CGI movie.

Cloak kept his face solemn as he pityingly bore witness to this dying creature. He probably should have let the others know this, but they read his body language. They knew.

"How long, Cloak?" Parker said. He adopted the tone one would at the bedside of a dying man.

"Shouldn't be too much longer," Cloak said, quietly.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Helen said, as the hologram popped out of existence. "Anything?"

Cloak sighed, solemnly, as he watched Danger's body collapsed upon the floor. It's breathing heavy and labored. There was no doubt that it was dying. It was aging itself to death.

"Not unless you can manipulate time itself, Helen," the Realm Walker said.

"There . . ." Parker said, stopping himself. But he couldn't help himself. "There is something we can do. But it . . ." he glanced at Helen, almost apologetically, ". . . it won't save it."

Helen's eyes widened, as she got what Parker was getting at, as did Az and Cloak. It was very clear that she didn't like it. But Danger was suffering. It was aging so rapidly that in a manner of minutes, if not seconds, its body would be dust. What Parker suggested was the only thing that they could give it -- mercy. And freedom from this pain that would made its body convulse, if not for the fact the body was exhausted. Its body was truly that of a dying invalid.

"Hesitation," Cloak said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "won't make it any easier. We must act now or --"

But it was already too late. Danger made a long exhale, but did not inhale. Its body collapsed into gray dust with tarnished bronze flecks. Danger had aged itself to death. There was no coming back from this kind of death.

"Um," Az said, uncertain. "What do we do now?"

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
To Be a RAFian

With the training room gone, the RAFians had to be more creative with their training. It didn't really affect Cloak's training regimen, as he never used the so-called "Danger Room". But the others no longer had that luxury.

Cloak looked on from his spot underneath a large oak tree. He watched Esplin training a couple of newbies to see if they were up to snuff. He was not afraid to get into their faces, either.

<Let's get down to business, to defeat the Banned.
Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?
You're the saddest bunch I ever met.
But you can bet before we're through --
Mister, I'll make a RAFian out of you!>

He got into the face of this newbie, who was quite intimidated at his Andalite face -- the lack of a mouth, the stalk eyes, the whole shebang.

<Tranquil as a forest,
But on fire within.
Once you find your center,
You are sure to win!
You're a spineless, pale pathetic lot,
And you haven't got a clue!
Somehow I'll make a RAFian out of you!>

Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior that Esplin was putting on, Cloak knew Falwell that Esplin was enjoying this. He was enjoying scaring these potential new RAFians.

One complained:

"I'm never gonna catch my breath."

Another complained:

"Say goodbye to those who knew me!"

Yet another repented:

"Boy, was I fool in school for cutting gym!"

Yet another regretted:

"Now I really wish that I knew how to swim!"

Cloak continued to watch with a sort of detached interested, trying not to think about Danger, the unnamed creature that aged to dust. They took care of the remains, but it wasn't something easily forgotten.

<Be a RAFian.
We must be swift as the coursing river.
Be a RAFian.
With all the force of a great typhoon.
Be a RAFian.
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!>

Cloak saw some improvements. These improvements looked promising. Except one.

<Time is racing toward us
Till the Banned arrive.
Heed my every order,
And you might survive!>

He turned to the one who wasn't improving, and sang:

<You're unsuited for the rage of war.
So pack up, go home.
You're through.
How could I make a RAFian out of you?>

This idealistic boy was turned away. He wasn't ready for the kind of demands being a RAFian has. They've learned from past events about having unqualified RAFians.

<Be a RAFian.
We must be swift as the coursing river.
Be a RAFian.
With all the force of a great typhoon.
Be a RAFian.
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.
Be a RAFian.
We must be swift as the coursing river
Be a RAFian.
With all the force of a great typhoon
Be a RAFian.
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.>

Now, would Esplin pass the remainder of these new recruits? They won't get a Mark until at least six months of service.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=TVcLIfSC4OE