Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
A Bunch of Finny Fun

Parker was dispatched to some sort of underwater ruins that a fiend took residence in. There were claims that it was possibly Atlantis, at least an old site made of golden coral. Parker had his doubts and he made them known. While his armor is self-contained, he didn't like going underwater, even with an auxiliary air supply. The water, he found, made him slow and ungainly. It wasn't anything like fighting in space, where there was nothing pushing against his armor to slow his movements. Not like water. But he was the only one with the vespine drones, which were supposed to be spy cams, but were able to explode if needed. Xeno had managed to increase the payload enough for this routine mission. Still, Parker wasn't too happy about it.

Anyway, despite his griping, he had a job to do. So he dived down -- unfortunately, reducing the weight of his armor and yet managing to make it keep its effectiveness (a feat that he was proud of at the time) meant that it took him longer to fall into the facility. But when he did, he was dismayed to discover a labyrinthine tube that he had to travel through. This was so . . . ugh. And, of course, this tube was flooded. Parker wasn't a happy camper.

Then the tube split into two pathways, and Parker decided to take the on the right, avoiding spiked coral bits. They wouldn't penetrate his armor, but they would be annoying to get out if any got stuck in the joints. He continued on until the tube split again, and he took the wider right one again, because the left path had some of those annoying coral spikes again. only to discover this tunnel ended with those spikes.

After uttering a profane curse, he continued to the left. Sharp U-turn to the right, then another one immediately after, but this time to the left. Then another sharp turn to the left, and another sharp turn to the right after a few steps. Then he came to a wide room where he had to swim upward. He heaved a heavy sigh, which he intermingled a profanity, before he started to swim up, his newly lightweight armor not being as much of a burden as he feared.

He was actually surprised to see that this area had a surface to it. Into some underwater cave. Fortunately, Tyr was keeping his trap shut, so Parker could concentrate on what to do. He easily pulled himself out of the water, hoping that his endeavors to make sure that the armor was rust proof was good. The armor didn't have any iron, to his knowledge, to oxidize, so it should be okay.

So he continued along, on dry ground, but he didn't see any sign of the fiend, but he didn't really expect to. According to information he had, the fiend did not do well on the land. But a SPARTAN could hope. Although he did feel a bit naked without any of his guns -- he was afraid the water would ruin them. He continued along, seeing those coral spike things here and there, until he actually climbed out of the cave and into sunlight. It would appear that he had come to a shoal of some kind. But the fiend wasn't here, so he didn't care, and moved on.

But after a fair distance, he realized that he'd have to go back under into a coral tube. He didn't like it, it almost felt like the maw of some creature. But he bit the bullet and dove down. It was here where the tube widened into a large room. It really reminded him of a more spacious variation of Ursula's lair from "The Little Mermaid". This is where the fiend had hold up.

The fiend had a body plan of a stereotypical mermaid, with humanlike eyes, with dark orange sclera and purple irises. It wore a orange battle helm with a large, ornate red jewel over white hair that flowed like sea foam. Its upper body was rather like an ancient blouse with black, scallop-like, poofy sleeves (a la Snow White) which had brown accents. It's neck was white with a black neckline, and three green gems embedded in its chest. Its lower arms and hands were like black, elbow-length costume gloves, while its upper arms were white. It's waist was a black corset, with a scaly orange mermaid tail, with a silver ball attaching the tail to the tailfin. It carried a dark orange staff with silver tips and at the upper point were laser-based trident prongs, not unlike a lightsaber.

It wasn't long before it saw Parker, and begun its attack pattern. It sung, and fortunately Parker's armor filtered out any hypnotic notes. He had learned from the Dark Gaz fiasco. But this caused fish to come into the room and start attacking him. Enthralled by the sounds. but they couldn't get through his armor. They were irritations and nuisances if anything. They mostly just came in to bite once or twice, before leaving.

Then she fired laser tridents at him, and they cut through the coral like knife through butter. And without getting stuck or dissolving. They did dissolve, after a second or two, though. It did this about six times before pausing. Parker had enough at the sixth time, and unleashed all of the vespine drones he had, and had them all head for it. When they made contact, he detonated them all which caused the entire place to cave in on itself.

He barely had time to escape.

***

Demos called it a "supurasshusapien". He claimed he designed her for lifeguarding and shipwreck rescue purposes.

***

Malice feigned interest in this, but was still pacing around trying to concoct a scheme to stay relevant.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CLXVI:
MONSTER MASH
CHAPTER ONE:
Something More . . . Concrete

Helen was dispatched to a literal urban jungle. She made sure that she had charged her ring. She was a Star Sapphire and she was proud of it. But this place, it looked as if was some artist's literal take on an urban jungle. There was concrete trees and cement soil. It was like a mockery of a jungle. She thought, from what she read, that this was supposed to be some sort of amusement park ride or a film location -- she couldn't remember which -- that lost funding and was subsequently abandoned.

Anyway, she proceeded forward. She eventually came to three pits that she could not see the bottom of, but she carelessly floated over them. Then she entered the building directly in front of her, and, once inside the main atrium, she took a right, going up the stairs. At the top of the flight of stairs, she turned and went left, before turning in a ninety-degree turn to the right, Then she turned another ninety-degree turn to the left, and took the next flight of stairs up.

She found herself outside again. She disregarded this as she continued onward. Soon, she came upon a statue of an elephant, but only regarded it for a few seconds before moving onward. Then she came upon as second elephant statue, and only paused to think it strange before moving on. Then she came upon a third elephant statue behind two pits that she couldn't see the bottom of. This basically just confirmed to her that this was an abandoned and forgotten movie set. She thought whatever movie it was couldn't have been that entertaining (which defeats the purpose of making a movie). She moved onward.

She found herself forced to move into the sewers of the area. She wasn't too happy about this, as it smelled extremely . . . well, you can guess how a sewer would smell. She moved through it as quickly as she could before she could climb back up and out of that smelly tunnel. But she was still inside a building of some sort. She didn't stop to question it, but just moved on. She had to be getting close to the fiend's lair now, as she exited the building which was rather like a hangar of some sort..Then she came across a massive chasm with several platforms that looked as if they were hovering. She wouldn't need to be using those, and she didn't.

Then she came across the lair of the fiend, In another building. Somehow she wasn't surprised. The fiend was a humanoid with a thick frame. It had a face like a concrete slab with a powerful, black, square jaw that jutted out, and humanlike eyes with brown sclera and dark brown irises. It had gold spikes in place of ears, and a dark blue forehead and bald head. It had a large metal stud on its forehead. Its head sat directly on its body. It had a rounded, barrel-like torso that was dark blue on the top half and black on the bottom, with a large red stud on its sternum. It had large, dark blue shoulders with large metal studs, with metal rings with vents of some sorts connect the shoulders to the torso. Its upper arms were white, and its lower arms were dark blue. Its right arm was replaced with a blaster much like the back of a cement truck, which was black-tipped and dark blue. It's left hand and wrist was black. It had a silver band at its waist. It's crotch, thighs, and knees were white. It's lower legs were dark blue, while its boot-like feet were black and its toes were cement gray.

When it took notice of her, it immediately charged, which she floated away to avoid. It slammed into the wall, which made the structure shake uncomfortably. Then it tried again, with identical results. Following this, it did not charge again. Instead it leaped up and clearly intended to smash down on Helen. With her superior aerial mobility, this was a cinch to avoid. Then it fired a concrete shot at her that may have frozen her in place, but the range was rather lacking, in her opinion. It jumped up twice to smash her to the ground again, and each time it failed. Demos's fiends, other than Maul, were not big on intelligence. Then it shot three concrete blocks which missed Helen completely and formed larger blocks upon contact with the ground. It then charged through them, and this failed to hit Helen as she was floating. Then it began this attack pattern again.

Helen made some constructs of the only thing that she could think of at the time -- tridents (she had heard Parker's experiences with the last fiend and it was fresh in her mind). She aimed them for the fiend, and she fired them at it. The broke through all the barriers it had put up made of concrete and . . . the job was done.

She left.

***

Demos called it a "konkuritosapien". He apparently designed it for dam constructions.

***

Malice was only using these fiend battles as background noise. She needed a good scheme. Any good scheme would do . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
He Who Desires

Over in suburbia, there lived a man who worked as a programmer. But, until a few weeks ago, he was a rather poor one. His sudden competency was a subject of much speculation, but none knew the true reason. And this man, Seth T. Graham, also had an online video channel where he essentially piggybacked of the popularity of a well-known online show by "debunking" them using junk science, junk math, and taking mistranslations of his favorite anime as truths, refusing to acknowledge the fact that they're mistranslations. His channel was a refuge of those who were butthurt after their characters lost in that well-known web show, which was a show that used research with two fictional characters as they pit them together in a battle to the death. That show used research of the character's source material to determine the winner, unlike most other similar shows which simply take a poll. After one of his favorite anime's protagonists was defeated and killed by an OP comic book superhero, he decided to make "debunking" videos using very flawed logic and outright ignoring the facts demonstrated in that particular video.

However, in recent weeks, he had stopped making any videos, debunking or otherwise. This was right around the time when his programming competency skyrocketed unexpectedly and inexpiably. It was almost as if he wasn't interested in making his fanboyish videos anymore, as if he had more things that he considered to be more important, and thus, take a higher priority.

He was striding into his kitchen and was waiting for a bowl of oatmeal to cool down a bit. It was a bit of the standard kitchen, if a bit small, as his house wasn't the biggest. Basically a two-bedroom single-story home. The kitchen was surprisingly clean for a bachelor's pad. He went down to a secret basement. It's been three days since his last oatmeal treatment. He didn't like doing this, didn't like this dependency. He wanted freedom from it. He place his hand on the handrail as he went down into the soundproofed basement. This was quite a suspicious thing to have, but he could always pass it off as a panic room, if anyone asked.

He shut the door and locked it with a special high tech lock. It was this way for a reason, a reason that he would divulge to no one outside this room. It was hard enough to procure this non-Terran technology. There was so preciously little of it on this planet, which would be obvious considering it was extraterrestrial in origin. It was his secret to know, and his alone.

Oh, he supposed it was also Seth's secret as well, though he kept it involuntarily. The being making this decision was actually an alien in the programmer's brain. A Yeerk named Merser. And not just any Yeerk, but a mutant one. He could not survive on Kadronna rays, like other Yeerks. He can absorb them, but they weren't necessary for it to live.

Merser controlled Seth's body to set down the bowl at a simple wooden table and a hard-backed chair with special chains around it. He sat Seth's body down in the chair, making it comfortable. Then chains around it seemed to come alive and restrained Seth. Then Seth settled his head and neck into a special harness, that forced his head down to just touching the oatmeal. With a deep sigh, Merser disengaged with Seth's brain. He was partially glad to. Seth's fanboy tendencies really irritated Merser.

Soon enough, Merser was travelling down Seth's right ear canal and into the oatmeal. This wondrous concoction had become his Kadronna. He needed to feed on this stuff every three days due to his inability to metabolize Kadronna properly. He was glad, this oatmeal was more readily available and far more innocuous than a Kadronna generator. No one would question why "Seth" was buying oatmeal, but they would if he was lugging around a portable Kadronna generator, which were fair more questionable.

Merser couldn't hear or sense if Seth was yelling or what he was yelling if he was. Even if he was, Merser didn't care. Humans were just like pigs to him. They were just things to inhabit, things to wear. They weren't people as far as he was concerned, their wants and desires were of no concern to him. They were just there to be his means to his ends.

Before long, Merser's oatmeal dip was done, and he was good for another three days. As such, he was ready to crawl back into Seth's head. And he was unable to stop it. He reached up and touched Seth's right ear's auricle, almost as if it was caressing and cherishing it. Then he found the aperture of the ear, and began to shove his body through it. He squirmed and slithered his way through the ear canal, until he came to Seth's brain. Unlike his first time taking Seth (who was asleep at the time), he immediately squeezed into every crevice of the brain as quickly as it could.

Once in control again, he gave the telepathic password to release his stolen body from the harness and chains. He rubbed his neck, and complained aloud, "Seth, why do you have to fight this? You know that you can't escape. Well, at least, until I get tired of you."

If Seth answered, Merser ignored him. He was eager to research that article about a creature he wanted a genetic sample of. He thought it was called a Geonosian brainworm. He hoped to use the DNA of that creature to free him of these clunky devices and allow him more freedom to take whatever host he wants, or even free him up from the need from needing hosts at all.

Merser took the bowl of oatmeal and headed upstairs with the intention of using Seth's mouth to eat it. He did this mostly to be revolting to Seth and reinforce that there was nothing that Seth could do to stop him.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
Myitt Musings

Meanwhile, back at the forum, Myitt was practicing her combat with her fellow RAFians. It was a bit harder to do now since the "Danger Room" was still a gutted, hollowed out shell. Myitt was keeping her host, Tara, fit and combat ready. You never knew when you would be assigned a mission, so it was best to do so. Tara seemed to enjoy it as well -- Myitt was a voluntary Controller, and she inhabited Tara's body with her permission. Both actually bore the Mark, as well. Neither wasn't sure exactly how that worked.

But as they did this, Myitt found herself thinking about one of her pool mates. It was a mutant Yeerk, who was unable to feed on Kadronna as efficiently as other Yeerks. She still had Tara as a host back then, though they weren't as close as they were now. Its natural Yeerk body was not the grayish, greenish color of an average Yeerk. It was pale, and white. An albino. Not to mention it was about thirteen percent smaller than an average Yeerk. And it seemed to be unable to reproduce. Infertile, if you would.

Myitt assumed that the Council of Thirteen ordered its destruction. This was the first such Yeerk in recent memory to be such a nonconformist, in terms of genetic and physical aspects. Not that Merser 649 had any choice in being born into such a body. Yes, it wasn't fair, Myitt would admit, but the Council of Thirteen was rarely, if ever, fair.

Myitt never knew or realized the possibility that the addiction to maple-flavored oatmeal would not affect Merser in the same way that it would affect other Yeerks. She never paused to consider this possibility, and why would she. Merser was the only Yeerk of its kind, and, to her knowledge, had never taken a host. Nor did she pause to consider that it might have abilities and powers that ordinary Yeerk did not. Yeerks did not have an X Gene, like some humans possessed. At least, to her knowledge.

She couldn't help but feel bad and pity for Merser. Being . . . terminated . . . for things beyond its control. But the Council of Thirteen must have deemed it as useless to the former Empire. The report they gave out for its termination was that apparently it couldn't even take a host. Though the evidence they used to justify this was shaky, at best. But everyone knew better, back then, than to question the Council.

Myitt continued to think about this as she walked to her thread.

<You're being more quiet than usual,> Tara told her.

<Huh? Oh, sorry, Tara. I was just . . . thinking.> Myitt said, a tad evasively.

<I sense conflict in you. Pity, I think,> Tara said.

<I was just thinking . . . about an old pool mate of mine,> she said, as she began to brush Tara's hair.

<Love interest?> Tara teased.

Myitt paused momentarily. No, Merser wasn't a love interest, nor was he a spawn mate. They came from two different Yeerk fissions, basically how their kind reproduced. They die in the act of reproducing, hence why Myitt wasn't in any rush to become a parent. Though Yeerks, predominantly those who are or have been human Controllers, are able to feel those kinds of feelings.

<Myitt?>

<No,> Myitt said, after a moment's hesitation. <It wasn't a love interest. It's more akin to a . . . a special needs Yeerk, so to speak.>

<A special needs Yeerk? Do you mean it's host was -->

<No, not at all,> Myitt said. <Merser Six-Four-Nine wasn't able to metabolize Kadronna right, and was about thirteen percent smaller than the average Yeerk.>

<Oh,> Tara said. After taking a minute to parse this information, she asked, <What happened to him?>

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Babysitting Peril

"Hello, Seth," he said, and "Seth" responded in kind.

The man, this Richard McGeezax, moved slightly to chivvy his son forward. He prompted, "Say good morning."

"Good morning," the seven-year-old boy replied shyly.

"Good morning," "Seth" replied.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing "Seth's" somewhat haggard appearance.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," Merser said, pretending to be Seth to a tee.

"Right, then," he said. "It's a bad time . . . so . . . this is real nice of you, Seth. . . ."

Ah, of course, this was the babysitting job that "Seth" had agreed to, despite Seth not really knowing the kid all that well.

"Wellll . . . here's his swimsuit, his towel . . . you have it all," Mr. McGeezax said, making sure he had all his ducks in a row. "And the famous shower cap . . . I did not forget this time. I will be back around six, okay?"

"Fine," Merser said, with believable gruffiness.

"Great. Thanks!" he said.

"Sure."

"Be good," his father said, assuring Merser of his appreciation, as he turned away with a quick "Bye!"

Then "Seth" shut the door.

***

"Dickie," came a sobbing voice, one full of fear and regret. "Dickie, I'm sorry. I hope you understand. P-Please. I . . . I didn't have a choice. I --"

It was Seth. The real one. Sobbing about allowing Merser to do what he did. He had used Seth's body to overpower the boy, and cause him to lose consciousness for just a moment.

"Please f-forgive me," Seth continued to sob. "He . . . he made me do it. I couldn't stop him . . . I . . . I . . . I . . ."

Merser took this as an advantage. Richard McGeezax was a well-regarded geneticist, and just the thing that Merser could use to augment his physiology with the DNA of a Genonosian Brainworm. Don't as how Merser managed to obtain it -- it wasn't easy, and it was before he settled in Seth's head. But he needed resources to be able to augment his own genetic code with that of the Brainworm. It would free him up of any dependence and make it easier for him to get around in non-aqueous environments. He was already considered to be a monster among his "species".

"Y-You must underst-stand," he said, with shuttering breaths, as Dickie groaned, starting to regain consciousness, "I had to do it. I had to g-give you up. It was the only w-way."

Merser couldn't take over McGeezax directly. He was far more physically empowered compared the flabby doughboy that was Seth. There was no way that Merser could use Seth's body to overpower McGeezax. So, the idea was subterfuge. Take him when he least expected it, when he anticipated nothing. What Merser needed was a Trojan Horse.

"He was g-gonna enslave me f-forever, Dickie," Seth said, in rushed, shuttering apologetics. He watched with horrified awe as the pallid flesh of Merser's true Yeerk body vanished within the ear canal of the boy's right ear. "This was the only w-way. The only way that I could be . . . could be . . ."

How fortunate that McGeezax had delivered the Trojan Horse right to Merser. This juvenile human, he hoped, would prove quite useful to him, for his purposes. Merser had made sure to feed long and hard before doing this, and he thought that he might be good for at least six days now -- something he had never been allowed to show his fellow Yeerks, who were clearly off put by his appearance, despite Yeerks being fundamentally blind. He couldn't metabolize Kadronna and he was slightly smaller than an ordinary Yeerk. They never bothered to get to know him to know that, after swimming in and feeding from oatmeal that he could stay in his hosts longer than those "normie" Yeerks.

"The only way that I could be fr-free, Dickie," he said, "you must understand th-that. I --"

"Oh, stop your sniveling, you wimpy worm!" Merser scolded harshly in Dickie's voice. Granted, it didn't sound at all threatening with a seven-year-old's voice. But Dickie's body was now Merser's and Dickie was still not cognizant enough to realize what was going on.

"What? What are --"

"I have the boy, you idiot," Merser said, getting to his . . . to Dickie's feet. While he was still inside Seth, he had managed to collapse the room into a capsule. Tech that Merser himself had developed while inside of Seth. He was only useful for that regard, though. Now his usefulness was gone, and Merser would have been prudent to kill Seth to avoid any loose ends, but he was in the body of a fail boy. And he could not concoct a cover story that would explain how Seth died but he survived.

"Oh, you're the alien speaking now," Seth said, with still cry in his voice, as Merser put the capsule into one of Dickie's jean pockets.

"'Merser', you dolt," Merser said, falling back on one of his favorite pasttimes. Verbally abusing Seth. But it was nearing six -- the preparation for the exchange really went on too long. "This juvenile human's sire should be here soon. Do not blow my cover, human, or else I will find a way to get back in there and I will make you walk off a cliff!"

<What's going on? Why am I--> Dickie said, in his head.

<Silence!> Merser said, harshly and cruelly. <I haven't the time to put up with you, you miserable, worthless human child.>

This was a mistake, as this made Dickie burst into tears in his head at this brief, but intense, moment of cruelty. This just irritated Merser and made him even more grumpy.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Shocking Realizations and Torturous Dreams

Myitt (and, by extension, Tara) were walking away from their civilian job (yes, she had one -- sometimes forum business and missions got a bit slow), when she (or they, if you prefer) heard two redhaired women with rather generous waistlines gossiping at a nearby coffee shop.

"You know, Gabby," said the one with her back to Myitt, and she was speaking at a volume that Myitt had no trouble hearing her clearly from so far away. "I really miss that guy, what's his name? Uh, The Panderer?'

"Oh, that Seth guy, yeah," said the still unnamed woman. "Wonder why he stopped posting. Loved his stuff. Especially considering that Character Death Match show continues to not do any research and biases all their fight results."

This wasn't remotely true. But Myitt found this idle chatter as unimportant, and Tara agreed with her about that.

"Have you seen the comments on the old videos, Julie?" Gabby asked. Myitt was just standing there waiting for the pedestrian light to change. She had made the mistake of arriving just as it changed to red, which meant that it would take forever to turn back to green. It didn't matter to much though, the forum wasn't that far away from here.

"Yes, but he hasn't posted any new content," Julie replied.

"I mean, did you see some of the newer comments?" Gabby clarified.

"People still post comments on videos that old?" Julie asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Gabby nodded, "it was mostly this one guy named 'Mercer'. Only he spelled it with an 'S' instead of a 'C'."

This caused Myitt to almost gag on her beverage. That's how "Merser" would be spelled in the human language. The pedestrian light changed and Myitt didn't notice.

<Doesn't mean that it's the same guy,> Tara said, <and the light changed. We can go now.>

Myitt walked across the crosswalk with barely enough time to clear it before the light changed. Still, this unnerved her enough to make her wonder. To make her wonder if Merser had somehow survived . . . but she couldn't do this alone. She would have seek the help of some specific RAFians.

***

Cloak was standing a black void, once again confronting his mother, in what was again, clearly a dream. Some things in the past are hard to let go.

Although, for some reason, GH was standing behind him strumming his guitar to the song adaptation Cloak was about to sing.

"Sorry that I don't treat you like a goddess.
Isn't that what you want me to do?
Sorry that I don't treat you like you're perfect,
Like all you always expect me to.
Is that why you always neglected my needs?
That must be such an inconvenience to you!
Well . . . I'm not your problem.
I'm not your problem.
I'm not even a person to you, am I?
I'm not your problem.
Well, I shouldn't have to justify what I do.
I shouldn't have to prove anything to you.
I'm sorry that I exist,
I don't care that I'm on your blacklist.
But I shouldn't have to be the one that makes up with you.'

The mental construct of his mother vanished. Cloak was perfectly lucid in this dream, and he knew this was just essentially kabuki theater. He knew that he wouldn't get any true resolution to this fissure between them like this. The only way to do it would be to speak to his mother, his real mother not a semi-tangible constructed representation of her.

But make no mistake, nothing could bridge or heal this chasm between them. The wounds ran far too deep. . . .

Wait, what was going on? He was alone in this black void, and before him he saw something like an aperture of some kind, a floating portal that was sort of outlined like the Nickelodeon splat. As he peered through it, he wasn't sure if this was an invention of his imagination or if he had transitioned into a Truth Dream. He hoped the later wasn't true, as the images in the portal wasn't really pleasant.

Garrotik was back and in the full throes of his destruction. And he was . . .  singing. Of course he would choose to have a song number.

"Today’s just so wonderful, I feel like chuckling.
Ha ha ha.
I feel all fuzzy inside like a Ducklett. . . full of Galvantulas!
And now that I’m here, tonight, it’s gonna get weird!!"

He towered over cowering civilians from the city with a fair smattering RAFians. Mostly the ones without any powers or any technological means of resisting Garrotik.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha!" Garrotik laughed at the RAFians, and their looks of consternation.

"Look at these creatures!
Not enough features!
Rats should breath fire!
RAFians should sing choir!'

The RAFians were force to sing against their wills. Funnily enough, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened -- RAFians singing against their wills.

"Very nice," Garrotik said, showing pointed teeth as he smiled. Then he moved over to a water tower, not like the one inhabited by the Warner siblings in "Animaniacs". And he animated it into a vicious monster, similar to the Spirit-Drinker.

"Look at this tower
Under my power!
Look at these people,
Puny and feeble! "

The water tower roared and stomped off, as Garrotik scooped the people up into his arms as he crowed, "Ooooooo hoooo!"

Then the music slowed down a tad, as he sang:

"Look, I’m just a merciful god trying to save you
From the delusions society gave you.
Gravity’s a lie and so is the pie.
Trust in the all-seeing, all-knowing guy!"

Then he demonstrated his power . . . and Cloak noticed that he was not one of the assembled. A conspicuous absence.

"Look at this money --
Who’s that, honey?
Look throughout history,
How could you miss me?"

Garrotik was enjoying this too much, as he claimed, "Seriously, I’m all over the place."

Then he sung once more:

"Look at this weather,
Bet I could do better.
Maniacal rainbows,
Screeching tornadoes!"

Then he peered into a room where there was a bathtub of regular coffee with a bendy straw in it.

"Look at this guy, drinking coffee."

GH put the straw to his lips and started sipping.

". . . Now it’s decaf!"

GH spewed the coffee out in a way that was much too cartoony to be reality.

"Mwahahahaha!" Garrotik laughed, clearly trying out his evil laugh.

Then he sang again, turning to the RAFians once more. The civilian seemed to have vanished.

"Look at these people, calling me evil
Right back at you, now you’re all statues!
Now everything you know has disappeared . . .
It’s gonna get weird . . ."

Then Garrotik seemed to look directly at Cloak before the Realm Walker awoke . . .


SOURCE SONG: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1s5-ODUA-Cc and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vq5sZPPF9ao.

[Cloak]

Releasing tomorrow's chapter a tad early.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIX:
Struggling With Petulance

<Please?>

<Be SILENT, human!> Merser said, tersely. He had to focus on playing the part of this juvenile, pretending to be this boy so as not to arouse the suspicions of his father.

Dickie fell silent for a moment, but Merser could read the young human's mind. He knew that the boy was only being quiet until he thought he could ask again. Merser knew that he should nip that idea in the bud, but he was too focused on putting on the mask of a normal, if slightly affluent, boy to this juvenile's father. It was a very hard struggle to not allow the annoyance he felt show up on Dickie's face, because he was rather irritated with this human.

It had only been approximately six hours since he took the boy's body for his own. An opportunity to take his father had not presented itself in that timeframe. And Merser had been looking for them -- he found this boy far less pliant and more petulant for his liking. He knew some Yeerks could just shut out their host's minds and protests and vitriol, and he found himself envious of those Yeerks, because he seemed to be unable to shut out Dickie's whiny thoughts. Merser kept reminding himself that this was only a temporary situation, and Dickie wasn't his permanent host.

<Pretty please get out of me?> Dickie asked.

<NO!! STOP ASKING!!> Merser exploded. Then he realized that he had lapsed his control over Dickie's face and a bit of his frustrated annoyance eked out. He immediately patched it up, but fortunately, Richard McGeezax had gone to the other room to take a call, and didn't see this momentary lapse of control.

<Why not?> he whined, as Merser turned to look to see if Richard had returned.

He was seeing if it was okay to lower the mask, seeing if it was safe to briefly "break character". He did not want to jeopardize his plan just to put this miserable human child in his place. These larger creatures were nothing more or less than chassis for his kind to ride, mere costumes for Yeerks to put on and take off at a whim. In Merser's view, these larger creatures were lesser creatures to be domesticated for Yeerk use. They were not friends, they were not to be treated like pets. The Yeerks that only took their hosts with their permission and made nicey-nice with their hosts were analogous to what humans thought of cat ladies whose homes were overrun with the beasts.

<I don't have to justify my actions to you,> Merser said, with a terse voice, deciding it was okay to allow Dickie's face to express his frustrations, to allow the mask to drop. <I don't have anything to prove to the likes of a stupid little thing like you. Now, kindly SHUT UP!!>

Then, like that, he lifted back up the mask, pretending to be an oblivious seven-year-old boy. But the more he had to keep up this façade, the more he had to listen to this whiny, indolent child, the more he had to suffer his mental tantrums . . . the more he believes that Yeerks were biologically superior. In the fact that they perish in the act of reproduction, they never have to suffer kvetching brats. They never have to be so attached to their progeny. Sure, it may have served a biological advantage, but Merser still found it a ridiculous evolutionary behavior.

Merser, despite wearing nothing but human bodies since he had to escape the wrath of the Council for the crime of being different, and being special needs. He was just as capable as any other Yeerk, as he proved by procuring that flabby old man to carry him out of that pool. Sure, he had stolen that host for another Yeerk, but Merser didn't care. He was surviving. Then he took a braindead street person who thought herself an actress and dancer when she wasn't really proficient in any of those things. From there, he settled into Seth's head and stayed there until he took this brat.

<Why me?> Dickie asked, tearfully.

<I don't answer to you,> Merser snapped cruelly, still forcing Dickie's face to look cheery as if he was enjoying this time with Richard. "Bonding time", he called it. Merser, in truth, found it a ridiculous notion, and that all this attachment humans felt for one another, especially a parent with a child. He believed it a pointless waste of energy and could not fathom any usefulness that could stem from it. <Be silent or I shall make you . . . come to harm, by your own hand.>

Merser decided to leave it vague deliberately, to silence him, at least for a moment, while he mulled over what Merser meant specifically. Merser would embrace the brief silence, though, if the opportunity presents itself, he would take this juvenile's father. Hopefully, his father would prove to be more pliable and less petulance than his progeny. Even if he doesn't, Merser would need him only long enough for him to alter his own DNA to . . .

Well, he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Struggling With Concerns

"That's some rather flimsy evidence, Myitt," Cloak said. He was still disturbed by the dream, but he didn't tell the others. He still needed to mentally unpack it. "Sorry to be so blunt, Myitt, but people online can use any nomme de plume they chose. It could just as easily be a coincidence."

"And it could just as easily not be a coincidence," Myitt argued.

"You don't know that, Myitt," Cloak said. "You're allowing yourself to become paranoid. You're allowing your concern, worry, and preoccupation to co-opt your judgment."

Myitt fell silent as she collected her thoughts, and took in input from Tara, which she considered more valuable than gold, as the human phrase went.

"It is possible that we have a Yeerk on the lose," Yarin said, reasonably. "The Earth is a big place."

"Couldn't we scan people to see if they're harboring an unknown Yeerk?" Myitt asked. "I know that Yarin and the rest of the 'science boys' were developing a way to scan using the infallible verity of the Truth Mirror."

"All we have is a prototype," Yarin said. "And I'm even sure if it's functional yet."

"And how would we explain that we're arbitrarily scanning people?" Gaz asked. "People take serious umbrage with that kind of stuff in airports. How would this be any different?"

"We could claim that an unregistered sentient endoparasite was on the loose," Yarin suggested, with a double shrug with all four of his shoulders.

"That would imply that we have a registry of aliens," Cloak said, spotting a flaw with that plan immediately. "The database we have only characterizes species identifiers and if they would require protective equipment to stay on this planet, and what power sets that their respective species possesses. We don't have a registry of all of the aliens residing on the planet, assuming any are willing to stay."

"We probably should," Helen said. "Or a citizenship process of some sort."

"And have the possibility of the Knights getting ahold of it?" Xeno asked. "That would be just as good as handing them a hit list! And not all Knights are stupid and bumbling oafs, some can be legitimately cunning."

"Not to mention that it would open the door for discrimination," Shenmue pointed out, "if that list became public, the individuals on it would be harassed by, not only Knights, but those that sympathize with them. People in this country are protesting immigrants of all stripes, and those are just humans from a different country. Imagine if they had to live in a country with being that look radically different from themselves."

"Back to the Merser thing," Myitt said, feeling that the conversation was drifting away from the intended topic. "Isn't there any way we can confirm or debunk its existence?"

"That brings us to the question of where to start," Aquilai said, thinking hard, "assuming that this Merser is indeed alive, and currently infesting someone. Then who is that someone? And how would whoever became its host have a source of Kadronna?"

"Merser couldn't metabolize Kadronna in the same way that I and other Yeerks do, remember?" Myitt said.

"Ah, right. He was a special needs Yeerk," Dylan said.

Myitt didn't like the rather blunt way Dylan said that, not to mention that she wasn't really fond of his word choice. But she said nothing about that, decided to stay on topic, "But it's possible that it found some other substance to feed on. Maybe even that maple-flavored oatmeal -- perhaps what inhibits him from metabolizing Kadronna properly also prevents the addictiveness of that substance."

"That's a lot of 'ifs'," Cloak pointed out.

"But it's something," Myitt insisted. Her gut (well, she supposed that it was technically Tara's gut) told her that she was onto something. Then her mind hit upon something. "Why don't we check out that Seth the Panderer guy? We can trace his IP address, couldn't we?"

"Isn't that illegal?" YeerkSalad asked.

"Not technically," Myitt answered. "And, it is a lead . . ."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
An Opportunity Presents Itself

Merser had stumbled upon an idea.

Since the opportunity wouldn't present itself of its own accord, he would make the circumstances fit the criteria. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he pulled the idea from Dickie himself. From some inane movie -- some pointless distraction that humans make to waste time for a stupid concept they like to call "entertainment" -- that the juvenile human was fond of. But the idea would take a little waiting and a little planning on the Yeerk's part.

Merser pretended to be Dickie, all the way up until he had to get into his pajamas and go to bed. He hated pretending to be such a bubbly, yet bratty, boy. This human just happened to be the complete antithesis to his rather angry, cruel, selfish personality. Though this personality was mostly due to the treatment he received at the hands (well, not literally hands, as Yeerks have no hands of their own) of those of his own kind. People are often shaped by those around them, and their interactions between them. But it is how they decide to take these give or take scenarios that determine the kind of person that they are. Merser chose to be bitter and hateful about it, and he chose to take out his frustrations on everyone around him.

Anyway, he waited until Dickie was asleep, and truly asleep for a while. He even reviewed his dream, as if he was a harsh movie critic. These human dreams were such feckless things. Impossible, implausible things happen in them, and they were often metaphorical. They might have even been entertaining, if Merser had such patience to watch them until their conclusion. But, instead, he was calculating, wondering if he had waited enough time. Wondering if he had allowed this opportunity to pass him by.

Okay, that was quite long enough. Merser yelled at the top of his mental voice, uttering a Yeerkish curse, knowing that Richard wouldn't be able to hear, <WAKE THE #$#% UP!>

This woke Dickie up, naturally, enabling Merser to actually use his body again. This was something that also annoyed the Yeerk, the need for sleep for these creatures. So useless. So pointless to his ends . . . well, except for this particular circumstance. Merser was aggravated to see that Dickie's vision was still blurred with sleep and that his limbs felt so heavy. He took solace that it wouldn't be his problem for very much longer.

He inched Richard's door open to this juvenile human's father asleep in his bed. Merser never questioned nor cared that Richard was a single parent. He never bothered to see what happened to Dickie's mother, he never dug that far into Dickie's memories. As far as Merser cared, Dickie was nothing more than a stepping stone to get what he wanted. He would be discarded like an old, tattered shirt. That's all Dickie meant to him, just like Seth.

"Daddy?" Merser said, with Dickie's voice, word choice, and infliction. He tried again, even more loudly, "Daddy?"

Richard awoke, and spoke, trying not to sound exasperated, "What is it, Dickie?"

"I had a bad dream," Merser lied convincingly. He added a tad of believable hesitation to the five words. Merser knew that Dickie would have protested had he gained lucidity yet, but he was still too tired. Merser had insured this.

Richard sighed, like he was going to suggest something that he didn't really want to suggest. This was completely lost on Dickie, but not Merser. But Merser didn't care that he was inconveniencing Richard. Richard would soon become his, and he would have another four days before he would have to feed again. He would be another step closer to his evolution, to shedding this need to feed every few days, to "hearing" his host's complaints and whatnot. Genososian brainworm DNA was still locked in his mind, and using that geneticist's mind and resources . . . but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. He still had to take Richard first, and do it while Dickie was asleep so neither would witness the transfer.

He crawled Dickie into his father's bed, and waited until he fell asleep himself, forcing Dickie to stay up. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about Dickie to go to school the next day. Although, even if he did, Merser would not care. Merser maneuvered Dickie's ear in such a way to make the transference easier for him. Then he allowed Dickie to go back to sleep, and waited until he drifted off and started dreaming his ridiculous dreams again. Then he disconnected from his brain, and left his head, never looking back.

Within moments, he was nestled around Richard's brain, with neither father nor son aware of the transfer. Dickie was never aware of how Merser got into him to begin with, as he was unconscious when the transference took place. But Merser was happier now. He was a step closer to his ultimate goal, and he hoped that Richard would prove more pliable and less whiny than his progeny.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
A Tortured Mind

Indulging in Myitt's concerns, she, Cloak, and Yarin, the latter two wearing ID masks to appear human, they go to Seth Graham's residence, and Yarin blinks in surprise.

"What is it? Isn't he home?" Myitt said, Tara having noticing Yarin's reaction.

"There's definitely someone in that residence," Cloak confirmed.

"Yes, there is," Yarin said. "But the person in that home . . . his mind is chaotic, and basically yelling at the top of his mental voice. Any telepath could hear it. Even low-leveled ones."

"Something happened here," Myitt said, almost smugly.

"That doesn't mean that Merser was --" Cloak said, reasonably.

"Yes, Merser was here. Even from this distance, I can make out the man's thoughts." Yarin said. "That's the word that's repeated."

"Doesn't mean that it means the same thing in context, though," Cloak pointed out.

"No, it's a Yeerk," Yarin said, "he's shouting this thoughts as if he is being . . . tortured by them, somehow. The Yeerk . . . it was not a nice guy."

<Isn't this technically an invasion of privacy?> Tara asked Myitt. <Reading his thoughts without consent?>

"Not technically," Yarin said, "he's shouting them out, psychically screaming them out."

"Who are you responding to, Yarin?" Cloak asked. "No one said anything."

"Tara did," Yarin said. "Myitt's host."

Cloak kept forgetting that Myitt was a Yeerk. Though he would never admit such a thing aloud, as his pride wouldn't allow it.

"Wait -- you could hear that?" Myitt inquired.

<We both have Marks!> Tara blurted.

"I thought the Marks prevented that," Myitt added.

"It's probably because you both -- you, Tara, and Yarin -- all carry Marks, like when Gaz became Evil Gaz and came under the thrall of Madre de Vampyra," Cloak said. "Remember, the Mark is a powerful, but not infallible, defense. It can be weakened and even broken. Like it did shortly after it was created when we dealt with the Phalanx."

"To be fair, it's fallacies have been rather inconsistent since it was --" Yarin began before falling silent. His eyes widened, both in his projected form and his true six eyes. When he spoke again, it had a not of urgency. "We have to hurry."

"What? Why?" Myitt and Tara said in unison.

"No time! We have to --" Yarin said, but he was cut off by a single, resounding gunshot. "We're too late."

"He . . . shot himself?" Myitt asked.

"He was suffering from guilt," Yarin said. "Apparently, Merser forced him to allow the Yeerk to transfer himself into a kid. Dickie McGeezax."

"It's a lead," Cloak said, somberly.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Not Going As Well As Planned

<Don't fight me, McGeezax,> Merser threatened.

He was woefully disappointed to find out that Richard McGeezax was far less pliant than his son, and far more obstinate. Granted, Merser didn't truly require Ricky's cooperation at this point, as all Yeerks can completely dominate their hosts, and Merser thought those that didn't were weak and insufferable. Then again, Merser thought a lot was insufferable at this point.

<Remember my threat, Ricky,> Merser said, tersely and harshly.

Merser had threatened Dickie. Threatened to hurt him as Ricky, and thereby having his own father maim his son. Ricky would have no control over his actions in the most literal way possible, but it would be him and his reputation that would take the blame. Who would have believed that this demon called Merser made him do it? And that would be if Merser ever let go, ever released his occupation of the elder McGeezax's body. He would have to be smart about how he did this . . .

<Obedience is the only smart option you have, Ricky,> Merser said, voice cruel, having read his thought. Ricky had no privacy from the Yeerk.

When Dickie awoke, and found that he had control over his body again, he immediately told his father about it, completely oblivious that Merser took over his father. Merser smiled inwardly at, in the Yeerk's view, the boy's utter stupidity. But he played the part, as the patronizing parent of a rambunctious, precocious child. Dickie was none the wiser. And Merser was in Dickie's head -- the boy wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, in the endoparasite's opinion.

<Do as I wish, Ricky, and I shall leave you and your progeny unharmed,> Merser intoned. It was perfectly true, too. Once he had gotten what he wanted, he wouldn't have any interest in the two. Even as a . . . well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Ricky was no more than a stepping stone to get what he wanted. A means to an end.

***

Merser was not happy.

He was expecting to have his desire, his grand plan, done before he had to feed again. He had six days. He cursed himself -- he spent too much time in the brat looking for an opportunity to take this host body. Now he would have to feed before he gave himself the treatment. The ****tail would be ready soon, but not soon enough that he would literally starve before it was done.

Fortunately, feeding for him was far easier than any other Yeerk as all he needed was maple-flavored oatmeal, and that happened to be a favorite breakfast meal of Dickie. So the boy was proving more useful than the Yeerk anticipated. And he had the capsule, taken from the boy's room without his notice. It didn't belong to him, anyway.

As some providence, Ricky was off from his job this day, and Dickie would be off at school. This gave Ricky plenty of time alone for Merser to have a good, long feed. So he immediately made a bowl of the oatmeal as soon as sending Dickie off to school. And being alone, he didn't have to keep up the façade at being Ricky, which he was glad for.

<What are you doing? I don't like oatmeal.> Ricky said.

<Be silent, human,> Merser said, dismissively. He didn't care whether Ricky liked oatmeal or not. It only matter when he had to give this body some nutrition.

Merser walked Ricky's body down to their "rec room". Merser sneered at the idea again, the need for leisure time. What a pointless waste of time. Imagine all the constructive things that could be done. It was here that he set up the chamber where he could keep Ricky prone and prevent any escape while he fed. Merser still needed him.

For the moment.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
FINALLY!

Merser made a small black box roughly the size of one of those Andalite morphing cubes, the device that imparts the morphing technology to an uninitiated person or persons of any species. Merser actually considered procuring the morphing technology, but that wasn't really a viable avenue to him. The plan he had devised was much better, he thought. And more permanent. Sure, if he could morph, he could acquire the genetic pattern of a Genosisian brainworm, but that brings the problem of acquiring one. There was no way that he could go to Genosis, which was an unreasonable distance from this planet that he was stranded on.

And, unfortunately (in Merser's opinion, anyway), humans were the only species worth infestation on this planet. The other species on this planet, which may have immigrated here from who knows what reason, were unfit for infestation, in his opinion. Or in the case of Pyronites and species of a similar quality, infestation is either impossible or uncomfortable. So he was stuck with humans, a species he refused to admit a certain fondness of. A kink, if you will. But, if pressed, he would vehemently deny it.

Anyway, he looked at his creation, this black box. He had stolen resources from his geneticist work at 151 Genetics, Inc., in conjunction with a biochemical firm, Risti Chemical. Merser didn't bother to hide the theft. As far as he was concerned, Ricky was as expendable as his brat of a son, Dickie. They were just means to an end, and that end was approaching closer and closer.

The time was now. The injection chamber full of the DNA ****tail that would hybridize him with the brainworm genetic code, it would combine with his own DNA and make it recombinant. He would become a Yeerk/brainworm hybrid, he would be freed of the limitations of a Yeerk. He would not need to feed on oatmeal, transferring from host to host would be far easier, and he wouldn't be burdened with hearing their thoughts. They would not be aware of his occupation of their bodies. It would be blissful.

He held up the black box to Ricky's ear, and made sure that Ricky would not release the box during the transfer. His parting words were not poetic or regretful in any way. He said, <Good riddance, pathetic human.>

Ricky briefly thought of destroying the box while Merser was within it, and Merser saw this, finding it ridiculously hilarious.

<You know that this injector chamber is completely unbreakable, unless you use a Dracon beam on a setting that it cannot normally reach,> Merser said, confident in its design. <You haven't any resources do that, and when the process is done, I'll have no need for it any longer. Nor will have any need of you. . . .  Or your son.>

<Dickie?> Ricky said. Clearly, this was news to him. <What do you intend to do to him?!>

"How do you think I managed to get into you?" Merser said, using Ricky's mouth, voice, and tongue. <I rode that brat, and used him to get into you when he "had a bad dream".>

<What?> Ricky said, aghast.

<Yes, idiot tetrapod,> Merser said, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in this. <It wasn't "Dickie" talking to you that night and three days prior. I used Seth to get into him.>

<I bet Seth fought you to protect Dickie,> Ricky said.

<He allowed it.> Merser said, holding up the transference for this. He enjoyed with breaking this to Ricky, all this information that he considered trivial initially and possessing reluctance to give away too much that might backfire on him. Now that he was so close to ascending to a higher form than that of a mere special needs Yeerk. <He sacrificed your son's freedom for his own. It was a very selfish move, wasn't it?>

Ricky was stunned into silence. He thought Seth was a trusted friend, and he just learned that that trust was betrayed in such a grievous manner. Merser contorted Ricky's face into a grimace of pure malice. And he laughed maliciously in their private thought-to-thought speech, as he transferred himself into the box to get injected.

He didn't know precisely how long the process would work, but realized soon that Ricky had dropped the box as soon as he regained control over himself. He sat down with his head in his hands, mulling it all over. A betrayed trust is never something that's easily forgotten. After a few long moments, Ricky left the laboratory that the black box was still in, and he made to head for home.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
It's a Process

Merser, confined to his little box, without any access to a host. He didn't care about that, though. He felt the injection prick his anterior end of his body, just behind his left palp. It didn't really hurt, either. It was just a pinprick, just sharp for a moment and that's it. He couldn't feel the serum running through his body, though he imagined that he could.

The serum would complete its work within a half a standard feeding cycle for normal Yeerks. He didn't know how long the transformation would be, or whether it would even be painful. Even if it was, no matter how excruciating it was, he would have done this. The benefits outweighed any negatives that he had to suffer on the way there. It would be worth it in the end.

After the injection had finished, the needle had withdrawn and been ejected from the box. If anyone was punctured by the needle and hurt by it, Merser could not care less. He was the only person who really mattered to him. He had learned to be extremely selfish and have powerful self-preservation instincts due to the extremely harsh and hostile treatment he received by the rest of his kind. He had never known any kindness or compassion, so how would he ever be able to know how to express or even feel them?

Soon, Merser's entire body felt warm, as if the whole of it was inflamed. It was uncomfortable, but tolerable. Barely, but tolerable. Merser waited, sure that it would pass and his body would change. He would not be able to see it, of course, due to the fact that Yeerks cannot see, in the typical sense, while in their natural form. He soon felt as if his entire body was burning, but he endured it in silence. He was kind of glad that he could not scream.

Then, with alarming rapidity, the excessive heat vanished and he was feeling a distinct chill. He scrunched up his still Yeerkish body, as it started to shiver. Yeerks were not accustomed to cold like that which he now felt. The Yeerk Pool was a relatively tepid temperature, and not many (if any) had taken a host whose brain was not warm. Merser worried that he might freeze into a slab of ice. Merser continued to remind himself that it was necessary for his grander goal.

Then, with mounting fear, Merser found that he could not move his Yeerkish body. He was paralyzed. He started to wonder, in a panicked stupor, if his copious calculations while wearing Ricky were off. He double and tripled checked . . . maybe something still eluded him about it. Could he have been wrong? Could have been mistaken?

The paralysis faded, as he grew into a disoriented state. He was confused about what was going on, forgetting what he did and even who he was. The serum wasn't meant to meddle with his memories! . . . Or, wait, was it? What was he trying to do again? Why was his memory muddied? He couldn't remember . . . remember what? What was he trying to remember? What was --

Then, suddenly, in a moment of absolute clarity, he recalled everything. But he felt extremely nauseous. And Yeerks don't feel nauseous. It was a certainly unique experience. One that he wouldn't care to re-experience. He felt very sick and he couldn't vomit . . . then he felt the same symptoms that a human with the flu would feel.

Then Merser felt better, but found himself falling into a slumber. Which, again, was odd. Yeerks don't really sleep or dream. But he slept, and as he did so, the changes started. The transformation had begun. . . .

***

"Mr. McGeezax?" Cloak asked, at the McGeezax residence front door. "We have some questions to ask you."

"And who would you be?" Ricky said, looking thoroughly put out. Yarin blinked at his appearance in the doorway. Cloak cast only the merest glances at Yarin and presumed that Yarin had read his mind. Presumably, Yarin had stumbled upon something in his mind, without even probing.

"We're RAFians," Myitt said, showing her Mark as if it were a police badge.

"You could have just painted that on your hand," he said. After his experiences with Merser, Ricky was left a bit more paranoid and skeptical at things now. "You could easily be impersonating RAFians."

<How do we prove that we're RAFians, then?> Tara wondered.

<I . . . don't know . . .> Myitt admitted, honestly.

"Does this help prove who we are?" Cloak said, taking a risk in taking off his ID mask. Revealing himself as a cloaked figure roughly eight feet tall. Yarin followed suit revealing his true Nyac form, with his six blinking eyes, gray skin, four arms, and two legs.

"Doesn't mean you're RAFians," Ricky said, skeptically.

"Then what do we have to do to make you believe us?" Myitt asked.

"Daddy!" said a child's voice, who had been watching them from the nearby window. "That's Cloak!! And the telepathic alien guy!! They're RAFians!! And a lady."

His tone was as if his father was preventing Superman or Spider-Man from coming into their house. Cloak felt uncertain about this now -- he didn't want children to hero worship them. A lot of what they have to do isn't nice. Yarin, Myitt and Tara, despite themselves, felt a bit miffed about not being mentioned by name. But, to be fair, Cloak has had a habit of declaring his name before a battle. That name would have probably circulated around -- and he knew that there were probably hit pieces about him in corrupted media, like Bern Bridges, it wouldn't have been the first time that RAFians would have been smeared.

It never occurred to the Elements Master that their adventures could have been romanticized in any way.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Demonstrations and Resistances

"Fine, come in, but make it quick," Ricky said, resisting this. He was only allowing this because Dickie was so insistent. He was a RAFian fanboy.

Ricky offered them the leather futon and he sat in the chair opposite of them, with Dickie, a bundle of energy, seated in the armchair positioned forty-five degrees from the futon. He was acting as if the pope had come to his home, and he was bubbling over from excitement. Granted, the boy thought he knew a lot about them, the reality was that he actually knew very little. He was ignorant about the lesser grandiose missions the RAFians went on, the lesser known and less glorious missions. He only knew what he saw on television, and he thought they were cool.

Knowing this, it made Cloak feel slightly uncomfortable. The only children that Cloak was ever really around were Leatherhead, who was only a year younger than Dickie, and Shadow, who didn't hero worship him, and wasn't afraid to sass him. Not to mention that Cloak didn't feel that he was worthy of such admiration, although Yarin and Myitt seemed to take it in stride. Dickie may have forgotten their names, but he looked to them with same amount of adoration and admiration.

"What do you want to know?" Ricky asked, sounding rather put out.

"We wish to know what you know," Myitt said, without preamble, "about a Yeerk."

"What's a Yeerk?" Dickie asked.

"A slug-like endoparasite that enters a targeted creature through their auditory canals and wrap around their brains, thereby controlling them completely," Cloak said, in an offhand way.

Ricky's eyes changed in recognition, though he said nothing. Dickie seemed confused. He was never lucid when Merser transferred from Seth Graham into him and when Merser transferred from him into his father. He just assumed that Merser was a ghost or demon of some sort that possessed him and kept him conscious and lucid during the occupation.

"I don't understand," Dickie said.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Myitt said, placing Tara's hand near her ear.

<Are you sure about this, Myitt?> Tara warned, seeing where this was going and a possible backfire of it.

<Not really, but it's a risk that I'm willing to take,> she said.

<Well, okay . . . it's your choice,> Tara complied.

With that, Myitt wriggled her way out of Tara's ear and landed squishy and wet in her hand, condensing her form into the usual slug-like shape. Ricky looked at Myitt as if she was an abomination, while Dickie looked as if he was struggling with abhorrence, fascination, and thinking it was cool.

"You're free," Ricky said to Tara, "you can destroy that monster."

"She's not a monster," Tara said, with dignity, "and she lives in my body with my permission. I am a voluntary Controller, and, if Merser took you two, you were obviously involuntary Controllers."

The she raise her hand back to her ear, and Myitt wriggled her way back inside, and, within moments, retook control.

"You actually allowed that . . . thing back into your head?" Ricky said, disgusted.

"Mr. McGeezax, Merser may have been a cruel Yeerk, but that doesn't mean they all are," Yarin said.

"I know it may be hard to believe, Ricky, considering how Merser may have treated you," Cloak said. "But look at it this way. Are all humans cruel monsters?"

Ricky said nothing as he mulled it over. Eventually, he accepted this argument, saying, "Fair enough. But what is it that you want?"

Cloak cut to the chase, "Where is Merser now?"

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Completion and Confirmation

It both seemed to take forever and, yet, seemed to take not time at all. He was no longer fully Yeerk, though he retained his Yeerk DNA, it was only half now. He was now a hybrid. He was roughly five times longer than he was, and he was now as thin and narrow as a pencil. He felt stronger now. He felt no semblance of hunger, not like he used to. He was ecstatic. He had shed his weaknesses he had as a full-blooded Yeerk. He was freed from it. Freed!!

He didn't need this box anymore. This stupid Schrodinger's cat box. It was time to shed this recently useless shell. It was nothing more or less than his cocoon, his crystalis, to become something newer, something stronger, something to be feared. His body was more worm than slug now, and he was able to slither about at a considerable clip than he would have been his sluggish Yeerk body.

But he wasn't entirely brainworm, either. He still retained his coloring and Yeerkish palps, through which he was still able to electrically echolocate. Electrolocate, if you will. This was entirely something from his Yeerkish heritage. He could feel vibrations in the ground, much like Cloak's Earthsight, but to a far lesser degree. He still could take hosts, so his human kink would still be intact. Humans were his favorite hosts, and now he would be able to take whatever one he wants. And it would be easier, and he wouldn't have to listen to them whine and complain and bemoan their fate as his chosen host.

At least, in theory. He would have smiled if he could, eager to test out this new body of his, test out his new abilities. But he had to find a new host to test them out, but due to his inhabitation of Ricky McGeezax, he knew that the facility was not empty. Or would not be soon. There should have some interns or something still hanging around. They should have heard the box ejecting the needles and breaking with his emergence.

As he hid and waited, he found himself thinking about his host preferences, deliberately choosing male hosts over female ones, solely so he could use male pronouns. He preferred "he" and "him" to "it" or "she" or "her". Maybe it was a stupid reason for a gender preference in hosts, but Merser couldn't care less what others thought of him. These humans were just around for his pleasures, be it hedonistic or not, and, in his views, had no other purpose. True, he would have used female hosts to get him to this point, but he would have preferred not to -- and he was secretly glad that he didn't have to.

There were three interns that came in to investigate the noise. With Merser's electrolocation and minuscule seismic sense, he was unable to make out the details. Unfortunately, he couldn't make out any more than that. He felt some vibrations which he took as voices speaking. He couldn't understand what was being said, as he was still unfamiliar with his new body. A new body that took the best of Yeerk and brainworm physiologies and, in his view, removed all the weaknesses.

Yes! There was a host close enough to take. He launched his coiled form and pushed his way through their right nostril. He would soon be wearing a new host.

***

"Merser?" Dickie asked. "He was mean."

"Yes, I don't doubt it," Cloak said. "We cannot allow it on the loose, taking involuntary hosts like yourself. It's a completely different circumstance when the host is voluntary and the Yeerk isn't cruel."

<Wait, does he have a personal Kadronna supply?> Tara asked Myitt, as if remembering something suddenly.

<Merser couldn't metabolize Kadronna the way I and every other Yeerk does.> was her reply.

<Then why isn't he dead?> Tara asked.

<We went over this, remember?> Myitt said, patiently. <He clearly found another means of sustenance.

"He had me build him some black box," Ricky said, with a sigh. He had decided to be candid, as he would have to explain stealing tech from his workplace. He would need someone to vouch for him. Unbeknownst to him, Yarin was hearing his thoughts and he would be sure to defend him to his more corporate superiors. His actions were not his own, they were Merser's using him as a puppet and a means to an end. "There were a couple of injectors he had me build into it. I didn't understand how it was supposed to work, or really to what end."

"Go on," Yarin prompted.

"The box was of his design," Ricky said, obliging the Nyac, "I asked questions but he wouldn't answer. If I persisted he would get quite . . . rude."

"He threatened your son, didn't he?" Cloak said, perceptively. "Despite him, I presume, already using Dickie to get to you."

"Yes. He seemed to take an inordinate amount of joy in doing that," Ricky recalled darkly. "But, as he used me, I recognized the substance that he put into the injectors."

"What was it?" Myitt asked.

"It was DNA ****tail of some sort," Ricky said. "He wouldn't tell me specifics. If I pushed him too much, he threatened Dickie again. A couple of times, he nearly followed through on the threats. But I did notice one specific and serious drawback."

"Drawback?" Cloak echoed.

Ricky nodded solemnly and gravely. "The serum was unstable. If Merser subjected himself to it, it would be dangerous for him. Every time I thought this, he told me very hostilely and antagonistically to shut up."