Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FOUR:
Melissa's Curse Sense is Tingling!!

Melissa was enjoying herself. Unlike Cloak, who seemed bound and determined to be a grump, she decided to enjoy the festivities. She didn't mind the crowd too much -- it wasn't too big, and it wasn't too small, either. She found that she really like the pageantry of colorful and inventive costumes that came by. She couldn't help but silently marvel at the ingenuity of these people to make these cosplays really well with shoestring budgets and materials generally not associated with costuming. It was really miraculous in a way -- the creativity, the ingenuity, the resourcefulness. It was something to be admired, for achieving such a thing. Granted, she would admit that she didn't know all the characters that these cosplays represented. In truth, she knew a scant few of them, but that would not stop her from appreciating them, appreciating the obvious hard work and effort that went into some of them (although, she would admit that there were some that looked store-bought and rather lame, but she quickly overlooked those).

All the effort that these people put into these costumes . . . Melissa thought that they should be commended for it. That they should know that the fruit of their labor was not bitter ones. These people managed to weave a magic all their own, and they worked for it. They didn't have it magically handed to them . .. she suddenly started to realize that this was the point that Cloak was constantly trying to get at with wish fulfillment by something like a wishing star or genie. These people worked on these cosplay costumes. They endeavored long and hard -- how many hours, how many days, how many weeks of work did it take them to accomplish this? And they didn't simply make a wish and have it come true within seconds . . . that would really be hollow. That would really be robbing them of the truer satisfaction of knowing that they actually worked through blood, sweat, and tears to achieve something so impressive -- rather than having it magically handed to them.

How come the billionaires and their spoiled brats don't know this? All they do is steal from people with less money than them, and shame them for not having much. While she wasn't as politically astute as someone her age should be, she knew that that's what the wealthy tend to do. Take and steal even more wealth from those that don't have much of it to begin with. Most of the billionaires in this county inherited their wealth, and had not earned it like their predecessors. They had not known the blood, the sweat, the tears, the toil that it took to get that money that their predecessors knew once upon a time. It was rather sad and pathetic in a way, these spoiled brats have never known a hard day's labor in their lives. Melissa couldn't help but pity them for it. They would never new the analogous sense of satisfaction that these intrepid people have done.

Then again, the two subjects, that of cosplay and wealth accumulation, weren't really all that similar were they? She shook her head. She shouldn't be thinking about politics. AniDragon brought them here to enjoy themselves, and have some fun. Politics are none of those things. She looked up and happened to walk by a harried GH, who was trying to calm Leatherhead down. The crocodilian boy (who still wore his human suit, which still was like a play suit to him) was so excited by the booths of several programs that he loved, that he could barely contain himself. Such exuberance can only come from a child his age, and it was adorable. Melissa couldn't help but smile inwardly at this -- it was almost as if Leatherhead was in Disney World or something.

Then something happened that seemed to cause everything to fall away. It was almost as if she had fallen into a black void with only a spotlight on her and something else behind her a fair distance away. This only happened in her mind, though, because she had sensed something. Something that she had never sensed, really. Something or someone here has known magic. And not good magic, either.

She turned around, but she couldn't tell what exactly held this magic. Or who. Everything and everyone was a possible candidate, except her RAFian friends, of course. She glanced over to Cloak, and she saw that he seemed to sense the same thing. Though he wasn't sensing the magic, he was sensing the evil intent of it. But, like Melissa, that sensing ability was frustratingly vague.

"Do you know what that is?" Cloak said, as Melissa approached him.

"How did you know -- ?" Melissa said.

"The fact is I know you sense it, too," Cloak interrupted. He sounded testy. Melissa decided it would probably be best not to push her luck. "Do you know what it is? What's emanating such evil?"

"No idea," Melissa replied. Her voice had unconsciously taken on the clinical tone that she and other RAFians tended to adopt when talking about missions. "Just that it's magical in origin."

"Which makes it far more unpredictable," Cloak said. "That will complicate things, considering the volume of innocent people in this convention. Assuming that it is even an item or object of some sort, and has no sentience or will of its own."

"What do we do?" Melissa asked.

[Cloak]

Internet's still annoying.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FIVE:
Theft

Take it, the thing was telling Billy.

He resisted. He knew that taking things that didn't belong to you was wrong  . . that it was . . . not right.

Go on. the voice intoned seductively.

But it was wrong. The comic didn't belong to him. It was wrong.

Go on, take it, it insisted.

I . . . I can't, Billy thought, resisting the notion.

But you can, the voice contradicted, go on, take it.

It's wrong, Billy thought, but his resistance was starting to buckle slightly. The voice was very convincing.

Right and wrong are subjective, the voice said, with its unrelenting seduction, it's yours for the taking. Go on, now.

I . . . can't, Billy resisted. But it was a matter before he would buckle. He was only a child, after all.

Yes, you can. the voice said. It seemed so powerful to Billy, too powerful. You have every right to take it for yourself. Go on. Take it.

I. . .c-can't. Billy said, and his resistance was clearly beginning to buckle. It's wrong.

Right and wrong are what you make them, the voice said, take it. Make your own right and wrong.

I . . . I shouldn't, Billy said. His resistance was ebbing away and his willpower along with it.

You decide what you should and shouldn't do, no one else, the voice said. It was intoxicating, enthralling. What chance did a child like Billy have this this siren voice? Take it.

I can't. . . . People will see me, Billy thought, proving that his willpower and resistance were now completely gone. The decision had be fundamentally been made, and Billy had succumbed to the voice's will, it superseding his own.

No one will care, the voice said, in its scintillating, alluring tones. No one will notice. Just do it. Take it.

Billy reached out a hand toward the glass case. It was, serendipitously, unlocked and the front was loose. And it wasn't hooked up to any alarms or sensors, almost as if by design. It would be easy to just take it, and everyone in the convention center was too wrapped up in what they were doing (in some cases, this was literal) to notice Billy or his actions. Taking the comic would be simple child's play.

And, yet, Billy still hesitated.

Do it, the voice intoned again, filling Billy's mind once more with the covetous desire for the comic. An all-consuming wish to posses that which you do not yet own, regardless of rights to own it. Take it now.

Billy complied to the voice, this avaricious voice. Nobody noticed this surreptitious movement from the boy, nor the comic hidden inexpertly under his shirt. No one seemed to care about the theft of this comic. Nobody . . . but Billy. However, Billy had surrendered to his greed and avarice, he had succumbed to this powerful emotion.

Only one cosplayer seemed to notice him leaving, but the visibility in his costume's mascot-like head was not the best, and she couldn't be sure of what she saw through the mesh-covered eye holes of the character head.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SIX:
Super Special Awesome Transformation Sequence

Billy streaked his way to an isolated place -- a mock-up of some TARDIS-like device. Essentially a phone booth that no one noticed Billy getting into. The dappled light within this prop was perfect enough to read comfortably. Even the wooden skeleton of this prop wasn't too bad to lean up against., which he did immediately, extricating the comic from beneath his shirt. There was plenty of room for this young kid inside here, it wasn't the kind of space that someone of an adult size would be very comfortable inside, despite looking like a phone booth from the outside.

Apparently, he was unable to see the orange energy emanating from comic book. He was just elated that he managed to procure the very thing that he wanted very surreptitiously. It wasn't a very thick comic book. It couldn't be even sixteen pages long, and yet it was apparently considered valuable to someone, whoever put in that glass case. A person who still hadn't realized that the item was missing from its place in the glass case, almost as if they didn't really care. They were asking a price for it that far exceeded it's actual market value, after all.

He shifted his weight slightly, causing the plastic skin of this prop to wobble imperceptibly. He didn't care as he looked at the front cover of the book. He couldn't believe he had finally procured the comic that featured the first appearance of his favorite comic character. An unduly obscure character -- he was the best! So it was with eager trepidation that Billy opened the book to read the first page.

As he read, he didn't realize that his hands took on the cursed glow of the book. He could not see or perceive the cursed glow in any way, in any manner, so how could he possibly know the danger? As he transitioned to the second page, a sixteenth of his body was enveloped with this cursed glow.

As he moved onto the fourth page, an eighth of his body was now ensconced in the orange cursed glow.

As he moved onto the eighth page, a quarter of his body was now enveloped in that cursed glow.

As he moved onto the tenth page, half of his body was now enveloped in that cursed glow.

Finally, as he read the sixteenth and final page, his body was completely submerged in that orange glow. He suddenly dropped the comic book, where it would lay, forgotten. Billy was more concerned with the odd, strange feelings that were overcoming his body. It felt as if his flesh was melting, dissolving into . .. into something . . . else. The prop telephone booth seemed to be shrinking at an astonishing rate. His clothing, defying expectations, was not tearing or being stretched. It was almost as if it was being transfigured into a Klyntar, running up and down on his body as if it was sentient oil. Only his head, neck, and hands weren't covered by these transfigured clothing. It hugged his rapidly growing and aging body.

This transformation was fundamentally silent, scary, and quick. One moment he was a young boy about five or six, the next moment he was a man in his prime. He was Ultimate Man now. At least, in outward, external appearance. Inside, he was still Billy Radcliffe. He was a man in his prime, with a physique many would kill for, and, yet, still had the mentality, understanding, and maturity of a young child. This was a very dangerous combination, given how a young child's lack of understanding and overemotional state could lead to deadly violence.

But Billy . . . he did think about that. He was confused and puzzled about what just happened. The comic laid in a precarious position, upon the ground, completely forgotten in the events that happened a sparse few minutes ago. He looked at his hands and new ripped body and a childish grin spread across his face. He immediately touched his face, wishing that he could see his reflection.

Not only was he a grown-up now, he was actually his favorite comic character! At least, in appearance. Billy hadn't a clue if he had managed to get his powers, but he just felt stronger. He certainly felt invincible. He felt as if he were made from toothpicks and popsicle sticks, then woke up and found that he was made of admantium girders and paragon diamonds. It was a wonderful feeling.

He was Ultimate Man now! He wasn't wimpy old Billy Radcliffe. He never had to be Billy Radcliffe again. He would be Ultimate Man all the time now. He never understood why any of these comic characters would have secret identities. Who wouldn't want to be super powerful all the time? No one would push you around. Everyone would respect you, and never make fun of you. He could do whatever he wanted and be free, in his limited understanding, of every and all consequence and ramification.

He would enjoy this circumstance, and would do anything not to go back to being Billy again.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Childish Heroics

Cloak was idly watching the cosplayers walk by him. Two characters from some zombie massacre games that he didn't recognize, an angel cosplayer (Blaze might have felt that he was being mocked had he seen him), a guy with a giant key as some sort of sword, an anthropomorphic bandicoot, a purple dragon, two anime characters that Cloak didn't recognize, a purple cloaked woman, a pinkish pegasus, a Black Panther, a Batman . . . Cloak didn't want to admit it aloud, but he was secretly enjoying the pageantry of the cosplayers, and the booths of franchises that he found interesting. It was an interesting little event . . . if only it wasn't so crowded. It was far more crowded for Cloak's liking. Perhaps it was just his feline sensibilities, or maybe it was because of his decade of isolation when living with his mother -- Cloak just didn't like high density crowds.

Leatherhead eagerly wanted to take pictures with many cosplayers, much to GH's exasperation. Two treasure hunter characters, a Scrooge McDuck, a knight with a shovel, what appeared to be a Klyntor host, a luchador with a large, muscular frame, several Power Rangers and Voltron Paladins, a pyromorphic character, a pyrophageous character, an ice ninja, a cryomorphic space cop, a Captain Marvel, a blonde fighter, a metal hedgehog, a robot, a Lucario, a Renamon, an out-boxer, a brawler boxer, a bladed ninja, a silver-clad samurai, an anthropomorphic bear, an anthropomorphic bloodhound, a Thor, an Amazon, a ninja, an anime character that Leatherhead didn't recognize, a Batman Beyond, a Spider-Man 2099, a single-winged angel, a demon hunter . . . Leatherhead wanted pictures with all of them. GH had no choice but comply with his adopted son's enthusiasm.

Melissa watched with amused detachment at the cosplayers walking by her, as she sipped from her drink. There was a demon hunter cosplayer, a shadow witch cosplayer, a Bowser cosplayer, a Ganon cosplayer, a Lombax and robot cosplayer, an Ottsel cosplayer, a Jak cosplayer, a Flash cosplayer, a Quicksilver cosplayer, a Joker cosplayer, an insane clown cosplayer, a Mewtwo cosplayer, a black hedgehog cosplayer, four characters that Melissa wasn't familiar with, a Tracer cosplayer, a Scout cosplayer, a Ken Masters cosplayer, a Terry Bogard cosplayer, a pink hedgehog cosplayer, a Ramona Flowers cosplayer, a Hulk cosplayer, a Doomsday cosplayer, then another two anime characters that she wasn't familiar with, a Deadpool cosplayer (there seemed to be a lot of those), and a pink pony . . . they all seemed to have fun, and Melissa smiled at that fact. What was the point of even coming to an event like this if you weren't going to have fun with it?

Abby was engrossed with a booth of a particular franchise that she was very partial to. She was only barely aware of the cosplayers and none-cosplayers walking behind her. Abby was trying to keep her composure as they were revealing something about this franchise that really excited her -- though it seemed banal on the surface, like a rose quartz actually being a pink diamond, or misleading names of smoky or rainbow quartz, or something. She wanted to keep her expectations low, and not give into the hype.

Of course, she should have noticed that the structures above her were not really all that secured well. Her time as a RAFian should have had her instincts finer tuned to notice that sort of thing. But she had allowed her guard to fall. What could possibly have happened in a convention like this? This was a foolish thought, of course, but Abby was human, and a fallible being after all.

AniDragon, GH, Melissa, and Cloak weren't faultless, either. All of them had disregarded this.

Cloak had concerned himself with feeling out-of-place and exposed, disliking the moderate crowd. All the constant footsteps was like static noise for his Earthsight from the hard granite flooring. It confused it with the cacophony of vibrations, which would excuse his not noticing Billy absconding with the comic or his current location or transformation. Cloak had sequestered himself so that his back was against a wall. He didn't want people behind him. Was it a feline instinct to do this? Did it even matter why he was doing this?

GH was distracted by trying (and failing) to stem LH's excitement and exuberance to tolerable levels. This was a surprisingly monumental task in and of itself. Leatherhead would excitedly gaze with trembling enthusiasm and bubbling ebullience, pulling GH along. The RAFian guitarist was sure that his arm was now permanently dislocated due to his adopted son's high spirits. GH wondered if he was ever like this at LH's age, then he stopped wondering, deciding that he didn't want to know.

AniDragon was just busy doing her own thing.

Melissa was busy watching the cosplayers gamboling about and role-playing, finding it amusing. Yet, her mind kept dallying to that cursed object she sensed. It could be anywhere nearby. It could be could be anything. It could be anyone. This unnerved her a great deal. But Cloak didn't seem too distressed by it, and he was a RAFian far longer than she was. So she was just going by his lead, even though Cloak was allowing his discomfort to override his better judgement.

Suddenly, the clutter from the ceiling came falling down. It was directly above Abby, and she would have been crushed had it landed on her. She saw this, and was prepared to morph into a Psycholeopterran . . . sacrificing this top that she was partial to. But she didn't have to, because a black blur sped her out of the way and into safety.

Cloak noticed, but could not see what was behind this blur. Or were it and Abby went to.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Childish Obliviousness

Billy pretended that he was Ultimate Man, the real Ultimate Man. He had saved the pretty lady and he found himself smitten with her. It was just a crush like any child has with an unrelated person of the gender than they are attracted to. And he crushed hard. He thought that he had to impress her with his crime-fighting and thereby become attractive to her.

Granted, he couldn't spare three words with her after saving her from the roof falling in -- which cancelled the rest of the convention, naturally -- and went off to engage in several feats in quick succession that he hoped would prove heroic. Foiling several rather minor and banal crimes, But he thought that he was being a big superhero, despite earning the ire of the law enforcement agency. Which, to be fair, had a rather contentious relationship with the RAFians at times, but they tolerated them, knowing that they were far more equipped to deal with the threats that they deal with. They did not have such a relationship with this superpowered vigilante.

Billy, however, didn't realize that he was fostering such irritation and frustration  Such obliviousness only a child and the childish could possess. All Billy knew was the blissful exhilaration of being Ultimate Man. He didn't see any criticism or dissent from his actions, thinking that everyone was impressed with him. Believing everyone loved and worshiped this new superhero. Yes, that's what he believed himself to be. A superhero, like Ultimate Man. But there was a little fact that he continually overlooked.

The cacophonous noise he heard wasn't cheers or applause. It was shouts of protest or yells of aggravation. While he believed that he proved himself a mighty hero, instead of the persistent nuisance that the populace saw him as. Unaware to the interfering, obstructing, and nosy superpowered individual. Unheard were their venomous diatribes, their virulent monologues, their vehement condemnations of this manchild's actions. He continued to dwell and live in the fantasy that people were fawning and celebrating their new superhero -- not understanding that this wasn't a big deal, as there were aliens like Kryptonians that exist in this universe.

Not to mention that such things like this weren't seen as out of the ordinary in this city. So much so that one had to wonder why people would still live there. (The answer was that the rent was dirt cheap, and this was the other way they had to pay for it.) He felt so free . . . no one could tell him what to do. No one could tell him what not to do. He could do whatever he wanted.

This was a very dangerous perspective to have. Very dangerous indeed.

***

"What's this?" Cloak said, having noticed the destroyed phone booth prop, and the comic dangling out of it. Melissa was closest, and she picked up. Then she dropped it with a gasp.

"This was the cursed item," she said. "But it's funny . . ."

"What is?" AniDragon said, at once.

"The curse has been . . . transferred. Moved from the original cursed object," Melissa said, not hiding her confusion. "I didn't know this was possible."

"Abby?" GH asked, finally managing to pull Leatherhead away and calm him down. "Where did she go?"

"That black blur took her away," Cloak said. "We're trying to find clues."

"You didn't see?" Leatherhead asked, with a childish whine in his voice.

"Realm Walker eyes cannot be fooled," Cloak said, with a note of brevity, "but we cannot see things with crystal-clear clarity when they speed by at unheard of speeds."

"Huh?"

"The blur was moving too fast for Mr. Cloak to see clearly," GH translated.

"This comic . . ." AniDragon said. "It was the first appearance of that Ultimate Man character."

"What does the first appearance of some superhero have to do with anything." GH asked, perplexed, as Melissa's eyes widened.

"Ultimate Man isn't a superhero, GH," Melissa said. "He's a supervillain."

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER NINE:
Smitten

Abby was looking around the place she found herself in. It forcibly reminded her of the imagery of "Beauty and the Beast", thoroughly ensconced in darkness and shadow. There was just one ornate window, revealing an inky black sky with pinpoints of starlight. Perhaps one of them was Esty, but that wasn't something that Abby could concern herself with at the moment. There were transparent, silky curtains that blew and billowed rather ominously.

Abby quickly considered her options to get back to the others.

She could stay here, and wait for whoever put her here, but she immediately dismissed that option. That wasn't something she cared to see to the end.

She could morph into her Psycholeopterran morph, sacrificing her favorite top in the process. Yet, that seemed deceptively easy. Far too easy. It made her leery of the possibility. And, yet, that was the morph that had the best chances of escape. Sure, she could have morphed a Buglizard and climb down the exterior wall of whatever this place was. She couldn't think of any other scenario where her other morphs would be particularly useful in this scenario.

So, she would morph into a Psycholeopterran. She looked around, and she seemed to be alone and unwatched. She could just remove --

Wait, someone was out there? Who would be out there on that balcony? Her curiosity got the better of her. She had to find out who was out there. She saw some sort of banner that read "Ultimate Man".

"What's an 'Ultimate Man'?" Abby said. Then she realized what she said. "I cannot believe I just said that aloud."

"My super ears are burning," came a voice behind her.

She gave a startled cry, and gasped as Billy, in his Ultimate Man persona and form, landing behind her. He thought it was an impressive entrance, rather than the creepy one that it actually was.

"I usually just scare criminals," he said, in what he clearly thought was a sultry, seductive voice. In reality, it sounded awkward and stilted. "You haven't been bad, have you?"

He laughed as Abby backed away from him, apparently unaware of his true identity. And only vaguely aware that he was completely smitten with her, as he rolled over in the air, displaying his flight ability. "I'm only joshing with you. The name's Ultimate Man."

Well, Abby thought, you certainly have a high opinion of yourself.

"You own personal, heroic guardian of pure awesomeness?" he said, modeling his physique for her. It would have been cute when a young child did it, but when a grown man did . . . well, "creepy" was the only real term for it. "What's your name?"

Abby wasn't too inclined to answer. But she thought it was in her best interest to play along for now. "Abby Babbles."

Billy did not notice her obvious hesitation or her apparent discomfort. She was not smitten with this behavior but repulsed by it. But this was lost on the man-boy, who was more concerned with his feelings, his wants, his needs. By the very fact that he had not revealed his true nature to her, the fact that he was actually a child trying to romanticize a much older woman, was a hallmark of his immaturity.

"OH!" said, diving down and bringing up a heavy box of pink gemstones. "And brought you some diamonds! And they're pink!"

"Those are rose quartzes," Abby said, not really knowing if this was true. She just wanted to distract him, and hopefully get him to go away. She wasn't looking for romance at this point in her life, and she certainly hadn't any feelings for this creepy superpowered dude.

His smile faltered, "Okay, you don't like diamonds? Okay . .  forget the diamonds."

He threw the box over his shoulder without a single care for where it might land. As he floated toward the lip of the balcony, laying on his belly as if he were laying on a mattress, with his shins crossed. Almost as if he was a teenager on the phone.

"What do you want?" Abby said. She was finding this man more and more repulsive. Yet, she didn't know that he was actually a child in both his mental state and maturity.

"I thought we could go for a little flight around town," he said, rather quickly and animatedly, "get to know each other first."

Without waiting for her approval or consent, he seized her around the waist, despite her protestations, and dove off the balcony.

"This must be very thrilling for you," he said. He clearly didn't realize that she was a RAFian, and had dealt with similarly powered beings before. Even beings that were more powerful than this man.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Abby demanded, more angry than scared.

"Am I moving too fast? You're probably right," he said. "I probably should rescue a few times before we go out."

"Wait, what the --" Abby began before Billy dropped her with a "Whoops!"

But he zoomed down and saved her, declaring, "Saved you! You are lucky to have such a great hero here."

"You're no --" Abby growled.

He dropped her again, crying in falsetto, "Oh, no! Somebody do something! Oh, right! I got you, I got you!"

Billy caught her once more, and she was feeling distinctly disgruntled.

"That was close!" he crowed. Abby glared at him, wondering how long it would take to claw his eyes out. "You almost died, but I saved you!"

"And now you're going to crash us into that building," Abby said, deciding to screw this top. It was worth losing it just to get away from this creep.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TEN:
REJECTED

He simply flung Abby over the building and sped around to catch her. "Gotcha! Whoo!"

Abby really didn't appreciate being treated like a friggin' ragdoll, but this creep didn't seem to realize or recognize that fact.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he said, smiling an exalted smile from sheer exuberance. "I couldn't hear you over the sound of me saving your life!"

"PUT ME DOWN!!! RIGHT NOW!!!" Abby roared. She had really had enough of this. This creep may have been having fun, but she, most certainly, was NOT.

"Okay, alright. Hold on," he said, as he complied. Well, he put her down on top of a Space Needle-type structure where she could have easily still tripped and fallen off. But she could still morph -- she wasn't worried. It wasn't like she'd ever become a ghost.

"ARE. YOU. FRIGGIN'. CRAZY?!" she demanded loudly. Mostly from anger, though she did have to yell to be heard over the wind.

"I suppose I'm a little crazy . . ." he said, unaware that that inflection wasn't cute or adorable in an adult. ". . . about you."

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Ultimate Man!" he said.

"No! Who are you -- really?"

". . . Ultimate Man," Billy lied. He wanted to believe that he was Ultimate Man and that Billy Radcliffe was dead.

"You don't want to tell me? Fine," Abby said.

"I don't want anything to keep us apart," he said, inelegantly sidestepping the question. "Isn't that great?"

"No, it's not great," Abby said. She swore that this was like trying to reason with a five-year-old. Which, of course, it basically was.

"Wow. Our first fight," he said. "Look at us. We're like an old married couple already."

"LOOK." Abby said, severely. "There is NO 'us', alright?! There will never BE an 'us'."

"But . . . I have powers," he said. It was at this point that his face almost reflected his true age. Abby didn't notice it, but was still stern with him. "I have a cape. I'm the good guy!"

"Good guy?" Abby echoed. "Pal, 'good guys' don't kidnap people. 'Good guys' don't take people, people who've done nothing wrong, against their will. 'Good guys' don't force themselves on others without considering the other person's feelings whatsoever. 'Good guys' don't treat peoples lives as if they're toys."

Billy stammered, "This isn't right. You're supposed to be with me!"

"Not if I don't want to be!" Abby said, not backing down.

Billy flew off the tower in a huff, storming away. Like the child he truly was. Abby, still oblivious of Billy's true form, did not feel contrite at what she said. She just simply morphed into a Psycholeopterran and flew down to the others. Meanwhile, Billy was very hurt at this brutal rejection. He really believed that Abby and he were supposed to be together, despite them being practically strangers. All the interaction they had before this was Abby giving him a kind word before moving along.

Unfortunately, all this hurt was coalescing into anger. And this was shown physically by the appearance of vein appearing all over his body, veins that appeared to be carrying molten lava within them. He was truly embracing the truest nature of the character Ultimate Man was in his comics. And, Billy was becoming very vengeful. . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Murderous Anger

"Abby!" AniDragon said.

"Ms. Abby! Are you okay?" Leatherhead said, giving Abby a hug. Abby broke into a smile, and pat him on his head.

"What happened?"

Abby gave a detailed explanation of what happened to her after Ultimate Man swept her away. During her explanation, Cloak and Melissa exchanged looks. Cloak only spoke when Abby had finished with a shutter at the thought of what that creepy dude could have potentially done to her, and very much without her consent.

"What?" Abby said, noticing this exchange of looks after she finished her tale.

"Well, Melissa," Cloak said, "it looks like we know where the curse was transferred to."

"What are you talking about?" Abby said, looking thoroughly nonplussed.

The Realm Walker and sorceress-in-training filled in Abby about the comic book, and the apparent curse it carried.

"So Ultimate Man was a comic book? I thought the guy just thought very highly of himself."

"There's another thing to factor in, I think," Cloak pointed out, gesturing to the destroyed remnants of the phone booth prop. "That prop there. Whoever received the curse must have been small in size -- I doubt that that prop works like a TARDIS as far as the interior accommodations go."

"What are you suggest, Cloaky?" GH asked, though he thought he knew where Cloak was heading with this. And Abby wouldn't like the answer very much. In fact, she'd probably feel even more discomfort. "That whoever that this was . . . was a --"

"THERE YOU ARE!!" a voice roared. "YOU WOULD CHOSE THIS LOSER OVER ME?!"

And there he was, looking rather like a dark, pseudo-edgy Superman -- like someone deliberately trying to look badass, but completely failing at it. He had a cape and all. But, unlike the depiction in the comic, he had glowing veins of what appeared to be molten rock. Cloak and the rest of the RAFians didn't outwardly show intimidation (well, except Leatherhead -- but, forgive him, he was still a child, after all).

He fired his heat vision at Cloak, nailing him straight in the chest and forcing out of view. In truth, Cloak should have been prepared for such an attack. But he was partially startled to actually see Billy for who he was. An over-emotional boy pretending to be a man. Sure, others would have seen him as a man, but that was essentially just a construct produced by the curse that enveloped the boy like a cocoon.

"CLOAK!"

Suddenly, a concussive blast of golden-scarlet energy streaked over the horizon and struck Ultimate Man square in the face, as Cloak walked, almost serenely, over the horizon. Heading back where his RAFian friends stood. He deftly removed his ID mask and stowed it away in his eponymous cloak, as if he was a point-and-click game protagonist.

"Boy," Cloak said, voice filled with determined calm and evenness. His eyes conveyed the intensity of what he was saying, as they were very close to becoming golden-scarlet suns. "You're poking a power that you don't understand. Back down."

Billy, however, wasn't willing to listen, and had a bit of a . . . breakdown.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! GIVE HER TO ME! GIVE HER TO ME! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! ABBY IS MINE! MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE!"

Abby really didn't appreciate being objectified in such a way.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Murderous Intent

"Time to grow up, boy." Cloak said, unmoved by Billy's outburst. "Abby has autonomy, she has her own agency. She can make her own decisions."

"FOR YOU?!" the man-boy yelled.

"I have no romantic affiliation with her," Cloak said, bluntly. "We are friends. Nothing more, nothing less. I care for her as I would a sister."

"LIAR!!" Billy bellowed

"Child." Cloak retorted calmly.

"I'm not a child!" he raged, expecting Cloak not to see through the curse's effects. "I'm Ultimate Man!"

"Your curse envelope does not fool me, child," Cloak said. "I see you for what you are. A child younger than Leatherhead."

"I'm Ultimate Man!" he repeated forcibly.

"No, you're not." Cloak said. "Ultimate Man is a fictional character that that cursed comic book gave you a superficial likeness of, and the powers and abilities. But it's not the truth. By refusing to acknowledge this, you are fundamentally lying to yourself. You're playing at superhero without any real comprehension of what that means."

"You don't know anything!" he snarled.

"I could say the same of you," Cloak said, smacking away another heat vision blast into the sky. "You play superhero, thinking that real life is like what you read in your graphic fiction stories. That it's as cut-and-dry, black-and-white as such stories. It isn't. There are usually many factors at play. It's not about people in colorful costumes standing, posturing, delivering heroic speeches and pun-heavy banter with super-villains, and making superhero poses."

Cloak seemingly twitched slightly to the left, anticipating an attack from the boy, and he was right. He tried to murderously tackle him with all his power and might and speed. The others were just watching this go down, with Leatherhead cowering at GH's leg. Cloak found himself a little dismayed that he wasn't getting through to the boy, who was apparently just as hardheaded and stubborn as Cloak himself was at that age. His obstinate nature, you could say, was inherited from his mother.

"You only seek the fame, the reputation, the recognition of being a superhero," Cloak said. "These are not noble reasons for saving people, for protecting people. You seek praise, you seek romanticized ideals."

"SHE'S MINE!!" he roared, as he punched the ground, cracking the concrete, sending the fragments up. Only to have them rejoin to one another and fly back to the ground and having the cracked concrete seal itself back up once more. This confused the boy, but he ignored it, just to glare hatefully at Cloak.

"She's her own person. She makes that choice, not you." Cloak said. "You need to understand this, boy."

"Stop calling me that!" he said, speeding in for a punch, which Cloak dodged out of the way. Billy's wild, untrained fighting style made it child's play, no pun intended, for Cloak to dodge and evade his attacks. Had he been a bit more trained up and less of a blind brawler sort of fighter, the results may have been different. But he did not, and his attacks were obviously telegraphed. "STOP IT!"

"But you are a child," Cloak intoned seriously. "You may temporarily look like an adult. But you are not. You do not act or behave like an adult. You still act and behave like a child. Just looking like an adult does not make you one."

"You don't know everything! You don't know me!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. It rose to the decibel level of a police siren. "You don't! You don't! You DON'T!"

"You want people to believe you're an adult, and yet you're throwing a tantrum, like a child." Cloak observed mildly, giving Melissa a furtive glance. She gasped at what Cloak was suggesting she do with that look.

"SHUT UP!!!!!"

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Taking the Gloves Off

Cloak tried to dodge it, but he didn't anticipate the trajectory right, and got winged by the shot. This caused Cloak to be pushed back several feet. He sighed angrily at this. He wasn't really hurt, just annoyed.

"Fine." he said, trying to stem his anger. "You think you're so tough? Fine. The gloves are coming off."

Cloak noticed the slight expectant look on Billy's face, as if he really expected him to take off his gloves. Instead of letting this slide, this also annoyed Cloak. Then Cloak reminded himself that he was a child. But Cloak would no longer be pulling his punches. Billy clearly thought he was so strong and powerful, and he technically was, but it was all due to the curse. Billy hadn't the maturity or responsibility yet to wield such power. His calcified desire to have Abby as his, but in a possessive rather than romantic manner, would not stand, and he refused to understand this.

Cloak punched the ground, forcing rock spikes up toward Billy, who simply flew up. But Cloak had not only anticipated this, but planned for it. The Realm Walker leaped up, aerokinetically-aided, and formed a golden-scarlet energy construct of a hand. Then he, even before Billy realized what was happening, slammed the hand construct down into cursed boy. Slamming him down onto the spikes with enough force to cause the spikes to shatter.

Cloak slowed his descent aerokinetically, and took a fighting stance the moment his feet touched the ground. Even before the dust cleared, Cloak fired a tendril of energy at the cursed boy, Kratos-like, and pulled Billy closer to him. Then he ****ed his right fist back, and punched him across the face, then straight into his face, then he unsheathed his claws, and he slashed his face, before throwing him a distance away from him.

But Cloak wasn't done. This was a tough lesson he was teaching, but it was evidently a necessary one for the boy to learn. To learn that in order to wield power at such levels, you required the responsibility and maturity to wield and that just because you can do something doesn't mean that you should. And that there's always gonna be a bigger fish to put you in your place.

Cloak charged forward, leaping up, and dove into the earth as if it were water. Billy actually thought momentarily that Cloak had tripped and missed him, that the Realm Walker had messed up his attack. Only to be proven wrong moments later as Cloak burst through the ground directly beneath Billy in a near-flawless execution of a subterranean shoryuken technique. This caught Billy in the jaw, knocking him backward once more to land on his backside. Then the minute Cloak landed, he pulled his arms back and fired a flurry of golden-scarlet hadokens at the man-boy. Most, if not all, hit their mark.

Cloak was showing a demonstrable difference in the fighting style of the two. The RAFian's style was, for the most part, controlled and measured, with technique and skill obvious. The man-boy's was wild and undisciplined, without proper form or technique. This battle was basically a clinic for trained combat versus untrained combat.

Billy couldn't manage to find an opening, even with his superior speed. He lacked superior intelligence, wisdom, maturity, and finesse to outdo all that Cloak was putting him through. Billy couldn't even manage to whine, with all the punishment that he was forced to endure, though quite capable of tanking all these hits in a manner of speaking. None of these attacks were hurting Billy all too severely.

And it was by design. Despite Cloak's claim of taking the gloves off, the Elements Master was still pulling his punches. He couldn't bring himself to go all out, give it his all, against a child who was essentially trapped in an adult's body and throwing a tantrum because he couldn't have his way. What Cloak was doing was amounting to giving a misbehaving child a sharp paddling, but nothing more severe than that.

Cloak didn't like doing this, but reason had failed with this child-man, as it tends to do with child of this age, who are so often dominated and controlled by their emotions. But this child needed to be taught that sometimes things do not go his way, and he couldn't just force people to do what he wanted just because he could destroy them in an instant. It was a lesson that many, if not all, of the Olympians failed to understand. And not only the Olympians, but almost every other god or near-godly entity in the realm.

This is one factor to why Cloak considers being labeled a "god" a grievous slur. He viewed "gods" and "goddesses" as extraordinarily powerful beings who allowed that power to inflate their egos to ridiculous and monumental proportions, and most, if not all, are devoid of humility and compassion. It's is also one reason why Cloak finds aspiring to be a good a horrible career goal

"I've enough, boy," Cloak said, believing his point was now well proven. He still hoped that Melissa was working on a way to counteract this curse, or simply coming up with a countercurse. "Have you?"

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Reason and Unreasonable

"You're MEAN!" Billy said, sounding more like his childish self than the man that he was pretending (very poorly, at that) to be.

"In other words," Cloak said, with a resigned sigh, "you've learned nothing."

"You talk too much!"

"And you think too little," Cloak replied easily.

"Shut up!!" Billy screamed.

"Boy, you need to ditch this persona you've wrapped yourself in," Cloak said. "It's not good to revel within a fantasy, and forget real life."

"This is real life!" he snarled. "I am Ultimate Man!"

"Ultimate Man is a fictitious character," Cloak contradicted. "You are a real person, boy."

"Stop calling me 'boy'!" he whited aggressively.

"Would you prefer me calling you 'girl' instead?" Cloak asked, deciding to opt for humor as a way to defuse this situation and buy Melissa more time.

"You're not funny!" he wailed. He certainly was sounding more and more like a child, rather than adult. There wasn't any questioning it now. Billy moved to attack, but Cloak stopped him with a raised hand, but only raised to chest level.

"Boy, we've already done this song-and-dance," Cloak said. "You cannot deny that we have. And what have we proven? Nothing of consequence. It's pointless to engage in fisticuffs once more."

"Stop talking! No more 'splaining!" he said, and even the curse's effect on his voice seemed to be dampening. Maybe Melissa didn't have to worry about the curse if Cloak could essentially talk the boy down..

***

Cloak had clearly indicated that he was expecting Melissa to counteract this curse or synthesize some sort of countercurse for it. The young witch was at a lost at this presumption. Doing such a thing was a monumental undertaking, and one that she wasn't sure that she had enough expertise to do properly. Sure, she could sense cursed objects, and things had known magic or been touched by them, but that wasn't a fine science.

Mixing magics was a very dangerous thing to do as well. The sheer unpredictability of what could happen -- no one could possibility know what would happen when you mix very different types of magic. I could be something very benign and irrelevant, or it could be potentially very dangerous. This prospect scared her into freezing up when she realized what the Realm Walker was asking of her.

She wasn't a Sorceress Supreme. Her mentor, Broken, was that. Well, Sorcerer Supreme. She hadn't learned enough, she felt, to be able to a sufficiently satisfactory job with this. Not to mention that she didn't know anything more about this curse other than it was orange and turned -- what she assumed to be a kid -- into his favorite character, despite that character being a supervillain. That wasn't much to go on.

She wasn't a miracle worker! She wouldn't know where the first place to start was. She hadn't a clue what kind of magic that this was. And, yet, Cloak expected her to somehow reverse this? Was he friggin' insane?! She was still a novice at magic, at best! She was by NO means a master yet. Melissa doubted that even her mentor, Broken, could figure out and make a countercurse within the time frame that Cloak had given her.

She was overwhelmed at the prospect. She was freezing up at the undertaking. She wasn't even sure she had her want with her. This was really unfair of Cloak! It's not that easy to make up a whole new spell on the fly even without a strict schedule. Clearly, Cloak's understanding of magic was very nil! Virtually nonexistent! Such things take time, even years to perfect!

Then she saw the form of Ultimate Man wobble on the curse's host. Maybe she wouldn't have to come up with a countercurse after all. Maybe this curse will dissipate on it's own accord. Not likely, she knew, but clearly whoever was playing host to this curse was giving it something to feed off of, something to fuel its continued existence.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Talking Down From the Ledge

"Boy," Cloak said. He was only calling Billy "boy" because he didn't know his name. "Boy, you need to understand. The more you cleave to this fantasy, the more you disconnect with reality."

"SHUT UP!! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!"

"Yes, it's true that I don't know who you truly are, other than a child," Cloak said, "but only because you refuse to acknowledge who you truly are."

"I'm ULTIMATE MAN!!"

"Ultimate Man is a fictional character," Cloak repeated, gently this time. "You are not. You're just a child role-playing."

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!"

"True," Cloak said, almost serenely. "But, apparently, neither do you."

This stopped Billy in his tracks. This didn't make any sense to him. "What?"

"You've firmly wrapped yourself into this fantasy, that you've forgotten who you were before this curse was transferred to you," Cloak said. "I suspect that you've done so deliberately, as, clearly, for whatever reason, you've chosen to live with the fantasy rather than reality. On the surface, one could say that it is because you're a young child playing pretend -- playing pretend with far higher stakes. But I sense a deeper motivation."

Billy hadn't a clue what Cloak was talking about. Cloak had a tendency to refuse to talk down to children. He always hated when people, especially his mother, did it to him in the past. So he tries not to do it to others, despite their age. Perhaps it came off as being a show-off or haughtily smug, he didn't know. It wasn't really important at this moment.

"You think you know so much," Billy growled. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!"

But he didn't attack. He didn't lash out in any other way, except verbally. That's the thing. Anger always inevitable coalesces into apathy. No one can be angry all the time. Unforgiving? Well, that's a separate issue.

"You . .. you don't know anything," he said again, trailing off. "You don't . . ."

He had sunk to his knees, his anger burnt away into a sullen apathy. The curse making him looking as if he was an adult begin to wobble and distort, as if whatever was fueling was wavering and dissipating. Could it be possible that the curse would fizzle out like a fire without fuel? This could be the solution, and they could possibly save the boy and make sure his future isn't yet lost.

"Then enlighten me, boy." Cloak said, slowly and gently, apparently changing tact. "What do I not know?"

Billy said nothing, fully giving into the apathy, the emptiness he now felt, the hollowness he felt within. He remained silent for a while, and no one said anything. Cloak just made repairs to the area that they were in, still not taking his eyes off Billy. The curse was shifting around his face, revealing an eye or eyebrow for a brief moment before enveloping it within the Ultimate Man facade again. It was like the curse had a basic survival instinct, but not true sentience.

"What do I not know?" Cloak intoned once again.

"It doesn't matter," was his only reply.

"How so?" Cloak said, gently.

Billy didn't reply. His eyes were uncovered by the curse's facade, but they were not reabsorbed by the curse. The curse seemed unable to cover them up again. Billy's blue eyes remained visible. The other RAFians just watched as Cloak was gently coaxing and cajoling the boy to tell them what was really bothering him.

"It isn't wise to bottle your feelings up," Cloak said. "Trust me on this."

[Cloak]

Posting tomorrow's chapter a tad early.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Just Talk

The bridge of the boy's nose was now permanently uncovered by the curse, and the curse seemed to be losing more ground by the second, as more and more areas around his eyes began to regain its original state. The curse was not going to last. It was going to be broken. It wasn't so much a question of how, but when.

"It doesn't matter," Billy repeated, as his nose was now back to its original state.

"What doesn't matter?" Cloak asked.

Billy said nothing for a bit, as his cheekbones returned to their original state. And Cloak waited until the boy was ready to spill. He didn't want to prompt too often, as that would seem nosy and pressing him for information. If the boy wanted to volunteer the information, fine. It would be his choice to do so, and not from Cloak's pressuring.

"No one cares," Billy said, as his hair and ears returned to normal. It was now obvious that he was, in fact, a young child. "Nobody cares."

Cloak hesitated a bit, thinking of a way to word his next response to seem neutral and not aggressively pressing or coldly indifferent. Cloak watched as his upper lip reverted to its normal form. The curse was being broken as they talked, but there was more to this. Cloak could easily recognize his answers as some of the same ones he himself would give others whilst living with his mother. He recognized the deep depression in his voice, now entirely his own instead of the deeper, curse-affected voice he was using earlier. Cloak recognized it because he had felt it himself.

When he was trapped in his  mother's house, cut off from his friends at the forum (which his mother disapproved of), he had fallen into a similar apathetic depression. Believing that no one cared. Believing that no one would miss him . . . it was not memories that he relished or cared to relive ever again. And Cloak saw all this within the cursed boy before him.

"Why do you believe that?" Cloak said, carefully gentle.

"They called me a mistake," he said, his lower jawline now full restored to its previous, true state. It was unknown if Billy was even aware that he was talking to someone, he seemed to be mostly talking to himself. "They never wanted me. They don't care."

It was fairly obvious who "they" were. Abby's hand touched her mouth, Melissa gasp audibly, GH pulled LH closer, and AniDragon looked as if she was at a lost for words. They all got it, and it was obvious that all three considered what Billy was alluding to was pretty taboo in human culture. It was fairly taboo in Real Walker society, as well. Parents were expected to love and care for their progeny. Estrangement was fairly unusual, but it did happen -- look at Cloak and his mother.

"They didn't want me," Billy repeated, as his neck became normal. "They don't care if I . . ."

Tears streamed down his face, as his shoulders shrunk to their normal size.

"No one cares," he said again, allowing all his pain out. "No one wants to be my friend."

Abby was starting to feel a little bad for how harsh she was toward him, as she watched his upper arms shrink back down to his proper proportions. He clearly didn't know how to love, because he clearly had never experienced love or affection. That's why he came on so strong, and was relentless with it. And all she did was show him just the slightest kindness, when he was obviously inexperienced with receiving any love of any kind.

"No one would miss me," Billy said, his breath stuttering a bit at those five little words. His lower arms shrank down to there normal proportions. "They'd probably be happier if . . ."

"You cannot allow yourself to give into despair," Cloak said, a bit sharper than he intended. This was potentially a bad move on the Elements Master's part, and he could have just made matters worse. But he didn't seem to realize this just yet. "You mustn't lose hope. When we're down at our lowest points, sometimes hope is all we have."

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Some Sharing

Billy said nothing, as his hands returned to their smaller, slimmer, younger state. Everything from his shoulders down were still Ultimate Man.

"I recognize your pain," Cloak said.

"Sure you do," Billy said, in a disheartened, disbelieving manner. His chest shrunk back to its normal size, leaving his abdomen, legs, and feet Ultimate Man-sized.

"Trust me, boy," Cloak said, "I recognize your pain . . . because it reflects my own."

Billy actually looked up and at Cloak. Right into his amber eyes, as his abdomen shrank back to its normal size.

Cloak hesitated a bit, as only Billy's legs and feet remained Ultimate Man's. The curse was rapidly losing its hold. It had certainly been broken, unable to feed on, presumably, Billy's desire to be anyone else other than himself. His fantasy had been broken, and that was the curse's fuel.

Billy's thighs became normal before Cloak explained further, "Yes. My mother was a demanding woman that held me to an impossible standard. She drove my father away when I was seventeen. And for a decade -- for a hundred of your years -- I was essentially her slave. I endeavored fervently during that to curry her favor, never succeeding. I was little more than a pet to her, but I will concede, young human, that she wasn't overt with her disdain for me, as yours was. So, in that circumstance, yours was worse -- but this is not competition."

Billy's shins became normal, possessing inordinately large feet for his size and build. But he said nothing more.

"But," Cloak said, "the night that we truly parted ways . . . she didn't like the meal I made for her. One that I had made per her own specifications. I had aroused her discontent. She was always a hateful, aggressive woman who feared losing control of those around her, who feared not being in control, who had a rather high opinion of herself. She stormed out of her room to the kitchen, and harshly pointed out a mistake -- one that I had inquired about and complied with her following instructions. She didn't care. In her mind, she couldn't be wrong, so someone else had to be. And I was the one that she usually took out her frustrations on. For a hundred of your years, I put up with this. I was trying to earn parental approval, despite being oblivious that that would never happen."

Cloak said this all matter-of-fact and detached. This was just simple statement of fact for him, or at least his perception of it. But, to say that it didn't still hurt? . . . That would be a lie. It still did, and it would always hurt. Aniyu just helped him accept the fact that this happened and he didn't dwell on it nearly as much as he used to.

"I do forget precisely how it escalated, but it did." Cloak continued, as Billy listened in. His feet were normal now, making the process complete. The curse was broken and gone, or maybe somehow in a different form that would surface someplace and sometime further down the road. There was no way of knowing. Somehow, knowing that he wasn't alone in this kind of thing, it helped Billy a little bit. And the fact that Cloak was willing to share this? It made him think that maybe . . . maybe some people did care . . .

"I might have been when I had that knife at my . . . my wrists," Cloak said, looking at his wrists. He never went through with it. When he was considering it . . . he kept thinking of Shadow. Of how much pain he would have caused her if he went through with it . . . and he couldn't bring himself to do it. The others looked amongst themselves -- Cloak didn't really tell them this. "She saw me, sneered at me that she didn't think that I'd have the guts to go through with it. Then she told me the proper way to . . . to do it. This was the thing that showed me just how little I meant to her."

There was silence in the area as Cloak told this story once more. Billy was listening raptly.

"It escalated to the point that she hurled one of her favorite insults at me," Cloak said, recalling the incident that seared itself into his memory. "She called me a loser. She had called me 'worthless' and 'useless' before, but 'loser' tended to be her favorite. And it wasn't only me. She also called my father a loser -- she loved to compare me to him, seemingly unaware how annoying and frustrating it was. No matter how much we were reminiscent of each other, I am not him. Then she called . . ."

He actually choked up a bit. But not because of this particular memory, but the memory of someone more dear to him. Billy noticed this, but did not say anything. Funny how the roles had changed. But Billy wanted to hear the conclusion to this story.

Cloak forced himself to proceed, "Then she had the nerve to call my aunt -- her younger sister -- a 'loser'. Then she told me to get out, and I did. I did without any intention of returning. She, however, clearly expected me to come groveling back to her and apologize. I never did, and, while I've accepted what happened, I haven't truly forgave her for it, I suppose. I don't think I ever truly will, because I don't believe that she'll be sorry for her actions, as she's shown me time and again her incapacity to be accountable for her own actions."

Billy looked as if he was trying to find words, but Cloak wasn't quite done yet.

"Then my aunt, Wheeza, came in and saved me," Cloak said, transitioning to a better, more positive, and, yet, sad memory. "She helped me regain every last bit of self-confidence that I had, along with my fellow RAFians. She helped me in my decision to live where I'm accepted and happy."

"Aunt?" Billy asked.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Wrapping It Up

As it turns out, Billy was wrong. There was someone in his life that DID care. His father's older sister cared very much about him, as well as her daughter who was rather significantly older than him. When he disappeared, his cousin chastised his parents for their indifference with his absence and questioning their parenting ethics (or lack thereof). Her mother, however, was far more concerned in finding Billy, safe and sound, rather than lecturing and scolding his irresponsible brother and his careless wife.

Billy's Aunt Teresa had done that so much in the past that she had since learned that it goes in one ear and out the other. She steadfastly believed that they didn't deserve custody of little Billy. Teresa was emphatic that he didn't deserve such abusive, neglectful treatment, and that if they didn't want a child, then they should have put him up for adoption so that he would get a family that actually loved him. So the boy would know love, and know how to reciprocate that love, as she believed wholeheartedly that everyone should experience.

Billy's cousin, Juliana, was surprisingly close to Billy, being his primary babysitter until his parents forbade her and her mother from having any contact with him. That didn't mean that they just stopped caring for the boy and his safety. Juliana didn't see him as a younger cousin, but a younger brother. A baby brother. And she loved him as such. This is why when she and her mother were forbidden to see little Billy, she cried for a full week straight. It made her very distraught, and she couldn't be consoled very much. She knew how her uncle and aunt treated Billy, and she knew that it wasn't right.

But her uncle was drinking buddies with the judge that would preside over the case if they brought them to court. It would be that judge, she knew it. She worried day and night over her cousin, and, though her mother tried to hide it from her, she did, too. They suspected, and feared, additional abuses to the boy, too. And her uncle and aunt could do it with impunity. It wasn't fair or just.

And now they were the only two to look for him after he had disappeared for about a day or two. They legitimately worried about his well-being and safety, and it consumed most of their minds despite having to worry about Teresa's job and Juliana's schoolwork. But now? Now they were pounding the street, ignoring the fact that his parents had forbidden contact with their son.

That was hardly important now. Billy could be in danger. Billy could even be . . . neither of them wanted to even entertain that particular possibility. They had gone without sleep since Billy's disappearance, and they spent every endeavor to find the boy.

So, imagine their elation when they saw him, talking to the RAFians.

"Billy!" Juliana cried as she made a beeline for him, while Teresa tried to give Cloak a bit bear hug. Cloak only refused on the grounds that he didn't know how his corona would react to it, and Realm Walkers weren't really a tactile species like humans tended to be. Juliana questioned Billy, "Are you hurt? What happened? How did you get come here? You look thin. Mom, we have to get some food into him!"

"Yes, I quite agree," she said, at once. "Billy, what are you hungry for?"

Billy looked at Cloak.

"Sorry, young -- Billy, was it? You cannot eat me," Cloak said with a smile. Billy giggled at Cloak's little joke.

There were just a few exchanges after that, before Billy left with his aunt and cousin. It would take a little time, but eventually Teresa won custody of Billy through the courts. His parents were judged unfit and were charged with child abuse and neglect. Neither of them were particularly happy with this outcome.

***

Meanwhile, Cloak had retreated to his new meditation spot. It's distance from the forum was in a Goldilocks-zone -- not too far away, not too close by. But it was a perfect area to be by himself, other than his thread, which still allowed noise and the hubbub from the forum to permeate inside. This spot would be for him when he needed to, not only meditate, but think and ponder on things in perfect, blissful peace.

But his thoughts were neither blissful nor peaceful. It was a menagerie of memories of his late Wheeza, who he still missed dearly. He didn't think the heartache of her passing would ever truly pass, as the shock of it eventually did. It was all he could do to keep her memory alive, desperately afraid of forgetting her. He did not want to forget her. He wanted to remember her, and every wonderful thing she ever did for him. She was more of a mother to him than her older sister, and his reaction to her passing showed it.

Sure, Ursa was his mother by ichor, not really anything more than that. Wheeza actually cared about him. She actually cared about his wellbeing. She actually saw him as his own person and not a mere extension of herself, an appendage to bend to her will, an ornament to decorate her life, as he was to Ursa. This why her loss was so devastating to him. She reminded him, as his fellow RAFians never hesitate to do as well, that he, in the human rhetoric, worth a damn. That he only lacked confidence in himself, and that once that was restored, he would be better off.

And he was terrified of forgetting all that. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he never would, and that this fear was irrational, as fear often is. After all, he didn't forget his grandfather, Sage. He didn't forget how much he loved him, as a grandson would. Granted, he could mediate and speak with Sage for advise. He didn't have that luxury with Wheeza. While Cloak would fully acknowledge that he doesn't know what happens when beings die or go through the Veil, he knew one thing. Wheeza wouldn't linger around as a ghost. She would have valiantly gone on to whatever was in store for her after life. And whatever happened after life, she wasn't and wouldn't be granted the leeway that the Masters and Aniyu have been, for whatever reason.

Cloak raised a stone pillar, which looked fairly formless. He focused his Mastery over the Earth element. He had to be precise about this. Granted, he had never used his powers in this manner before. But he wanted to be sure that he remembered. He didn't want to forget . . .

Within moments, it was done, and it was exquisite. It looked just as she did in life. Those round, kind eyes that crinkled just so when she smiled her toothy grin. Her warm embrace, and general sense of comfort. It was perfect . . . a monument to Wheeza.

Cloak looked up at the figure he had just made, then bowed his head, "I just wish . . . I just wish I could've been there for you, as you've been there for me."