Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXII (1,272): "Curse or Gift?" -- Several actors become fused with their work.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIX:
Political Props

As it would turn out, this was just a stunt, an excuse, that the powers-that-be could actually double down on their Seeker program. The elites affected by tainted Veritiserum just claimed that they were forced to say those "blatantly false" declarations. And one who dared to suggest otherwise was silenced and talked over and removed from town halls. Cloak wanted to say that he was surprised by these resultant actions.

But he wasn't.

This same type of political schlock -- desperate backpedaling, hopeless narrative reversals, gaslighting that was none too subtle -- it runs rampant in the Nexus political environment. And it was actually a bit more cutthroat than what was seen herd. But that's N unfair comparison, as the Nexus and the Realm Walker species are far older than humans, and so was their system of governance. There was far more time for corruption to wriggle its way in and wrap its sinewy tentacles around what was supposed to be a democracy, sapping any life from it, just like a Black Mercy plant.

Still,Cloak couldn't help but be a bit broody about it. Especially because there was nothing he could have done to stop it. There was no way that they could have expected Zac to show up, or to have anticipated that the more adversarial press outlets, like those that employ the likes of Bern Bridges, to connect Zac to the RAFians, despite Zak having never even been a RAFian. But they didn't care about the newsworthy content or context, they just cared about the sensationalism and ratings. "If it bleeds, it leads", as they say.

But thing that, perhaps, ticked Cloak off most was how he, Broken, and Parker, in particular, were being used as political props, for politicians to either try to align or distance themselves from. Very few tried to align with them, as the powers-that-be decided to craft a clearly biased narratives that the trio were somehow at fault, using rather shaky "evidence" to base their claims.

Cloak and Broken (using wandless magic) managed to take care of the five Seekers, but even this was twisted and used against them. But that didn't matter to these so-called "news" pundits. All that mattered to them was the sensationalism that came from it, so they could grab viewership.

And when these Seekers that they made started to attack everyone, the RAFians were still the scapegoats. Again, this was unsurprising as this governance always needed someone or something to blame other than the things that were truly at fault. And the mainstream media absolutely refused to hold those politicians on "their side" accountable for any wrongdoing on their part, instead preferring to deify them, make them above reproach.

But Cloak tried not to allow that bother him so much, though difficult, as he looked toward the future of the forum. They had five new members that came from all over the world. They were all metahumans, believed to have Omega-level potential. They were training to control their abilities, and the more senior RAFians were training them in thin like superpowered combat and metahuman ethics. They called the the Five Lights, a name they themselves coined after a drought of metahuman births preceded theirs.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXIII (1,273): "Cult of Personality" -- A foe believed to be dead and gone returns, with a new trick.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
The Five Lights

The Five Lights were LeVar Clay, Joey Collins, Kathie Waynes, Janice Waters, and Scott Hart. When they were found by the RAFians, they were unable to control their metahuman powers, which had only manifested recently. And it was due to the nature of their powers that they were either orphaned or abandoned by those they would call their loved ones.

LeVar was the de facto leader of the five. He was about fourteen, and when his powers manifested he was having a dispute with one of his siblings and his parents were siding with him, when he was clearly lying. He didn't mean to, but his geokinesis manifested causing a massive earthquake which cause their home to crumble. LeVar was the only survivor. And he still couldn't control his powers until Cloak showed up. Cloak demonstrated some ways to help him control his abilities and keep them in check. He excelled in the tactics class taught by Parker, and he took elemental training from Cloak.

Joey was the loud, arrogant, brash, and careless one of the five. He was the fourteen-year-old only child of a layabout man (he never knew his mother), and was living in some . . . less than desirous accommodations. His pyrokinesis manifested during a heated argument with his father. Their dinky little apartment, if you could even call it an apartment when it was lesser than a tenement, caught fire. Joey knew he started it, but he didn't mean to, and he couldn't stop it. Especially with his belligerent father yelling at him, drunkenly oblivious to the fire. Joey used his loud, brash personality to cover from the immense guilt he felt for this, even though his father was nowhere near a stellar parent. Cloak was able to teach him how to control his power, and he understood completely Joey's sense of pyrophobia. Meanwhile, as far as classes went, he was a poor academic, being more of a tactile, "on-the-job" sort of learner.

Kathie was the voice of reason for the five. She was fourteen and grew up, well-adjusted, in a household with a rather large family. She was often looked to by them for stable rationality and nearly flawless common sense. Then there was that awful man who tried to . . . do things to one of her sisters. And Kathie was in a position to stop him -- and her powers manifested in her rage, in her desperation to protect her sister. Her aerokinesis tore her home apart with hurricane grade winds. Unfortunately, this killed her family in addition to the man. She couldn't control it, until Cloak calmly stepped up and helped her control it, citing that the power stems from her emotions, and he saw just how turbulent hers were. She was a studious person, learning all that she could, but this was mostly her mind wouldn't dwell on what happened to her beloved family.

Janice was the quiet, thoughtful one of the five, the dreamer. She was fourteen, and lived with her grandmother, having lost her parents in a car crash, through no fault their own. They were victims of one of Donald Couch's drunken driving bouts that he had always managed to wiggled his way out of any real consequence or punishment. Janice's grandmother never told her this, trying to shield her from this pain. Her intentions were good, but, one could argue, ultimately harmful and hurtful. It came to a point that she couldn't keep it from Janice anymore, and the impact of this news is was enough to cause her powers to manifest, which swallowed the tiny island that they lived on, and Janice was in shock for a long while, before she was collected by the RAFians and given some therapy. She sometimes finds it difficult to concentrate during classes, and has a tendency to daydream.

Scott was the youngest and the moral center of the five. He was ten, and completely empathic. This empathy wasn't limited to humans or other sentient life -- it extended to all animals. Naturally, he was vegan because of this. He was naive and bit gullible, but he was quite affectionate and nurturing for a boy his age. He was orphaned at a young age, and he's never known any family other than the homeless community around the town. When the RAFians came to collect him, he was reluctant -- feeling that the others needed him. They insisted that he go -- go and live and be happy, he went. He immediately hit it off with Leatherhead and Dek's kids.

They were trained in a rather structured schedules, much like an actual school, with the RAFians teaching real subjects. This aspect of the forum was overseen by Terenia and Jess, who had full teaching credentials. And there was a litany of subjects for them to take, outside Math, History, Science, and English.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXIV (1,274): "The Hebephaetos" -- A spirit can rejuvenate and make their host bodies younger, depending on the length of their occupation.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
You Must Be Kidding -- These Are Your Antagonists?

Meanwhile, deep within an secreted underground bunker, the heads of Cadmus were meeting. But they did so in dim light, without any minions or lackeys to serve them. There appeared to be seven of them around a small, round table. The chairs were hard-backed and wooden, while only one was high-backed and winged, and each had an ornate diamond, in the classic diamond cut, embedded into their chairs. One of each color of the rainbow. That one clearly sat the leader of this little . . . conference.

There were seven of them, and they didn't refer to themselves by name, but by the name of a color of the rainbow and the word "Noble", as in "nobility". They all had smaller frames from what one would expect from someone of their stature, influence, and wealth.

"Well, that stooge was well picked," said the Orange Noble with a piggy snort.

Orange Noble was rather greedily hoggish and had a rather porcine appearance, including pink skin and an upturned nose, though in mostly silhouette. He clearly had the habit of overindulging to ludicrous excess. he wore greenish military fatigues and combat boots. He headed the resource management of Cadmus.

"Indeed, Orange," said Yellow Noble said, eschewing the "Noble" as they were all "Nobles" here. "He played his part well."

Yellow Noble was rather scummy and hedonistic and had a rather murine appearance, though he was silhouette by the hellfire that burned behind them ominously. He wore tattered and dirty clothing -- mainly, a pale orange jumpsuit that is torn and dishevelled, and a green scarf wound around his head and face. He headed the chemical and subject location department at Cadmus.

"I just wish that there was more bloodshed," Red Noble said, "that would have expedited this even more."

Red Noble was a rather violent individual and had a rather artificially handsome appearance, though he was in a vague silhouette, due to the hellfire quietly crackling behind them. He wore an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, board shorts, and sandals, despite the weather being far too cold for such a getup. He headed the energy supply department of Cadmus.

"You always want bloodshed, Red," Violet Noble said, almost huffily, "it's not always conducive to the plan at hand."

Violet Noble was a rather egomaniacal and appeared to be the only female of the group. She seemed to be only one actually bored with the meeting, and found more interest at the hellfire crackling safely behind them. She wore a pink form-fitting suit, as if she were a superhero (or supervillain, as e case may be), black gloves, and black knee-cut boots. Her har was blond, cur short though it covers the left side of her face and it has a broad white streak in it. She was the head of the research and development department at Cadmus.

"Not to mention," Blue Noble said, before Red Noble could blow a gasket, "the RAFians played their part well. But its not like we gave them much choice."

Blue Noble was prim and proper and appeared to take excruciating pride in his appearance, yet was unconcerned about the hellfire behind them. He had shoulder-length brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and wore a gaudy green suit with tiger-print lapels. He headed the finace department, Peasant-Worthy Excuse Committee and the Department of Peasant Gaslighting of Cadmus, purposed to help maintain whatever cover they had to conceal their illict activities.

"Yeah," said Indigo Noble, picking his teeth, "not to mention that they haven't a clue that it was us that did it."

Indigo Noble was a slovenly sort of mess, and he clearly too no pride in his appearance, and it was even apparent in his silhouette against the hellfire's brackish dim light. He tended to be apathetic and he also tended to think in the short-term, never long-term. He was short and rotund, with long, greasy, black hair that is past his shoulders, and he has shaggy, black eyebrows. His clothes were khaki cover-alls, and he wore black boots with yellow rubber gloves. He was in charge of the waste management, housekeeping, maintenance, and other such related things of Cadmus.

"But," said Green Noble, "that's not all."

Green Noble was a person with a proclivity towards wearing capes and looking like a rejected Rob Liefeld creation. He tended to be very much a war hawk and enjoyed conflicts of a militaristic nature. He had short, black hair, oddly muscular, and he wore armor over his torso, a green cape, metal boots, and metal gloves. He was the head of Cadmus itself.

"The plan may be going swimmingly so far," Green said, snapping his fingers (or tried to in those metal gloves he was wearing). A light appeared on the table before them, revealing all of their faces and revealing that not a single one of them could be older than twelve. Or, at least, they didn't appear to be any older than twelve. "But there is still much to be done. That RAFian museum is opening soon, and that would be another perfect opportunity to strike."

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXV (1,275): "An Epic Joke" -- The Joke Meister somehow gains reality-bending powers.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
Things Are Not What They Seem

"But," Green Noble said, handcuffing himself to the chair, "before we go into that, I think a small recess is in order. This kid keeps waking up, and I'm getting tired of putting him back to sleep. I need a break."

With that, the kid shuttered as a green form pulled himself from his body, wearing on of those full-body lycra suits. The kid slumped over, barely conscious. Green Noble deftly gagged him, despite this secret room being sound proof.

"Very well, boss," Red Noble said, "I'll get some work done here, in the meantime. Let me know when the meeting's back on."

Then a slight tremor and a slight convulsion raced through the boy's body, and he sat still, with his eyes opened, unblinking. He looked more like a doll or mannequin. The boy wasn't a boy at all but Surrogate -- a sort of real-world robotic avatar.

"I'm fine as is," Indigo said. "Granted, the view of this boy's brain isn't really anything to look at."

"So the neuro-skiff is to your liking, Indigo?" Violet Noble asked, deactivating the hologram of the child, revealing a woman wearing a gray, form-fitting suit with a face mask that appeared to be similar to a bicycle helmet.He

"Yeah," he said, waving the boy that he control's hand dismissive. The real Indigo was shrunken down, inside a miniscule ship, and controlling the boy directly from his brain, speaking through like a ventriloquist dummy. The boy's mind seemed suspended.

"I too will have to take care of somethings on my end," Yelloe Noble said. "Alert me when we're back in session."

"Remember to feed your puppet," Violet called out to him, "those Zirkonian mind-plugs weren't easy to come by."

The boy that Yellow was speaking through, convulsed, and then put on a weird, goofy expression. He sat, stiff as a board, unmoving, all voluntary systems seized up momentarily. Yellow had put him on "pause".

Meanwhile, Orange tugged at his mouth, a new head blossoming from his mouth, revealing a large, adult head and the boy was actually a suit. Orange then began to noisily gobble down a dish. He was feeling famished, but he was always feeling famished. He didn't say anything, he just preferred to eat with his head unencumbered by the bodysuit in anyway.

Blue Noble's skin bubbled and he twitched a little, which caused him to take a long drink from his personal flask. He shuttered and his skin stopped bubbling and he didn't convulse, even a little. "This potion could be highly useful to our cause. Pity that its so difficult and time-consuming to make."

"But it works just fine," Violet Noble said, "no one would guess what you really look like, Blue."

"A balding middle-aged man with a bad back?" he said, with a smile. He stretched, and felt his back, "My GOD, my back hasn't felt this great in YEARS."

"Technically, it's not your back," Orange Noble said, between mouthfuls.

"Semantics," he said, waving the little detail away.

All seven had used unique methods of disguising themselves as children to basically test the new devices and tech they had developed to undermine the governance and the very people's wills. This is also why Cadmus managed to remain so covert for so long. That,and murdering any witnesses. Or worse -- converting them and any loved one they happened to be around that might talk. Like the skin of the boy that Orange Noble was currently wearing.

It was at this time that Green's boy body began to blink and groggily lifted his head, but was unprepared when Green sidled back into his body, with nary a sound to announce and took control over the body immediately.

"Well, that was refreshing, as well as this body having a nap," Green said. "Go tell Red and Yellow that were about to re-commence the meeting.

It took a few minutes, but they knew that Yellow and Red had returned when their "mouthpieces" or "real-world avatars" reactivated and began to act of their own accord. Violet, really for no reason re-established her hologram, and Orange wiped his face, and slid the suit's head around his own, giving what sounded like a bit of flatulence due to the gas exchange.

"I call this meeting back to order," Green said, as the other six settled themselves in their chairs once more. "Now the moment we can strike is during the opening of that RAFian History Museum."

"They finished it?" Red said, with surprise. "I didn't think they would get done so soon. Apparatchik has been working against us on it."

"He did try to defund it, true," Blue Noble said. " But after another subsidiary of ours gave him enough money to fund his next five campaigns, he backed off."

"Politicians are easy enough to get around," Indigo said. " Just flash enough cash to fuel their future prospects and they go away meekly into the night."

"So," Orange Noble said, "what's the plan?"

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXVI (1,276): "Tama-Gotcha-Ye" -- A fad of digital pets sweeps through the city. But things aren't what they appear to be.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Conspiring to Cause Mayhem

"The plan is to send in a number of our people when the RAFians visit," Green Noble said.

"With Surrogates?" Red Noble asked.

"Too expensive to make," Green said. "Can't risk them getting damaged. We don't have a backlog."

"Holographic suits?" Violet asked.

"Not foolproof," Green said. "And that'd be a big security risk. There's no telling if one of them didn't become a turncoat, and keep the suit. Its basically any identity they want at any given time, and the power source is surprisingly easy to come by."

"Neuro skiffs?" Indigo suggested .

"Same accountability problem," Green said. "Same with the possession suit -- as you know, there shall only ever be one. We can't figure out how this one does what it can or how it fused to my body."

"Zirkonian mind plugs, then," Yellow Noble said.

"No," Green Noble said, "there is still much research and improvements to be made there. And we don't want it made public that we have gotten ahold of alien tech. The Knights have been useful diversions, with their innate stupidity and idiocy. They've been useful pawns, easily manipulated. However, we don't need them turning on us. That would make it more difficult for us to do what we do."

Yellow nodded in understanding, "Yes, and I suppose finding vic-- I mean, subjects that no one would miss would be a difficult undertaking at this time. Especially because the Museum opens in three days' time."

"Then . . . what?" Orange Noble said. "Send them in undisguised? That sounds as if it would be a big liability."

"True," Green Noble said, "which is why I suggest outfitting the most expendable members of staff in bodysuits, complete with the compression or expansion tech."

"But I thought that those bodysuits were expensive as well," Blue Noble said.

"Maybe to the peasants," Green Noble said, dismissively referring to the working class, "but, to the likes of us, they're chump change. And what's more is if they get caught, they'll just assume that they've gotten them from the black market. So convenient that the shadiest sort set that up, and now we can use it as cover."

"What if they . . ." Red Noble began, before falling silent. After a few moments, he spoke again, "Sorry. There's lag on my end. My question was, what if they talk? They might spill the beans if they think it can save their sorry butts."

"I've devised a way around that," Green Noble said, "which amounts more than vicious obloquies or an upbraiding vituperation. Now. Let's go address our little . . . suicide squad, so to speak."

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXVII (1,277): "The Kunoichi" -- Blue meets a very attractive kunoichi. . . .

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Friction

Cloak had come to the forum, tired from the day's events. They were just now dealing with the fallout from the peace conference thing, and it had made him feel quite jaded and weary of everything. Therefore, he was surprised when he saw his five students, who called themselves the Five Lights, for whatever reason, sitting in front of the thread that they had been using as a classroom.

Only there wasn't class today. Cloak had the impression that he had made that perfectly clear. But apparently he had not. He suggested that they go and check out the museum, or do whatever it was the younger generation does nowadays. They all just shrugged and moved on.

Cloak wasn't in what you could call a fabulous mood, but, then again, he was rarely, if ever, not dour and serious. Especially in these rough times that the RAFians now found themselves in. Sure, there was a RAFian History Museum, made to commemorate all the services that the RAFians provided to the nation and the world. Many of which Cloak would later chronicle in his deathbed memoirs.

And when he came to Kane, he had to endure a few minutes of his whining and complaining, before Cloak seized him by the throat and lifted him two or three feet up into the air, until they were eye level with rach other.

"I'm in a bad mood," he growled, deeply annoyed by this petulant manchild. "Understand?"

"Uh huh," he choked out, and Cloak released him, sending him tumbling to the ground, landing on his face. He was in no mood for Kane's chicanery or shenanigans today. It had already proven to be very testing already.

That wasn't about to get any better when went by Archives, and saw Parker directing Broken and another RAFian that he wasn't familiar with -- possibly a newer recruit -- to put something bound in chains in the same room as . . . their backup generator.

"Put him with the -- no, no, where we put the -- the rabid, giant Pikachu! Put him --"

"What the Veil is this?" Cloak walking, with a somewhat limping gait.

"Just putting a prisoner down below," Parker said, back to Cloak. He had his helmet on, but Cloak wasn't fooled. He was hiding his face. Cloak was astounded that Parker didn't seem understand the very repercussions of this.

"Why didn't you turn Zak over to the authorities?" Cloak questioned seriously.

"Oh, don't be dense, Cloak," Parker said, rounding on him. "They can't hold him."

"I'm not the one being dense here, Parker," Cloak said, mastering his anger. "Have even told them that you have Zak?"

"Of course not," Parker said. He did not offer an explanation as why not, as he turned his back once more to the Realm Walker.

"Parker!" Cloak barked. "Have you bothered to consider the ramifications of acting so unilaterally?!"

Broken shot an accusatory glance at Parker, "You told me that mods approved this, that everything was on the up and up."

"It is," Parker said, repressively, "and stop trying to use Legilimency on me, Broken. I do not appreciate it."

"Then stop lying to him," Cloak said, who didn't need to employ Legilimency to detect lies. And Parker encased himself in metal -- it made it easier to detect. "Parker, if the government catches wind of this, do have any idea the kind of position that you'd put the forum, and us, in?"

"Then we will not tell them, Cloak," Parker said, still not deigning to look at him.

"Serious!y?" Cloak said, waiting a beat for him to explain himself. When he didn't Cloak continued, "Seriously, Parker? You think a cover-up will make all the negative ramifications just go away? Did you even think this through? Cover-ups never last, Parker. Something always, inevitably goes wrong and something slips out to the public. Maybe not now, maybe not until you're all dead and gone, but the truth has a nasty habit of refusing to be stifled and obscured."

Parker said nothing. Cloak assumed that he was holding to his convictions, despite Cloak's belief in what he was doing was wrong.

"And when the public finds out, who do you think they're going to side with? The government and media with their anti-RAF hoopla? You know they are looking for any way to sensationalize everything we do -- for bigger ratings, presumably." Cloak cotinued his lecture, which was rankling the SPARTAN. "You know at these were the same people who opted to film the empty podium of the president than report on the peace conference thing. That they wasted no time in spinning it to be our fault."

"Cloak, they cannot hold him. They don't have they capability, nor the resources, to do so. We do. You know this." Parker said.

"The people won't see it that way."

"They won't know," Parker repeated this point.

"They will," Cloak countered. "Maybe not right this minute. Maybe not today. Maybe not this year. Maybe not even until we're all dead and gone -- but cover-ups never last. The truth will always come out."

"That's not exactly true, Cloak, and you know it," Parker parried the point, "we still don't know, other than conjecture and speculastion, the political goings-on of the people of Ancient Greece or Ancient Egypt or the Vikings. Time causes people to forget things that don't apply to them or directly impact them. You forget to take human complacency into account."

"And you forget that you're acting with a sovereignty that you don't have!" Cloak stressed. "In my experience, governments don't take too kindly when you supersede their authority and sovereignty. In making such a brash decision, you are not only decimating out PR with the people, but also handing a gift to our detractors."

 And so it went, with neither giving an inch. Neither believing that they were wrong in their points and assertions.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXVIII (1,278): "Brotherly Fusion" -- Three brothers fuse together into an eldritch monstrosity.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
The Museum of RAFian History

"I'd thought we'd get to do something cool today," Joey whined. "Not just go and see some RAFian propaganda."

"Don't be that way, Joey," Kathie said, bracingly. "Try to make the best of the situation."

"Yeah, this could be a learning experience," Janice said, with subdued enthusiasm.

"This could be fun," little Scottie said, "Just give it a try."

"This could be a valuable way to combat ignorance and nescience," LeVar said. "Best keep an open mind, Joey."

 And, with that, all five entered the modestly-sized building, with multiple levels. There were exhibits demonstrating all of the RAFians accomplishments, while acknowledging their failures.

One exhibit had the rise and fall of the Realm Walker formerly known as Abomination. Even his cloak was on display -- though it was a replica, as Cloak was appalled to remove the cloak from where i currently rested. His reaction was very much akin to as if someone suggested digging up a person's corpse and putting it on display for all to see. (Which, in some ways, is precisely what the humans have done with mummies.)

As the moved on they saw an exhibit about the RAFians dealing with that Smooze or Schmooze, whatever that gunk was called. Then there was an exhibit on the event when Phoenix went Dark Phoenix.

Then there was an entire exhibit devoted to Malice, which made sense as she was pretty much their primary antagonist, and one Cloak himself inherited from his maternal grandfather. In fact, Master Sage was the entire reason she was in the Oblivion Gate Prison in the first place. But that's a story for a later time.

Then there was an exhibit about the Marks (which was deliberately vague, as the RAFians wanted to hold those cards closer to their chests) and their defeat of the Technarchy Phalanx. Then there was an exhibit on the Madre de Vampyra, a period of time that does not look back fondly upon. There was a small exhibit about those strange stones of Malice's, but they didn't really garner any attention.

There wasn't any exhibit of when Horse became a gigantic, radioactive seal -- the RAFians kinda wanted to downplay that, and they didn't want to drag Louis Cannon into this museum, as he and his life were . . . controversial, to say the least. Then there was an exhibit about the RAFians' rather scant dealings with the several Lantern Corps out there.

There was even a small exhibit on the Knights of Humanity. This was a contentious exhibit because the RAFians were adamant about legitimizing the hate group, while at the same time, you couldn't rightly ignore the conflicts that they had dragged the RAFians into.

There was even an exhibit on the Xenomorphic Brood (this one didn't have a lot of people looking at it -- it was a little . . . much). There wasn't an exhibit for Bibliophaetos or the secret Skrull invasion, though (probably just due to the lack of floor space not because the RAFians wanted to hide anything). There was an exhibit on Collector (which a lot of RAFians seemed to have forgotten about at this point). There wasn't an exhibit about those cloned RAFians, as that event was largely forgotten at this point. Thhere was a small exhibit of the Darwin gun, but absolutely no specs or the like -- the RAFians didn't want that information out there (for good reason).

There wasn't an exhibit for the time that the RAFians had their genders swapped, then removed -- the less said about that, the better. There was an exhibit of that Pennywise wannabe creature in the Pits of Despair.

And there was more to explore, but Joey seemed disinterested in it all, despite the words of his fellows.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXIX (1,279): "The Empty Shell Programs" -- The RAFians discover several Necrozma-like shells.

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity -- I've been distracted with shiny hunting and playing the Mega Man X games for the Switch.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Outnumbered

"Are we done yet?" Joey whined. He and the other had gone to the top level of the museum, and he was the type of person to not like museums in the first place. Much less ones that he felt were propaganda. He never dallied much at any exhibit, finding it all boring.

"Now, now, Joey," LeVar said, in his grounded way, "this is a wealth of information."

"Information that had more than likely been skewed to show the RAFians in a favorable light, or information came up with from a sad dishwasher in a small studio apartment."

"Look, Joey, there is no reason to be so dour," Kathie said.

"We could be learning cool techniques," Joey said, "like that fiery dragon construct Cloak demonstrated."

"Don't you even dare," Janice said, noticing at once that Joey was flexing his fingers in a rather anxious sort of way. Small plumes of smoke issued, but were quickly extinguished at Janice's admonition. The other four didn't really care for this underlying provocateur nature of Joey, but they accepted it just to get along. "There are innocent people here that you could hurt."

Joey bit back his retort of "So what?" and opted for silence. You only push Janice so far, and she could have a powerful comeback -- verbal or hydrokinetic -- at the ready without Joey's knowledge. But then it happened. The incident which put all of this out of all five's minds.

It was strange. People who looked very awkward wielding the rather over-the-top high ordinance they had were causing absolute mayhem. There were screams of fear, terror-striken faces of disbelief, and inquiries of the reality of this. These gun-wielding maniacs -- of which was surprising plentiful and diverse, as their were men, women, and even children of every stripe wielding these weapons with the practiced ease and militaristic proficiency of a soldier. Even the kids who looked far too young to know how to do such.

"LeVar?" Scottie said, holding his head -- emotions were running high (fear and terror, mostly) and Scottie was finding himself involuntarily feeling it all. He didn't want to feel it, but he did. He could not stand it, as he fell to his knees. "LeVar, please . . . make if stop!"

"What do we do, LeVar?" Kathie asked.

LeVar knew he was considered to be the de facto leader of the five. But he also felt that he was quite out of his breadth here. He was no military commander. He hadn't any combat experience, as none of his team had. They had barely mastered the basics of their respective elements, and they hadn't been anywhere learning the more advanced sets. He didn't know how to make the hard calls, the otherfour just deferred to him as the leader of their little group pretty much from the moment they met. It wasn't even like he was the most powerful or the smartest or the most strategic, at least in his view.

"We must call the others in RAF," he said, deciding with finality. Joey's face set into a mulish expression as he had his back to the lot of him. He had an idea of what to do, but the others would not have it. And it was the easiest option, by far and away, to do. "And ask what our plan of attack, or plan of escape, should be."

True, you could say that that was a wishy-washy, namby-pamby answer, but give the kid a break. He was fourteen, and unaccustomed to lower military-grade combat. Not to mention it was the best decision he could have made with his current training (which was not too terribly much) and the resources available to him.

He had made the call, so he would . . . make the call. He put his communicator -- his smartphone -- to his ear and hoped someone would answer, as Joey rolled his eyes, unseen.

[Cloak]

Sorry for the chapter drought. I've been busy lately.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXX (1,280): "Deforestation" -- Plant.EXE desires to assimilate all plant life into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
A Disagreement

"Stop hounding me, Cloak." Parker said, still hiding his face behind his helmet. "It's already done. It's over. Move on."

Considering Cloak had held on to his hurt feelings about his mother for so long, until relatively recently, this was very much a futile suggestion from Parker.

"No, Parker, it is not over," Cloak said, feeling as if Parker was being rather dense, while knowing Parker was thinking that Cloak needed to let it go. "You are continually refusing to take any ramifications and consequences for your actions into account!"

"You know, Cloak," Parker said, rounding on him, "this a little hypocritical of you, considering that you, yourself, acted unilaterally to kill that Siren. Did you consider the consequences or ramifications then?"

"No," Cloak admitted, "but that was a while ago. I've learned from that mistake since then. Can you say the same?"

Parker did not deign to answer. And, yet, this was all the answer that Cloak needed. They had taken their argument to the communications room, where it's was Parker's turn in rotation.

"Parker, you can't run away from this," Cloak pressed. "You do realize what will happen when they find out?"

"They're not going to find out," Parker said. Cloak didn't not appreciate the tone. "Unless, of course, you betray our trust and tell them."

Cloak, if he was honest with himself, had considered the possibility, but he had refused to act in that way. Refused to act on the impulse. He wasn't that kind of person, and he felt insulted at the insinuation of otherwise.

"Watch your tone -- and implications -- SPARTAN," Cloak said, icily, "don't make me remind you what you've decided to clad yourself inside."

The two met gazes and stared at each other for a moment. You could cut the tension with a knife. This is when the first cracks truly appeared. A fracture seemed imminent. And one that was not so easily repaired.

It was then that the call came in.

"Forum," Parker said, taking the call, but not breaking eye contact with Cloak. Ordinarily , you weren't supposed to answer a communication call like that, but that was semantics.

It was LeVar, who quickly and succinctly summed up their situation at the museum. He followed up with asking, in a somewhat plaintive manner, "What should we do?"

"Get out of there," Cloak said at once . They five were severely undertrained for such an undertaking. They were not ready. They were too green. "Find a way to escape with your lives."

But Parker disagreed.

"Do what you can," he said, "we'll send reinforcements when we can."

Cloak looked at Parker as if he hadn't ever seen him properly before. He saw this act as reckless and pigheaded.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXI (1,281): "Purification" -- Virulence.EXE desires to absorb all toxins and poisons into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Unnecessary Force

Despite being quite able to hear Cloak's protestations to the contrary, hearing Parker's tacit approval to do whatever they could was all that Joey needed to hear. He wore was looked like a maniacal smirk that sent shivers down Scottie's spine. As Joey flexed his fingers, his psychotic little smirk becoming more pronounced, everything seemed to be travelling in half the speed that it ought.

Joey flexed his fingers in a rather agitated way, and each joint where the bones touched emitted a slight ember. The Cadmus grunts and stooges did not realize their very lives were in jeopardy. And that they were forfeit, as the higher-ups at Cadmus considered these people expendable and would outlive their usefulness after this battle. They would have been silenced either way. Their fates were collectively sealed, their lives already forfeit. And not a single one was the wiser.

The embers around his interphalangeal joints continued to slowly dance around his hands, as if time itself seemed almost to dread what would happen next. It was long before these embers launched into a full conflagration around the fourteen-year-old pyrokinetic's hands. None of the other "Lights" could react in time, nor to shout a warning to the soon-to-be victims or demand that Joey stop what he fully intended on doing.

With his hands fully engulfed, but unharmed, by the fire, he ****ed his arms back as the Cadmus stooges in a variety of bodysuits -- man, woman, and child -- started to have the merest inkling that something was happening in Joey's direction. They had no time to ponder, to consider, to realize that their end was closer than they thought when they woke up that morning.

They would never wake up again. Ever again.

Joey had lost control of the fire, this much was known to be true. But he had lost himself. He had allowed himself to revel in the destruction, to celebrate the morbid state of these people, many of which assumed that this job was a simple 9-to-5 job. But there was, even in the midst of gray areas, a line that can be crossed, but couldn't be crossed in the opposite way. Some cross it unknowingly and foolishly, others with full knowledge and intent. Some knew what this mission would entail, some just wanted to wear bodysuits and adopt new personas and identities, and others were forced into this by financial circumstance beyond their control.

This was not intended to be a spur-of-the-moment massacre, this was intended to send a message. The fact that the Lights were there was inconsequential. They were not intended to be part of the message. The message that the CADMUS Nobles wanted to send was obvious.

"RAFians you are no longer welcomed in our city nor our country. Get out."

The grunts that they had sent to send this message, for the most part, didn't know how expendable the CADMUS Nobles considered them. If they were to die, for whatever reason, it wasn't a big deal to CADMUS, as they deliberately selected people that no one would miss. Whether because they had no family or friends, or because they were estranged from them, it didn't matter. They were disposable. Societal throwaways. Inconsiderable and sacrificable.

And now they all were little more than cinders. However, not all caught in Joey's powerful fire blast (which blasted the far wall off the building) were members of of this disposable contingent of CADMUS grunts. There was a little boy and girl, Phrixus and Helle Nephelesen were caught in the blast. Only Phrixus survived, but not without distinct marring to his left eye.

Joey was unaware of this, and it was fortunate that he would never be able to reach Cloak's elemental might. He would never be able to go supernova and ignite the atmosphere of the planet. He might have just done that so recklessly here. He didn't think this through, as it took several concerted efforts for him to "turn off" his pyrokinetic blast.

"There!" Joey said, brightly, as if he just bested the world's speedrunning record at a game. "No more bad guys!"

"Are . . . are you serious?" Kathie said, aghast and appalled by what Joey just did. "You're celebrating what you just did?"

"You're actually proud of yourself?" Scottie said, amazing at the emotional disconnect that Joey seemed to be experiencing. "You just . . . just killed so . . . so many people. Their anguish . . . I can -- I can still feel it. . . ."

"C'mon, people!" Joey said, annoyed now. "They were the bad guys! The enemy! And now we've won!"

"'We'?" LeVar said, lowering his smartphone, apparently unaware that Parker had hung up already. His tone indicated a restrained anger. "There was no 'we' in this scenario, Joseph. It was all you."

"I know!" Joey replied, sounding like a child who just made an awesome move in some first-person shooter game. "Isn't great?"

"'Isn't it great?' Joseph, REALLY?!" Janice said, her anger only barely contained. "You're acting like this is all some sort of game! That those people that you just murdered were just meaningless NPC combatants or something. But, Joseph, they are . . . were REAL people. People with hearts and minds and feelings all their own. And you killed them. Killed them without a second thought. Killed them because of the childish notion that they were the 'bad guys' and so they deserved death for it."

"Not to mention you never took into account that not all of them might have been 'bad guys'," Kathie said. "It's like Cloak keeps telling you. This. Is. Not. A. Video game!"

But this didn't seem to get through to Joey. He was perplexed at this reaction. His simplistic, black-and-white view of things was that he took care of the bad guys and they should be celebrating him as a hero for it. He didn't comprehend where this hostility was coming from.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXII (1,282): "Draconian Genocide" -- Scale.EXE desires to absorb all dragons into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
A Legendary Dispute

"You don't have a clue what you've just done, do you?" Cloak said, with a restrained tone of anger and accusation.

"They'll be fine," Parker said. "Until we give them some backup."

"You've signed their death warrants," Cloak said, his right hand messaging his brow in a very agitated way.

"They'll be fine. You worry too much," Parker said, almost dismissively.

Cloak wasn't referring to the Lights. He was referring to the CADMUS agents and grunts. He was well aware of Joey's immaturity, which is why he refused to teach Joey any of the higher tier techniques. He had tried to impress upon him how fire is a dangerous element to handle. Without the person there controlling stone or water, they would remain inert . . . but fire . . . it grows. It feeds. It consumes. Even when the pyrokinetic isn't actively using their ability. Joey's constant failure to understand this . . . it left Cloak to assume that he would never be a Master of the Fire Element.  He always treated as a toy, the way a toddler would wield an assault rifle.

Joey was too immature and irresponsible with the power he was given. Cloak knew this, and he even considered to going to talk with AniDragon about binding his powers, if he became a serious threat to others . . . and himself.

Parker knew none of this, and give him the go ahead to "do what he can". Cloak didn't need to read Destiny's diary to see where this was going and how it would end up.

"And you don't worry enough," Cloak said, almost mournful. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You've just killed all those people . . ."

"What?" Parker said sharply.

"Parker, there is a reason we haven't sent them on missions," Cloak said, adopting a scolding tone. Parker didn't much care for this.

"Just because they're kids doesn't mean that they aren't capable," Parker said, incorrectly anticipating Cloak's argument. "Considering how many times you put your own neice in potential harm's way, I thought you would have known that."

And there it was. The invisible line was crossed, and the two were now at the point of no return. Their friendship was forever marred and may be irreconcilable. Cloak's expression turned colder, far colder than anything Parker had experienced before. His eyes sparked with red and gold sparks.

"First of all," Cloak said, speaking very deliberately, clueing Parker in on how he crossed a line as far as the Realm Walker was concerned, "tagging along had always been Shadow's choice, and I never forced her into it. Second of all, Shadow had mastered all six Elements before she came along on a single mission -- the Lights have only been trained for three Earth weeks, and have yet to get beyond the basics of their respective elements. They can barely control their elements, but can only manage them enough to not explode with elemental power at the slightest bit of temper. Joey especially doesn't have the maturity or responsibility for the element he wields. Thirdly, I wasn't talking about their lives being in jeopardy, but those of the people around them."

 Parker said nothing, but Cloak wouldn't give him a chance to. Parker really riled him up.

"And, yet, you, knowing NONE of this, thinking you know better than me, the one training and teaching them. You tell them that they should 'do what they can'. You just gave them leeway to cause untold damage, Parker. They don't know how to deactivate their powers once they activate them. Not without several concerted efforts to do so. But, no, you tell them to 'do what they can'."

"You should have told me then," Parker said. He was clearly trying to ameliorate himself and his position

"You didn't give me an opportunity to!" Cloak countered, in immediate protest. "LeVar, Scottie, Kathie, and Janice, I believe, might have the good sense to not use their abilities in such a brazen, boneheaded fashion, but Joseph does not! The boy thinks that this whole thing is like some sort of game. He has become detached from the reality of the sheer dangerousness of his powers. He sees the world in black-and-white, and seemingly cannot see the grays of it. This is why he always trailed behind his fellows in training."

But Cloak's anger ebbed when he realized. When he realized that he was also culpable in this. He had been the one to suggest they visit the museum. He should have known that would have been a target for those with an anti-RAFian agenda and terroristic zealotry, authoritarian delusions of grandeur, or fascist tendencies. He was as much at fault for this as Parker. But he didn't want to admit it to himself.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXIII (1,283): "Losing Ground" -- Soil.EXE desires to absorb all manner of soil into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
A Noble Response

It didn't take long for the news outlets to cover this story and immediately implicate the RAFians. Indeed, the likes of Bern Bridges were having a field day with this news. Although, if it was the side they were affiliated with, political commenters like Bern Bridges would immediately blame outlandish things and disregard witness testimony as them being "crisis actors".

"Well," said Indigo Noble, dispassionately, as they gathered together in their stolen or simulated pedomorphic identities or bodies, inside their secret sanctum. "That went didn't go exactly as planned."

"But, perhaps, even better," Red Noble said. "Though the loss of the bodysuits was to be expected. I halfway expected those peasant grunts to runaway with half of them."

This was actually the intention of about a half dozen of them, before fear of CADMUS finding and killing them drove it from their minds. CADMUS would have ways of tracking down their bodysuits, they felt. The Nobles would see it as a game.

"It was a nominal loss," Orange said, unconcernedly, "we'll be able to recoup it easioy enough. We have plenty of politicians in our pocket."

"Not to mention that Bern Burns, and other deplorables like him, serve us and our aims well," Yellow Noble said.

None of them were mentioning the lost of life that occurred. None of them were going to. The people they sent were, in their view, unimportant and expendable societal castaways. No one would miss them, as far as the Nobles were concerned.

"Yeah, funny how scruples and integrity go out the window if you pay someone well enough," Red Noble said, with a laugh.

Green Noble began to speak, and the other six immediately clammed up. "While the loss of the peons and the bodysuits was expected, the brutality of the RAFian was not. Going forward, we must strive to not be so cavalier and overconfident. The message was sent, but another was sent to us."

Still no one spoke, as Green Noble marshalled his thoughts and mulled over the best way to phrase it. His fellow Nobles were not idiots, he opined, but they weren't exactly geniuses either. And they could always mutiny and overpower this boy's body he inhabited. He had his reasons about choosing this particular boy, as well. He didn't want this adorable "packaging", as he thought of the boy, damaged in the slightest, unless, of course by his own metaphorical hand. Green Noble knew he had to be charismatic and intimidating at the same time, and it was a rough balance to maintain. Fortunately, none of his fellows was a Legilimens or a telepath.

"I must admit, we underestimated the power and restraint -- or the lack of restraint, rather -- that the RAFians could possess. We need to be more careful, less overt in our scheming, lest it be revealed to those peasants. If what we are doing becomes known, to the RAFians themselves, much less the peasants, all our goals - - financial and personal -- become all that much harder." he said. He lapsed into a momentary, thoughtful silence. It was a few moments before he spoke again, his fellow Nobles listening raptly, not daring to interrupt their dear leader. "Naturally, this doesn't leave this room. We have to be careful that our long-term aims are not jeopardized. This new wrinkle is one that we should have foresaw and accounted for."

"What if," Red Noble said, in a spurt of bravery, "what if we could get that powerful RAFian to defect? Join us and our aims?"

 Silence met this words, and anxiety and tension were rife in the air. How would Green Noble react to this interruption of his musings. The boy's face that he wore was inscrutable, as he mulled over what Red Noble said. Green Noble seriously considered it. And considered having that powerful RAFian as his . . . and keeping this boy's body for . . . other acquisitions and . . . other reasons.

"Intriguing concept," Green Noble said, slowly, not mentioning his depraved plans to the others, preferring to keep them personal.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXIV (1,284): "Will and Won't" -- Pugilist.EXE desires to absorb all fighting spirit and willpower into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
A Needed Rebuke

"Why is everyone getting so bent out of shape about this?" Joey was saying. They were back at the forum now , and the five were reporting to Cloak for a lesson. But Cloak wasn't having it. He refused to teach Joey a thing more. "I just got rid of the bad guys! We won! Why is everyone refusing to see that?"

After Cloak allowed himself a frustrated sigh, he said, "This isn't a game, Joseph. I am really getting tired of trying to impress that upon you, and you still not comprehending it. Those people may have been aggressors, but did they truly deserve to be incinerated for it? This isn't some sort of game where there's no consequence for such a thing. Those people were just that, people. With lives and, presumably, loved ones. With feelings, hopes, and dreams of their own. You do not know the circumstances to why they were there, nor do you even seem to be aware if there were any truly innocent beings caught in your blast. You seem to assume everyone of them were evil. That is black-and-white thinking, Joseph."

"They were the bad guys!" Joey said, upset that no one seemed to get this point. "They had guns and no one told them to shoot up the place."

"They didn't fire a single shot," Janice said.

"But they were going to!" Joey said, passionately. "Honestly! You're giving me grief for winning the day!"

"How can you be so disconnected with reality? Why is it so difficult for you to understand that they were real people, and not just 'enemy NPCs'?" Cloak lamented quietly. "I admit, I had thought that you'd grow out of this irresponsible, immature disposition you have. Clearly, you haven't, and I fear you won't. And you have one of the most destructive, potentially calamitous, elements under your control. Somewhat. And you wield it as if it were a toy!"

"I . . . I don't," Joey protested, with a whine.

"But you do!" Cloak said. "I had hoped that by training you in the element, that you would attain the necessary level of responsibility and maturity needed to wield it right. I was sorely mistaken. You wield it like a toddler with a semi-automatic weapon."

Joey said nothing, feeling like a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But his mind was fishing around for rationalizations, refusing to believe or admit that he was at fault for the slaughter of actual people. He steadfastly refused to acknowledge it.

"As such," Cloak said, turning his back on him and started to walk away, "our lessons are done. You clearly don't care about control and restraint. Life's nothing but a game for you. One that you think you're winning, when you aren't."

It was at this point that Joey came to the only unassailable and unopposable thought that he could muster. At least, he believed it was unassailable and unopposable.

"You're just jealous of my power!" he roared. "I'm clearly more powerful than you will ever be!"

Cloak stopped. It took him all his willpower not to burst out laughing with the absurdity of this assertion. If this was the only play that Joey could make, it was pretty pathetic. Cloak said nothing, at allowed Joey to dig himself deeper.

"That's it, isn't it?" Joey said, sounding rather like a desperate man clinging at straws. "That's the real reason you won't train me anymore, isn't? You're afraid that I'm more powerful than you."

"No, Joseph," Cloak said, quite calmly. "I've already given you my reason."

"You're jealous of my power!" he insisted. He clearly didn't want to admit any wrongdoing. And Cloak correctly anticipated what he was going to do before he did it.

"Don't do it," Cloak warned, simply.

He still had his back to the fourteen-year-old boy. But the Elements Master's warning fell on deaf ears once more, as Joey's fingers exuded the embers again. Always a warning sign. Then he blasted Cloak, like he did with the CADMUS grunts at the museum. What he thought that this would prove, no one was precisely sure. But emotions like those the boy was feeling are rarely ever sensible or logical.

When he managed to turn off his fire blasts, through four times of concentrated effort, he was shocked to see that his blast and become a cylindrical funnel which extinguished immediately from a gesture from Cloak's right hand. He had turned to face e boy, looking quite intimidating in doing so.

"You disappoint me, Joseph," Cloak said. "I only ever showed you a fragment of my power, of what I was capable of. I've incinerated eidolans. Kept the very Earth spinning for a continuous ten Earth hours. I've ripped in half a star ship. And, yet, in your childish bravado, you claimed to be more powerful than me. You assumed since I didn't show you the full breadth of my capability, that I hadn't any other capability. Joseph -- you are not mature enough to use your power responsibly. Teaching you more advance techniques would be paramount to allowing a ticking time bomb go unsupervised."

 Joey didn't say anything, though he did feel a twinge of fear from Cloak now.

 "It's over, Joey," Cloak said. "And if it were up to me, or if I could energybend, I would strip you of your power, so you couldn't hurt anyone else with it. But, it is not up to me, and the mods believe in second chances, despite the inclination of everyone else, apparently."

Cloak turned and continued to walk away from the humiliated boy, he also Walked, and as he did, the Mark shattered.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXV (1,285): "Breathless" -- Wind.EXE desires to absorb all air and atmosphere into itself.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Disillusionment

It wasn't long after that that Joey left the forum himself. He plainly refused to see his responsibility in the slaughter. He preferred his rather more childish, black-and-white outlook to the whole scene. The guys with guns were the bad guys. He took them out of the equation. End of story. Why was everyone still harping on him about it?

He turned his back on the other four Lights, tired of their accusatory glares and little hints about how much they despised him, about how they blamed him for Cloak's departure from the forum and the Realm. Seemingly never to return.

This wasn't his fault, he steadfastly asserted. None of this was his fault. He would not allow himself to be scapegoated and unfairly blamed for this. So he left. He was embittered about the whole thing. And there would be no cure for this acerbation he felt. In Joey's mind, he was the good guy by definition, the measuring stick that all other morality should be measured against. Was it self-aggrandizing. Yes. Quite so.

He spent the past few days living as a vagabond, without so much a bindle. He hadn't any real possessions to speak of, making it easier to "move house" as it were. All he had were the clothes on his back. He survived by dumpster diving (which took him some time, as his pride wouldn't allow for it, initially) and he slept in alleyways that only had one point of entry, as he was leery towards anyone else.

After a few days, he certainly looked scruffy enough that anyone wouldn't recognize him. That and he hadn't used his powers since he eliminated those that he still viewed as "the bad guys". He didn't even pause, even after all this time passed, to consider if any innocent people had gotten caught in his blast. Hee just felt unfairly judged by what considered to be righteous, virtuous actions. He never really did question his motives or the ramifications of his actions.

He wanted to be able to trust someone, but he feared a betrayal like those other four . . . he felt that they should have had his back. That they should have stood up for him. They instead, in his view, betrayed him and threw him under several buses. He felt that they betrayed him, and not the other way around.

He was in a desperate, vulnerable position.

***

Cloak had returned to the Nexus. He hadn't really wanted to, but the whole thing with Parker had disillusioned him, and the thing with Joey just compounded it. Perhaps Cloak was just jumping to conclusions, and making a mountain out  a molehill, but he felt disheartened. He feared that even his beloved RAF and its RAFians had been tainted with corruption. He felt that the forum was not as impregnable as he initially believed it was to it.

Was the cancer of corruption just inevitable to every and any positions of power? Did it just infect the holder of such offices quicker in some and slower in others? Was that just the eventual fate of anyone who claws their way into power? To wield the power in such a way that justice is forgotten?

He was a Realm Walker, and their stagnating government just kept proving this true, repeatedly. It was, quite literally, the oldest form  governance in existence, and its corruption was an overtly gangrenous wound upon their society, as it was upon all societies and civilizations. It was a marvel that the governance didn't collapse in upon itself.

But this wasn't truly the thing that was bothering him. What was bothering him was that on two accounts within a small span of time, he was ignored. Blatantly and wantonly ignored. Despite never admitting it aloud, he had conflated this with being back at his mother's falling-apart, dilapidated shack that he was forced to call home for nearly twenty Nexus years. It was a fact that his mother had a nasty bit of ignoring whatever he had to say if it was not something that she wanted to hear, immediately dismissing it as unimportant. The  getting mad at him for ignoring what he said, if it was really important.

Sure, he had thought that he had gotten over this, but, sometimes, wounds go so deep that they don't ever truly heal. Emotional wounds are among the most difficult, if not outright impossible in some cases, to heal. Trust that is lost or broken is exceptionally difficult to overcome, and re-attain that lost or forgotten trust once more.

And, once again, rather than face the problem, he had ran away from it, allowing himself to wallow in self-pity and victimhood like a pig with mud. Only this time, he wasn't consciously aware of it. His sullen mood threatened to overtake him, as he tried, with some valiant, if futile, to not fall into a deep depression. He remembered all too well what it felt like . . . the feeling that your entire existence was pointless and without merit, that no one would miss you if you were suddenly . . .not exist. The horrid, torpid stupor. The icy lethargy thst encompasses you and your thoughts. . . .

Cloak felt alone for the first time in a long time. And it was not a pleasant feeling.

[Cloak]

I think I can reveal now that this book was based, somewhat loosely on this.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCCLXXXVI (1,286): "Soul Siphoning" -- Specter.EXE desires to siphon all souls, ghosts, and the entirety of Everlost and the Ghost Zone.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
The Friend Joey Needs?

So, it wasn't long before he ran into a kid that couldn't be any older than sixteen, who wore a delicate fedora with an emerald green plume that looked sun-dried as if it were forgotten outside for a while. He also wore a knee-length, shabby, brown coat which was threadbare at the elbows, fairly nondescript tattered undershirt, and old blue jeans that appeared to be torn almost artistically. He had bushy, curly hair that was untidy and unkempt -- understandable for a vagabond waif -- that recalled to Joey a stray cat he tried to adopt once. This bothersome pest, Joey had to admit, had some charisma, and was fairly dexterous in his movements. His constitution and health seemed nowhere as bad as some of the more forgotten masses have had.

He was talking, but it took Joey a bit before he recognized that this charismatic teen was addressing him. It took him a moment longer to realize that this teen was . . . singing. And his singing voice was not all that good.

"This town is not a nice place
For little friends all alone.
There are lots of twists and corners
That could lead to the unknown.
Let me guide your way,
And I'll be sure to help you through.
You could really use a friend out here
And luckily for you . . ."

He put his arm around Joey, and Joey was surprised by the stranger's iron grip. It was hard to break, and the song was, surprisingly, slowly convincing him. He wasn't fighting the grip as much, and he was starting to be persuaded.

"I'm the friend that you need!
When you're lost and don't know what to do,
I'm your pal, your amigo!
Useful and resourceful, too.
And my help, you'll concede,
Is a plus, guaranteed!
You can call and I'll come running.
Just follow my lead,
'Cause I'm the friend you need!

The song was, quite surprisingly, persuasive, despite being sung by someone with amateurish skill and an only mediocre voice.

"You need a bud to spot the danger.
A pal to stop the creep.
A chum, and not a stranger, to assist.
You need a bro who is cunning,
That can help you take the leap.
A friend who knows what's lying in the mist.
Don't fear these darkened alleys.
They're scary, yes, I know.
Why, you could use a friend
To protect you wherever you go!
And such a dazzling beauty,
Covered in dirt and muck.
But now your fate is changing.
Now you are in luck!
'Cause I'm the friend that you need,
When you're lost and don't know what to do.
I'm your pal, your amigo!
Lookin' out for friends like you!
And my help, you'll concede,
Is a plus, guaranteed!
Just call and I'll come running!
We'll say it's agreed . . ."

It happened so suddenly. There was no way that Joey could have prepared for it. Which is precisely what the stranger wanted. This stranger pulled Joey into a tight bear hug, and a form quickly left the stranger and entered Joey's body within seconds. As the stranger fell to the concrete, unconscious.

Joey smiled, and concluded the song, sound very much not like himself.

"'Cause he's the body I need."

It was Green Noble. He decided to "wear" someone more . . . powerful than his childish precious host. He had other plans for that host, while using Joey as a means of authority enforcement. . . .


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=c8bcWZuME-k