Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Remember this book is noncanon. And sorry for the briefness of this chapter.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDVI (1,406): "Forty or So Thieves" -- The Thieving Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Tenuous Tensions

Leatherhead and GH were the ones selected to go. Leatherhead was approximately twenty-one-years-old at this point, and knew very well that GH was not his biological father, but his adoptive one (and one that he chose as a relatively young child). There was still the father-son dynamic there, though Leatherhead called GH "Dad" instead of "Daddy", naturally. Meanwhile, GH was in his mid-forties -- a subject that he was rather sensitive about (or a subject he pretended to be so sensitive about "just for the lolz"). But, as GH was human, he was required to wear an ID mask to disguise himself, and this fact.

He wanted it to project a cool image over him, like a bat or an owl or some crazy imaginative creation of his. What he actually got did not thrill him at all. It irritated him greatly, as it felt like someone was having a laugh at his expense. It gave him the appearance of a gerbil-like species with a tortoiseshell fur pattern and green eyes. It made him appear much smaller than he actually was, and he was incredibly annoyed by Leatherhead's stifled snickers. And there wasn't time to change it to something more impressive.

On Tau 15, they saw scary Gaoul, amphibian-like Grepoans, fruit bat-like Akrennians, kangaroo-like Sogowans, a female Chimera Sui Generis, a Tetramand, a Lepidopterran,
a Pisccis Volann, a couple of Galvanic Mechamorphs, an unknown blue lizard-like species, an unknown slug-like species that can, evidently discharge electricity through its eyes, and a large, nightmarish species. No one even noticed the two, nor their Marks. The Marks had become the thing only espoused by conspiracy theorists at this point, and this was a misunderstanding that the RAFians allowed to propagate and flourish. If they dismissed their existence at large, it would severely reduce the people that may come looking for them.

They were here for the odd ends and things, but mostly for information. And these alien species seemed to be very tight-lipped about everything, and GH knew that if they pushed them too far they would become suspicious, and their threshold for "too far" was actually very shallow. Both new they had to be cautious and choose their words carefully. Some of these ornery sorts wouldn't hesitate to sell them out to the Drej if they found out who and what they were. It was a fine line to straddle.

It was missions like this that made GH miss Earth. Where he didn't have to don a disguise that altered his appearance. Where a simple pseudonym was a sufficient disguise. He never said this aloud, because he knew that this was precisely what Leatherhead had to do. Granted, he was young, and considered his human disguise nothing but a playsuit, and he didn't realize the implications until he was much older. It was fair to him, and it wasn't fair to Leatherhead. But survival often trumps fairness.

The aliens working on Tau 15 weren't particularly friendly towards them, attributing this to their proclivity to disliking off-site people poking around. GH and Leatherhead knew this wasn't going to be easy, but they weren't prepared for just how ornery these aliens could be towards those they considered tourists and other, more colorful terminology. Wheedling information out of them would prove a monumental task, and one that GH wasn't too sure that they were up to.

GH and Leatherhead could play their instruments and use their music to cause these aliens to loosen up and be more open with their intel. But GH doubted that it would make it any better, as they may take it in a very hostile manner. These individuals didn't really seem like they would truly appreciate music of any sort.

The inhabitants here already seemed leery and wary of them. Almost as if they knew who and what they really were.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDVII (1,407): "Smothering" -- The Overprotective Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
Outted

The two moved along cautiously, trying to give that humongous, nightmarish alien a wide berth. This creature was a stocky alien with tentacles for arms, four legs, and a large mouth. It had six pink eyes arranged haphazardly on its head. Its body was colored a pale purple and dark blue. It had three grey toes on each leg. GH hadn't any idea what this creature's species was called (he doubted that it was called "nightmarish creature") or if it was suffering from some form of gigantism, all he knew was that it was large, usually hungry, and very ornery.

"Mind your step, LH," GH muttered to his adoptive son. "We don't want the big lummox over there to think we're tasty snacks."

But, of course, this advice came a little too late and Leatherhead was just a little too complacent and ****y. The creature lashed out with its large tongue, ensnaring Leatherhead in it. It was torturously slow to withdraw its tongue into its gaping maw with its uneven, irregularly shaped and variable sized teeth. Some were square shaped and flat while others were rhombus-like. I looked like it would seriously hurt to be crushed or impaled by them. Leatherhead's crocodilian skin wouldn't be tough enough to stand up to that kind of punishement.

"Dad!" Leatherhead managed to choke out.

"NOT MY SON, YOU ****!!" GH roared, his paternal instinct pretty much shutting off his fear and caution. GH launched himself at the beast, his guitar in its axe form, only to be knocked away. This strike caused him to lose grip on his guitar axe, and the two were seperated, and Leatherhead was unable to transform his keytar into its halbried form, and, even if he could, it wouldn't be any use, pinioned to his side. And his bite strength was useless, as he couldn't angle his jaws in a way to do any damage, real or otherwise.

GH's anger, his love for his adoptive son, his unwillingness to allow him to be eaten, to allow him to die, his fear of failing Leatherhead, of him dying, and his hope that he will save his son -- it triggered something deep inside him. As GH stood up again, he was surrounded by a fiery aura. Musical notes, musical bars, and other musical iconography began to float around him, and powerful music began to play and intensified, perfectly harmonizing with his emotions. They were a mixture or reds, yellows, greens, blues, and violets.

However, this broke his disguise, and his ID mask fell from his face, deactivated by the power, but not broken. He picked it up, and attached it to his belt. The nightmarish alien was distracted by this, forgetting its hunger.

"Do you know who I am, monster?" GH said, apoplectic with rage. He was clearly human now, but his voice harmonized with the blaring epic music. Then he snapped his head up, and glared with angry eyes. "Do you?!"

The beast said nothing, and GH wasn't sure that it could even speak. But he didn't really care, and the RAFian (whose Mark became more prominent with this form) stood tall, his body coursing with his symphokinetic power. The music blaring, attracting unwanted attention that GH seemingly was oblivious to, was perfectly emblematic of the RAFian guitarist's mood.

"I'm the Musician Supreme, ****," GH said, as the music swelled up after these words, as if this was an epic scene in some blockbuster, three-hour-long movie. He held his right hand out calling out and summoning his guitar axe back to hand, as if it were a keyblade.

Then he charged the beast, striking with a fury and fervor of any other warrior. Leatherhead was freed and helped out his adoptive father.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDVIII (1,408): "Lumbering Slumber" -- The Sleep Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Drej Locks On

Neither one realized the implications of this until the consequences of their actions were already triggered into action. They didn't register at once that GH's disguise was broken, and he was standing there, undoubtingly and unmistakably, human. A species most others had assumed had expired in the Drej's attack (and subsequent destruction of said planet). GH presence here was glaring proof that some humans had survived this -- which was a bit of a leap when some species, like Time Lords, looked indistinguishable externally from humans and some Arquillians still used their human exosuits to get around.

But, still, this was a problem. the Drej were still looking for humans -- they wanted to be thorough with their genocide. They clearly saw them as a threat still -- and no one was sure why. Nor were they sure why the Drej thought humanity survived as a species. It was a closely guarded (usually) RAFian secret of the small pocket of humanity that managed to survive (all dwelling within the forum, enough to form a small breeding population to continue to propagate the species in a healthy manner).

GH's Musician Supreme form dissipated with his fatherly anger as he and Leatherhead drove the nightmarish alien away. Then his reason and common sense caught up with him, and he quickly put his ID mask back on (which cast a different appearance over him, clearly having cycled through the options when reactivated again -- he looked like a skinless Utrom exosuit with the piloting Utrom in the stomach). He decided that he would pretend to be an Utrom -- despite not knowing too terribly much about them. It was a hasty move, to be sure, and one that wouldn't be very convincing to anyone watching.

And, quite unfortunately for the two, someone was watching. An insectoid species with four insect-like flat legs and two arms whose hands had three clawed fingers. They have four pedunculated eyes that had pupils. These eyes are linked directly to the sides of his head. His wings were very fragile with lines on them. It was a Lepidopterran, from the swamp planet of Lepidopterra. It was this creature that spied them, and immediately reported them to the Drej, hoping for a bountiful reward for such an assistance. A material bounty. A beneficial bounty.

This Lepidopterran were quick to point them out when the Drej drones arrived. They saw through GH's disguise and he realized this with trepidation, and summoned his guitar back to him, as if it was a Keyblade, and in guitar form. He was hinging his hopes on his music moving the drones into apathetic states, allowing them to escape.

"Hey!" the Lepidopterran demanded. "What about my reward?!"

The drones fired what appeared to be a narrow-beam laser, which struck the insectoid alien down. Struck him dead. The Drej were not sympathetic, empathetic, or remorseful of their actions. It was as if they did not know or understand the concept of sympathy, empathy, and remorse. These were drones in service of their queen, and knew nothing else and didn't retain enough intelligence, apart from what their mission necessitated.

To his credit, GH tried. He tried to play every genre of music he knew, musically appealing to every possible positive emotion he knew of. But the Drej were unaffected. They hadn't any emotion to appeal to, and the music meant nothing to them. Just sounds. Just distractions. Just noise. Even GH's Epic Riffs would not daunt the Drej drones, despite cracking the stone ground beth them.

"Leatherhead," GH said, now back in his Musician Supreme form holding his guitar in its axe form. But he held no illusions about it helping. The music iconography contained more yellows and blues, far less reds, now.

"I know, Dad," he replied. He held his keytar in its halbried.

The Drej approached the two, no swagger, no confidence. Just pure, mechanical strides. They were going to be the two's destruction, and the two knew it. And they couldn't do anything about it . . .

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDIX (1,409): "Malingering Hypochondriacs" -- The Malingering Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
He Had a Dream

GH and Leatherhead braced themselves. GH would later deny that he winced, but he did. The two heard the Drej firing their lasers and both were expecting to feel them knife through their bodies. They expected a painful death.

They never realized that someone wouldn't allow that if he could help it. That they had friends and they were being monitored, despite a sort of radio silence implemented. The RAFian veterans were aware of what was going on, and knew that the two were in trouble, and they were able to detect their Marks, to be able to follow their progression.

They were scrambling to send someone to help, but weren't very confident in getting there on time. Some of the more selfish and self-serving were advocating to just abandoning them and saving their own skin. This was met with an immediate downturn in popularity for those individuals, as Leatherhead and GH were greatly liked.

GH eked his eye open, having not feeling any of a lasers ripping through his body and was finding the wait of infinitesimal second after infinitesimal second to be torturous. What he saw surprised him, as he hadn't seen something like it in at least fifteen years.

"Dad, is that --?" Leatherhead said, some deep awe in his voice, as he looked at the golden-scarlet barrier.

"I take a quick nap, then you go and get yourselves in a sticky situation, eh, GH?" came a sardonic voice he hadn't heard for years.

"Cloak?" he asked.

"You expecting Ben 10?" Cloak said, with smirk.

The Drej lasers were still unable to bypass Cloak's barrier, but the drones continued to approach and engage. They had their mission, and were only allowed enough intelligence to complete it. However, this wasn't sufficient enough to get pass Cloak's barrier. So, they did the only thing their limited intelligence would allow.

They kept shooting the barrier. Cloak had anticipated this, though his knowledge of the Drej species was fuzzy in some aspects. He just knew as long as they had a functioning queen -- they were dangerous. And he deduced a huge weakness for them. He had a plan to ensure the Drej weren't a threat anymore -- although it was morally questionable and may require some persuasion and cunning that he simply may not have possessed.

"Leatherhead, your Mark," Cloak said, his levity abandoning him with astonishing swiftness. The young adult crocodilian humanoid did as the Realm Walker requested, and Cloak just touched it with just his index claw, and a star map appeared on his scaly hand. "As long as you have your Mark, you'll be able to access this starchart. Show it to Estelore -- she'll know the place."

"Starchart?" GH said, his humor failing him at this moment, too. "Cloak, how did you get a starchart?"

"From a Dream," Cloak said, looking at his barrier and the drones. His window to enact this little scheme of his was closing. Turning back to address the two, he said, "Look, I can't go into detail about it now. I have a plan. But you two need to return to the forum. Take the tunnel I used to get here. Yarin will be waiting to take to back -- he's fortunate that e Drej could never detect his ship."

"But --"

"No time, GH," Cloak pressed. "Should everything go according to plan, all will be made clear later. Now, please go. Go to those coordinates, enact Code New Haven. Go!"

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDX (1,410): "Don't Wanna . . ." -- The Unmotivated Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
What Code New Haven

"Cloak said to activate Code Haven," Leatherhead when they got back to the forum. "He gave me a starchart to it."

"Let me have a look at it," said Estelore's avatar said. After a few minutes, she said, "Yeah, I know this place."

"What's wrong?" Leatherhead asked, immediately noticing her hesitant tone of voice.

"Those coordinates lead to an area of space that's fundamentally empty, except for monumental crystals of water."

"The Galvin, Galvanic Mechamorpohs, and Anodites have been working on something over there," Helen said, looking down at her Star Sapphire ring. "I've seen them building something, but they seemed to have been increasingly disheartened and seemed to have abandoned it."

All the Lantern Corps, except the Reds, Larfleeze, and the Sinestro Corps (due to the emotion they draw their power from) felt a responsibility for the Earth's destruction, and could only fight the Drej to a standstill. They had numbers, and tenacity. The Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet Lanterns had versatility and flexibility. And yet, neither could conquer the other. Just like the Drej could not attack Galvan Prime, Galvan B, Anodyne, Encephalonus IV, and Anur Transyl, as they could not oppose those four planets due to the intellectual prowess of the Galvan, Cerebrocrustraceans, and Transyvlians, the very nature of Galvanic Mechamorphs, and the power of the Anodites.

"How did Cloak know about this? He's been asleep for fifteen years." Dino asked.

"He said that he had a dream," GH said.

"He was asleep," Saffa said, "of course, he was dreaming."

"That's what he said," GH said.

Cloak had always pretty much held his Truth Dreams close to his chest, because most times they have never been as candid as this one was. Truth Dreams, by their very nature, tended towards being vague and enigmatic, frustratingly so.

"He also told us to go," Leatherhead said. "He made it sound as if we should go without him."

"He told us that we should leave once you guys were back," Abby said. "Made it sound as if he wasn't coming back. Said something about Code New Haven."

"He told us to enact that," GH said, "presumably with the starchart he locked within Leatherhead's Mark. Whatever this Code New Haven is -- you notice that's like the third Code we have?"

This was met with a couple minutes silence.

"Estelore?" Phoenix said.

"We're on our way there now," she announced.

[guitarhero01234]

If I'm not playing this on our entire space journey we're not friends anymore

https://youtu.be/hHOrpFeXUao

[Cloak]

You asked for it. Literally.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXI (1,411): "Tattle Tales" -- The Tattletale Compulsion is cast.

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Inside the Hornets' Nest

Following the drones back to their ship unnoticed? That was the easy part.

Once he had snuck aboard their mothership, he noticed that his golden-scarlet corona clashed noticeably with their whole blue and black aesthetic. But his Cloak blocked it, so he could hide inside the shadows, unseen and unnoticed. But, still, this was the easy part.

He had kept his ears perked, in case he caught snatches of conversation. But the drones clearly weren't much into idle chatter. Each one knew their specific role in this greater whole, and knew nothing else more. They hadn't any autonomy from their queen, not unlike Terran ants or termites (both functionally extinct at this point). the very concept of self was foreign to them, and these drones never had a thought in their heads at wasn't either given to them directly by the queen or allowed by the queen. Her control over her drones were undeniably strong, to the point the drones would (if ever allowed to garner sentience) ignore those that had no bearing on their current message.

But Cloak's plan wasn't scuppered. If there were idle conversations, that might have provided interesting intel or motivations, but the drones were just not conversationalists or free-thinkers. Cloak could understand why the Drej queen would deny them the ability to think freely. If they were to think freely, they would invariably start to think for themselves. And once they started thinking for themselves, they would inevitably start questioning things, including the Drej queen's commands and demands. This would lead to rebellion and challenging the queen and her authority. Hence why she (assuming the Drej even have anything like genders) would not allow her drones anymore intelligence or sentience than immediately necessary, and immediately revoking it when it is no longer necessitated.

Cloak continued to sneak around the mothership as if he were Batman, unnoticed and ignored. He couldn't really neglect just how the blues and blacks contrasted his corona of gold and scarlet. Had he not his cloak (other than his corona basically eating away at reality itself), he would stick out like a sore thumb. So far, it seemed as if the Elements Master hadn't any plan of any sort.

You never think these things through! Wheeza had once told him.

But he had thought this through. It may not have appeared on the outside, but he did. Only . . . he found the layout of this mothership discordant and nonsensical. He knew that the Drej had a massive weakness, and all he had to do is take that weakness out. But his Earthsight and Metalsight were of no use here. There was no real way to find this weakness . . .

Unless . . .

"Whoops," Cloak said aloud, when a couple drones spied him and moved to accost him, and assault his person.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXII (1,412): "Hubris" -- The Hubris Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Audience With the Queen

They didn't attack him, as Cloak had hoped. Though granted, he would admit, he took a big gamble by allowing himself to get caught.

There was still no guarantee that he would be taken to where he wanted to go, instead of being left to rot in a brig of some sort. (He wouldn't, he would just have to adapt his plan to accommodate this snafu, if it happened.) He was bound in the blue and black energy, but he wasn't too concerned by it, but was pretending as if the binding were painful and tight. He had to play the part well. The queen had to believe that she (assuming genders were a thing amongst the Drej) held all the cards, and had power over Cloak. He had to make her overconfident, as overconfidence often breeds costly mistakes, and complacent, as complacency often breeds one to be ill-prepared for any upset, that when things doesn't go according to plan.

He had to play this carefully, as any misstep on his part could cause suspicion on the part of their queen. And suspicion could ruin everything before its time. Cloak realized the possible consequences of this plan, and he had accepted the possible ramifications. He had already committed to this plan and to eliminate the threat of the Drej. It was a rather ruthless and callous plan, he knew and recognized that about it. He acknowledged it.

But, in his mind, it had to be done. And the plan was no more callous and ruthless than the Drej themselves. Did that justify the plan morally? Perhaps not. Perhaps nothing could justify what he was about to do.

"Are you the one?" Cloak kept his head down, knowing that it was the Drej Queen who spoke. Their language would be incomprehensible and unpronounceable to humans, not unlike a few words in the the Realm Walker language. He kept his silence, trying to imply that he was roughed up a bit as the drones dragged him here. "Are you the humans' weapon?"

This took Cloak off guard. He hadn't expected this. Was he the reason that the Drej destroyed the Earth? Was it his mere presence that endangered the Earth? Was this . . . was all of this . . . his fault? Was he . . . was he indirectly responsible for so many deaths? An emotional weight was now on his back, but it erased any ethical questions that he had for what he was about to do. He would avenge those he killed indirectly and indirectly endangered.

But he still had to play this carefully, or the opportunity to take out the Drej weakness would never come. He had to be patient.

"Are you the weapon?" she asked again, more aggressively. "Are the energy weapon?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cloak said, affecting a physically hurt, weakened tone. He deftly showed his Mark ever so slightly, then hid it again.

"That's their mark," the queen said, as if she caught Cloak in the act. "You must be their weapon. A weapon powerful enough to threaten the Drej!"

Cloak said nothing, playing the part of someone cowed into submission, despite no bruises or injuries of the like to show for it.

"Pathetic," she said, completely buying into Cloak's facade hook, line, and sinker. This was notable, as Cloak was, admittingly, not the best actor in the world. "This was the thing that was supposed to threaten my great empire? This must be a prank by those brats."

"Still," she said, and Cloak struggled internally to still his tongue about asking her if she monlogued often. Those humans are a wily bunch - - there has to have been a reason why so many of these lower species held an interest in them and the rock that originated them. They somehow made you -- someone so much like us --"

Those last five words were very much the wrong thing to say. And she would come to regret uttering them.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXIII (1,413): "Abject Refusal" -- The Request Refusal is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Uh . . . Now What?

"We're here?" GH said, inquisitive, looking a massive ball of steel with what appeared to be four large craters arranged somewhat like a molecule of methane. He absent-mindedly was strumming from a song he called "Space Truckin'", and Saffa stared daggers at him for it, but did not comment on it. All around were huge crystals of what many assumed to be water Estelore had trouble navigating around them, so several RAFians had approached inside Yarin's ship, which was a little beat-up at this point. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't . . . this?"

"Is this Code Safe Haven?" Saffa inquired. "It doesn't look like much."

"The craftsmanship is simply sublimes, though," Yarin said, being a secret connoisseur of such things.

"Is it a weapon of some sort?" Parker asked. "Like some sort of Death Star?"

"Should we board it?" Abby queried. "See what it can do?"

"It won't do anything, as of yet," said a new voice behind the five. All five whipped around to see a Realm Walker. It wasn't Cloak or Malice, not Shadow or Faith, not Mercy or Ursa. It was not Malice.

The Realm Walker stood, somewhat stooped with some sort of cane, at four-and-a-half feet tall, with a flat, naked tail that was roughly over a foot, foot-and-a-half long. He wore a green cloak, and his feet were webbed but his hands were not. He was a beaver-form Realm Walker, specifically reminiscent of a North American beaver. He even looked cute, despite clearly being an older Realm Walker, so the RAFians were too intimidated.

"Who are you?" Abby said, extremely cautious.

"How did you get on my ship?" Yarin demanded shrewdly.

"You're cautious," the new Realm Walker noted. "That's good. And understandable, considering what had happened to Earth. Turns out Cloak's fears were true, I suppose."

"You know Cloak?" Parker said at once.

"Of course, I know Cloak," he said, as if it was a silly notion that he didn't, "who do you think forged the tech in your armor?"

Then he examined Parker, or more specifically his armor.

"Huh. So you had it ripped out. One of those anti-Dweller fascists, perhaps?" he diagnosed. "Such a pity. I could give you it back, but I'd need time and resources to do so."

"You're Itemsmith?" Abby asked, astutely.

"Aye," he said.

"You built Code New Haven?" Saffa asked.

"I thought that Anodites and Galvins built it," GH pointed out.

"They helped," Itemsmith said, holding his cane in a way reminiscent of Scrooge McDuck. "And their help made all the difference, as it would have taken me years to make this by myself. I was just principally the architect and foreman of its construction. And it's nearly complete."

"Nearly done?" Yarin noticed.

"Yes," Itemsmith said, "it lacks sufficient fuel. I have yet to find a proper fuel source for it, sadly enough. When Cloak confided his fears in me a couple of years ago, I told him about this. We agreed to Code New Haven -- the Galvin and Anodite help was never contracted, but greatly appreciated."

He was speaking years in the Realm Walker context.

"Fuel for what?" Saffa asked.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXIV (1,414): "Sweat and Blood" -- The Sweating Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Wrathful

"-- someone like us --" the Drej queen had said.

At this pronouncement, Cloak got angry. Really angry. Being compared to these genocidal, planet-destroying, homewrecking, holier-than-thou . . . he dropped his facade. The bindings they had on him evaporated away before the presence of his fiery corona, still contained by his eponymous cloak.

"Like you?" Cloak said, his voice quavered with his anger. "Like YOU?!"

Cloak stood, while the Drej queen stopped talking, looking on with actual trepidation. Her arrogance, complacency, and entitlement were still there, but stifled. She hadn't expected this, having believed Cloak's deception fully. She had underestimated him, as e Elements Master had wanted.

Cloak took great umbrage to the proclamation of being like the Drej. Probably because there was some truth in it -- he hadn't been genocidal, but his hands weren't clean of blood and ichor. And he was about kill all the Drej. He didn't destroy a planet, but he did decimate that ship overrun with the Xenomorphic Brood. And wasn't he guilty of being holier-than-thou on occasion? But like most people, he didn't like particularly like those qualities, even in himself.

Cloak snapped his head up, and his eyes were glowing golden-scarlet suns with identically-colored energy ribbons flowing out the side of the eye furthest from his nose, and they intertwined into a double helix pattern. He was in his Apex Tier of power. He was at his most powerful, and his most dangerous.

"I am NOTHING like you," Cloak growled, and there seemed to be some weird ethereal echo on his voice that he never noticed. Golden-scarlet energy began to pulsate around him, reflecting his emotions. Mostly his apoplectic anger. "You seem to believe that you're all powerful, Drej. Yet you have no idea the power I have."

Yeah, modesty wasn't one of Cloak's most prominent characteristics.

"And you seem to overestimate yourself," Cloak said, still in full-on Avatar State mode. "But I know your weakness."

"The Drej haven't any weaknesses," she said, with an almost admirable amount of utter contempt and a wethering, condescending attitude considering the sheer, palpable power the Realm Walker RAFian was displaying. And, yet, Cloak was restraining himself, trying not to give himself or to his anger. "We are not like the brats or the inferior matter creatures."

"And you sound like an Atasian," Cloak said, not only matching her contempt, but exceeding it. He was still managing his fury, his apoplectic anger. His corona pulsed and throbbed as he tried to do so. "No species is without weakness. Such a thing is truly impossible."

"The Drej are the impossible," she said, equally furious, seeing cloak as nothing more than a brightly-glowing insect, despite his power being very palpable to all but the stubbornly arrogant. "We accomplish the impossible, and we enact the impossible. We are always in the right, and our actions beyond reproach by lesser minds."

"You have a weakness," Cloak said again, facial expression now set. He knew what he must do, and he was willing to do what needed to be done. And wasn't about to be pretty, but he was committed to it.

"Oh, really?" she said, voice dripping with condescending sarcasm, as Cloak extended his right arm forward. She was not intimidated by this, obstinate in her complacency, as she continued to talk down to a being who so obviously eclipsed her in terms of raw power. "Then, what, pray tell, is our weakness."

Cloak's answer was quick, succinct, and consisted of a single, three-letter word that made the Queen Drej's blood -- or whatever they had that was analogous to blood -- run cold. She didn't have time to react or bark an order to her drones. She didn't even have time to defend herself before she received the full payload of Cloak's attack. This left nothing of her, the energy composing her evaporating into nothingness.

Cloak's response to her condescending inquiry?

"You."

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXV (1,415): "Opulent Extravagance" -- The Extravagance Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
A Difficult Task

With the Queen gone, Cloak closed his eyes and he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. He managed to allow himself to ease out of his Apex Tier, and managed to allow his rage to cool. It was not something he would been able to do if he hadn't gone through that training with Aniyu. He would have had to wait for his anger to burn out, leaving him apathetic and feeling hollow afterwards.

He looked around, trying not to stoke his anger further, and he saw the drones slumped onto the floor. Alive but without purpose anymore. Cloak had assumed that one of the drones would have eventually become the new queen, but the thought occurred to him.

Perhaps there has only ever been one queen. The Drej were energy-based lifeforms. Despite what Cloak would claim to the contrary, they could have been like Realm Walkers, in that they evolved in a similar way, or they basically came into existence basically fully formed. That the queen was the only queen to ever exist.

And he killed her.

Something that seems to have been quite unprecedented, as the drones dropped to the floor, like a marionette whose strings have been cut. They didn't move, they didn't breathe, and Cloak was sure that they didn't even think anymore. They were essentially living vegetables. Cloak had fundamentally made all the drones brain dead, despite their bodies being functionally alive, by taking out the queen. They were all just useless dead weight now . . . Cloak couldn't really fathom how the Drej would come back from this.

He knew the queen was the main weakness of the entire Drej species, but he never guessed to what extent. Cloak wasn't particularly aggrieved with his actions, despite being well aware of the potential hypocrisy in them. He did what he had to -- and now, he wondered, as he attempted to pilot this ship (you never think these things through! -- Wheeza's voice echoed through his mind and heart) toward the coordinates of Code New Haven.

He knew that Itemsmith had already began construction on it before e Drej made their attack upon the Earth. He remembered that horribly vivid Truth Dream . . . he would always remember it . . . and e most jarring thing was just how matter-of-fact and succinct it was, with no vague subtlety or enigmatic riddles to solve. It just showed him everything that was to happen. He was just fortunate that Itemsmith is always up for some challenge presented to him, confident that he'd always find a solution of some sort from it.

If time had elapsed as he suspected, then Code New Haven should be near completion. It all hinged on whether Itemsmith could have contracted some help or not. the Truth Dream said that he would have, but there was really no way to truly verify that without going there. The two have been out of communication for a year and a half (in Realm Walker terms), and Cloak couldn't reach him during the urgency to get to GH and Leatherhead.

The dream also told him that Itemsmith would more than likely have difficulty finding an appropriate fuel source. Cloak took a look around, seeing the nonmoving, near-lifeless Drej drones who didn't even have a single thought to call their own anymore. The Drej were energy-based beings, and without their evil queen, they hadn't any will or desire of their own. They were barely functional, and in a permanent vegetative state. Cloak knew what to do, and knew if anyone else knew what he had wrought that he would be seen as ruthless and callous.

But he saw it as doing what needed to be done. But he wasn't so arrogant about that he didn't understand the implications or ramifications of what he had done. He doubted the others would have cared much, as the Drej destroyed their world as well. But his conscious was one that could not be silenced forever, and it would haunt him forevermore for what he he was about to do. Was it fair? Perhaps not, but it was it fair what he did to the whole of this ancient, and dangerous species?

He looked at his communator, an old beat-up thing. He was within range of communications with the RAFians, and, if the Truth Dream was believed, Itemsmith. He felt the Blessing of Destiny filling him up, but he wasn't sure that he wanted it or liked it anymore, despite how useful it was in the past.

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXVI (1,416): "Run, Run As Fast As You Can . . ." -- The Running Compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
What Cloak Can and Can't Do

"Fuel for Code New Haven," Itemsmith said. "Was I vague in my explanation?"

"I meant what is the fuel meant to do for Code New Haven?" Saffa said, with a note of annoyance (which Itemsmith found amusing).

"Sumthin' spectacular," Itemsmith said, vaguely. It was almost as if he was deliberately not answering her question, and Saffa picked up on this at once. But she wasn't about to let this go, she wanted answers -- all this ambiguity left a lot to be desired.

"That's not answer," she said, to which Itemsmith smiled. She found this rather frustrating, and even more so that her frustration amused him.

"Oh, come now," he said, in a gentle chiding tone, like someone too eager to get into the Christmas presents. "You don't want to ruin the surprise now, do you?"

"Surprise?" Abby interjected, over Saffa's annoyed growl. "You don't even know where to get its fuel."

"Oh, Cloak just contacted me a few moments ago," he said, "that's how I knew you lot would be here. He said that he'll be bringing the fuel."

"And if he doesn't?" Parker asked.

Itemsmith shrugged, "I've learned that when Cloak says he'll do something, Veil or not, he'll do it, or die trying."

"That doesn't really fill me with too much confidence," Yarin said.

"Really?" Itemsmith said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Truth Dreamers are usually very good at such predictions."

"What's a Truth Dreamer?" Leatherhead asked.

***

There was a reason why Cloak never piloted any of the ships that he's been on. He was basically flailing about, trying to direct the Drej mothership to the appropriate coordinates. He found himself having a new respect for Yarin, as this was clearly one of the things he could not do. At least, not do well.

Remember me . . .

He found that the mothership moved like a drunken cow with a very bad stumble, and he wasn't too pleased nor enthused about it. He didn't know too much about what all these controls did, and there was no guidebook or anything.

Though I have to say goodbye . . .

And the fact that nothing was labelled clearly, if they were even labelled at all. Then again, he didn't know if the Drej could see as he and Realm Walkers did. But Cloak did make the ship move forward . . . like a shrunken geriatric driving a car. It wasn't exactly pleasing progress.

Remember me . . .

Cloak rushed to make the ship go faster -- at this rate the RAFians and Itemsmith would like be dead by the time he got there. He cursed aloud about it, wondering if Yarin would have had an easier time with this. The controls were different from his ship, from what Cloak remembered -- starkly different.

Don't let it make you cry . . .

But Yarin always seemed to have a proficiency for piloting ships -- although he couldn't remember him ever piloting any other except his own. At least, not without a scathing critique of the other ship. Cloak felt as if he was just flailing about with no real progress to speak off. It really shouldn't be this difficult, he felt.

For even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart . . .

Cloak was starting to wonder if this was just a forgone conclusion. A challenge that was beyond him. He really hadn't thought this through, he acknowledged. But how was he to know that the Drej queen was metaphorically the entire brain of the entire species? He should have took that into consideration, though.

I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart . . .

The ship shuttered suddenly, and Cloak felt it immediately. He didn't know what happened -- did he hit some sort of space debris? Was someone attack this newly-derelict ship? He would be so screwed, as GH would put it, if he was under attack inside th ship. He could barely make the ship go forward, to a certain set of coordinates, much less activating the weapons. For all he knew, the weapons were tied to the Drej queen's life like just about everything on this Veiled ship is.

Remember me . . .

The ship shuttered once more, and, if it had any inerta dampeners onboard, they died with the Drej queen. But this was progress. Cloak could feel the speed picking up. But not by much -- but it was certainly better then the slowest crawl that he was at before. Now they were at a slow cruising speed -- but it still wasn't fast enough.

Though I have to travel far . . .

Unfortunately, Cloak couldn't remember what he did to speed up the ship. It was instrumental for his plan as well. Code New Haven needed fuel. And he had it right here.

Remember me . . .

And not only the ship, if it proved insufficient, he had an idea for one that should prove suitable and sufficient. And he knew that his friends would try to stop him if he went through with it -- another reason why he had to do this bit alone. Not to mention . . .

Each time you hear a sad guitar . . .

Not to mention that Truth Dream . . . it was rather uncharacteristicall y explicit, almost as if Destiny (he fought a chill going up his spine from the tip of his tail) was trying to communicate with him directly. This aspect alone was incredibly terrifying, and what he was meant to do was incredibly daunting. He wasn't afraid of what he had to do, but it was a lot.

Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be . . .

There -- that combination of switchs and buttons! That was how he would speed up this jalopy! He managed to make the ship go at a decent clip, ignoring minor hull damages. The ship needn't be pristine when he arrived at Code New Haven.

Until you're in my arms again . . .

He managed to imput the coordinates into the ship, and the ship, listing uncomfortably to the right, took the coordinates and planned out a path and automatically took the path. With Cloak urgingit along between sixteen and twenty times.

Remember me . . .

He contacted Itemsmith to get Code New Haven ready . . . to accept its fuel.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=gVU5Or4mS6c

[Cloak]

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXVII (1,417): "So Hungry . . ." -- The Hunger Compulsion was cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
What a Spectacle

"Well, boy, it . . ." Itemsmith began, before he noticed a ding. He pulled out a device that sort of resembled a smartphone, but with almost deliberate differences. "Hold onto that thought, boy. Cloak's bringing the fuel here. Alls I have to do is activate the Code New Haven. I shouldn't be too long, and it can be done remotely."

Then he seemed thoroughly engrossed in his smartphone-like device, it making odd clicking and clacking noses that a smartphone ought not make. Itemsmith was making various noises himself, speaking to himself in a low, murmuring way. He was so focused on what he was doing, it was almost as if he had forgotten completely about the RAFians, who were still standing there, nonplussed.

The RAFians were, admittingly, a little taken aback by this eccentric Realm Walker, who was apparently a friend of Cloak's. Just randomly showing up, out of the blue, and laying down a lot of information to parse through. And apparently because Cloak somehow was clairvoyant enough to see all this from the past.

"And that should be that," Itemsmith said, with a note of finality. "Code New Haven is primed to accept its new fuel source."

"Which is?" Saffa asked at once. She did not mean to sound so antagonistic, but she was feeling worn and stressed. GH wasn't really helping in that regard.

"Let's not ruin the surprise," Itemsmith said, with a smile. "It is promising to be quite the spectacle."

It was at this point the Drej mothership showed up, like a drunken barfly, unconcernedly bumping and crashing into the field of many ice crystals of gigantic size. It loomed towards them, and the first natural reaction of the RAFians was one of tension and fear. A discordant chord of voices were sounded, talking over each other so much that it was difficult to discern the owners.

"The Drej!"

"How'd they find us?!"

"What do we do?!"

"They're gonna kill us!!"

"We need to get away!"

"But they'll destroy the Code New Haven!"

"Relax," Itemsmith said, sharply. "The Drej are dead."

A beat of silence met these words.

"The ship is right there!" Parker insisted.

"But it isn't being piloted by the Drej," Itemsmith said, double checking his communications with Cloak, to be sure he didn't misinterpret something. "It's being piloted by Cloak."

Yarin, noticing the rather haphazardly way the ship is being driven, blinked all six of his eyes, and then said, "I'd believe it. The flight trajectory isn't as smooth as it would have been if the Drej were piloting it."

"Wait, where is the fuel?" GH asked. Then it clicked. "Oh . . ."

"Initiated," Itemsmith said, as a beam fired from Code New Haven. It met the hull of the Drej ship and began to deteriorate and eviscerate the ship. But it hit the ship at an angle. The ship would eventually yaw out of the way of the beam.

"Isn't Cloak on there?!" Abby shouted, concerned.

"No, he's behind it," Yarin said, showing the image of Cloak floating out in space. His cloak and color scheme white. "He has . . ."

Itemsmith and Saffa spoke at the same time.

"The Blessing."

"The Great Power."

But Itemsmith spoke softly, so none of the RAFians heard him, especially as what happened next. Cloak went through the movements as if he was going to fire a hadoken or a kamehameha, and he fired it, but it was pure white and not his usual golden-scarlet, but there was a double helix concussive blast wrapped around it where one side was gold and the other scarlet much in the same style of the Mario Finale.

This pushed the ship fully into the path of the laser, destroying it (as it was consumed), and every Drej onboard. But it was sufficient to begin the process. Cloak floated down and was brought into Yarin's ship as the Great Power vanished from him, and he felt an exhaustion he would rather do without.

"What happens now?" Leather asked, quietly.

"Earth," Cloak said, sounding extremely weary, "gets remade."

[Cloak]

Reminder, is book was uncanon, but the next one will be.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXVIII (1,418): "Depressed and Oppressed" -- The Depression Compulsion was cast.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
A New Home, a New Haven

"Wait, what?" GH said.

"Did you not guess what the 'new haven' part of Code New Haven was for?" Cloak said, wearily. He tended to get very blunt (moreso than usual) when he was tired. Though Cloak didn't say anything more, he expected GH to reference that New Haven was some band that Cloak had never heard of or wasn't of any real relevance to Cloak. But he didn't, and Cloak just gestured him to look at the exterior of the ship through one of the porthole windows.

After all, it wasn't just every day someone could see a planet being made. Even though this planet would still technically be artificial and manmade. It will still have earth, water, and atmosphere. There would be no moon (which meant the tide mechanics and such would be drastically different), and it would orbit a yellow star, one Estelore called "Sol Novus". The planet would be habitable, and it would be so in a few hours to a few days. The planet, Novus Portus, New Haven, would be their new home, which, ironically, was built by the Drej in a way.

Naturally, the other RAFians watched this, mesmerized by it. And who could blame them? Who wouldn't be fascinated about the formation and coalescence of a planet? At least all the flat-earthers had perished in the destruction of Earth, and no one with a right mind could dispute that Novus Portus was round.

Due to some time paradox or something or other, what should have taken eons just took a short seven days. For Novus Portus to become habitable for human and animal life (Itemsmith and Galvans had used the RAFian database for this, although they were only able to get around 822 different species.

It was only a matter of time before all assembled on Yarin's ship came out and stood on the new planet, their new home. Earth remade. Only the air was crisper and more pleasurable. The sea spray was cleaner and untouched by pollution. Cloak could tell that all the elements, all six of them, were pure and untainted.

"Welp," GH said, unshouldering his guitar, "I guess this is a prime time as any other for another rendition of --"

"Oh-ho-ho-ho, no," Saffa said, staring daggers at the Musician Supreme.

"What?" GH said, trying to sound innocent, but his mischievous , impish smile gave away the game. Even Leatherhead looked a little annoyed.

"You've been playing that stupid song for fifteen years!" she snarled, still daggers into GH. "On loop!"

GH never lost that puckish grin as Saffa chased him down, berating him for playing that song so constantly and insistently. Leatherhead watched this while shaking his head. The other RAFians weren't paying any attention, as Estelore was lowering the forum into Novus Portus's new waters and Cloak was making the new land reach up to greet the old.

"Nice to see that somethings never change," Parker noted

[Cloak]

Sorry for the delay, I got busy.

All titles subject to change.

Book MCDXIX (1,419): "Simplicity for Simplicity's Sake" -- The Simplicity compulsion is cast.

New chapter.

BOOK CLXXXVII:
DRYIN' UP
CHAPTER ONE:
The Wheel Alligator

Cloak was dispatched to a dinosaur-themed tank, which was rolling down the city block, crushing cars (on both sides of the roads) beneath its treads. But Cloak could see that it was intended to be some covert military vehicle . . . that had a dinosaur theme. Yeah. Real subtle.

And you'd think for being some sort of militaristic tank, that the internal security would be top-notch. However, cloak found it rather lacking, being able to steal into the main body of the tank without any real effort or interference or resistance of any kind. Cloak could have allowed that to make him ****y, but he was always a weary, paranoid sort.

From the first time he stepped foot on the metallic shell of the tank, his Metalsight immediately showed him the room that the fiend was in, sloshing some liquid of some kind. He could have been really polite and gone through the doors and corridors without any fuss.

But Cloak didn't find that he felt so accommodating. He used his mastery over metal to pretty much make a beeline for the room, only noticing some disembodied arms that looked like they belonged to some D-list, dinosaur-themed supervillain. Huh. Guess this wasn't a military vehicle at all.

The room that contained the fiend was boxy and about waist or so deep in some rust-colored chemical with the consistency and viscosity of oil. And yet, in some spots, it was deceptively deeper. Cloak contented himself to, via his Metal !astery to clint to the side of the wall, and n touch the stuff -- for all he knew it could have stained his clothing. It wasn't long before the fiend surfaced in it.

The fiend looked like an alligator that was a biped with a haunched over posture and what appeared to be buzzsaws at its shoulders, where it possessed human like arms which ended in five fingers, including an opposable thumb. It possessed one red eye and one black eye. It was about a foot shorter, giver or take an inch, than Cloak.

The minute it and Cloak locked eyes, the fiend vanished beneath the rust-colored goop, which sloshed and splashed with the movements of the tank. Then, from under this goop, the fiend launched a sawblade at Cloak, appearing from where it submerged. It travelled through the surface of the goop and up the wall and ceiling. As there was only one, it was easy enough to avoid. The second time was more randomized, but the ease of avoiding it did not change. This appeared to be its standard attack.

Then it emerged again, standing still. Then it sent four bouncing buzzsaws at Cloak, and his managed to dodge them using his feline agility. They were not metal, more like hard light constructs, so he could not manipulate them in that manner.

Then the fiend just opened his crocodilian mouth and just waited, as if Cloak would start firing things at it. It was crystal clear what it was trying to do -- eat whatever projectile Cloak threw. Possibly gaining temporary invincibility or shooting four projectiles at him or something. Cloak did not fall for this ploy, and the fiend submerged once more. Cloak did not like it when it did that -- as his Metalsight could not detect it when it did, simply because he wasn't touching the ground.

Cloak leaped to the wall opposite, landing with feline grace, adhering to the wall with his Metal Mastery. This caused the fiend leaped up from this liquid and grab him with its jaws. It missed, and slunk back down into the liquid.

It resurfaced soon after. Then it jumped briefly into the air, then spun itself toward the wall Cloak was on. It ripped into the metal, leaving a jagged spike there. And it was at th point that Cloak was getting annoyed.

Cloak began to relentlessly lash at it with golden-scarlet energy whips. He wouldn't allow it to submerge again. It was long before it was gone. And then Cloak went to deal with the tank itself -- intending to crush it into a metal cube the size of a PokeBlock. . . .

***

Demos called it a "hoiru arigeitsu", or something to that effect.

***

Malice was near panicking, due to her perceived loss of relevance. She was desperately trying to come up with a scheme -- but she had spent most of her plans already, and she was having "writer's block" so to speak.