Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

K, well, I didn't read the Totally Random Thoughts thread before this one.

Anyway, it's up.  More to come.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Clean Up Your Act

Back at RAF, the RAFians were receiving the video that Cloak was sending them.  It exonerated him, but some of the newer RAFians seemed to be dubious and doubtful about it.  The veterans took it as proof of Cloak's innocence, and took it to the mods -- who related that they were never gonna Ban Cloak.  He just assumed the worst.

Rotiart was still refuting it, and Parker and Blaze openly threatened him to quiet down.  They really have had enough of this tinhorn dictator-to-be.  They weren't the only ones to lay down the law, the mods, veterans and most yearlings (not all were present) did as well.

Rotiart continued to complain, and SuperNate then strode into view.  Music started to play as he sung:

"It's . . . show time.
Look what you done,
You've been a very bad RAFian, son!
Packing seven months of evil into every one!
Greed and vice --
A pack of cards and a pair of dice
Ain't goin' get you into RAFparadise!"

The song momentarily halted, while SuperNate said, "Get it?  'Pair of dice', 'paradise'."

Then he chuckled heartily as Rotiart grunted, "Huh?", after which the music picked up again.

"You're in a sad, sad, so sad
Really bad, makes me mad state,
Young friend.  Is this the end?
Oooooh-ooh!
I think it's time!"

Then the rest of the RAFians, the ones who supported Cloak, chimed in as a chorus:

"High time!
To clean up your act!"

Then SuperNate took center stage again, and really belted it out:

"If you don't, you're Banned,
And that's a fact!
Take a look and you'll see
The kind of RAFian you were born to be!"

The RAFian chorus piped up:

"Hey, hey, hey!
Clean up your act!"

SuperNate continued:

"You can be a leader, you can't be a saint,
You could a million things that obviously you ain't!
You're slipping and sliding, and soon you're gonna fall.
Being a jerk and outta luck, the writing's on the wall.
Now's the time!"

The RAFian chorus echoed:

"High time!
To clean up your act!"

Gaz stood up, and sang:

"Make amends for all those liberties you jacked."

SuperNate, continuing to make a musical scene out of this, continued:

"Listen close to what I say,
Every guy has his judgement day!"

The RAFian chorus felt a need to keep up with their say:

"Hey, hey, hey!
Clean up your act!"

SuperNate continued, swinging what appeared to be a pocket watch.

"When the music's over, when the show's through
You'll still have time to spend with Malice, that's who!
You're writing your own ticket, the script's in your hands!
Time to shine."

The RAFian Chorus added:

"Be divine!"

SuperNate continued:

"Work for those fans!
I think it's time."

The RAFian chorus added:

"High time!
To clean up your act!"

SuperNate proceeded:

"Search for that integrity you've lacked.
Change your ways, get a clue!
Those dirty, rotten things you do."

The RAFian Chorus emphasized this:

"P.U., P.U., P.U.!"

SuperNate stated:

"Now, it's time."

The RAFian Chorus added:

"High time."

Then SuperNate joined with the chorus and sang:

"To clean up your act."

SuperNate resumed the song solo:

"If you don't, you're banned
And that's a fact!
Have a heart, that's the key.
You'll be saved, you'll be free.
Take a look and you'll see
The kind of RAFian you were born to be!
Oooooh-weeee-oooooh-weeee!"

Then everyone sang:

"Clean . . . up . . . your . . .
Clean up your act!"

"Alright!  Alright!" Rotiart said.  "I will!  Just don't SING at me again!"

[Cloak]

FINAL chapter . . . of this book.  Probably a bit of a short one.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Rejoicing and the Library

Cloak returned, feeling foolish that he ever assumed the worst of the people who he's come to be friends with.  The reasons that he feels that RAF is more his home than the Nexus.  Cloak rejoiced at the return to the fold, and noticed that his return that his mark returned as well.  He was unaware that he lost it or that it broke.

Despite this happy greeting and joyous celebrations, Cloak was reserved.  Rotiart may have repented but Cloak was suspicious.  Abomination had mentioned a mole, and it was obvious that it was him.  It had to be.  Cloak didn't realized the possibility that he might be being narrow-minded, but he would learn the truth much, much later.

But he didn't want to put a damper on the party, nor cause anymore strife than Rotiart had.  But he could not let go the suspicion.  The link was severed before Abomination managed to ramble on about the mole.  Cloak would have to watch him. . . .

And Cloak could not help but wonder . . . wonder what Malice had planned next. . . . Cloak had no doubt that she was on to a new scheme.

***

Malice found something in this library that caused her great elation, even after Abomination blundered in, and started blubbering about ruining her plan, about Cloak tricking him into foiling it.  She looked up, thoroughly uninterested in what Abomination was going on about.

"What?" she queried.  Then she remembered.  "Oh, that.  Well, it happens.  In any case, I've conjured up a contingency plan.  I just need to find a book . . ."

". . . Don't . . . dontcha already have a book?"

"Not this book, silly boy!" Malice said, with a girlish giggle.  "A very special one."

"A . . . a special one, dear?"

"Yes, very much so." Malice said, closing the book she was browsing through, and stood up.  "The Book of the Bibliophaetos."

"Bib . . . bib-leo-fae-toes?" Abomination said, and looked like the effort cost him.

"Very good, dear!" Malice said, though Abomination missed the condescending tone.  He smiled stupidly, as Malice proceeded.  "That book has something in it that I require.  Things should get very . . . interesting, to say the least."

"Interesting?" Abomination said, as Malice gathered the few items she brought with her, and began to walk sedately to the exit.  He had to run to catch up with her when he realized that she was leaving.  "Interesting how?"

"Oh, you don't want me to ruin the surprise, now, do you?" she said, in a sultry tone that was condescending at the same time.  This was sufficient to confuse Abomination.  But he didn't say anything about it.

"Where is the book?" he asked.  Malice didn't answer.  "C'mon, where is it?"

"Follow me," she said.  It took a strength of will not to end that sentence with genius.

[Cloak]

Now, onto . . . what book is this?  Oh, yes . . .

BOOK XV:
The Book of Very Bad Things
Chapter One:
The Book of Grim*

Malice and Abomination had taken every book in the place down.  They weren't fool enough to look for it when there were other people in the store.  Abomination had trouble handling these books as swiftly or as delicately as Malice was capable of doing, because of his large, clumsy hands.  It didn't help that he was about as bright as a blown light bulb.

"Where is it . . . it's gotta be here somewhere. . . . Somewhere . . ." Malice was muttering as she searched, paying absolutely no mind to Abomination except when he dropped something to make a very audible THUD or CLUNK or WHUMPH, in which case she scolded and berrated him to be quiet, and he would apologize, afraid of losing his "girlfriend", whereas it was clear to everyone else, Abomination was just a henchman to her, though she strung him along because she found it amusing -- and Realm Walkers don't have television or radio programs.

Abomination accidently dropped a trunk and it's lid flew open.  Malice strode towards Abomination with liquid percision, fully intending on berrating the guy some more, when something caught her eye.  She lost all interest in Abomination, and seized at the trunk.  She burrowed through it like a mole or a Pokemon using Dig.  Then she let out a stifled whoop of laugher as she had the very book in her possession that she desired so much.

***

Later, at their hideout, Malice was placing a device on the book's cover.  It looked like a mechanical fusion of a tick and a spider, if it was pounded flat.  When it was secured firmly on it, Malice opened the book.  Right in the center a face with a pointed chin pushed itself out, as if the book was it's neck.  The face was female, with a passing resemblence to Asajj Ventress from Star Wars, and it was Maleficient green with bluish highlights.  Her eyes were closed, but within seconds of opening the book, she opened her eyes to reveal that they were the most putrid shade of purple imaginable.

"Wha . . . what's hap-pen-ing?" the spirit in the book said in stumbling tones.

"You're now under my control, Bibliophaetos," Malice said crisply.

"I serve . . . no . . . one!"

"That was then," Malice said, face devoid of expression, "this is now.  You shall obey my every command.  You shall do as I say."

The spirit struggled against herself, but in the end, fell to Malice's control device.  In a subdued, vaguely monotone voice, she said, "Yes, Mistress."

"Good, now, I'll shut the book --"

"No!" the spirit managed to shout before the control device squashed any and all rebellion.

"I'll shut the book and plant you in the Prime Universe.  You are to manipulate whoever finds you and opens you up." Malice said.  "You are to guide him or her to making a potion that will cause utter chaos, making the inhabitants of Earth act like complete jackanapes."

"Y-yes, Mistress."

Malice closed the book, and, with utmost elation, broke into song:

"I've been exiled, persucuted!
Left alone with no defense!
When I think of what that Cloak did,
I get a little TENSE.

But I dream a dream so pretty,
That I don't feel so depressed.
'Cause it soothes me uniquely,
And it helps me get some rest.

The sound of Cloak's dying gasp . . .
His neice squealing in my grasp . . .
The RAFians' mournful cry!
That's my lullaby!

Now, the past I've tried forgetting.
And my foe I could forgive.
Trouble is I know it's petty,
But I hate to let him LIVE!"

Then Abomination chimed in sycophantically:

"So, you found yourself somebody who'd chase Cloak up a tree?"

Malice continued, unclear of whether she heard Abomination or not.

"Oh, the battle may be bloody, but that kind of works for me.
The melody of angry growls . . .
A counterpoint of painful howls . . .
A symphony of death, oh my!
That's my lullaby!
The pounding of the drums of war!
The thrill of chaos's mighty roar!"

Abomination joined in, clearly trying to get on Malice's good side:

"The joy of vengeance!
Testify!"

Malice continued:

"I can hear the cheering.
Me-oh-my!
Payback time is nearing
And then my flag will fly
Against a blood-red sky!
That's my lullaby!"

Then she cracked up into laughing like Jafar on nitrous oxide.  Abomination half-heartedly joined in, unsure of whether he was supposed to or not.  It never occured to him that this might not be a healthy relationship.

Meanwhile, back at RAF, Cloak awoke from his thread with a chill going up and down his spine.  But he did not know why.

---
*Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know.  Lame, pathetic stab at a pun for the Brothers Grimm or whatever.

[Underseen]

I liked the pun :3

[Blazing Angel]

I'm gonna need a lot more pillows.

[Cloak]

Oooookay . . . Blaze . . .

Anyway, I was gonna post another chapter, but I'm tired, and, as such, it probably won't be up to my personal standard.  So, guess you'll have to wait until tomorrow.

*shakes his head*

Fifty-one pages, and 7,438 views?  And to think, I had thought of deleting this thread the week after I posted it. . . . (Blocky actually was the second post, and as such, spurred me on into not giving up on this thread, without even realizing it.)

[Blazing Angel]

Unfortunately, I seem to be naturally tolerant to narcotics*, and was unable to read fanfiction while 'loopy.' Now I'm sad.

*Resistant to the point that a girl who was done with her surgery before I even started only woke up ten minutes before me, and could barely stand while I was only a little wobbly.

[Cloak]

Well, surely now there's been enough time for you to read it.

CHAPTER TWO:
Innocence Lost

Back at the Malice hideout, she was placing the slumbering book atop a trunk filled with broken clutter, separated by a white sheet.  She did this assuming that some innocent person would get curious about the book and open it.  Then her plan would flow from there, and she was sure that the Bibliophaetos would not, could not, betray her or her intentions.

"There," she said, dusting off her hands.  "Now, Ab--er, dear," she said turning to Abomination, who seemed to miss what she nearly said, "I have a task for you."

"What is it, m'lady?" Abomination asked, stupidly, thinking it sounded chivalrous.

"I need you to lug this trunk to the Prime Universe." Malice said, noticing the slightest sag in Abomination's shoulders.  "Now, now.  Don't give me that.  It's just a small task."

Abomination give just the slightest hint of doubt at that statement.

"Just take it to the Prime Universe, it's not heavy," she continued, feigning ignorance at Abomination's tick of doubt on his face.  "Drop it off at a place where an innocent -- presumably a child -- would find it.  Then the book can manipulate that innocent into causing chaos.  Trust me, it'll be a gas!"

Abomination said nothing for a beat, then replied, "Yes, dear."

The Abomination realized that Malice was wrong (actually, she outright lied about the weight), and hoisted it onto his back.  Then he dived into the Prime Universe, and appeared beside what appeared to be some rundown, low-budget circus or amusement park.  He hefted the heavy trunk unto his back and walked, in a stooped way, towards the nearest dilapidated wagon-trailer thing.

It was there that he dropped the heavy object with a quite audible THUMPH and a bellowed oath, as a corner landed on his foot.  Subtlety was never Abomination's strong suit.  But he had Walked back to the Nexus before someone could see who was out here.  And someone did check.

He was a baggy-eyed, gangly, gaunt boy of fourteen or fifteen with a pointed nose and round ears, dressed in black slacks, black suspenders, and a white pinstriped shirt.  He saw the trunk, and called back into the trailer.

"Well, bring it, then, boy," a wheezy yet haughty voice said from within the trailer.

The boy struggled as he tried to carry the heavy thing in, but he managed with no outside help.  Inside, the haughty, wheezy voice is revealed to be long to a dumpy man with brown hair, a pencil-long nose, watery sunken eyes, tiny hands and feet, a wide waist, and a Wario moustache.  He was decked out as this place's resident magician.  The boy heaved and hoisted the trunk and headed for the back, but couldn't manage the entire way.  He tripped and fell, causing the trunk to fall open.

"Oh, look at what you've done, Harry!" the man said, reprovingly.  "There could have been nice things in there -- now it's all broken!"

"Sorry, Mr. Linguine."

That's right, the guy's name was Luigi Linguine -- but that was his ADOPTED name, his stage name, if you will.  His real name was Morton Ronalds, but that was a name he never liked for some reason.  He was, at best, a C-rank magician, but with an ego that far outweighed Dino at her true height and compacted height combined.

"Oh -- just clean up this mess," he said, waving his cartoony, white-gloved hands in an irritated manner.  "I'll be back when my show ends.  Have it done by then!"

Then he left.  Harry wore a very sour look on his face as he did what he was told.  He grumbled that he, Harry Nicolai, would make a far better magician than Linguine.  Then he spied the book . . . it was glowing a sickly yellowish-green for some reason.  His curiosity peaked, and he moved towards it.  Then he heard the book softly and enticingly saying his name, "Haaarrrrrry. . . . Haaarrrrrry. . . . Haaarrrrrry. . . ."

Feeling more curious than scared, he . . . opened the the book.  The Bibliophaetos relished being opened for a minute or two before opening her eyes.  She saw Harry, and she started to come up with a plan that the control unit on the book didn't prevent her from conjuring.  She sized and assessed how easy that Harry would be to manipulate and how tasty his soul would be to feed off of.

Harry, beaten down with feelings of worthlessness . . . yes, he would be a prime target, indeed. . . . And so, she begins to corrupt the boy, telling him things that he desperately desires to hear, and tells him that if he takes out Linguine that he, Harry, will take his place as magician. . . .

[Underseen]

A magician named Harry, why does that sound so familiar...

[Blazing Angel]

Perhaps the character from the mildly successful book, Harry Pothead?

[Cloak]

I was actually goin' for a Houdini reference, but . . .

I actually didn't base the story on this at all from Harry Potter . . . though I confess there might be some elements. . . . I based a majority of the plot off a movie that really drove the Nostalgia Critic batty . . .

CHAPTER THREE:
Tranquility Shattered

Cloak stood, once again atop his hill overlooking the form, but he had his hands balled into fists point at each other with his head bowed and eyes shut.  Then, in an instant, he stomped his foot, a ball of earth shot from the ground, and he punched so it flew forward.  Then he condensed it and extricated some metallic trash in it as the rest fell harmlessly into clumps of dirt a few feet away, but Cloak wasn't done practicing.  He condensed the metallic refuse into a mini-pie plate.  He turned and fired as stream of fire that dissipated without ill effect.  Then Cloak did a hand stand with one hand, and made sweeping movements with his legs, causing scimitars of air to fly from him, while still supporting his weight on that one hand.  Then he leaped down to his two feet, and pulled water from the air.  Then he caused it to circle around him, then he propelled it forward until it actually formed a cloud of it's own volition.  Then he grew an oak, an elm, a birch, a rowan and a juniper tree at the base of his hill, causing it to adjoin the nearby forest.

<Nice work,> Noelle commented quietly.

Cloak had Earthsighted her coming.  But he said nothing, he was just merely practicing his abilities, although he didn't really seem to use his energy offensively anymore.  He was really reliant on the elements, as he was not only their master but they were part of himself.

<Cloak,> Noelle said, voice of concern.  <You've been acting strangely.  You've become withdrawn, isolating yourself from everyone.>

Cloak still said nothing.

<Cloak, listen to me.  Not everyone believed Rotiart,> Noelle said, trying to talk sense into him.

"I know that, Noelle." Cloak said, voice hoarse due to lack of use recently.  "It . . . it has nothing to do with him."

<Then what does it have to do with, Cloak?>

"I felt something just last night.  A grave evil," Cloak explained, as he watched Russell train the new RAFians to the tune of "I'll Make a RAFian Outta You".  "I do not know what it is.  It isn't Malice, doesn't have the same vibe.  I had hoped I imagined it."

<How . . . how do you know you haven't?>

"FuBar, Bladeh, and even the new guy, Kern," Cloak said, looking very woebegone.  "They all felt it, too."

<They . . .>

"They're all cats, like me." Cloak said.  "We can feel evil's presence.  We're sensitive to it."

<I think I understand,> Noelle said delicately.  <But Cloak has any of these precognitive sensings be wrong?  Could it be just a bit too much gravy or something?>

Cloak didn't speak right away, he was thinking of how to word his next statement adequately.  "No, Noelle.  They've never been wrong."

<Sorry, I had to ask.> she said.  <But what good is being up here, sulking about it, gonna do?>

"Nothing," Cloak said, honestly. "But it's gonna happen, and when it happens I need to be prepared.  All of us need to be prepared.  I don't know what it is, but it's gonna be . . . really bad. . . ."

[Underseen]

Cats sensing evil... In my life Cats are evil.

[Blazing Angel]

You can practically hear the BUM BUM BUM coming

[Cloak]

Right.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Magical Fail

Harry was up in front of a meager crowd (barely any of the seats were filled, approximately six or seven percent, and that's being generous), all expecting to see the "Great Linguine"*, but instead see this nervously unsure kid wearing a black cape and top hat.  There was a small flurry of whispers of discontent.  Harry didn't care, he was living his dream.

What had happened to the "Great Linguine"?  No, Harry didn't kill him.  That would have let to a lot of awkward question and possible jail time for the youth.  No, Harry used the incantation that the Bibliophaetos gave him to put the rotund magician into an everlasting sleep.  Only, unlike Sleeping Beauty, it was very unlikely that someone would kiss the guy to wake him up.  he wasn't exactly a looker.

Anyway, Harry attempted a few magic tricks fumbling them all.  Which caused the assembled audience to laugh and jeer and sneer at him.  He was embarrassed and filled with rage.  This is exactly what the spirit of the book wanted.  She could feel his frustration, his embarrassment, his anger.  They were all so nourishing to her, so that she fed on them.  Becoming stronger.  She secretly hoped that it would make her strong enough to overcome Malice's control.  Maybe even strong enough to leave the paper prison which that fool trapped her in . . .

She cackled as a red energy pulsated from the book, and the people in audience sat frozen and silent for a moment, before turning on each other.  Yelling and fighting and acting like complete savages . . . she had turned them into MSN commenters (or, as the Nostalgia Critic would say, YouTube commenters).  At first, this was only regulated to this room, but soon it spread, like an airborne pandemic, with this practically abandoned amusement park or circus being ground zero.

It accelerated around globe, but RAF proves to be sufficiently shielded from it.  For the time being.

***

FuBar, Kern, and Blade passed out when the evil of uncaring and hatred swept around RAF.  It brought Cloak to his knees, which felt like jelly for a moment.  Even Faerie felt it, who dropped her axe.

"Cloak!" Aquilai cried, alarmed.  "What has happened?!"

"A great evil has spread across the land."  Cloak said.  "The worst plague to ever infect a sentient heart. . . ."

"What?" Underseen asked.

"He's talking about that magical red wave that passed us by," Faerie said, breathless from the strain.

"What was it?" Blaze asked confused.

"As I said, the worst plague," Cloak insisted.  "Hatred."

"Hatred?" Parker said, ever the skeptic.  "How can that be possible?"

"I don't have the answers," Faerie said, righting herself enough to secure her axe and check on FuBar, Bladeh, and Kern.  "But my guess is that red wave came from a very powerful magical source."

<Cloak, your premonitions.> Noelle pointed out.

"FuBar, Kern, and Bladeh have had them, too, Noelle," Cloak pointed out.

"What premonitions?" Parker said.  Then he remembered what Cloak had once told him about cats.  "You KNEW this was coming?"

"No," Cloak replied calmly.  "Just something bad was going to occur.  Why do you think I've been practicing so arduously?"

---
*That sounds like a Garfield joke, doesn't it?

[Blazing Angel]

Wait, so we went from one room in a run down circus, to the entire world? How angry was that kid?