Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Yep, there are people that abjectly refuse to believe things even when it smacks them in the face.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Reasoning With the Unreasonable

Wala fired her heat vision at Saffa, but Wala had hesitated too long. Saffa had suspected this move as soon as she spoke. So, Saffa had decided to morph a Crabdozer, a most wise choice, considering the beast fed on Pyronites. She had also lucked out that the first change was the rocky, craggy skin.

"Impossible!" the Kryptonian snarled.

<Just because you refuse to believe the truth, or your own eyes, does not mean that it is not possible.> Saffa retorted smugly, finishing her Crabdozer morph.

<Okay, I'm ready. Let's get this battle over with.> Abby said, easily shrugging of Jack-Yr's freeze breath in her Psycholepterran morph.

"Just answer me one thing," Parker said, addressing the Kryptonians, "if you succeeded, who would you be lord and master over if everyone's dead?"

"Irrelevant!" Jak-Yr said stubbornly, dodging Cloak's redirection of his own heat vision.

"I would think it highly relevent," Parker said, fighting in an almost casual, laidback way. He clearly considered these Kryptonians' mental instability a great weakness. "Considering the amount of trouble you two have gone through to see it through."

"Irrelevant!"

"Do you even know what that means?" Underseen asked. He had chosen a Panunsian form for this battle.

"Irrelevant!"

"Or maybe he like shouting 'irrelevant' at the top of his voice?" Yarin suggested with a shrug.

But then a distraction in the form of a commotion from the horde of robots cut off this rather irrelevant, irreverent conversation.

"What the --" Aquilai said.

But Cloak had a notion who was causing this distraction.

[redtailedsaffa]

Sounds like a Dalek who found a different word to yell.

[Cloak]

Right.

Hmmm . . . not even a question about the disturbance?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
A Bit of Levity

Suddenly, the horde of robots scattered enough to make out the source of the disturbance, and, somehow, Cloak wasn't surprised to see its source.

Upon one of the more bovine and equine robots was Shadow, riding it very much like a bucking bronco. All conversation ceased at this spectacle, while Shadow remained oblivious to the looks that she drew. She was just having too much fun.

"Wheee-HA!" she cried out cheerfully. Then she burst out in joyful laughter. But how could she know the serious situation that they were in? How could she know that with each rumble of the ship was because it was being rocked by temporal tears, chronal undulations, as time itself was begining to deteroriate ever so slowly. How could she be aware of the utter futility of their situation? How the Realm where Cloak had found were he truly belonged was about to be destroyed? All becuase of a doey-eyed couple of Krytonians, who thought they were Time Lords, sought to obtain something that did not exist at the End of Time? That would not listen to reason, labeling it all as irrelevant?

"Wheeeeeeee-HA!!"

Cloak found himself somewhat envious of that obliviousness.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . . aw, no more?"

The robot collapse to pieces beneath her. Shadow looked disappointed, pouting a little. Cloak did not question how she could find him so easily. She could always navigate the realms, as well as within the realm, beter than he could while Walking. She had a talent for it.

"So, what's up, Uncle?"

"Why did you come here, Shadow?" Cloak could not keep the weariness from battle from his voice.

"Practice was canceled, had no homework, and I got bored," she said, with a shrug. "So what's going on here?"

"Temporal armageddon."

"Cool."

Cloak scowled at this choice of words.

"What?"

[Cloak]

Okay, new chapter time now that my Kindle's finally decided to give me a cursor.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
It Begins . . .

Then all levity evaporated instantaneously as the ship rocked severely. The rocking was severe enough to knock everyone except the Kryptonians (who hovered), Abby (who was in Psycholeopterran morph, thus in the air), and the Realm Walkers (whose mastery over the Metal element allowed them to stick to the floor). Another violant vibration, smaller in intensity and power, rocked the ship a short while after, like an aftershock.

But the RAFians were not fooled. They knew that the worst was yet to come.

"It's nearly here!" Jak-Yr cried, rapturously.

"We will finally have what you've tried to deprive --"

"SILENCE, YOU VEIL-FORSAKEN IDIOT!!" Cloak roared, his body radiating a fiery, scarlet-gold aura. His eyes were suns of power. Yet, Cloak manqged to control himself somehow -- probably because of the presence of the other RAFians and Shadow. Moronic though they were, the Kryptonians couldn't help but recoil in fear somewhat. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE, DO YOU?! YOU, IN YOUR PANGENOCIDAL QUEST TO DESTROY ALL OF CREATION!!"

"Uncle . . ." Shadow said, placing her hand on him. At her touch, and feelt the others through his Mark, help calm his emotions that the fiery aura faded away, and his eyes resumed their normal amber appearance. But Cloak's breathing was still ragged and breathless.

"I cannot believe," Cloak said, as he felt another temporal shockwave as if the very universe was slapping him in the face with its death throes. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke, as if he was already grieving, "I cannot believe that two beings, despite how instable their mental states are, would be so selfish to have the gall bring about the End of Time, while simultaneously being so incredibly stupid to not realize that it would mean the destruction of everything that was born into the universe."

Cloak sunk to his knees. He continued, "I will not be destroyed, but forced to bear witness. Witness all that I've come to love and adore come to an abrupt and devastating end. I will . . . be alone again . . ."

Shadow pulled her uncle to her and attempted to comfort him . . . she had her mother's good heart, she always did. . . .

"Uncle, you won't be alone," she insisted.

But she didn't understand, he couldn't just go back to the Nexus. He was a joke there, a laughingstock. It was here at RAF that he had found kindred spirits, friends. . . . Family. And, now, because of the vain, greedy desires of a couple of idiots . . . it was moments away from being ripped away from him . . .

"Uncle, we can shield the ship." Shadow said.

"It won't work," he replied, unable to keep the defeat from his voice. "Even if it did, then what? We won't be able to keep it up forever."

"You don't know that, Uncle." she insisted, voice encouraging. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

[Cloak]

Well, here's the third -- third?-- chapter today. If I've the energy, you'll get a fourth.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Unraveling

The two Realm Walkers began to try and project their energy outside the ship. But it was slow, painfully slow. Cloak had tired from the battle -- tigers were not known for their endurance. One percent . . . two percent . . . three percent . . . five . . .

Even with Shadow's help, it was slow. She was not as practiced as Cloak with this kind of thing, though she keep up encouragement. She was always more optimistic than Cloak, who had been very much a doubter and pessimist for the bulk of his life. So it wasn't much of an effort to be more optimistic.

"No! You cannot do this!" Wala screamed like a madwoman.

The rest of the RAFians worked to subdue them, with Saffa snarling, <They're trying to save all of our lives, you giant-sized knucklehead!>

Whatever happened between them next, Cloak had blocked out. He had to focus, had to concentrate, had to ignore his multiplying doubts.

The shield had barely reached nineteen percent before it utterly shattered. The temporal death throes were getting strong, much stronger. Too much stronger.

The temporal distortation and dissolution had reached the ship's hull and all assembled watched as the ship's did not age to dust, but deaged into nothingness. It was horrible to witness, and that was an inanimate object. Then the Kryptonians, Shadow, and the RAFians were floating in a blank, white nothingness.

"Where is it? Where is the bloody Unimind?" Jak-Yr said, a slight ethereal echo to his voice.

"We keep telling you! It isn't here! It was never here!" Aquilai said, looking sick. It wasn't from what the Kryptonians, either. "What does it take for you to understand?"

"Lies . . .!" Wala said. She sounded weaker too.

"Use your eyes, fool. It isn't here. Everyone is gone, never existed." Saffa said. There was pain in her voice, not all physical pain.

The Dwellers were dying, temporally dying. Their bodies deaging, but minds remaining as sharp as ever. There was nothing Cloak or Shadow could do to stop it. They didn't have the kind of power it required. Cloak was distinctly aggrieved.

"Guys . . ." he said, he was on his knees, as if to beg their forgiveness. ". . . Guys . . . I'm sorry. . . ."

"Don't blame yourself, Cloak. You tried so hard to prevent this," Underseen said.

Then they were gone. Cloak bowed his head, and said angrily to himself, "Not hard enough."

[Cloak]

Now, the final chapter of the night, methinks.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
The Stranger

Cloak broke down and sobbed unabashedly. His tears did not sear or scortch anything, as there was no longer anything to sear or scortch in existence any longer. Shadow tried futilely to soothe her uncle's palpable grief and misery. But it was a small comfort if anything.

"Why do you fret?" came a voice. It was male, and like Drake Bell, Josh Peck, or Ross Lynch, but a singular voice. "Why do you cry?"

Cloak could not bring himself to look up. It was just a delusion, an illusion from his grief-addled mind. It couldn't be real. The Prime Universe was no more -- as was all universes spun from it. Alll gone. His home was taken from him a second time.

"Why do you despair so?"

"The universe has been destroyed," Shadow had spoken, but she had not addressed her uncle. That was clear. "We had friends who died when time unraveled."

Cloak looked up, and was surprised that he could get vertical. He looked at the stranger and was surprised greatly. It was as if the cosmos was printed on his skin, with stars and starburst patterns adorning it, with his hand tips and fingers in white. He had yellow eyes without pupils, a narrow jawline (yet no jaws or mouth to speak of), and three stylish horns upon his head. He was about Cloak's height, give or take an inch. But Cloak knew he could be any size he wished.

"You're a Celestialsapian." Cloak said, immediately recognizing that this stranger's species.

The Celestialsapien, instead of being imperious and arrogant as one may expect -- or being useless and trapped in eternal, circular debates like others of his kind, he shrunk back as if he was afraid of reprisals. Cloak did not really expect this, as the Celestialsapiens were the ones who forbid any Realm Walker from crossing into the Forge of Creation -- the Celestialsapien birthplace. They were long-lived, even moreso than Realm Walkers, though the Realm Walkers were the elder species.

"Forgive me," he apologized respectfully. Cloak eyed perplexedly. He was speaking with a single voice. When Celestialsapiens reached his age, they had two distinct, unique personalities. This was a handicap usually, because it prevented them from really doing anything, as both personalities are required to agree before any action is done. Most, if not all, are inactive, locked in debate. "Forgive me, Realm Walker, but I heard your sobs and . . . and I . . . I was curious."

Though different Cloak began to see real similarity between the Celestialsapien and himself. The deferential, timid way of speaking . . . it was the same manner of speaking that he used whenever he spoke to his mother. Back before . . .

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded," he said quickly, and was preparing to turn to leave. He was a pacifist at heart . . . Cloak found another kindred spirit.

"Wait," he said. "You're different."

The Celestialsapien winced, as if it was painful being called that. "I am. I was . . . malformed. I have only one personality. I'm . . ."

"An outcast." Cloak finished. "Like me. Like . . ."

Cloak looked away, mourning his RAFian brethren. He was the last RAFian.

"Can I help?"

[redtailedsaffa]

Whoa, three chapters. And they're full of feels. :'(

[Cloak]

Four, actually. Got a slow start today. Damn Comporium.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Too Good to Be True

"I don't really see how," Shadow said, hesitating because she didn't know his name. "Uh, what is your name? I'm Shadow and this my uncle, Cloak."

The Celestialsapian hesitated for a moment, before saying, in a quiet, thoughful tone, "Call me . . . Anomaly."

Cloak noted a tone of self-loathing in Anomaly's voice. Cloak blinked in surprise. Anomaly was him in Celestialsapian skin, they were so similar.

"Well then, Anomaly," Shadow said, rather gentlely, "I don't see how you can help. There's . . . there's nothing here anymore."

"Yes, that is true," Anomaly said, "there is nothing here for the moment."

Shadow's eyes widened, while Cloak looked unsurprised, but his face clearly showed that he daren't hope, for fear of getting his hopes up too high.

Shadow said, "What do you mean, 'for the moment,' Anomaly?"

"He means," Cloak said, as Anomaly looked a little churlish and mollified at the attention. He was quite passive and a pacifist by nature. "He means that Celestialsapians can remake and reshape universes. Usually it is required by both personalities to agree."

"And it can be remanded by others of my kind," Anomaly put in rather timidly.

Cloak heaved a heavy sigh, and said, "As much as I want to ask you do it Anomaly, I cannot request -- I cannot in good conscious make such a demand from you. You could get in great trouble with your people."

"Why, Uncle?"

"I am not Malice. I am not my . . . never mind." Cloak said, with a hard-edged tone, "I do not use people and throw them away."

"But it would make you happy, right, Mr. Cloak?"

"You do not have to be so formal with me, Anomaly," Cloak said, in what he hoped was a friendly way. "And yes. It would bring me great joy."

He looked directly at his new forbidden friend, "But Anomaly, I cannot ask you to go against the rules of your kind. Besides, Jak-Yr and Wala will nust repeat the process again."

"I do not understand." Anomaly said.

Shadow and Cloak regaled Anomaly the events of the Time War and everything, in a somber and sober way. And here's the thing about Celestialsapians, there faces are completely inscrutable, and it is impossible to tell what they are thinking.

[Cloak]

Another chapter. Probably the last tonight.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Return What Once Was

"So, Anomaly," Cloak said, in summation, "even if you undid what the two Kryptonians endeavored so hard to accomplish their shortsighted goal, nothing would change. They'll just do it again, refusing to believe this would happen again."

"Yes, I can see that, Friend Cloak," Anomaly said, still quite formal. "But if one thing is altered, none of this would happen."

"Editing Jak-Yr and Wala out of existance? Isn't that a bit . . . extreme?" Shadow said impetuously.

"That would not be necessary, Young Friend Shadow." Anomaly said.

"Editing their personal histories?" Cloak guessed. "They wouldn't be the same people then, I suppose."

"I don't have that fine of control over my powers," Anomaly said, as if he was confessing a humiliating secret. "But the object of their desire . . . the Unimind. That could be deleted."

"But . . . the microhominiverde need that."

"It was a crutch," Anomaly pointed out. "They can survive without it -- I can tweak that. Eliminate the object of desire, elimate the annihilation lust."

Anomaly held out his hand and he trailed in a counterclockwise circle, a perfect circle. A geometric circle remained frozen in reality. Anomaly said, with an ethereal tone, "Motion carried."

Then before their eyes the realm, the universe was remaking itself, applying the changes Anomaly proposed. Everything was coming back . . . Cloak's heart raced, he daren't believe it. His home was returning, but yet . . . there was a bittersweet element to it. With the realm restored, Cloak was not allowed into the Forge of Creation, and Celestialsapians rarely, if ever, left their birthplace.

"Shadow, we must never speak of these events again." Cloak said.

"But why?"

"We will never be believed," Cloak elaborated. "Some Realm Walkers might believe, but few would care. Most only Walk as a novelty, before boring of it."

Cloak turned to his neice, "Now. Have you finished all your homework?"

"Uh . . ."

Cloak sighed, somewhat amused, "That would be a 'no', I take it?"

Shadow Walked home without another word, leaving Cloak to chuckle, "Kids."

Cloak looked around, taking it all in. He was in RAF again. He was finally home again. Unaware if he could hear him or not, Cloak said, quietly, "Thank you, Anomaly."

[Cloak]

Let's finish up this book, shall we?

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Cloak's Forgotten Hope

With everything back to normal, Cloak relaxed. His stress level lowered considerably. No one remembered the Time War, or the Unimind debacle. Cloak was content, yet there was a sadness to this happiness.

Anomaly was a hood friend, and Cloak hoped he knew it. But what was troubling Cloak this day was a hope he had forgotten, yet one he had desired.

***

He was dreaming, and Anomaly was there, but he was unrestrained, and free to be his lovable, zany self. So was his father, Brute. But he was not the demonic form Cloak had expected. It was what his mother led him to believe about his father. He was really a boarhound form, his father's true form. Seing him as a demon must have been a psychosomatic thing.

"Dad . . ." Cloak was saying. "Dad, I'm . . . sorry."

"Sorry?" he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Cloak could see the traces of pain his mother inflicted on him. She had after all made their son hate him. Something the son felt very contrite over, and he told him so.

"Sorry, for believing every Gateburst thing she told me about you," Cloak burst out, giving voice to the guklt he had buried so very deeply. "For believing her lies and half-truths. For believing that . . . that you never loved me."

"How could I never love you? You're my son. My firstborn."

They embraced, and Anomaly, timing it perfectly, said, "Enough with this dark past, let's crank out somwthing a little new."

Then he sang:

"It's a big, bright, beautiful future.
Thank your lucky stars you're alive!
You got someone special to talk to.
A friend that you can trust for life.
You've been on your own with no family ties,
But those solo days are done.
You'll be two of a kind,
Spending quality time,
Together -- as father and son.
Buildin' model ships,
Takin' fishin' trips.
Workin' hand in hand,
Painting the fourm, walkin' through the sand!
First at ten to go,
With your daddy-o!
Once you break the ice,
You can postulate paternal advice.
See, you're traveling at the speed of life.
That's the theory of relatives!
It's a fine, fantabulous future!
I see fruit on the family tree.
You'll be great as a grumpy ol' grandpa!
Bouncing babies on your knee!
You can fall asleep on the comfy couch,
After playin' one-on-one.
Dreamin' back-to-back,
That cha wallop the Shaq,
Together -- as father and son!"

Brute sang:

"May be a bumpy ride."

Cloak added:

"We'll make it side by side."

"Good afternoon, I'll be your travel guide!
Move over, Cloak,
Make room for the bloke!
You got a whole new shoulder to cry on!
Take a chance now, give it a spin.
You've had chums for palin' around with,
But you never had a friend like him!
Put your checkered past behind you now,
Those painful days are forever done.
Face the big, bright, beautiful future,
Together, together, together, together -- as father and son!

It was a dream, but it reflected a desire Cloak had forgotten.

[redtailedsaffa]

The Celestialsapien made me feel very light-headed, somehow.

Also, PDF.

[DinosaurNothlit]

I like that guy.  Very interesting character.  Hoping we see him again sometime?

I also find it interesting that you've decided to call this incident the Time War.  Heh, it's really quite similar to another war of the same name . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter in a bit.

I like that guy.  Very interesting character.  Hoping we see him again sometime?

Oh, not for a while . . .

I also find it interesting that you've decided to call this incident the Time War.  Heh, it's really quite similar to another war of the same name . . .

It was actually named after a Ben 10 event. Which coincidentally was itself named after the event to which I presume you are referencing.

BOOK LVIII:
Haematomimic
CHAPTER ONE:
Stop Forwarding That Crap to Me

Saffa was sitting her room, looking at the ceiling exasperatedly, having just finished reading her e-mail from a fellow student at her university. She sighed, and sang quietly to herself:

"Oh, the sand keeps fallin' through the hourglass
And there's no way you're gonna slow it down.
They say we gotta treasure each moment,
Who knows how long we're gonna be around?
Yeah, they keep on tellin' us life is short
And it's hard to disagree with what they say.
But, if time is so precious, why're you wastin' my time?
'Coz I'm always reading, always deleting
Every useless piece of manure that you send my way.
Every inane hoax, all those rude jokes.
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Well, I don't need tons of flinch-inducing puns.
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
You're sendin' virus-laden, bandwidth-clogging attachments
To every single student you know.
You're passin' around a link to some pointless thing on YouTube
That everybody saw thirteen years ago.
And moronic, poorly-Photoshopped photographs
Were never that amusing to me.
And I just can't believe you believe those urban legends
But I have high hopes someone'll point you toward Snopes
And debunk that insane junk you're spewing constantly!
No, I don't want a bowl of tomato soup for the soul.
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Send more Top 10 lists and I'll slash your wrists!
PLEASE stop forwarding that crap to me.
Well, I'm sorry, I won't accept your paranoid rant
And we don't need the dragon-liver cookie recipe.
Won't you kindly refrain,
'Coz it's harming my brain.
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Like glittery tarts and bicorns.
And bad pictures of FuBar cat.
Now, tell me, in what alternate reality
Would we care about something like that?
And, BTW, your quotes from CloakedFigure aren't really CloakedFigure!
Mr. Guy never fought the Vietcong!
And Queen's never gonna give me somethin' for nuttin'.
And I highly doubt some dead girl's gonna slay me if I don't pass your spam along!
Now, you're wishin' I'll sign that Mallorian petition.
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
And we don't wanna read your series of nutty conspiracy theories,
Just stop forwarding that crap to me.
And your two trillion viruses all have our address now.
'Coz you never figured out the way to bcc:!
Now, I've gotta insist . . . take us off your list!
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . .
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . .
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . Just stop it now!
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . Oh no, ohh!
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . I can't take it.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . Aw, please!
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . You gotta stop!
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . Right now!
Stop forwarding that crap to me.
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . . I'm not kidding!
Stop forwarding that crap to me. . . .
At the risk of being a bit repetitious,
Gonna ask you to stop!
Stop  . . sendin' me that crap!
I don't want it!
Don't send it to them, don't send it to me,
Stop forwarding that crap to me . . . Just stop!
Stop forwarding that crap to me!
To me . . .
Ahhhhhhh . . ."

POUND! POUND! POUND!

A roommate complaining about the noise. Saffa was impatient, so she left, muttering that maybe something interesting, like the world in peril again, would happen.

[redtailedsaffa]

I thought it was the same Time War Dino was referencing, so I got quite confused.

Also, this actually happened - I was singing and my roommates WEREN'T EVEN STUDYING and they told me to shut up. I'm so taking a single room next year.

[Cloak]

Huh. Talk about serendipity. Anyway, I'm currently planning the chapters and developing Book CCLXXV ("What's In A Name"), and I have several more book ideas. Hopefully none have been rehashed.

• BOOK CCLXXXIII: "Polyjuice On The Loose" -- The RAFians must deal with black market Polyjuice Potions.
• BOOK CCLXXXIV: "Mystery, Incorporeals" -- The Realm Walkers must deal with incorporeal creatures of legend with a serious superiority complex.
• BOOK CCLXXXV: "The Attack of the Hydropithecus" -- The RAFians are vexxed by an "Aqua Ape".
• BOOK CCLXXXVI: "Incorporeal Child" -- The RAFians must intervine after discovering an Incorporeal child has been forcing a town underaged into a perverse game of hide and seek.

All titles are subjected to change. Don't think I redid any plots.

CHAPTER TWO:
A New Arrival

A junky spacecraft hurtled to Earth. It lacked any sensor dampeners, weaponry, or Z-space transponders. It was an rickety piece of junk that was miraculously held together. When it breached Earth's airspace, Yarin noticed the sensor readings detailing the incursion. He had a mental battle of ethics, on whether or not to report this.

Always the prudent RAFian, and remembering the scandal of his rebuilding the F.Y.I., he decided it would be best for everyone to report it. They'll just send out a small investigative team, but it was probably nothing. Just the odd meteorite that evaporates in the atmosphere and never makes landfall.

But . . . it wouldn't do to keep the others in the dark. No, they must be notified.

***

"What was that?" a father of three said. He and his wife had taken their children camping. It was the perfect night for it, too -- mild and windless. The moon was bright but waning, so that it was like a lit sickle light.

"A spaceship!" a boy of about seven exlaimed.

"Don't be silly, dear," the mother said. "There are no unregulated landfalls."

Yeah -- aliens were well known, but some still sought to disguise themselves as humans. Some from species envy, some from loathing their own species.

"How can you be sure of that, Mom?" said the eldest daughter, fifteen. "The government isn't foolproof."

After that, the conversation soon devolved to screams as all five were quickly slain, bodies sucked dry as if they were CapriSun pouches. The campfire wavered and flickered and wobbled, unconcerned and indifferent to the screams of terror.

Then all was silence. Unsettling silence.

Then the foot of a barefoot twelve-year-old girl came into the light. Her sandy hair blowing in the sudden chilling wind. Her eyes were hard and dead. It was a disturbing sight, an unnerving image. It was obvious that the creature who slaughtered this family was merely affecting the girl's form to disguise itself amongst humans. . . .