Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Yep. And there are still books darker than that . . . somewhat.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TEN:
The Toxin

"What is wrong with you two?" Parker said, when he had to stop Faerie and Underseen from going off on a couple of punk kids. The teenagers foolishly thought that they could walk up and kick the two in the shins, and get away with it.

"Going off" was probably a rather generous term for it. They were going to kill the kids, who quickly backed away and backed off when they saw the intensity of the reaction. Parker could barely hold them back.

"Let go, SPARTAN!!" Faerie snarled. "Let me go!! I'm gonna give those little bastards what they deserve!!"

"WE do not do that!!" Parker countered. "You know this!"

"Well, it's about time that we do, SPARTAN!!" Underseen said, angrier than anyone has ever seen him be. "It's about time we stop putting up with this crap. It's about time we take the battle to them!"

"Them?" Parker said, rationally. "They're children!! Snot-nosed, yes, admittingly. But still children!!"

"Doesn't matter!!" both roared angrily. They struggled even harder against Parker's restraints. "Doesn't matter!! They die!! They die!!"

Parker was aghast at this radically uncharacteristic behavior. This was completely out of character. Neither one was this mindlessly violent and . . .

Wait. Of course.

"Tyr, the chemical that sprayed us," Parker said, "what was it?"

Tyr didn't reply.

"C'mon, Tyr!! I don't have time for the silent treatment, okay?!"

Silence.

"Okay, okay, okay!!" Parker snarled, as the other two resisted against the restraints harder. "I'm sorry, Tyr. I'm sorry! There. Happy? . . . That was uncalled for. . . . We are kind of pressed for time here, Tyr. . . ."

Silence.

"Don't be so petty!" Parker chastised.

Silence.

"I'm gonna purge you from my systems," Parker threatened. "Don't think that I can't".

Parker was momentarily distracted when Fair managed to get a wing and arm free. It took some time before Parker could re-restrain her. He was frankly amazed that the same kind of restraint worked on Underseen. He was sure that was because Underseen simply hadn't thought about shapeshifting his way out -- being too overcome with hostility and anger, all and any fear forgotten.

"An iragenesis toxin?" Parker spoke aloud. It was easier to think aloud with the effort of keeping the two RAFians from killing the punk kids. "A Rachel toxin, as it were."

He thought, but he was exhausted.

"What are the eventual effects, Tyr?"

Silence.

"That's . . . not good."

[Cloak]

New, possibly short, chapter.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Jeb's Fate

Cloak was watching over Jeb's progress -- or lack thereof. He was no longer ambulatory, and he seemed to get weaker and weaker all the time. The nurses and C.N.A.s charged with taking care of him, despite not showing it outwardly, were not very fond with this particular patient. It wasn't through any real fault of his own, though, but he was a rather difficult patient -- hostile, abusive, and stubborn.

Cloak couldn't help but feel at least a bit sympathetic to their plight, and he knew it wasn't really Jeb's fault either. It was the result of whatever substance that still held its sway over him. And the substance was defined as being iragenetic -- anger-generating -- in nature.

It was informally called a Rachel toxin, after the Animorph in that book series that may have been a memoir or a work of fiction. Cloak never really looked much into that since coming to RAF, but that's not the matter than needed attention right now.

Cloak really didn't like the deterioration that this toxin seemed to wreak. And Jeb was only a single human. Cloak was not sure if it would affect all species -- and he included his own in this. He had never came upon a Rachel toxin.

Then Jeb became obligatorily bedridden. The Rachel toxin had taken that much from him. He had practically zero energy. Even someone who's species dies rather starkly differently than humans, Cloak could recognize that Jeb was dying. He could plainly see that it was a slow, painful death.

And there was nothing Cloak could do to stop it. Of all Cloak's abilities . . . healing wasn't one of them . . . Kelly and Yunyun both tried to stem the toxin with their healing abilities. But he wouldn't let them get close enough. Even in this practically prone state.

Cloak knew that if something wasn't done soon . . . if something wasn't done soon, Jeb would die. And he would not be in his right mind. One might say that it would be showing him mercy if they spare him this pain. But even if they did -- he wouldn't allow anyone to get close.

There wasn't anything anyone could do. Jeb was too far gone. There was no cure . . . for the moment. The RAFians had Aquilai, Goom, and Yarin working on a cure. The question was if it would be in time to save Jeb . . . and any others possibly afflicted.

***

When Cloak recieved news that Faerie and Underseen was infected, and related the information he had to Parker, he also recieved some more dire news.

Jeb had died mere moments before.

[redtailedsaffa]

Oh god, edge of my seat.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Crowe Consternation

"Albert! Get your butt in here, you stupid waste of space!" Crowe said, in ringing tones.

Albert abided, and entered the room. In his underwear and baby-blue undershirt. Crowe wanted to make sure that Albert would not try to infect him with his little concoction. The humiliation was a bonus, and perhaps this would make Crowe's point stick this time.

Albert did not speak. He knew that he was in deep trouble. Hutch Crowe doesn't make a point to make pointless meetings just to scare and intimidate his underlings. He sends his minions to do that. It was bad that he wanted to talk to Albert in person. In the dead of the night. When Albert was alone.

"I'm not happy, Bertie," Crowe said, rotund belly obvious. He seemed calm and composed, and Albert seemed to take a miniscule comfort in that fact. "Not. Happy."

"I haven't done anything --"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU TO SPEAK!!" Crowe snapped, before returning to his composed state with disturbing and unnerving swiftness. "You have too much faith in your stupid little bile concoction. I cannot tell if you're careless or just plain stupid."

"I'm not --"

"DID I TELL YOU TO SPEAK?!"

"It's just --"

"DO NOT SPEAK UNTIL I GRANT YOU PERMISSION, WORM!!"

Albert fell silent. He wasn't going to be able to defend himself, to explain his actions. It would be pointless, anyway. Crowe wasn't interested in hearing explanations. There was only one possible conclusion for this meeting. Albert knew what it was. He could do nothing but accept.

"That's better, Bertie," Crowe said. "You have not done what I asked of you last we spoke."

Albert kept his face blank, despite the conflicting emotions deep within -- fear, anger and rage, positon jealously, and more.

"You have not done anything I so nicely asked of you," Crowe repeated. "You continued to work on your pet project that very nearly got us noticed by the RAFians, the fly in our collective ointment. Our arch-rivals*."

Albert wished that Crowe would just get on with it.

"And," Crowe said, "then you lead them right to our hideout."

"I sprayed them!" Albert protested. He couldn't help himself. "They haven't any fear now!"

"And you think that that's a good thing?" Crowe countered just as easily. "You have two RAFians that have no fear -- of anything, mind you -- and they are free to go on a warpath? You have unleashed a plague on us -- all of us -- and you don't even realize it!!"

"How do you even know that it was two RAFians?" Albert countered.

"Do you think that I don't have all lower-ranking members of this cartel under surveillance?" Crowe snapped. "Why do you think that there have been no rats here as of yet? Just how do think we managed to stay under the radar for so long?"

Albert had nothing to say to that.

"And then you," Crowe said, genuine anger showing through, "you, a pathetic little maggot who knows NOTHING, shows up thinking you know it all. Thinking that we actually need advertising. Advertising! Seriously!"

Albert began to feel anger lick at his insides. This was already humilating. Crowe didn't have to pile more on.

"You get careless, and not only let the RAFians bumble right to our doorstep, but you actually got some useless rugrat to do it for you, and she was a bigger disappointment than YOU are."

Albert clenched his teeth, and began to grind them.

"But I've had enough with your antics, Bertie," Crowe said, in summation, "good-bye."

A gunshot shattered the brief silence.


*And, yet, we didn't know about them, not really, before this.

[redtailedsaffa]

So that footnote could be foreshadowing?

[Cloak]

As a good friend of mine from high school (name of Clint) once said:

"Maaaaaaybe."

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
The Cure

"Dah!" Aquilai cried out, frustatedly.

There recent concoction to reverse the toxin symptoms or render it inert proved inefficacious on both counts. The RAFian trio had tried several over the past few hours -- days, really -- and none had remotely any effect. It was an exercise in frustrated futility, it seemed. They had become so confident whenever such a thing came along, that they'd be able to cure it after a few tries.

This was taking more than a few tries. Even more than the whole thing with the Arachnoids (though don't ever bring it up with the three, it's kind of a sticking point). The three were equally frustrated, because nothing was working. Nothing. The toxin appeared to be with no cure.

But the three were agreed on this. There was no such thing as a toxin, as a disease, without a cure. Every toxin, every disease, has a cure. The ones that don't have one known was just because it hadn't been discovered yet.

They just hadn't discovered it yet. But they would. They must. . . .

"Wait a minute . . ." Yarin said, narrowing all six of his eyes. "I know I've seen a similar chemical structure to this toxin . . ."

"There could be a variety of chemicals with similar structures," Goom said. "Similar structures, but disseparate properties."

"Name four," Yarin said, obstinately.

"Not the point," Aquilai said, brusquely. "The fact of the matter is that we haven't discovered anything that could work. Only Kelly had marginal success with her healing ability, and we already discovered that anyone infected with this toxin wouldn't let Kelly close enough to allow her to use her ability on them."

"Not to mention that she cannot heal the psychological aspects of the infection," Goom pointed out. "She can only heal physical damage."

"Fine," Yarin conceded. Suddenly, all six eyes snapped open and wide -- a sudden realization. He snapped his fingers on both right hands. "The Joker Gas!"

***

"Please tell me that they know how to cure this," Parker said, completely worn and woebegone. "It was difficult enough to bring them back here."

"They're working on it, Parker," Helen said, soothingly. "They will come up with the cure, dear. They always do."

"That's what worries me," the SPARTAN muttered.

"What d'you mean, honey?" Helen said at once. Parker's reaction was not one that she expected.

"They've been successful, thus far," Parker said, "but no one's perfect. There will come one case where they are unable to find a cure."

"That was the Arachnoids, dear," Helen said.

"I suppose," Parker said, looking really weary. "It's still a lot of pressure to put on three guys -- they do the work of an entire laboratory of scientists."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Helen pointed out.

"Perhaps," the SPARTAN said, almost fretfully. "But I do think we expect rather a lot from them. Sure, they're our version of Donatello, of Forge, of Q --"

"I get the point, dear."

"Anyway, at the end of the day, they're still just three guys. It's a lot to put on their shoulders. . . ."

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
The Raven

Hutch Crowe, satisfied that he disposed of that filthy idiot, had decided to go ahead and have his dinner in his office. He decided that he would have a big plate of baked spaghetti, and he had it delivered to him by an underling that was fanatically devoted to him.

It was a bit arrogant of him, of course. Probably a bit on the stupid and careless side, as well. He was just that confidant in his power, his clout.

The pasta steamed a bit as he removed the cover, and the smell alone was tantalizing. His mouth watered a bit -- he hadn't really eaten anything all day. His stomach rumbled impatiently.

He sat down heavily behind his desk, as the rain pattered in the window behind him, almost as if the clouds were deadly assassins trying to kill him with raindrops. His comfortable winged-backed chair creaked under his considerable weight.

He lift his fork . . .

"Once upon a midnight dreary . . ." intoned a mysterious voice.

"What the h--?"

". . .while he pondered, weak and weary, . . ."

Crowe set down his fork in his spaghetti, with his stomach rumbling mutiniously at this action.

". . . Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten bores . . ."

"What are you --"

". . . While he nodded, nearly napping, . . ."

"Wait," he said, suddenly realizing that this voice was not familiar. "Who are you?"

". . . Suddenly, there came a tapping. . . ."

A low, but irritating tapping was sounded. Hutch wasn't pleased. He was annoyed.

"I asked you a question, intruder!" Hutch said, in ringing tones. "I expect an answer!"

". . . As if someone gently rapping, . . ."

"Don't you ignore me!!" Hutch raged, leaping to his feet, as the tapping was altered into a gentle rapping. This action upset the plate of spaghetti on the desk, causing it to tumble, forgotten, to the floor. "Don't you DARE ignore me!!"

". . . Rapping at his chamber door. . . ."

"You stop that, and answer me!" Hutch roared. "You hear me, you impudent, interloping intruder!"

". . . ''Tis some visitor,' he muttered, . . ."

"I said no such thing!! YOU ANSWER ME!!"

". . . 'Tapping at my chamber door -- . . ."

"Stop speaking in that drivel and ANSWER ME." he snarled. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

". . . 'Only this, and . . ."

"Will stop speaking in that stupid poem, and ANSWER ME!!" he said, almost equalling a Vegeta rage.

"Nothing more." said the cloaked figure that seemed to be born from the shadows right behind Hutch. . . .

[guitarhero01234]

Holy crap, this is getting real. I really need to stop missing chapters.

[redtailedsaffa]

SHE'S BAAAAAAACK

[Cloak]

There's at least one every day, GH.

And, Saffa, are you so sure about that? 

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Blubberin' Butterball

"Don't you dare sneak up behind me!" Hutch said, turning around. He wasn't very athletic.

The hooded, cloaked figure did not answer, but loomed up as if he was death himself. The figure said nothing, but moved with slow deliberation and careful purpose. Though Hutch would deny this profusely, with violent abandon, he was intimidated. He was afraid, too, though he would deny it.

He was starting to worry that this figure might not just be a representative of death, but actually be death itself. It would not be surprising considering just how round he was around the middle. His heart must have been stretched to nearly breaking point, as is. He huffed and puffed when he had to walk from his makeshift office to his car -- it didn't take much for him to get out of breath.

Hutch, despite any and all outward appearances, was really a coward and a bully at heart. He didn't care for the welfare of those beneath him in the strict cartel hierarchy, but considered his own welfare paramount to anything else. He wasn't a welcomed personality, with a likeability factor of 0. They only put up with out of fear of retribution, fear upon penalty of pain and death.

Whether he really believed that he was a beloved leader (which he was -- to only the pathological devoted, that is), when, in reality, he was really nothing more than overgrown playground bully who never matured into something respectable (and never learned to say no to a powdered donut), though he tried to affect the appearance of respectability.

"Answer me," Hutch said, unable to hold on to his indignant anger. The looming figure stood eight feet tall, which was a full two and a half feet taller than the rotund bully. "Answer me, I say."

The figure said nothing.

"Answer me."

Nothing.

"Answer me . . ."

Silence.

"Please?"

Silence, but the intimidation factor seemed to increase.

"Pretty please?"

"Hutch Crowe," Cloak said, "I think 'Blubberin' Butterball' would be a more accurate name. But I digress"

"What?"

"You are the source of the Rachel toxin," Cloak accused coolly. "Head of a black market cartel."

"So?" he had managed to get belligerent again.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" Cloak said, calmly.

"Some idiot in a cloak," Hutch said, returning to his normal manner. Apparently, now that Cloak had spoke. Hutch had moved to clean up his spaghetti from the floor, considering still eating it. "Now, get out."

"You have no idea with who you're dealing with, do you?" Cloak said, actually smiling inwardly.

"A pathetic little man who thinks that he's scary," Hutch counters.

Cloak narrowed his eyes and gave a knowing smile. He knew the precisely the kind of man that Hutch was now.

"No, Butterball," Cloak said, calmly. "I am a RAFian."

The wave of fear flooded through Hutch again. He thought he wasn't showing it, but Cloak wasn't so easily fooled.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Cloak's Reasoning

"R-R-RAFian? RAFian, you say?"

Cloak could have made a sarcastic remark, but he said nothing. He scrutinized the room, wondering again if what he was after was here. He knew that it wouldn't be out in the open. It probably would have been jealously safeguarded.

"Wh-why are you here?"

Hutch would have naturally demanded to have it, assuming that he did not create the toxin himself. Cloak scrutinized the blubbering mess that was the big boss cartel that the RAFians had only the sketchiest information about.

"Why are you here?"

Hutch was getting irritated, but the Realm Walker didn't care. It was about time that Hutch started to take responsibility for his actions of a dubious legality, of the potential lives he either ruined or took.

"Answer -- !"

"Shut up." Cloak said, seriously.

"What?" Hutch snapped.

"I said, shut up." Cloak replied. "You're not calling the shots here. I am."

"You have --"

"You're the head of a criminal cartel and you are about to lecture me about rights?" Cloak said. "Yes, I know about the black market you run."

"Then what now?"

"What now?" Cloak answered slowly. "What now? My job was only to distract you, silly human."

"Wait, wait?"

"You still haven't put it together yet, I see." Cloak said. "You don't have the antidote here as well. Just as well, it's being synthesized as we speak."

"Make sense!!"

"You still don't get it?" Cloak said, not surpressing his mild surprise. "I only came ahead to be sure that you didn't flee before --"

The doors burst open and a mixed team of S.W.A.T. and RAFians came in, ready for a fight, if need be.

"Well, for that."

[redtailedsaffa]

Dang, Malice is quiet.

[Cloak]

Oh, she'll show back up sooner or later. Tomorrow's chapter might come a bit late. But don't hold me to that.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Innoculations and Inspirations

"I don't believe it," Aquilai muttered.

"Don't believe what?' Goom asked, conversationally, somehow tucking away his glasses into what appeared to be hammerspace. No one ever seemed to question how Goombas are able to do things like this.

"I don't believe that it was this easy," the Time Lord elaborated. "That simple substitution of the Joker Gas formula -- and, by extent, the antidote -- made the curative."

"It was insideously simple," Yarin agreed. "Just change the formular just enough so death isn't from chemically-induced hilarity, but chemically-induced rage and hatred."

"Fortunate that we dealt with the Joke Meister before this happened, too," Goom noted.

At that, Aquilai rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes . . ."

"How can you honestly think that?" Yarin said, knowingly.

"What?" Goom asked.

"You suspect that the Joke Meister is actually behind this?" Yarin said. "He's in that maximum security prison."

"Especially after the failed attempts to get him sent to that asylum," Goom pointed out. "Which is good, because the security there would be nothing but a game for him to get out of. He's too smart for that place."

"Yes, I know." Aquilai said. "But, still, I wonder . . ."

"Oh, you're probably worrying about nothing," Goom said. "You're starting to be as paranoid as Cloak, Aquilai."

"You take that back!" the Time Lord countered with mock offense.

They couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. Even Cloak admits to his perhaps excessive paranoia.

"So, how are Faerie and Underseen doing?" Aquilai asked.

"They're in good condition," Goom replied. "It was difficult enough to administer the cure to them. They were in full-on rages."

"Faerie is one of our fiercest fighters," Aquilai noted. "And Underseen is one of the most versitile. Yep. It wouldn't be an easy task to undertake."

"But we managed it," Yarin put in. "GH is truly the epitome of 'music soothes the savage beast'."

"That came out weird," Goom noted.

"Eh," Yarin said, with an indifferent sort of air.

It was true, though. The only reason they managed to get through to Faerie and Underseen was because of an off-the-cuff soothing ballad that GH played that managed to calm them down enough to allow the innoculation.

It was the only reason that Faerie and Underseen had lasted so long, as it was also discovered that Kelly and Yunyun's healing abilities were only a temporary solution. The curative was the only thing to render the toxin permanently inert, and able to be purged from their systems.

[Dylan]

I just decided to look at this.  It's interesting, a fanfic about RAF.

[guitarhero01234]

It was true, though. The only reason they managed to get through to Faerie and Underseen was because of an off-the-cuff soothing ballad that GH played that managed to calm them down enough to allow the innoculation.

For some reason, this is the only song that I can think of when I read that.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcCZ8QZzi-A