Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Fickle and Rankle

"What the bloody hell?!" GH, Sakki, Saffa, Faerie, and Parker roared in unintentional unison. They had caught some of Bern Bridges's broadcast, which was surprising in and of itself, considering he was using a rather dying medium. Suffice it to say, they weren't tooterribly pleased with what he was saying, especially the inaccurate conjecture and the outright lies.

Cloak, however, wasn't all that surprised at the fickle nature of the masses.

He had endured similar treatment, similar slanderous and libelous remarks, similar character assassination. His name was more than likely going though the same thing in the Nexus. But that did not make him ambivalent to this news.

"Those ingrates!" Sakki roared. She had to be more careful, as she nearly activated her sonics in her rage. "We risk our lives protecting them from God knows what, and they have the nerve to turn on us?!"

"We would never going to be universally popular," Cloak said, without emotion. "To expect such a thing, it's pointless."

"How can you say that so calmly?" Faerie said, clearly incensed. "They are character assassinating us, and you pull back? Aren't you angry by this?"

"It's upsetting to be sure, yes," Cloak said, not exactly answering the question.

"You're not answering the question," Saffa pointed out shrewdly.

"Just drop it," Cloak said. "They are going to believe whatever they choose to believe. Yelling or nagging at them will not change their opinion. Not once they've made their minds up."

"I can believe you're going to let this --" Sakki pressed.

"You think that this is the first time I have had people assassinate my character?! My integrity?!" Cloak said, in a stunted explosion of emotion. "My name is a joke in the Nexus. They think me a weirdo, a shameful dishonor to my venerable grandfather. Why? Because I rather spend my time with Dweller that can be honest with me and give a Gateburst care about me and my well-being!"

Cloak breathed, calming himself down.

"For being exceedingly tired and weary of the rampant governmental corruption of the Council, not to mention the prevalent anti-Dweller sentiment. They would choose to see you as insects -- I refuse to buy into that ideology. So, they, in turn, deride my reputation, scorn my decisions, and sneer my name as an expletive."

He paused, allowing the silence to become nearly suffocating.

"I am the Realm Walker variation of Seerow," Cloak said, quietly, as the dragons bugled once more.

***

"Get outta town, monsters!" a man yelled.

"Bern Bridges's right! You're no good!" a shrill woman shouted, as a group of six humans closed in on Saffa and Demos.

"Yeah!" another man yelled. "Stay away from us humans!"

"We don't want your kind here!" the same woman from before shrieked.

"I don't think they like us, Saffa," Demos said, with a coy tone.

<Demos,> Saffa scolded, <no.>

"Just a little immolation?"

<NO, Demos.> Saffa said, firmly. <Ignore them. We have a job to do, and, whether these fact-fearing fools want to believe it or not, we have tk save their ungrateful lives.>

"Aw," Demos said, almost whining, "you're no fun, Saffa."

<And you're not doing our PR any favors by speaking like that,> Saffa countered, as he continued upon her work.

[redtailedsaffa]

Huh? I'm in morph? I assume I'm hawk, then. Quiet surveillance.

I think I'll use the points in the previous chapter the next time my local nerd gang has a Batman or Civil War debate.

[Cloak]

No, you're in Sheer Goliath morph, due to it being your only morph with fire capabilities. It's another Threadfall, remember. Which makes being in the air without having fire capabilities or being completely ensconced within metal highly dangerous. If thread can devour a cow within moments, imagine what they could do to a hawk with the same lenght of time . . .

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Duties

Estelore was still inspecting the the Oort Cloud, discovering that there were strange creatures there in  dormant state. She wondered how she had never noticed these before. Granted, it was easy to miss.

But she wondered what these strange spores were. They didn't look to be dangerous, floating there in the Cloud. Of course, that didn't mean that they were harmless. Esty was wise enouh to know that. After all, a Yeerk alone didn't look threatening, but allow it a host and it can spread its species like a secret plague. Proving again that judging how dangerous something was by appearance was a very foolish thing to do.

Then she got the communication from the others. They were asking her about something called the Thread. She wasn't familiar with the species, she was afraid. Then Cloak had provided her a description, in a clipped and blunt way. She knew by his tone how serious this was, and she suspected that the creatures inside the Cloud to be some how related.

Then she remembered why she came here in the first place. Freddy. She needed to find him and stop him from getting into his malicious mischief. Stop him from being such a brat . . .

Yet the others needed her. And needed her quite direly, it would seem.

She was torn, but she had a decision to make. And she made it, hoping that she would be forgiven for her choice.

***

Demos and Saffa, still in Sheer Goliath morph (having only required to demorph and remorph at least once during this Threadfall), remained on the ground to make sure the Thread wouldn't make it to the ground. They were the insurances, especially because this was a heavy Threadfall.

However, one thing did not make things any easier.

"Are you absolutely sure that I can't immolate them?" Demos said, as the six "protesters" (for want of a more accurate term) had decided to follow the two around. Had decided to distract and harass them from their duty and their obligation. "Not even a little?"

<Please, Demos,> Saffa said, with a strained voice. <Don't tempt me.>

"I'm a demon," Demos said, brightly. "It's what we do."

<Hilarious,> Saffa said, dryly, <now get back to work.>

They lapsed int silence briefly, before something occured to Saffa.

<And be mindful of those protesters,> Saffa said. <They may not care about their own safety, but we must take steps to keep them out of danger.>

"They're not gonna like that," Demos noted, dutifully burning Thread strands overlooked by the aerial battlers.

<They'll get over it,> Saffa said, with a rather savage finality.

***

Cloak was in the thick of things with Phoenix, Parker (using his thermal and fire-based weaponry, using his Falcon Armor to fly, although he wasn't as fast or agile as the others in flight), Blocky, Shock, EvilPinkDragon, Blaze, and other pyrokinetic or pyrotechnic-utilizing RAFians. Cloak, unable to truly fly as his grandfather, due to his being a feline Realm Walker.
He was "flying" upon a golden-scarlet energy disc beneath his feet.

He had to keep his mind on the battle, maintaining the disc, and blasting the Thread with the flame issuing from his fist. He had to also monitor just how much he used, and how hot he allowed it to get. He did not want to risk going full power -- he did not know the upper limits of his power over the fire element. There was a chance that he could make it hot enough to ignite the atmosphere.

Cloak hoped that he was seriously mistaken about this. He hoped he wasn't that powerful, he already feared his sheer power enough as is.

But Cloak was glad for the distraction. The whole Bern Bridges thing had brougt out the resentment in him that he never knew -- that he never realized -- that he had. But it was long-held, because of the slander and misinformation he knew was going on in the Nexus. He pretended that he wasn't aware of it, he lied to himself that it wasn't going on. But, that was about as good as burying his emotions. He was aware of this but . . .

Whoa!

He nearly go a face full of Thread. They would have disintergrated, incinerated and melted away simoutaneously, of course. But there was still the shock of something coming toward your face. He blasted the clump before it reached his face.

He needed to get his mind back into the battle.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWELVE:
Brief Respite

The Threadfall ended, and the RAFians returned. They were not pleased to see that Bern Bridges was still at it, actually gaining some sort of negative notoriety. Cloak wore a soured look on his face.

He had expected this realm to be a resprite from all that mudslinging crap. But, no, there were still those miserable slimeballs with no intergrity and willing to do anything to discredit those who they don't agree with, regardless of whether or not that they were -- factually -- in the right. The whole ordeal was frustrating. Not to mention a bit depressing.

They sacrifice their time, their energy, and, sometimes, their very lives to keep the people of this world safe. And, all the while, the people actually resented them for doing it. They didn't do what they did for recognition, but because it was the right thing to do. And now they learn the populace never wanted them to do it at all.

Vigilantes. That was the new buzzword that Bern Bridges had decided to use to label them. As well as going so far as to call them treasonous vigilante, thought they were funded by the government to handle things the normal police couldn't handle, and things that couldn't be handled in a militaristic way (which rankled some of the more violence-prone citizens and soldiers).

It was amazing just how easily the masses could be misled, when facts were presented to them. It was astonishing how they could resist the truth, even if they were given all the facts, not wanting to abandon their preconceived notions. It was sad how these people allowed themselves to be so susceptible to manipulation by a moderately-skilled orator. The Realm Walker masses in the Nexus weren't any different, really.

But Cloak was relieved to discover that this was not an unopposed movement. There others voices, just as loud, shouting and decrying these fanatics. But, unlike these people who run solely of emotions (though they heavily dispute such a claim), thes proponents used cold rational thoughts and indisputable facts, which they refused to allow to be swept under the rug.

But Cloak couldn't help but wonder if this division was truly a good thing. Unified, people are stronger, but universal unification, universal popularity, it was an impossibility. There was always going to be that one person, that one "hater" as the phrase goes. Cloak told himself that he had best remember that for the future, so that he doesn't take these things so personally.

He had a rather restless night, but he rested up enough. The dragon RAFians were bugling again. There was another Threadfall. Time to do their duty.

[redtailedsaffa]

Well, I don't mind being Daredevil.

[Cloak]

Huh? How so? If it's a reference to the Netflix show, I must admit I never seen it. I've always been more of an X-Men guy anyway.

Oh, new chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Burning Thread At Both Ends

Cloak ascended back into the sky, preparing to dodge and weave and burn. Fortunately, he did not have to worry about hurting the others, as they were heavily resistant or outright immune to fire-based attacks. He was glad that he wasn't alone in this, sure that he would not be able to prevent all the Thread falling to the Earth. He may have been powerful, but he was still one individual.

They all dodged and weaved expertly, sith practiced ease. Some may have called it exciting, but, truth be told, it was a kind of excitement that Cloak would rather do without. But even with all this exertion and heavy task at hand, Cloak couldn't stop the back of his mind from thinking. No matter how he tried to focus on the task at hand -- his hyperfocus not taking effect. Perhaps because his mind was so full, mwybe because he felt a little disheartened from the ingraciousness tha the some of the populace were giving them.

His mind started to suspect that Malice was behind this. She was just about behind everything of this nature that happened to them. But there was something just a bit off about that. This seemed a little too overt . . . okay, granted, the Gossamer was overt, too, but that was different. When she was so obvious she would come out of hiding and start monologuing like a Saturday morning cartoon villain. She had a weakness for such monloguing, and strutting around grandiosely.

This was seriously not her MO. But, if not her, then who? Who? Who was behind this?

***

<Are you bloody serious?!> Saffa roared. She was back in her Sheer Goliath morph again <Don't they even REALIZE the danger they keep putting themselves in?!>

This time it was twelve people following them, some of them chikdren who didn't know any better. These people were endangering their own kids. Some of them held crudely-made signs which read things of a reprehensible nature.

"Maybe if they're devoured by the Thread, they'll have misgivings," Demos said, smiling like a maniac. That demonic nature can get the better of him sometimes.

<Don't tempt me like that,> Saffa warned wanely. <Even though it's probably true.>

"Watch your left," Demos said.

They continued their work as they endured the jeers and accusations of the twelve dim-witted protesters. They did not question why they numbered only twelve (with a couple of children, who did not seem to be truly aware of what they were protesting),  and not more. The reason was simple. The others had some self-preservation instincts. And good sense.

[Cloak]

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Greenry Tantrum

Through all these Threadfalls, Freddy hovered in a tight orbit, but careful not to influence the planet. That would ruin his fun. He orbited the planet in tandem with its rotation, controlling his gravity, though it was unclear if it was conscious or subconscious. Or even if stars had a subconscious.

He had allowed the Thread he collected to fall down on the precise spot where he thought the forum was at -- unaware that he was off-target. He controlled the amount that fell, and controlled it very judiciously. Then, after allowing Thread to fall, he would watch. He would watch, expecting to see the green turn to brown as the greenry was devoured by the Thread, like starving piranhas, which he imagined fell, unimpeded to the ground. He didn't care if the thread happened to eat throug any innocent people, as long as they got his prank.

It was starting to become obvious that Freddy clearly got his morality from a Howler, in addition to their ideas of games, only in a more indirect, psychologically-tormenting manner.

Freddy was watching eagerly, as if he was just playing "Plague, Inc." or something. As if he had expected it to spread, spreading a swath of destruction and devastion in its wake. But Thread do not quite work in the way that Freddy was expecting. They have the potential to cause massive amount of injury and property damage. But they didn't spread like the star boy wanted them to.

Freddy was continuing to watch the planet, but he was getting impatient. The land was still green! What was taking so long?! The prank was floundering! It wasn't gonna be funny!

Of course, Freddy refused to believe that it wasn't funny to begin with. He refused to see that no one, other than himself, found his pranks hurtful. He was just having his fun. He was allowed to have fun. He was still a kid. He was older than most elderly of planet-dwelling species, but he was still a kid in the terms of stellar biology, still a prepubescent sentient star.

It was no excuse, but it was his just the same.

He started to get antsy and anxious. Any minute now, just any minute now, was his constant mental refrain. But wasn't long before anxiousness and impatience mixed volatilely into anger.

"What the bloody hell is taking so long?!" he roared in the stellar language known by all sentient stars. He was unwittingly allowing his irritation to be heard by all, though only very few would understand the stellar language as it was not spoken language per se. "Hurry up already!!"

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Meanwhile, Back At the Forum

The pyrokinetic and pyrotechnic-utilizing RAFians were still fighting the Thread over the city. And it was only the city for some reason. And still no word from Estelore.

Aquilai, Goom, Yarin, and every one of the mods were working the logistics, but the rest of the RAFians were not sitting on their hands. They were just working on another mission, rather unrelated.

This was being spearheaded by Abby and GH, as they couldn't fight the Thread as Abby had no fire-based morphs and GH had no pyrotechnic abilities of his own, all he had was his guitar. Neither wanted to sit around and do nothing, and they had not forgotten about the escapees from Ronald Rosch's personal menagerie.

The Slamworm. Native of Terraexcava, and the predatory species of the bipedal, armored, sentient Talpaedans.

The drakon. Origin presumably unknown. Capabilities uncertain.

The Mucilator from a currently disclosed planet. The natural predators of a undisclosed bipedal, sentient insectoid species.

The Terroranchula, from another currently undisclosed planet. The natural predators of a small, tetrapedal, sentient insectoid species.

The Buglizard. Hailing from Lepidopterra, and the predatory species of the sentient insectoid Lepidopterrans.

But GH was certain that there were probably more undocumented escapes. Like perhaps a Vicetopus from Encephalonus IV or a Panuncian from Hathor or a Root Shark from Aranhaschimmia. They did learn that Rosch got these creatures from his menagerie by a male Zaroffian called Khredatr, which was pronounced like "creditor". He had disguised himself as human as to avoid suspicion for this illicit activity, and to go unnoticed amongst the populace. He used a lower-quality ID mask, but it was different from Cloak's.

Rosch would not care, as long as he got what he wanted. And he enjoyed of owning such powerful, fierce, and fearsome creatures in his menagerie, under the foolish notiin that he could control these wild creatures, many of which could kill him without a second thought. It's the same reason why lamentable fools think that lions and tigers can be good pets, when they were wild animals. Only this is a horrid exaggeration of such a line of thinking.

Anyway, Abby, GH, Gaz, Blue, Helen, Underseen, Faerie, Az, and Horse were among the RAFians who were scouring the nearby areas for these missing megafauna, for these missing predators. They didn't forget, and this what they were doing while the others were fightingbthe Thread.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
You Got Some 'Splainin' to Do, Young Star!!

"Why?!" Freddy roared, in their stellar language. "Why the hell is it taking it so long?!"

"Why is what taking so long?" said a voice behind him.

"By beady strings! They were supposed to spread across the planet!" Freddy said, apparently not realizing that the voice was actually speaking, though in that strange, nonsensical stellar language. "The green was supposed to turn brown!! The prank would have been absolute perfect!!"

"You wanted to defoliate the planet?" said the voice, with a reproving, disapproving tone.

"No!! I wanted to get rid of all the plants!!" the pre-adolescent star fumed. "Get rid of them all, athen they'd have to replant them all!! It would have been hilarious!!"

"Hilarious?" the voice chided dangerously. "You think that mass starvation and food scarcity will be funny?"

"Oh, it wouldn't be that bad," Freddy said, dismissively.

"How do you figure?"

"It just wouldn't."

"So, you don't know."

"Like it matters," Freddy dismissed arrogantly. "They are lesser beings, in any case. In the grand scheme of things, they don't matter. No one will miss 'em, if they were gone. This is just a backwater planet. Their star isn't even sentient."

"Sentient stars rarely take on planets, if ever," the voice said, knowingly.

"And how would you bloody well --" Freddy said, suddenly realizing that he was having a conversation with someone else. He turned around, to see Estelore hovering behind him, looking very displeased with Freddy. "Uh . . ."

Freddy suddenly changed his demeanor to a child caught in wrongdoing, caught in willful and deliberate wrongdoing. He was immediately sheepish and shy, in his adopted aunt's presence.

"What do you think you're doing?" Estelore said, barely containing her discontent. Though she was doing a far better job than Cloak would have. "Let me answer that FOR you, Fred. You were bring a plague to a planet with no other purpose but for your entertainment. Am I right?"

"It was just a harmless prank!!" Freddy protested.

"The term 'harmless' implies that no one is currently or will be or had been hurt," Estelore said severely. "Your actions were NOT harmless. Just calling it so does not make it true. You know this. And, yet, you still bring these spores to Earth."

"Earth?" Freddy said, suddenly fearful. He couldn't remember if he had remembered if this was Earth or not, but he knew this would not have pleased his Auntie Estelore.

"Yes." Estelore said, very seriously. "EARTH."

Freddy had nothing to say, but was feeling very nervous.

"Yes, you know, the planet that you pulled your wishing star scam on?" Estelore said. The amount of control whe was keeping over her temper was admirable. "I didn't think that was funny then, and the fact that all your 'pranks' recently have had increasing maliciousness that I find quite disquieting."

Freddy was silent, and if he could sweat as he was, he would be sweating bullets.

"Well?" Estelore prompted. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Um . . ."

"'Um' what?" Esty demanded.

"Um . . . 'bye!"

And Freddy fled.

"Hey! GET BACK HERE!" Estelore shouted, temper flaring.

[guitarhero01234]

"You wanted to defoliate the planet?" said the voice, with a reproving, disapproving tone.

"No!! I wanted to get rid of all the plants!!" the pre-adolescent star fumed.

OK, I lol'd pretty damn hard at that. Also, Esty is starting to get a little . . . scary.

Also also, gh doing something . . . intelligent? Must have been talked into it by Abby.

[Cloak]

Excellent, GH. That is the reaction that I wanted from that one bit between the stars. And yes, even Estelore has her limits.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
End of Thread, Unexplained

And, quite suddenly, the Thread was gone. At least, it appeared to be gone. Cloak wasn't satisfied quite yet. He quickly scrutinized every bit of sky he could and every piece of ground (though the latter was easier because of Earthsight). He wasn't alone in this, as the others were doing scrutinizing of their own.

After a span of about two hours, the RAFians were content that every last bit of Thread was eradicated. Yet, Cloak couldn't help but wonder about the what-ifs. But the truth of the matter was he was worrying about nothing. No Thread survived. He hadn't anything to worry about, but Cloak had a nasty habit of sweating details when it wasn't necessary.

They returned to the forum, to find Aquilai, Goom, and Yarin confirming that the Thread on bioscans.

"Bioscans?" Cloak said.

"Yes," Yarin said.

"If we had such technology at our disposal, why didn't we use it before now?" he asked.

"It wasn't operational until now." Yarin said, with a hearty sniff.

"Hey, you know, that could have been -- oh, I don't know -- useful in our mission." GH said testily.

"The bioscanner is not yet portable," Yarin explained, as Goom and Aquilai nodded as they checked their printouts. "We are trying to work them into the next communicator update. The last one was grossly out-of-date."

"Ah, so you finally gave up trying to recreate your microwave?" Saffa asked.

"FOOD YIELD INCREASER!" the Nyac snarled, as Saffa chuckled. "And, for the time being, I have."

"'For the time being'?" Cloak noted questioningly.

Yarin looked like he had made a Freudian slip. "Uh, that is to say --"

"Now isn't the time," Richard said. "We have other priorities. The Thread have been eliminated, yes?"

"That's right," Shock affirmed.

"Good," the head mod nodded. "Estelore called in, saying she was literally chasing the cause of the Threadfall. But did not elaborate."

"That sounded ominous," Abby said.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Catch Him If You Can, Estelore!

Fred fled away as fast as he could.

It was now that he felt the panic the fear his "prank" victims felt, only in a more direct way. But he did not make this connection. He just knew that Estelore far eclipsed him in terms of power, endurance, durability, and experience.

But that didn't make her better thand me! he thought as he raced beyond the nonsentient star of Pyros. She thinks she knows everything!

As he continued to flee, he swung around Lepidopterra and then Terradino. Estelore, though, managed to keep in step -- er, figuratively speaking, of course -- with him. She would not be shaken so easily, but Freddy didn't give up.

He blew by Encephalous IV, barely even noticing it. He took a right between Galvan Prime and Galvan B, hoping that doing that would buy him time to lose his adoptive aunt. He hurried toward the planet of Hathor, he was expending a lot of his energy fleeing. But he had to get away from her, until the time in which she would forget the transgression.

But Estelore doesn't forget things like that very easily. She pursued him, but she took mind kf her energy levels and expended enough that she woukd still he able to give chase. She was essentially heing the tortoise while her bratty adoptive nephew had taken the role of the hare.

Freddy, hidden behind the planet of Anodine, peeks beyond it to see that Estelore was still coming, relentless and undeterred. Freddy was frightened and astonished by this. She should have tired by now! He must certainly was! He had to run again, he had to keep going until she tired out.

Estelore did not called out for Fred to stop or to get back here. She knew that he would not heed her calls, so it would be a waste of energy and also give away her position. She knew that he would not leave the galaxy. There were the rocky ergovores on the edge of the known galaxy -- just a tad beyond.

Ergovores. Nonsentient beasts of malleable, living rock that feed off of energy. Some of the larger ones could "eat" smaller stars, though they prefer the dying ones. They were scarce in number, fortunately enough. There may just have been one in existence for all she knew. She never travelled there, so it could have all been a farce.

Freddy looked around frantically, he was out in the open, near the asteroid field around planet Xenon. He could not see her, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be close by. He search and scrutinizing almost hysterically. As he was doing this, he was backing up.

Until he backed up into something. He assumed it was an asteroid, as he was planning on hiding there, encapsulating himself into his human-like avatar, dimming his starlight. He had expected what he bumped into to start to drift away from him, as debris in space often did.

But it did not. It would not move. The object held him very firmly.

"You're right behind me, aren't you?" he said, with defeated tones.

"Yes." Estelore said, gripping Freddy firmly, in a stellar gesture similar to  pulling him by the ear. "Now, you're going to take responsibility for your actions."

Estelore looked at him, severely.

"Whether you want to, or not." she finished.

[Cloak]

Hope Saffa's okay.

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Say You're Sorry!

"Estelore just called in again," Aquilai reported, walking out of Communications, as Yarin had relieved him. "She said she caught the culprit."

"Lemme guess," Abby said, dryly, "it was that bratty nephew of hers?"

They looked up and saw two figures floating downward. One hovered down in a way reminiscent to Mary Poppins or Princess Peach, whilst holding the ear of what appeared to be a twelve-year-old or so blonde boy. They landed daintily.

"Ow! Leggo, Auntie Estelore!"

"And have you speed away, running away from taking responsibility for your actions, Freddy?" she replied, quite seriously and more severe than the RAFians had ever heard her. Everyone has there breaking points, and Fred there had made Estelore approach hers. "I think not."

"I won't! I won't!" he protested. "I promise!"

"Unfortunately for you, Freddy," Estelore said, "your promise have come to mean nothing."

"But I mean it this time!"

"And you meant it -- at least, said you did -- with Vulpin. But it's now basically a wasteland. As well as a plethora of other times that I rather not get into right now, you know the ones." Estelore said, with scolding tones. She seized his avatar's arm after releasing the ear. "You think of these malicious acts as 'pranks'. Well, let me tell you, little boy, they aren't pranks. They are not games. These are real lives that you are meddling with here. They are NOT your playthings to do with what you please."

The RAFians looked at Freddy. His avatar form looked twice the age he looked last year. It was rather inconsistent with what he looked like from the last time they saw him. It wasn't really clear why that was, unless the stars could age up their avatars as much as they wanted, perhaps limited to how old they actually were. After all, when Saffa, Abby, and Underseen first saw him, he looked almost elfin, even with pointed, swept ears.

"What do you want from me?!" Freddy yelled.

"Apologize," Estelore said.

Freddy stop struggling, and looked at her. "What?"

"Accept the responsibility for your actions, and apologize to the ones that you harmed," Estelore said. "And be sincere."

"Sorry." It was quick and overtly insincere. It was the best that any one would get out of him. "There. Happy?"

"I said sincere, Freddy."

"Estelore, it's pointless," Cloak said, gently rational and stubbornly logical. "He doesn't truly feel aggrieved for what he's done. And you cannot force someone to feel sincerity, unless you can outright manipulate emotions. Even then, it'll be false and fake, which invalidates the whole point of the apology to begin with."

"Besides," Helen pointed out, "it's the people in the city that the deserve the apology more."

Estelore still looked harried, but turned to Freddy, "You're not getting off Scot-free for this Freddy."

She never disclosed which punishment she chose to give Freddy, and they never found out what it was.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
The Slamdown

With the whole Thread business taken care of, the RAFians turned to the mission that GH and Abby spearheaded. The bioscan tech was still not ready to be ported into the communicators, so they had to search the old fashion way. It was not really all that appealing when a potentially easier way existed . . . uh, somewhat.

Cloak didn't care. He was willing work his hardest, and he was rather known to be rather pigheaded and obstinate when he set his mind to something. It was a family trait that he inherited from his mother.

Cloak found himself on a sandy terrain  -- or it would have been were it not still winter -- in the quarry where they met and battle with Shaw. Snow still clung to the landscape as if afraid someone would take the land from them. He got to thinking, using what he could recollected about the missing monsters that were on the list.

The Buglizard would probably be accustomed to warmer weather, as Lepidopterra was a swamp planet. But then again, swamps have winters on Earth, who is to say that they don't there? He's never visited. But he knew that Buglizards preferred dark caves, and there were none nearby where he stood. In any case, if they were downwind of him, they probably already had his scent. If it was downwind.

He didn't know anything about the Terroranchula's or the  Mucillator's or the drakon's homeworlds, not even their names, so he couldn't conjecture about how they'd fair in a Terran winter. He didn't know if they would survive or perish.

He turned his thoughts to the Slamworm, as the wintry wind blew and caused his cloak to billow behind him rather dramatically. It's homeworld, Terraexcava, was a sandy, desert-like world if he was not mistaken. It would not fair well in a Terran winter like this. He had find this one -- and possibly the Buglizard -- otherwise they'd have to deal with corpses rather than living, breathing creatures.

But where were they?

A rumble from beneath him, and Cloak managed to easily dodge out of the way, but something was wrong. This was far too weak for it to be the Slamworm. At least, a healthy Slamworm.  Cloak turned and saw the Slamworm, and he felt nothing but sympathy and sorrow for the poor beast.

It was far too thin, apparently unable to find a Talpaedan or sufficient substitution nutrients to not suffer such malnutrition. It was already poorly fed by Rosch. Cloak couldn't help but just feel bad for the creature, especially when he looked at its eyes, recognizing the wild, desperate look in it.

He had gone through a period of starvation before. It got so bad sometimes that he would pass out -- that was when he lived in his mother's house and she lived with Faith and Shadow. She would occasionally send him currency to get food, but it was a long trek to go to that store. Sometimes . . . sometimes he didn't have it in him to walk that distance away . . . no. No, he would not dwell on that. He must let it go.

The Slamworm let out a weak, hoarse roar, as it tried to attack Cloak again, but it was just a tad slower than before. Cloak looked at this creature, and he saw himself. This poor creature was as abused as he was. It had known cruelty that no one should know.

It collapsed upon the ground, breathing rather labored. It was unable to move, its eyes dimming. Cloak was alarmed, recognizing these signs immediately. He quickly summoned the others upon speaking into the communicator, urging them to hurry.

The Slamworm's life was ebbing away. It's strength was waning, fading. Cloak placed a hand on its beak-like snout, and they looked at each other in the eye. The Slamworm seemed to understand that it was dying, that Cloak was offering comfort. But this could just be Cloak assignjng sentient traits to a nonsentient creature, but he didn't care.

Despite the RAFians' best efforts, the Slamworm did not leave the quarry alive.

[Cloak]

New chapter. Sorry about the brevity.

BOOK CIII:
THE SIREN
CHAPTER ONE:
Frozen and Hard

Blue flipped away, landing on his feet with only the briefs of sounds, and he turned towards his opponent. It was a fast, gray-skinned beast which was as tough as a rock, and it had purplish-pink patches of an extremely adhesive gel around its jowls, wrists, belly, back, and hindlegs. There could possibly be more place, but Blue wasn't paying attention. It was a Mucillator*, or at least, the name Blue knew them by.

Mucilator were usually fat, but this one wasn't. Its skin hung off its body a bit looser on then it should have. It wasn't as thin and malnourished as the Slamworm was indicating that it either had a slower metabolism, was better able to survive or adapt to the cold, or had found a source of nutrition that was just sufficient to keep it alive this long. Or maybe, just maybe, all three.

The Mucilator's forked, ribbon-like tongue lolled limply from its gaping maw. It certainly didn't look all that healthy. Blue couldn't really tell if it was surviving the cold weather on its own, but he could see the malnutrition in it. Blue would feel sorry for it -- if it wasn't trying to kill and eat him.

The cold weather had rendered its gel-like adhesive sacs basically useless, having froze the gel that made up the sac. Sure, it was still sticky, but not in the way it was biologically designed to. Clearly, they were evolutionarily designed for warmer weather, as Blue could walk upon these sacs, even to the point of using them as platforms, though a bit unreliable for platforming.

Within moments, Blue easily subdued the weakened beast, and the others managed to save it in time, unlike the Slamworm. They would ship it to some xeno-veternarians and xeno-biologists to save its life, and restore it to a nature preserve. It would survive, Blue felt, though it probably wouldn't forget the abuse or neglect that it suffered at the hands of Rosch, a man so insecure in his masculinity that he needed to parade big, fiercesome beasts to compensate for this insecurity. It was sad, really.

Especially when you consider how these beasts suffered at his hands, all because they were fierce-looking and savage. Because they were the way that nature had inclined, and they were caged because of this, because of some man thinking that he had compensate for not being "manly" enough.

Then again, it could have been worse. Rosch could have killed them and mounted their heads on his mantle like trophies -- although it is debatable which was worse a swift death or years of abuse and neglect. . . .


*