Author Topic: Memoirs of a RAFian (Read 636780 times)

Cloak · « **Reply #5535 on:** March 20, 2016, 07:28:12 AM »

Ah. 'Kay.

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
The Forgotten and the Next Lead

Billion didn't stop with this Hell's Angel wannabe. Reducing one victim to a skin, to a shell for him to puppeteer and inhabit and impersonate wasn't enough for him to feel satisfied. He didn't even give it a second thought this victim may have had a family -- a wife, a child, a sibling, parents -- that lived and cared about him.

Billion was quite literally incapable of conceptualizing such things. His torture from Malice was evident, though the transformation process into his current form was more than likely unhelpful from recovering from this practically programmed mindset. He was fundamentally unable to feel compassion or live anymore, and he saw others, except the RAFians, as mere NPCs in the basest sense -- namely beings with no feelings, no worth, as mere exploitable fodder to achieve his ends.

One, knowing Malice's transgressions, might make the argument that it really wasn't Lee's fault he became Billion, but that did not change the fact that his aftions, his decisions as Hundred, Thousand, Million, and Billion were ones of his own autonomous free will, even though he may have been "programmed" to do it through manipulative, torturous, and chemical means.

Soon, all of the Hell's Angel wannabe's cadre of biker roughnecks were mere skins -- as well as the very few patrons and female bartender -- on the floor, with Billion inhabiting the last biker and his lady, as he had gotten used to "wearing" two skins at once.

"Yes," said the biker's mouth and gravely voice, "this should do nicely."

"I have sufficient strength now," said his lady, now Billion as well, and her voice was very much like that of Harley Quinn. "And if they don't make me a member this time --"

"I'll just have to make them," he said, through the biker's skin and voice, "by force if necessary."

***

"Cloak, this reeks of a trap," Blue cautioned.

"I'm aware of that, Blue," Cloak said. "But we're clear. There isn't anyone or anything -- other than indigenous wildlife -- around in my entire Earthsight range."

"Doesn't mean that there can't be a trap," Blue said. "Not all traps are manned."

"Again, I'm aware," Cloak said. "But this is the most logical step to go."

The four stood on a hill overlooking the rather plain-looking, simple townhouse that was owned by the Johns' before their . . . before their unfortunate condition. Their homestead was clearly a place, before recent events, that was full of love, laughter, and good times. Cloak could almost see them etched onto the very land itself.

But now . . . now there a sense of ominous finality and emptiness to the place, as if just newly abandoned. However, Cloak was certain that that's where answers to Thousand lay. It was an obvious trap, but the bait was too enticing to pass up.

redtailedsaffa · « **Reply #5536 on:** March 20, 2016, 09:51:08 PM »

*nervously eats popcorn*

Cloak · « **Reply #5537 on:** March 21, 2016, 06:32:02 AM »

That's not popcorn.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Do the Thing!

"Let me in!" commanded a nasally, reedy voice, waving around a thick, hardcover textbook, or overly-complicated manual of some sort, as if he was convinced that that was threatening. "Let me be a member or you'll be sorry!"

Silence, as the gate of RAF remained unperturbed.

"You'd had better let me in," came another voice, but this one sounded rather like he was laidback -- or stoned. He brandished a . . . can opener. Surely, he thought that it must have looked threatening. "Or I shall have to use force."

No answer.

"And you wouldn't want me to use force!" came a rather demented, psychopathic-sounding voice. She had some ditzy sweetness to her voice. She was the only on of the three that wielded what coud be considered an actual weapon -- a shiny, polished scalpel.

The nasally voice belonged to a thin, stereotypically-nerdy teenager in a white dress shirt with the requisite pocket protector, black jeans with red suspenders, brown pennyloafers, and black, thick-framed glasses.

The stoned voice belonged to a thick-bodied, stout teenager in a black shirt with a printed flaming skull on it and indecipherable lettering on the back, brown shorts, and flipflops. He had a large, flat nose, and thick, blsck, curly hair that obscured his eyes.

The psychotic voice belonged to a teenaged girl with a ballerina's physique and stiff, blonde hair, and held out her arms when she walked. She wore white knee-high socks, black shoes, a flannel skirt, a teal sweater, and a pink Alice band. One of her eyes appeared to be larger than the other.

The RAFians clearly didn't think of these three as a threat, even though they were not making any questions about who they were. "They" were really a "he". A "he" named Billion. And he wasn't wasting any time with any deceptions. He desperately wanted to be a member, wanted the be the hero.

But here's the thing -- even if he did become a RAFian, he would only manage to make it up to the term "antihero" or "antivillain", but never hero. Because he took lives indiscriminately and overtly, without any obvious remorse or regret. Hardly the material of heroes.

And it was also because of the fact that this whole skin business was too close to the Skinwalker mission for comfort . . .

Creeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaak . . .

***

"Wait, Cloak," Ash said, "before we dive into this, perhaps we should at least give some thought about how we can do this with attracting as much negative media attention as we would by just rushing in."

Cloak was sorely tempted to disregard everything Ash had just said, and just foolishly and stubbornly and obstinately charging onward, ignoring all the potential dangers and politics. Just to complete the goal, the mission.

He did Earthsight the whole property, of course. But that didn't mean that it was without fault. If there were people their, they would have to be suspended in midair, or on a medium which was not of earthen in composition. Nor metal, because Cloak could Metalsight. Wood probably would work, as Cloak never bothered to try and see if he could "Woodsight".

It would be a PR nightmare if it was found out that they broke down the front door to enter. Breaking and entering and all that. Although it seemed like all but the tabloids were against them.

These were all but a few possibilities of the possible holes in this plan.

Cloak · « **Reply #5538 on:** March 21, 2016, 10:05:25 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Unexpected

They just ended up strolling right up to the front door.

Blue had many protestations about doing this, as it severely went against his ninja training to just casually walk up to a door in this open a space, much less an unfamiliar space. Ash and Underseen were quick to agree as this whole thing smelled like a trap. Their PR didn't really need to suffer another hit. Their approval rating . . . well, it wasn't in intensive care yet, but still was a concern.

But they remained silent assuming Cloak's instincts would be right about this. Cloak tried the doorknob. It was locked and deadbolted. Cloak used his Earthsight to determine again that the house was empty.

Cloak now felt some reluctance, as he knew what this would signify to others, especially the general populace, if they knew the degree of fine control he had over his abilities. He ferrokinetically twisted the deadbolt lock so that it unbolted the door, and then he ferrokinetically twisted the lock so that the door was now fully unlocked and entry was possible.

Cloak didn't waste time by waiting to see and judge the others' reactions. He just turned the brass doorknob and creaked the door open. Opening it into a dark room, which Cloak's feline eyes had no problem penetrating.

A voice called out, one that he recognized, one they all recognized, "Why, hello, handsome."

***

Creeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaak.

In the dark of the night, it was a wonder why Billion ever thought the RAFians would open the gates for him. They refused to use diplomacy because of the Skinwalker mission, which still held bad memories for the RAFians involved.

Although he had done away with the use of deception, Billion still had the simplistic nativity of a child. Just because you try and try again, it will not guarantee your success. At least, if you go about Billin's way of doing things. He still refused to see how killing these people was wrong. He had no morality, which was not an admirable quality, despite what corrupt governments would have you believe.

"Let me join right now! I am Billion! I will be the greatest h-- RAFian there ever was!"

"Billion, now, is it?" Saffa said. She was irritable from something that happened during on of her recent debates. Her opponent kept lying about the facts, which she didn't really care for. That and she was having difficulty sleeping. "Look, you need to stop hurting people."

"I'm not," he replied in tri-vocal harmony.

"Those human suits by those MIB guys, then?" Saffa said, full of caustic sarcasm. "For those aliens who want to look innocuous? You know what, never mind. I know very well what those are. You killed those three teenagers, and came here, all entitled and everything, demanding to be a made a member, disregarding that that your lack of morality is a factor of our refusal to permit your joining!"

All three slack-jawed looks just served to annoy her.

"Enough of this," she said, testily. She swiftly began to morph. . . .

redtailedsaffa · « **Reply #5539 on:** March 22, 2016, 04:53:39 AM »

AW YEAH DRAMATIC ENTRANCE.

Cloak · « **Reply #5540 on:** March 22, 2016, 10:19:06 AM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Malice and Goliath

Cloak thought, embittered, that he shouldn't have been surprised by this now. Malice sat on a square of her own energy, black and bloodred, with something flesh-colored on her lap. Cloak unsconsciously bared his fangs at the sight of her, feeling an enormous feeling of hate.

"What?" she said, with exaggerated propriety, as the overhead lights when on with a clap, "No 'hello' for an old friend, Cloak? Didn't your dear mother teach you any manners?"

"Easy, Cloak, easy," Ash said at once.

Malice laughed a laugh that equaled her namesake, then completely foregoing her prudish veneer, almost if to coy from the thing draped so carelessly across her lap, "What is this, Master Cloak? Mommy issues?"

He wanted to rip her head off. Yet, he remained in control of his powers. His innate pacifism refusing his anger to access the power. Something that probably would not have happened a year ago, Dweller time.

***

Saffa quickly grew to being just south of seventy feet tall, becoming thirty tons heavier. Her skin became thicker, and rather leather-like, in texture. Her head became more rounded and well-armored.

Her eyes were pushed back into her head and became animalistic. Her tongue became long and thin while a large pair of mandibles on her lower jaw formed. Her eyes and mouth began to glow a bright scarlet, as if a fire had ignited within her, starting at her neck and travelled all the way down to her chest area, which had been morphed into the muscular frame and chest of a Shear Goliath, as her neck grew several overlapping scale-like plates of armor that resembled glowing scarlet gills.

She grew a tail, tipped with a cluster of spikes. Her feet became toeless momentarily before four new toes were reissued as another four -- two in the center, a smaller dewclaw-like toe on the outside and an additional toe that juts backwards, making the distinctive Shear Goliath footprint. Her pinkies shriveled up as her other fingers were issued a thick claw as the morph completed.

Saffa fought the pervasive desire to roar. She knew the other RAFians would not appreciate it in the slightest, given the progressing hour. Heck, the only one up at this hour would probably only be GH, who has a bit of an ongoing relationship with insomnia.

"Impossible!" Billion said, with three voices.

<Considering what you do, Billion,> Saffa said, with acerbic tones, <the fact that I can do this shouldn't be so surprising.>

"You'll . . . you'll l-let me . . . let m-me in," he stammered, in all three voices, ". . . let m-me in, or -- or else!"

<You're serious?> Saffa said, dully. She was able to control this morph's instincts as it was not her first time morphing them. Then her tone turned to coyly angry, as she spoke, <You have no idea what a Shear Goliath can do, do you?>

The three that were Billion tried to flee, not abandoning his stolen skins, foolishly not thinking about it. But how could he know that Shear Goliaths have a running speed at roughly twenty-four feet per second? That's 1,440 feet per minute.

There was really no contest.

- Saffa morphed this:

Cloak · « **Reply #5541 on:** March 22, 2016, 12:25:12 PM »

New book ideas.

Book CMXXXIII: "Vroom Vroom?" -- A gearhead finds a very special suit.
Book CMXXXIV: "The Last Suit" -- The last special suit is found.
Book CMXXXV: "The Phlebotium Suit #Infinity" -- All of the suits are combined into one.
Book CMXXXVI: "The Extortionist" -- A corrupte moneylender takes more than interest for unpaid debts.
Book CMXXXVII: "The Would-Be Robin Hood" -- A plutokinetic decides the 1% have done enough.
Book CMXXXVIII: "Materialistic Beings" -- The RAFians deal with an Appellaxian incursion.
Book CMXXXIX: "Abby's Attraction" -- Abby gets a love interest.

Titles may change. Still Year 10.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Burn and Turn

<Running is futile, Billion,> Saffa said, easily outstripping the three that were Billion.

"You won't kill me," Billion said, through the nerdy teen skin.

<You leave me with little option,> Saffa said, seriously. She wasn't even out of breath. <As it's incredibly evident that you'll just continuing killing others. That, in addition of lacking morality, you lack compassion and empathy.>

"Don't lecture me," he said, through the pscyhotic-sounding girl, "I know what I'm doing, and I'm not doing anything wrong."

<And that's why you'll never be a RAFian,> Saffa said. <You are incapable of knowing right from wrong. You've caused so much pain, which you somehow got the blame placed on us for.>

"I had nothing --" the stout teen said, before inexplicably vomiting up the arthropod constituent parts that made up Billion. He did this with the other two as well, and attempted to swarm over the land to escape Saffa's Shear Goliath morph.

This was futile, as Saffa crushed aome underfoot, then opened her jaws and belched fire out, incinerating the bugs that made up Billion. Only after a momentary hesitation.

It was only when she was satisfied that all were gone, she started back to RAF, only demorphing when she was beyond the gates.

***

Malice was glad that she had managed to get a rise out of Cloak, as her sanctimonious little smirk showed. Cloak found himself really hating Malice, but he tried to suppress the feelings. Now was not the time for him to lose control, to let loose.

"Aw, isn't it so sweet?" Malice said, with a girlish giggle, which was a bit disconcerting coming from this particular octogenarian Realm Walker. Then she dropped the faux sweetness from her mocking voice, and said, "You have to get your pet Dwellers to reel you in. Disgraceful."

"I can obliterate you n an instant," Cloak snarled, without pausing to think. He was having a hard time surpressing his emotions. If he lost control now . . . he didn't even want to consider the possible ramifications. No, he had to stay in control of himself. He had to.

The other three didn't have as much difficulty nit taking it personally. Then again, their powers and abilities were not tied to their emotions as Cloak's were.

"Why, Malice?" Ash asked.

Malice gave her a contemptuous look, but did not deign to answer.

"Why?" Cloak said, answering for her, with his eyes burning into Malice. "Because she's a lonely, hateful, old crone who thinks everyone should be as miserable as she is."

Malice narrowed her eyes and scowled, before changing tact and saying, " Talking about me, or your dear old Mum, dearie?"

But this backfired. By not answering the indirect challenge directly, Cloao knew he hit upon an old insecurity of the old crone. But before more could come out of this exchange, Blue asked, "What's in your lap, Malice?"

Cloak · « **Reply #5542 on:** March 22, 2016, 05:00:58 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
The One and Only Lee

But even with 999,999,999 of the bugs incinerated to ash, one single constituent part remained, the biggest one of the lot, which was about the size of a quarter. He was back to being the one again. And he hated being One.

It made him far weaker, far less effective as a threat, far more vulnerable. He felt so . . . so exposed. So helpless. So . . . alone . . . without his swarm, outside a suitable skin.

No matter, no matter. These feelings were easily alleviated. He would pick a proper host and multiply. Multiply into Trillion! Into . . .

But what would be the point?

His efforts continued to be repeatedly unrecognized by the RAFians, his abilities' efficacy continuously ignored, his resilience routinely dismissed. It was already amazing that he remained as persistent as he did, but now he was feeling greatly disheartened as he hugged the cool, damp wall of the alleyway.

He hid in the darkest corner, as he thought about what Saffa said to him. He wished he could disregard everything she said. Everything about him told him that he should, and that he should find another prospective host and become Trillion! He should . . .

He wanted to be a hero . . .

He wanted to be a RAFian . . .

He wanted it so much more than anything he knew. He basically knew nothing else. He did not know why he had this desire . . . he paused to consider this fact. If he didn't know why he had this desire, could it be that the desire wasn't really his? Could be some one that some implanted into him during the Beforetime?

He stopped to consider . . .

He looked at his ten legs, or at least as well as he could. He considered his size, his predilections . . . could it be that . . . that this wasn't what he was meant to be? Could be that he was something . . . something else entirely in the Beforetime? Could it be that he was more than just a mere swarm?

Why did he do the things that he did? Why did he reduce so many people to mere skins? For strength and to replicate, he answered himself. But then why did he need the strength and need to replicate into ridiculous numbers? Why did . . .

His mind hurt. It was beginning to hurt really bad.

***

"Oh, this little thing?" Malice said, with faux modesty. "Just a little . . . trophy . . . that I procured a few of your days ago."

Cloak was getting tired of this coy facade Malice was putting on and dropping faster than a costume change at Vegas. He was getting very irritable.

"Trophy, is it, Malice?" Cloak growled, arms folded and eyes narrowed to slits, speaking with scathing sarcastic insincerity. He had a shrewd idea of what was in Malice's lap, but he wasn't going to say it out loud. He didn't want to be right.

"Oh, just a little souvenir, you know," she said, in an inappropriately pleasant, casual tone. She lifted the item from her lap and held it by its brown scruffy hair, allowing it to dangle towards the floor.

It was a skin, as Cloak knew it would be. But his fears were proved prescient. Though his skin was wrinkled and folded as if he were made of fabric, with his mouth hole was agape to the dark, empty void within, the identity was still clear as crystal.

It was Lee. Lee Johns.

So he was either a victim of Billion, or he actually was Billion himself. But which one?

Cloak · « **Reply #5543 on:** March 22, 2016, 06:27:01 PM »

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Dark Thoughts and Black Markets

His head ached very badly, and he felt very sore at it.

He looked at himself and thought about what he'd become. He was little more than a parasite, a movie monster. He was sure that he wasn't like this in the Beforetime. He was sure that he loved himself, and others. But now? Now, he didn't love himself. He had come to hate what he was, what he's done. He came to loathe himself. He came to despise himself.

And, yet, the pain his head still would diminish.

It probably would if he gave into his instincts and found a host, then replicated again. Would stop if he became Trillion. It was a serious temptation, to just stop the pain his head, in his mind. To become a h--

Except he wouldn't, he reminded himself. He wouldn't be a hero, or a RAFian, if he committed to the same old tactic. He couldn't give in to the desire, the need -- no matter if even his head exploded from the migraine that he was electing to suffer through.

Then the pain went up to eleven.

He actually cried out, but it went unheard by others as it came out as but an anguished squeak to those with human levels of hearing. The temptation to skin and replicate increased expotentially with stab of pain.

He . . . he couldn't!

One wouldn't hurt would it?

No! No . . . he . . . he would not! He . . . he would not do it again!

Was one life really worth enduring this pain?

Yes! He mustn't do it. He . . . mustn't! He . . .

His will was beginning to deteriorate. The pain was mastering his will. The hunger was abetting the pain. . . .

No! He must be strong! What he had been doing as Hundred . . . as Thousand . . . as Million . . . as Billion . . . it was WRONG! It . . . No! It wasn't right! It . . .

They deserved it, didn't they? They were stupid enough to --

No! There was no justifying it!

But he had every right to --

He let out anguished squeak, stumbling like a drunkard into the broad dawning daylight. This was half-hoping to be squished by an unsuspecting passerby's boot. Perhaps, in death, he would find his answers and freedom from this excruciating pain! Some relief!

Pain and hunger . . . they were corroding his will. They were exerting themselves over his will, which was beginning to crumble.

Please . . . just let someone squish him, and end this torment. Please . . . please . . . please . . . please, a quick death like that. . . . Death would be preferable to being this . . . this monster. . . . Please . . .

THUNK!

He was suddenly surrounded on all sides by glass. Glass he couldn't penetrate! He was turned head over end and suddenly the ground was glass as well! No! They were to.squish him! Not entomb him in glass!

No! The hunger -- the pain -- they still gnaw at him!! No!! It was supposed to be a quick death!! Not a slow one by starving in a glass cylinder!!

No!!

***

"What did you do?" Ash said, clearly nauseated by the sight of the skin, and what it could possibly mean.

"Oh?" Malice said, with mock surprise. "Can't a girl just kidnap an overly saccharine, stupidly pious boy and break his mind and spirit?"

"What did you do to him?" Cloak demanded, voice steady, though the walls seemed to tremble. "What did you do to turn him into Billion?"

"Billion?" Malice ridiculed, tossing Lee's forgotten skin at them, and it was caught by Blue. "Pish-posh, dearie, he's probably 'Trillion' by now. That chemical ****tail I injected him with worked wonders! Such a pity that I didn't write down the formula. Hmmm . . . and I can't, for the life of me, remember what it was."

"What do you get out of this, Malice?" Cloak asked, managing to hide his true confusion at this whole scheme. "What's your endgame?"

"Uh uh," Malice said, wagging her finger, playfully reproachful, "dear boy, you know better about giving away spoilers, don't you?"

"I am not in the mood for your jokes, Malice!" Cloak snarled. "What are you really after?!"

"Oh, let's just say, that the black market will have a new supply of bodysuits, methinks," she said, not really saying anything worthwhile.

"What do you MEAN by --"

"Tootles!" Malice said, cheekily.

"No, you don't!" Cloak snarled, attempting to seize her by the arm, but it was too late. She had Walked away.

"Gateburst!" Cloak fumed, frustrated.

guitarhero01234 · « **Reply #5544 on:** March 22, 2016, 07:07:00 PM »

Holy ****, that bit with One was intense. I'm friggin' anxious to read the rest, now.

Cloak · « **Reply #5545 on:** March 22, 2016, 07:15:16 PM »

Quote from: gh (JolKit) on March 22, 2016, 07:07:00 PM

Holy ****, that bit with One was intense. I'm friggin' anxious to read the rest, now.

Then I apologize in advance.

Fifth new chapter today.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Roll Credits!

The RAFians returned the forum, to discover that all the skins that were discovered had vanished, and that they were footing the blame for it. That meant that their approval rating was in the proverbial toilet.

"Oh, wonderful," Cloak grumbled as he went to his thread.

***

Standing before a closed theater curtain, out on the apron of the stage, Helen stood and she sang to Parker, who stood at her side.

"I waited all my life,
Lived it by the book.
Now I know that’s not my story.
You take me as I am.
Love me as I look,
Standing here in all my glory.
I am sweetness.
I am quotable.
I am a Sapphire princess.
I am capable.
I’m a mess of contradictions in a dress.
I am sassy.
I can be sappy.
When I’m with you.
I am happy.
This is my story."

Parker sang:

"You laugh at all my jokes.
You don’t mind that I’m not always classy."

Both sang:

"We make a perfect pair.
So in love and so crassly
We are RAFians.
We delight in being scary!"

Duff joined with the other two:

"We are merry.
We have bold and
Brand-new stories
To be told.
We will write them.
We will tell them.
You will hear them.
You will even smell them!
This is our stories."

Parker spoke, "And that is how the last mission of RAF came to a conclusion and how I came to live at the forum with a beautiful RAFian."

Duff added, "And another RAFian."

Myitt added, "And a Yeerked human!"

FuBar put in, "And a very handsome cat nothlit!"

Tocade added, "And a Smurfette!"

Faerie souht fit to add, "And a kick-butt faerie!"

Dino piped up, "And a dinosaur hybrid!"

Richard declared, "And the father of the forum!"

Blocky, Shock, and PinkEvilDragon added, in unison, "And dragons!"

Phoenix sang: