Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
The Arrival

The trio arrived and made landfall quite easily. Not a one of them questioned the ease of it. Not a one of them had the intelligence or paranoia to do so. Not a one of them suspected anything might be amiss.

"We do this my way, understand?" Donald said.

"Who said you're the boss?!" Reginald demanded.

"I just did," Donald answered, "weren't you listening?"

"I never agreed to that!" Reginald snarled. "You Swimmers thinks that you're all so great!"

"And how is grubbing around in the ground any better, Burrower?" Donald fired back, rocking the ship in his anger.

"Stop rocking the ship, you dolt!" Ronald snapped. "You'll throw us off-course!!"

"Oh, I forgot," Donald said acidly, "Wingmen see all and know all."

"It's common sense, you cretinous . . . uh, cretin." Ronald said, struggling to find a word to make him sound smart.

"Stop trying to act smarter than you are," Reginald snapped. "You're not fooling anyone with the act."

"It's not an act," Ronald countered. Then, rather than continue the argument, he said, "We should decide how to go about doing this, so we can split the Queen's jelly three ways. And never hafta talk to each other ever again."

None of the trio had any intention on sharing the jelly, but were at least smart enough not to be entirely candid with that fact. The mere fact that they were quarreling to this degree meant that they did not trust one another, which was a major liability for a scheme such as the one they were attempting to make landfall.

"We should stay out of sight," Donald said.

"We know that, fishbait," Reginald snarled. Apparently, "fishbait" was a common slur against Donald's caste.

"Well, fine, oversized grub," Donald shot back with the common slur against Reginald's caste, adding with venomous sarcasm, "What do you recommend, then?"

"We disguise ourselves as the natives, these zoomans," Reginald answered condescendingly, with lofty tones.

"It's 'humans', dolt." Ronald sniped primly.

"Oh, shaddup, birdbait," Reginald shot, utilizing the slur for Ronald's caste. There was apparently very abundant racism abound between the castes. Another exploitable flaw that the trio seemed oblivious to. "Find a zooman suit to wear."

"Why do we have to find one when we can just take one from any of these stupid, weak natives?" Donald seethed. Ronald wasn't in charge, and the Bug really rankled at the fact that he seemed to think he was.

"That's what I was saying, you silt-swallowing simpleton!" Ronald said, snobbishly.

"Then get on with it, Mr. I'm-The-Leader," Reginald said, snarkily. "The sooner we collect the bounty, the sooner I can be rid of you two irritations."

They, as Edward and Eduardo before them, left the ship behind. Only these three didn't take care to really hide it, and any truly observant passerby would notice it. But they didn't seem to care, as they had their limited minds on other issues.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Perfect Victims

The trio came upon a campfire that had only, luckily enough, three occupants. Two men, one woman. All three had their backs to them. The sun was setting, so darkness was providing the three Bugs with very good cover, though they didn't really consider this.

The eldest of the men had thick, blunt sort of head, with not so much chin. His black hair was was cut very short, and he had dark brown eyes. He wore a plain red shirt with a leather jacket over his thickset body, and black jeans. He looked as if he practiced judo, and had a body type not unlike a Throh. And he was Ronald's target.

The youngest of the men was athletic and thin, but not twiggy. He had curly hair rather like a brillo pad, and emerald green eyes. His rounded face betrayed the vivaciousness of youth. He wore a solid yellow shirt, with a dark purple sweater tied off at his waist, and black jeans and a black belt with a small silver buckle. He was Reginald's target.

The woman was just as athletic as her compatriots, but she was still the smallest of the lot. She had soft, demurred features, and long blonde hair with almond-shaped, blue eyes. She wore an understated blue blouse with blue jeans. She was Donald's target.

The three Bugs hadn't any clever strategy for procuring what they needed for their Terran disguises, as the three of them were brutes and not at all clever. They thundered from the forest in which they were obscured from sight by the darkness and foliage. They charged at their intended targets.

Where most other humans would have felt in terror, these three didn't react. No reaction whatsoever. It wasn't just strange, it was completely counterintuitive. But the trio never noticed this discrepancy, never noticed the lack of flight or fight response. They never took notice of the general apathy of the three humans.

They just charged in, with little thought to strategy and such. They care nothing for these alien (in their view) lifeforms. They were nothing more or less than a means to an end. While they were smart enough to know that they would need a disguise as to not attract attention, that was the limit of their forethought and planning.

"That one's mine!" Ronald declared, zooming ahead, directly for the eldest. He wanted that one because it looked the strongest. And he saw himself as the strongest of the three.

"It better not be the one in the middle," Reginald growled, diving through the land as if it were water. He wanted the youngest male because he thought that it was the most innocuous of the three. His logic being that it would surprise those that dared cross him, seeing himself as the most power of the three Bugs.

"The smallest one is obviously the right choice, you dullards!" Donald sneered, struggling to move overland as fast as the other two. He wanted the woman -- the smallest of the lot -- because he believed it to be the best choice (and by the obvious reality that the other two would get there before him, though he would never admit to this).

And still there was no reaction from the three campers. They had to have heard the thunderous charge of these three Bugs. They had to have sensed the impending danger, the danger of having their skin stolen, the danger of having their identities unconvincingly stolen. But, no. No, there was still no reaction at all, almost as if they were giving the Bugs the cold shoulder.

Ronald was their first, as he slowly reached out for the eldest and largest of the trio . . . ever so slowly . . . it seemed almost as if time was slowing of its own accord . . .

Closer now . . .

Closer . . .

[YeerkSalad]

Do you actually have 1,151 memoirs books planned out, or did you just pick a number?

[Cloak]

I never just pick a number or things like that. I do have ideas for 1,151 Memoirs books, all listed periodically in this thread.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
What the Deuce?!

Ronald reached an outstretched thin, clawed hand toward the large human. He reached closer . . . and closer . . . and closer still . . . when he got close enough to make contact he closed his hand. He expected to feel his claws bite through fabric, through skin. He expected a scream, a jerk, a struggle.

What he did not expect was this lack of reaction, and for his hand to close upon nothing but empty air. But it looked as if his hand was closed upon the human's broad shoulder. But he was unable to touch it, unable to manipulate it by any tactile means. He was unable to hollow this human out and use its skin as a disguise -- in his proper form he would stand out like a sore thumb! He would never be able to get the bounty (and stiff the other two along the way).

"Huh?" Reginald declared angrily when he discovered that his chosen target would not yield to him. When he would not react -- or even move. He didn't even seem to respirate. It was very much like --

"Hey!" Donald protested, when he made the discovery as the other two did previously. "What's the meaning of this?!"

The human trio suddenly wobbled. Wobbled in a very unnatural way, almost as if they were . . . mirages. As if they weren't even real. But that was ludicrous. Here they were, clear as day. They could make out every detail. The threads and cross-stitching and whatnot of the fabric, the individual strands of hair, the smallest imperfections of the skin . . . they had to be real. They had to be.

They were Bugs! A race of conquerors and overlords. They could not be deceived so easily, so effortlessly. To be so, it would be an embarrassment to their kind. An enduring shame that none of them would be able to shake off. They were Bugs, masters of all.

"What is the MEANING of this?!?!" Donald demanded again, and that caused the humans to wobble again, only this time more noticeably. Then they blinked from existence with the campfire, as if they were never there to begin with.

Suddenly, their world was a blur of discombobulating colors and motions as they tumbled over each other. Ronald's wings pinioned against the other two and ruined, grounding him, at least until the next molt -- assuming he has one left. The three were being pressed against each other in a way that all three found rather oppressive. And they were able to compact themselves down to fit into a human skin (though able to pass for one rather unconvincingly).

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?!?!" all three raged as they struggled to free themselves from their prison.

"What is the meaning of this, you ask?" came a calm voice from seemingly nowhere. "Why, I would think that was simple."

"You dare to mock our predicament?!" Reginald snarled.

"Wow," said a different voice, "still making demands."

"Clearly, they have been raised on self-aggrandizing propaganda," said the first voice. "That would speak volumes for their obvious lack of forethought and planning."

"Or maybe they're just stupid," a younger voice said.

"Touche, Salad," said the second voice.

"What is the meaning of this prison?!" Donald demanded again. "You. Will. Answer!!"

A chorus of voices laughed at this idle threat.

"You want to know the meaning of this?" the first voice said. "The meaning of this is that this was a trap. And you took the bait with surprising ease."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
All Talk . . .

"Impossible," Donald said, obstinately.

"Improbable," Ronald declared.

"Impractical," Reginald said, causing his compatriots to sigh with disgust and irritation.

"I can't tell," Sakki said, with withering appraisal at the RAFians' reluctant captives. "Are they just really stubborn, or are they really that stupid?"

"Who you callin' stupid, human?" Ronald said at once.

"I would think that was obvious," Sakki said, coldly, "now pipe down. The grown-ups are talking."

Then she turned to address the others -- Cloak, YeerkSalad, Rocklobster (whose holograms enabled them to set this trap), Oceanspray, and Estelore. The conception time for this trap was remarkably quick and the implementation of it was uncannily easy as well. None of the RAFians ever expected it to work nearly as well as it did.

"Don't you dismiss us!!" Reginald raged.

"Need we remind you that you're the ones in the net?" Oceanspray said, calmly.

"You think you better than us?!" Donald snarled and spat.

No one answered him, instead they discussed their next move, and how to proceed forward to prevent further incursions.

"These Bugs are like locusts," Estelore said. "This is a vast universe, a widespread galaxy -- even I haven't transversed it all, haven't seen all of it, haven't witnessed all of its secrets -- but I have seen the aftermath of verdant plants I've visited before being ravaged by Bugs."

The three actually seemed to glow with pride at this statement.

"Stop that, you three," Cloak snapped imperiously, "that is nothing to be proud of."

"That's just what weaklings say," Donald shot.

Cloak refused to rise to the obvious bait. The Bug probably thought he was being clever. Cloak found himself marveling a bit at the brutish mindsets of these Bugs. But there were more pressing concerns to deal with, such as how to prevent further incursions of this nature from the Bugs.

"It's clear that they don't care about the sovereignty and governance of other species," Estelore pointed out.

"Let's us go, you worthless lesser creatures!!" Ronald demanded suddenly.

"Case and point," Estelore resumed, acknowledging this outburst before proceeding as if it was just some naughty dog barking incessantly. "The quandary we face is to stop from acting on this impulse. It will become quite tiresome soon enough."

"But they're no threat," Salad said confidently.

The three Bugs struggles against the net had renewed vigor, as they shouted obscenities in a language and dialect that the RAFians didn't understand (aside from Cloak, due somehow to his Realm Walker nature -- he never figured out why, even notable Walker scholars debate heatedly on it).

"Salad," Cloak said, rather more patiently than he felt, "insecurity complexes, remember?"

[Cloak]

Huh. The banners are broken now. Such a pity -- Saffa did such good work.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
And a Demonstration is Needed, Apparently

"Oopsie," Salad said.

They could hear the net actually tearing, which was remarkable, as the net, while not made of tylee metal (making a net from that material was notoriously difficult), it was made of sphinx hair, which had the tensile strength of a steel cable. Supposedly.

"This is what we get for using discount sphinx hair," Rocklobster said, backing away. His Chee programming was already pushed to its limits in trapping the three, knowing it might lead to violence. He was hoping that it wouldn't -- or that he had the Pemalite crystal to undo this. "Are we sure that was even legitimate sphinx hair?"

"Doesn't matter in the long run," Cloak said, with a resigned sigh. "They are still quite manageable."

They seemed to take this rather personally. The RAFians heard the net tearing and straining under the weight and the thrashing of the three individuals trapped within it. But they looked on with wholly unimpressed expressions -- they couldn't help it, as they faced much more fearsome foes. These Bugs had nothing -- nothing -- on Mon Gall. Although Mon Gall's threat would be far more eclipsed by -- er, never mind, it's not important yet.

Naturally, the Bugs were outraged by this marginalization of their threat level. They were raised and indoctrinated in the belief that Bugs were the most feared race in all the cosmos. The reality of the matter was, simply, that they weren't. The cosmos was a vast thing, inhabited by numerous species -- sentient or not -- and some were fearsome, and some were feared, yes. There's no denying that. But to make such an audacious claim, without sufficient data to prove it, that meant it was just propaganda. Sure, they ravaged worlds, but there have been worlds they have failed to conquer that was stricken from the Bug historical record, conveniently enough.

The net eventually succumbed to their struggles, and the three Bugs were freed. Freed and furious. But the RAFians didn't seem to see them as much of a threat -- then again, they assumed that these three weren't favorites of the Bug Queen. Because while the Bugs individually would be dangerous to the likes of average being, a sentient star and a Elements Master are not two beings to be trifled with lightly.

Ronald wasn't particularly up to snuff, as his wing membranes were damaged to the point where it disabled his ability to fly. Cloak couldn't manage to find any compassion for him, as he wasn't asked by them to appear on this planet with the obvious motive to slaughter one of their own. Sympathy, in this case, was a forgone conclusion.

"Don't challenge us, Bugs," Cloak warned. "It won't end well for you!!"

"You will die! After we claim the bounty we came here for!!" Reginald claimed, before diving into the earth.

"Not so fast!" Cloak said, diving into the earth himself, and the element yielded before its master. And Cloak easily caught up to him, and bested him in just three blows, before forcing him up to the surface. He deliberately held back, as he hadn't wanted to kill him. He just wanted to make a point. They were not invulnerable. They were not immortal. Although Cloak was careful not to mention if they had superior numbers . . .  as he didn't really want to think about that scenario -- the planet overrun by a horde of Bugs.

When emerged, he saw Estelore was apparently not left much choice but to slay Donald. And Cloak was soon forced to do the same to Reginald. They did it in brutal ways, but each had granted them a quick, short death. Cloak took no pleasure from it, and neither did the star.

Ronald had seen how effortless this appeared to be (which was not entirely true, both had been holding back, both afraid to use the utmost zenith of their power -- yeah, it was a Superman complex, but it was also theirs). He was stunned into abject silence. Cloak did not know if the Bugs had any concept of fear, but it was clear, Ronald was afraid.

Afraid of Cloak and Estelore. Even though this Bug was a detestable creature, Cloak didn't not really like being feared, not like this. There was something very wrong about this kind of thing, he felt, and it's one reason he kept his zenith under lock and key. Even after his councils with Aniyu, he always tried to -- strived to -- not use excessive force, no matter the circumstance.

Now his judgement may not always be perfect (such a thing is an impossibility, as everyone has poor judgement from time to time), but he always did what he believed, what he hoped to be right. Whether or not his actions were . . . well, he supposed, that kind of thing is always open for debate.

"You will return to whatever the Bug homeworld is called," Cloak said, addressing Ronald. Reviling himself upon seeing how Ronald cringed at his voice, which had gone soft and quiet, yet still firm. "You will return in the ship you came in -- or Estelore will take you there personally, whichever solution's best. You will inform your Queen that we will have no more incursions. We will have no more native humans rendered into cheap cosplay by your kind. You respect our sovereignty, and we will respect yours."

Estelore nodded, then added, "But do not challenge Earth's sovereignty again. Or else the repercussions will prove to be disastrous for Bugs. Let's just make that clear right now."

"Sh-she won't listen to me," Ronald said.

"Then make her," Sakki said, with a note of abject finality. "We won't take kindly to another incursion."

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Ostracized and Sequels

Ronald made it back to the Bug hive, but just like he thought, no one would listen to him. He was basically ostracized and regulated to an untouchable caste because of his wings. Even though his next molt somehow renewed them, he was still an outcast.

The Queen wasn't too pleased that he, Donald, and Reginald did something with their own initiative. Initiative was something generally frown upon in most insectoid species with hives, but this Queen was actually a bit more controlling than most. She didn't like the jalopy status of the ship, and was only merciful enough to not kill him then and there.

Then she decided to think about it.

And the decision she came to was a brutally harsh one. When she called him into lavish chambers, she not only killed him, but ate him. As was their custom for Bugs accused of criminal acts against the hive or the Queen. She was quite authoritarian in this way.

***

A random narrator voice-over said, "Somewhere in Hollywood, just after their last movie . . ."

"So . . ." Leatherhead asked, "what do we do now?"

"Well, we're all back together," GH said, turning behind them, "and all of our fans are back --"

There was no one behind them.

"Actually, those were extras, GH," Hunter said.

"Hey," Abby said, "what's the camera still doing here?"

"Oh no! Disaster! That can only mean one thing!" Odie said.

"What?" Leatherhead asked.

"They've ordered a sequel!" Odie cried.

Cloak sang:

"We're doing a sequel.
We're back by popular demand.
Come on, everybody,
Strike up the brand!"

GH joined in.

"We're doing a sequel.
That's what we do in Hollywood.
And everybody knows
The sequel's never quite as good."

Saffa joined in:

"A sequel,
Another feature attraction."

Saffa sang solo:

"Places please, light the lights, roll camera, action."

Then Cloak, GH and Saffa sang:

"I thought it was the end,
But no, my friends, this is when
We get to do it all again!
Until the credits roll,
We get another go to show
Them, we can do it all again!"

Abby joined in:

"We're doing a sequel.
There's no need to disguise."

Abby sang solo:

"The studio considers us
A viable franchise!"

Rocklobster joined in:

"We're doing a sequel.
How hard can it be?"

Rocky sang solo:

"We can't do any worse than
The Ghostbusters Three."

Hunter joined in:

"We're doing a sequel.
The studio wants more."

Hunter sang solo:

"While they wait for GH to make
'Mad Guitarist Four'!"

All the RAFians sang in chorus:

"I thought it was the end,
but no, my friends, this is when
we get to do it all again!
Do it all again!
Until the credits roll,
We've got another go to show
Them we can do it all again!
We're doing a sequel.
We're doing a sequel.
We're doing a sequel.
Let's give it a shot!"

Cloak sang alone:

"All we need now is a half-decent plot."

Hunter said, "Got it -- an epic love story between a very handsome lupine sharpshooter and a handsome guitarist."

"Hmmmm," Cloak said, "Does anyone have any other ideas?"

GH pitched, "Oh! Oh! It's about getting the RAFians back together again to stop an evil oil tycoon from demolishing the old studio."

"GH, did you even watch our last film?" Cloak asked.

"Would you believe 'no'?" GH quipped.

"How about one of those seal out of water movies?"

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that, Horsie." Cloak said.

"How about a movie where you don't make a movie?" Odie said, caustically. "And we get to all go home early?"

"Good grief!" Cloak sighed.

"It's about a lonely boy, and one night he sees something he should never have seen and he has to live with a terrible secret." Underseen suggested, offhand.

"That sounds a little dark, Underseen." Cloak said.

"Cloak, how about the RAFians go on a galactic tour?" Phoenix suggested.

"That's perfect!" said the Realm Walker.

Then all sang again:

"I thought it was the end,
But no, my friends, this is when
we get to do it all again!
Until the credits roll,
We've got another go to show
Them we can do it all again!"

Abby woke up at the final note and grumbled to herself, "No more musicals before bed . . ."


SOURCE SONG: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-uTRpxvifE0

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:
Bad, Odie!! BAD BOY, NO!!

Meanwhile, Odie decided to embrace his nickname so he could manipulate a younger, female newbie out of her boat she was making for the lake (it was big enough for boats).

"So," he was saying, trying to be oh-so-suave, "what I believe you were trying to say . . . was thank you."

"Thank you?" the girl said, irritatedly.

"You're welcome!"

"What? No-no-no. I didn't -- I wasn't -- why would I ever say --"

Odie interrupted her, with a song:

"Okay, okay.
I see what's happening, yeah.
You're face-to-face with greatness and it's strange.
You don't even know how you feel, it's adorable!
Well it's nice to see that girls never change."

Abby had opened her thread door at this point, with a yawn and rubbing her left eye. She was still waking up.

"Open your eyes, let's begin.
Yes it's really me, it's Odie! Breathe it in.
I know it's a lot -- the hair, the bod --
When you're staring at a veritable god!"

Abby stretched as she blinked at the morning sun.

"What can I say except 'You're welcome'?
For the tides, the sun, the sky --
Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome!
I'm just an ordinary guy!"

Abby peered blearily at the direction of Odie and the girl, oblivious to the goings-on.

"Hey, what has two thumbs and pulled up the sky?
When you were standing yay high?
This guy!"

Abby's was slowly starting to catch up with her senses, as she continued to watch the two.

"When the nights got cold, who stole you fire from down below?
You're looking at him, yo!"

Abby began to see what Odie was doing, but couldn't fathom as to why he was doing this. He was obviously lying.

"Oh, also I lassoed the sun --
You're welcome --
To stretch your days and bring you fun!"

Abby was already annoyed by this point, but deciding what the prudent course of action should be. She could not allow him to get away with this.

"Also, I harness the breeze --
You're welcome --
To fill your sails and shake your trees."

Abby seriously considered reporting him. That probably would be more prudent than getting involved directly.

"So what can I say except you're welcome?
For the islands I pulled from the sea?
There's no need to pray, it's okay, you're welcome!
I guess it's just my way of being me.
You're welcome, you're welcome!"

No. No, she would have to act now. If she went to find a mod now, he could get away with whatever he was up to, and deny culpability.

"Well, come to think of it,
Kid, honestly I can go on and on
I can explain every natural phenomenon.
The tide, the grass, the ground.
Oh, that was Odie just messing around!
I killed an eel, I buried its guts,
Sprouted a tree, now you've got coconuts!
What's the lesson? What is the takeaway?
Don't mess with Maui when he's on the breakaway!"

Abby immediately strode over to them.

"Well, anyway, let me say you're welcome!
For the wonderful world you know.
Hey, it's okay, it's okay, you're welcome!
Well, come to think of it, I gotta go!
Hey, it's your day to say you're welcome!
'Cause I'm gonna need that boat,
I'm sailing away, away, you're welcome!
'Cause Odie can do anything but float!
You're welcome, you're welcome!
And thank you!"

"You give that back to her right now, you thieving bastard!!" Abby said. She chased after Odie -- and it was clear that this wasn't going to end well for him.


SOURCE SONG: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=79DijItQXMM.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY:
Heavy Metal

Cerulean had crossed the threshold of the abandoned factory. The RAFians had picked up a signal that one of Maul's sibling orbs had been rehydrated and activated here. Why here of all places? They didn't really know.

But he could hear some sort of activity coming from deep within the bowls of this large, decrepit building. Honestly, Cerulean felt if this place was hit in the right spot too hard, the entire thing would start crumbling down to rubble.

"So many risks of tetanus," Cerulean said, looking around at the rusting, mildewing, forgotten equipment that reaked of neglect. The floor tiles were cracked here and there, and the grout was blacker than night. There substances here and there that he just simply did not want to know what they were, they looked disgusting enough in his ignorance.

Cerulean made it to the center, having to traverse some devices that had to have been conveyor belts at one time. Now they were broken, abandoned and forgotten. This whole place just looked sad and morbid. Even the homeless, no matter how desperate steered clear of this place -- it was obviously a deathtrap. Anyone with a working brain could see that.

It didn't take Cerulean long to find the creature, one of Demos's fiends. It was seemingly attack inert, defenseless machines as if they had insulted it personally. It clearly had a lot of pent-up frustrations.

The creature was roughly the size of a human child and had, rather noticeably, no discernable mouth. It had purple legs to the knee with white thighs and belly, with green in between. It had a robust, green torso with white markings around a bulbous, purple growth dead center. It had serrated buzzsaws around its green shoulders, separating its arms from its body. Its lower arms and hands were green, but its upper arms were purple. It had a metallic buzzsaw crest on its green head, and pointed, purple ears as long as a rabbit's, proportionately. It also had strange, metallic gear-like growths around its wrists and knees. Its eyes had pink sclera and purple pupils.

Cerulean noticed that the way it walked was as if it was fighting a conveyor belt going in the opposite direction. It was actually quite a surreal thing to see. Of course, it was at this point that Cerulean got noticed and the creature threw four buzzsaws at him, which he easily dodged with his superspeed. In fact, it was almost as if this creature was moving in slow motion.

The creature wasn't going to submit. Cerulean didn't really think that it would, but wouldn't it be wonderful if once, just once, these things did? Alas, he would have to think of a way to either restrain it or employ more . . . permanent means to stop it.

Shouldn't be too hard. It had all the accuracy of a Stormtrooper. There was no way that any of these buzzsaw discs would make contact with him. Heck, he may not even need to use his superspeed.

Cerulean snatched up on of the metallic buzzsaws -- which were made out of a ceramic sort of titanium -- and flicked his wrist with all the superspeed him mustered, and . . . one-shotted the creature. He hadn't expected it to be that easy.

***

Demos called it a "metallosapien". He had made it for combat, but had deemed it a failure when he had made it vulnerable to its own projectiles, as the gear-like growths were very heavy to allow too much agility, and severely cut its reaction time.

***

"So much for heavy metal," Malice sighed. Then she winced and cringed at her own bad pun.

[Cloak]

New chapter. And, if I haven't already said before, "Journey of a Mad Guitar Player" takes place during this book.

BOOK CXLII:
CLOAK'S NIGHTMARE
CHAPTER ONE:
Through a Wood

Cloak stole into a forest, unseen and unheard. There was another signal of one of Demos's fiends -- this one harassing campers, very nearly killing a child. This was the fourteenth or sixteenth one -- Cloak was beginning to lose count. It did beg the question of how he managed to create so many fiends under their noses. If the likes of Bernie Bridges found out . . . Cloak found that he much rather not think of those implications.

He padded silently in the forest, sticking to the shadows, like his instincts told him to, listening to every sound, and liberally using Earthsight at regular intervals. But he could tell that the creature was still in the forest -- and one of the heavier fiends, judging by its footsteps alone.

Cloak felt as if he was making unnecessary zigzags in the forest, but it was the only way to reach the creature, whatever it was. Cloak did so, dutifully, before coming upon the creature itself.

The creature was roughly the size of a rotund adult with inset, hollow-looking eyes that had purple sclera and black irises, which glowed ominously. It basically looked like a felled hinoki cypress tree, with moistened wood, possessing a smooth, human-like face. It had the posture of a gorilla, with large, long arms, block-like feet, and small, short, stubby legs. It had the disposition of a very angry silverback.

It seemed not to see Cloak until he deliberately made himself known. Then it started to attack him. With dried leaves. It was pathetic. They weren't even ceramic titanium or ceratium or whatever it was called. Cloak, naturally, wasn't phased at all. But he couldn't help but be a bit nonplussed. Wouldn't you?

Cloak hadn't any metal around -- he suspected that might be a weakness -- but he had fire. But he had to be prudently judicious with its use in this heavily wooded area. He didn't want to be the cause of a forest fire.

. . . Did it actually think those leaves were doing anything? Honestly, a basic punch would have been more effective, especially with those massive arms of its.

Cloak came to realize it's entire body was made of wood, which gave him another, more forest friendly option. He was the Master of the Wood element after all. And he might as well put it out of its misery. He snapped his fingers and a fissure appeared on the creature's chest. It cried out in pain.

Too slow. He had to make this quicker, more painless. He allowed himself to go to his second tier of power, as he allowed the two ribbons, the two tongues of golden-scarlet energy flow from his eyes like streamers. Then he shattered the creature before he could hurt anymore campers.

Yet, as Cloak returned to his normal tier of power, he found himself not liking how ruthless he had to be. Maybe his judgement was faulty . . . Realm Walkers were not.immune to poor decisions, after all.

No one was . . .

***

Demos called it a "xylosapien". Demos had created it for forest-based combat, endowing it was a violent volatility, and he was actually a bit fond of it, but alas there wasn't a thing he could do to save it -- not from Cloak, not from itself. It was stupid, yes. Demos couldn't seem to get rid of that.

***

"Well, I thought that wood have gone down differently," Malice chuckled.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
Recurring Dream

Cloak was like GH. He was having difficulty sleeping. Mostly due to an irritatingly recurring dream. It hadn't anything to do with the xylosapien or the Bugs, but, oddly enough Shill.

In the dream, she had called him to talk. He still considered her a criminal, and had a sneaking suspicion what she wanted.

"Master Cloak, grandson of Master Sage," she said, "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Enough of the formalities and sucking up, Shill," Cloak said, "what is it you want?"

She smiled deeply, before launching into a song:

"There is no greater power than to rule over the land.
We both have it inside us.
It's here where we stand!
My friend, you know it's true!
Look close and you will find.
Ruling every species is destiny for our kind!
So if we join together,
We will never fall.
Walkers must rule forever.
Walkers over all!
Walkers over all!
No species is more grand!
Walkers over all!
It's why we rule the land!
We crush any resistance,
So enemies keep their distance.
Walkers, Walkers over all!"

Cloak answered back in song:

"If I did what you suggest,
I'd be wicked and cruel.
Using force and threat?
That is no way to rule."

But still she tried:

"But if we're joined together,
We will never fall!
Yes, Walkers must rule forever.
Walkers over all!
Walkers over all!
No species is more grand!"

Cloak sang:

"I will not lose my cool."

Shill sang:

"Walkers over all!
It's why we rule the land!"

"I am not a fool."

"We crush any resistance --"

"I am not your jewel."

"So enemies keep their distance!"

"And I will NOT be your tool."

"Walkers, Walkers over all!"

Then the song ended.

"Shill, you and I have very different ideas on how a Walker should act," Cloak said, coldly.

"And that's why we're here," she said, "to talk."

It was ambush. There was a fair smattering of different animal forms, but most were sheep. They took him, embarrassingly off-guard. They ganged up on him -- there was so many, and he didn't want to kill them all. Killing another species is quite different than heartlessly and ruthlessly killing a member of your own. It's some how more real in that way -- but Cloak considered his kind to be RAFians, not just Walkers.

"I wouldn't want to be responsible for a murder, now," Shill said, grandiosely, "wouldn't you agree, Master Cloak?"

"That's not going to work, Shill," Cloak said, "I put it behind me."

There was a slight confused mumbling from the assembled crowd.

"Ah, so you haven't told anyone your secret," she said, "well, now's your chance. Tell them who is responsible for Brute's death?"

It took Cloak something to admit this. "I am. It's . . . true."

"You see?! He admits it!" Shill said at once. "Patricidal murderer!"

"No, it was an accident!" Cloak protested.

"If it wasn't for you, Brute would still be alive. It's your fault he's dead. Do you deny it?"

"No."

"Then you're guilty!"

"No, I'm not a murderer!" Cloak protested, finding himself being backed towards a cliff.

"Oh, Cloak, you're in trouble again. But this time your RAFians aren't here to save you." Shill said. She was enjoying this. "And this is why!!"

Cloak slipped and fell off the cliff. He dug his claws into the side of it, and was unpleasantly surprised to find that the earth wouldn't yield to him, wouldn't acknowledge him as its master. It was amazing to feel so powerless, and not in a good way.

"Now, this looks familiar," Shill said, really hamming it up, "hmmm, where have I seen this before? Hmmm, lemme think."

Cloak didn't appreciate this.

"Oh, yes! I remember. This is just how your father looked before he died," she said. Then she leaned in close and whispered, "and here's my little secret: I. Killed. Brute!"

The dream always cut off there. Always. Every time.

But this next dream Cloak was about to have -- it was a doozy.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=iWCh6TBLq4I.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
A New World

It was a busy three years.

The world unified into a community governed by a singular government, and each country got a seat in the global senate. The humans had quickly became a spacefaring race, striking up trade routes and the like. But they haven't really spanned beyond their own star system, with successful colonies on four of the most hospitable planets and moons as there was besides Earth.

Their ships seemed to have been a deliberate fusion of Star Trek and Star Wars designs. There were very few, but then there seemed to be an explosion, as they used resources from the other planets in their system as well.

Cloak wondered if this was a good thing. It's one thing to explore, it's quite another to build ships capable of war. Humans do have a disturbing proclivity to war, he noticed. But who was he to judge? Realm Walkers have also been guilty of the same thing as well.

RAFians had garnered notoriety and been given much respect and honors. They were held to be in the position much akin to generals of the Grand Earth Army. They were addressed with "RAFian" than their name, so the former became an honorific. Cloak wasn't sure he liked it.

Leatherhead, however, liked the prestige of it. In fact, he was getting a little too brash, reckless, and hotheaded for Cloak's liking. Even for a nine-year-old. GH took this in stride, believing his adopted son to be just a little scamp. Cloak knew better, as he had seen two years -- two Nexusian years -- previously just how a pigheaded nature could be a serious liability to those that possess it. Perhaps the Dweller years just had mad Cloak world weary and paranoid. He wouldn't argue with that judgement.

Cloak just had this nagging feeling that he couldn't seem to get rid of. Something was on the horizon, something not good. He could not purge himself of this ominous feeling. An unseen evil, an unknown antagonist, was rising, but he could not divine who or what. It caused him some anxiety to be sure.

And he wasn't sure he like how the Chancellor seemed to wield so much power -- though being the second or third most powerful RAFian himself, this may be a bit of hypocrisy on his part. Granted, this High Chancellor was supposed to be checked by the Senate. And the RAFians, on the Senate's behalf. Cloak wasn't sure that he liked the implications of that. But he kept all his misgivings to himself.

But he had seen enough in all his years to know when something of this nature would come up. But he only had a single question.

How it would play out.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Senatorial Ambitions

The Global Senate was situated in a hub in international waters, an island made by Cloak himself. The room was set in a steep bowl, with seats for the Senators ringing one side, with a high podium behind which the Chancellor, Chancellor Pansy Abigail Fowler, sat. She was saw as a gullible, weak chancellor -- easily swayed by emotional arguments without bothering to look at the meat of it. She was far too easily misled, too easily swayed by hacky arguments, and was devoid of integrity.

The stage was set for her to be replaced by someone else. But it wasn't going to be too soon, as one Byron Chance tried to stage a coup and seize the chancellor's chair for himself, but he was a brute and was far too blunt and forward with his intentions which lost him his senatorship. Didn't help that his likability rating was nine percent, or even less.

So, one with similar aspirations to ascend to the figurative throne of the Chancellor knew that she'd have to be careful. Secretive and subtle. Smart and clever at playing the long game. She knew that the RAFians would prove to be . . . problematic. But she had already circumvented that obstacle with a plan for them -- but only when the time was right. There were still pieces left to be put into play first. The scheme was rather Machiavellian in its design, if not overly convoluted. But she was confident in its success, but not ****y -- any mistake could cost her.

Senator Dory Booker had written up some legislation to institute a clone army, which (to Cloak's surprise) was passed and the facility was set up upon Martian soil. Senator Clint Williams had instituted a second international space station, which was agreed upon -- the humans were pushing to be part of the intergalactic community, even though they technically already were a decade ago, give or take. Senator Gabrielle Powers pushed for infrastructure spending and war prevention. Senator Ray Donaldson suggested another trade deal, spinning it as "opening the planetary borders" -- it was met with harsh criticism. Senator Logan Hogan was emphatic about the minimum wage, but no one knew whether he wanted to raise it or lower it, as he flip-flopped on it in the time it takes a Yeerk to spend in the Pool before returning to their hosts.

Cloak understood why some people would have just thought these talks on the Senate floor was mind-numbingly boring -- especially with Senator Garrulus and Senator Palaverus there -- but he felt it was important to pay attention. Especially when the two advocated the RAFians be around to keep the clone army in check. For some reason, this gave Cloak a very bad feeling. He didn't know why, exactly.

He resisted the idea of leading an army -- though he recognized the argument that he kind of did so when confronting Shill and her then-Council lackeys. But it wasn't the same thing. Not by a long shot. Still Cloak felt . . . uneasy. Something was happening here, something big.

Then news came in. Cloak was there to hear this reported to the Senate. The trade unions had been corrupted, forming a trade federation and was now demanding exorbitant prices. Cloak realized then that he didn't understand how this government worked, how the trade unions could become a federation or what.

They called themselves Separatists, for some reason. Cloak felt as if it was a red flag to something. But he didn't know what exactly. He just knew it was nothing good, and he could feel darkness creeping closer and closer.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
A New Chancellor Appears!*

Years passed.

Years passed where the time of needless pleonasms ended, and the time of war began. The Separatists enlisting Techadon-made war machines to do their dirty work for them. Techadons never cared what their machines did, or for whom they did it to, as long as they got paid and the quality of their products never brought into question.

Chancellor Fowler quickly proved herself to be more inept than Cornelius Fudge, and that's saying something. It didn't take long for the people everywhere to be calling for her resignation. She made desperate pleas to keep her position of power, abandoning all and any pretense. She even tried to strongarm the RAFians into supporting her. That went over about as well as you can imagine.

Senator Gabrielle "Gabby" Powers was chosen by the Senate to take former-Chancellor Fowler's position. Senator Powers accepted the appointment with grace and dignity, but something about it didn't sit right with Cloak. But he dismissed it due to his innate dislike of her, being a consummate establishment politician. The kind of politician he detested passionately, as the Realm Walker Council was constantly filled with these societal cancers.

But he would be very leery of this Chancellor. His RAFian duties might have called him to be respectful and polite towards her, lest create a political firestorm. But that did not obligate him to like nor trust her. He would keep her at arm's length at all times. He admit, he didn't know much about her record, but he resolved to change that as soon as he could.

***

As Cloak would eventually discover, Powers was a powerful wizard of sorts. But not as versatile as someone like Broken or Zak. She dabbled in a philosophy called the Force, and was enthralled by the darkest aspects of it from a young age. She was intelligent enough to keep this hidden and thoroughly cover her tracks so that no one, other than an omniscient narrator could know what she did.

While no proof existed to tie her to it, she commited a brutal patricide. Murdered a father she secretly hated for his lack of ambition and weakness. She saw him as a blithering incompetent whose opinions were not worth anything. She felt no remorse for her act, and was too good at playing the grieving daughter. No killer was ever found. So she lived a double life essentially from then, hiding her true sadistic self and ruthless motives from the world, and putting on an austere, but genial public face.

She hadn't any remorse for anyone. If anyone got killed standing in her way, then, in her mind, it was their fault for being there in the first place, though she would cover her tracks with the utmost skill and cleverness.

She managed to even secure an untarnished career as first and ambassador, then Senator, which she was seen as distinguished in. Even managing a form of Occlumency to even deceive Yarin, and subtly ensuring she was never alone with Cloak, who would have been able to Earthsight her untruths, which was difficult the more people were present, and there was too much noise to concentrate properly.

Unknown to all but herself, she was the one who orchestrated this whole, never-ending war between the "Sol Republic" and the Separatists. She found it disturbingly easy to so, as well, using the friction that was culminating between the two. Millions would die, and many have already -- some civilians, some RAFians, most clone troopers. She would use this to frighten the people enough to enable her to transfer most of the Senate's executive authority to her new office, and she would not relinquish them. The people were foolish, stupid people rife with petty weaknesses, in her view, and only needed certain platitudes and actions to keep them satisfied.

But she was very careful. She had to be. If she allowed the facade to slip, even a little, the RAFians might catch on to her scheme. They were the only real threat to it. They would need to be purged -- soon, but not yet. . . .

Not yet.


*Get the reference?

[redtailedsaffa]

Are you kidding me? Cloak is literally mind-tripping on the Star Wars prequels - which was previously Lion King for some reason?

... What a nightmare, indeed.

YEY I FINALLY CAUGHT UP!! I'll upload the missing PDFs tomorrow when I have wifi, and fix the links to the banners as well - they're now broken on the desktop too, so that definitely needs a reupload. Fantastic books, as usual, particularly enjoyed Solar Sucks and Buggy Afternoon because FEELS. Will Parker and Helen get back together? Daaaaamn, that drama. (Didn't particularly enjoy Nexus Politics, which is to be expected from a rather apolitical person such as myself - though was it pure coincidence that you happened to write that particular book in November or not? )

"Do you think we could send some forum house-elves down here and --"

"Aquilai!" Saffa scolded, offering the irresistible imagery of Saffa as a Hermione Granger. She wouldn't appreciate the comparison, Cloak thought, allowing himself to be amused at the idea.

I just had to pick out this particular quote because it's funny - I was always called Hermione as a kid, thanks to the bushy hair and smartass disposition.