Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:
Cicadoidea hominidparasitus

Sakki easily dodged out of the way. She quickly decided those recent trips to the training room, affectionately known as the "Danger Room", was worth it. The bug's eyesight was, obviously, not nearly as sophisticated as hers were. She could use that to her advantage.

Then it decided to do that cicada mating call thing. Using that resonating chamber (meaning that this cicada was male) and the natural acoustics of this concert hall, made the sound almost deafening. Like sticking your ear right next to a jet engine as it was turning on. (Not advisable in the least, mind you, as you'd either get sucked in or blown clear across the tarmac.)

This sound wasn't even really that bothersome at normal decibels, but at these grossly exaggerated levels? It was torturously unbearable. Sakki had to cover her ears. This creature could not have possibly been so intelligent to take such advantage of this area. It wasn't sentient, ruled only by instinct and whatever it might have inherited from Cade. Sakki didn't know if it could retain the intelligence or personality of the parasitoid's host, or if they just worked like Xenomorphs.

But the cacophony of noise had actually forced her, in a rather humiliating manner, to her knees. She did like being defeated in such a way -- in fact, it made her downright angry.

She screamed. She screamed in frustration. She screamed in anger. It unleashed a powerful force, which manifested in concentric circles issuing from her mouth as visible soundwaves. This damaged the the resonating chamber of the cicada, effectively silencing him.

Sakki took this opportunity to . . . sing.

"I'm comin' straight on for you!
I made up my mind."

Then she spoke, allowing a brief respite in her sonorous sonics.

"Takin' a little break?" she spoke venomously, before launching back into the song.

"I'm feeling strong now,
Now I'm comin' through!
I'm coming straight on for you!
Yeah, straight on for you!
I'm coming straight on for you!"

She allowed a brief respite before continuing her assault. The acoustics of the concert hall working perfectly to her advantage.

"Now, I know how to play my hand.
But the winner don't know
What the gambler understand!"

She stopped momentarily to consider what she just sang meant. "Wait -- what does that even mean?"

Then she just continued the lyrical assault again:

"No, you don't stand a chance!
You don't stand a chance!
I'm coming straight on for you!
Straight on for you!
Straight on for you!
Straight on for you!
STRAIGHT ON FOR YOU!!"

And the cicada was now dead, due to Sakki's lyrical attack ripping it apart with her sonics. Now the only question remained was how to break it to Cade's loved ones what had happened to him.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=c1qGVRGEe5c

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
Lee Francis Anderson

Underseen followed a lead to a florist. He saw that the door was forced open and it wasn't a small shop as he had expected. It was wide and expansive, and the ceiling was entirely glass. This wasn't so much a florist shop as it was an excuse for a greenhouse. It was more of a plant emporium, with pretty much every kind of plant imaginable.

Granted, Underseen was not a botanist, so he didn't know the specific names of each flower and plants. It was almost as if Underseen was taking a nature walk indoors. The air was filled with different scents, so many that it was almost intoxicating. So many that his head almost swam.

All these plants so painstakingly taking care off, Underseen couldn't help but applaud the hard work that was evident going into taking care of these plants, and there were many of them. And it didn't look to be automated in any way, so Underseen assumed each one was taken care of by hand. The proprietor of this shop must clearly love what he does, and these plants and flowers seemed to be trying to reward such an endeavor with brilliantly-colored petals and hardy stems.

Underseen quickly spied an obvious trail in this flora. It was like a scar that marred the natural beauty of the plants and the arrangements of thus. Naturally, Underseen followed such a blatant lead.

At its end, Underseen found Lee Anderson, bracing himself against a tree. His hospital untied and fluttering freely. His face was blank and slack and without expression, empty eyes affixed in his skull. His entire body was pale, like porcelain. There was a crack in his back, from the nape of his neck to the top of his buttocks.

There was a forest green mass struggling to extricate itself from this human shell. There should have been a sound, like a sucking sound or the sound of a breaking seal. But there was none. Which made the whole thing to seem even more unreal.

As the green mass flopped to the ground, Underseen chanced a look into Lee from the crack, while not moving from his spot, and, with much surprise, saw that it looked like the interior of a porcelain statuette. There was nothing inside him. And Underseen found that even more unnerving. What was this thing?!

The green mass took form, exoskeleton steaming, fast drying. It had large eyes the color of dying embers, with silver at the joints. large, triangular heads with a beak-like snout and mandibles. They have two bulbous compound eyes, three small simple eyes, and a pair of antennae. The articulation of the neck was also remarkably flexible, and apparently was able rotate its heads nearly 180 degrees. Its thorax consists of a prothorax, a mesothorax, and a metathorax. The prothorax, which bears the head and forelegs, was much longer than the other two thoracic segments. The prothorax was also flexibly articulated, allowing for a wide range of movements of the head and fore limbs while the remainder of the body remains more or less immobile. Mantises have two spiked, grasping forelegs ("raptorial legs", if you will) in which prey items were caught and held securely. The coxa and trochanter combine to form a segment about as long as the femur, which is a spiky part of the grasping apparatus. Located at the base of the femur is a set of five discoidal spines. These spines are preceded by a number of tooth-like tubercles, which, along with a similar series of tubercles along the tibia and the apical claw near its tip, give the forelegs its grasp on its prey. The foreleg ends in a delicate tarsus used as a walking appendage, made of four or five segments and ending in a two-toed claw with no arolium. It had two sets of wings: the outer wings were narrow and leathery. They functioned as camouflage and as a shield for the hind wings, which were clearer and more delicate. The abdomen consisted of ten tergites, with a corresponding set of nine sternites visible.

It was a mantis, Mantodea hominidparasitus. It saw Underseen and it moved slowly in his direction.

[DinosaurNothlit]

I liked that you called the abandoned concert hall, 'disconcerting.'    I don't know if that was intended as a pun or not, but either way I laughed.

The fight between Underseen and the mantis promises to be interesting.

[Cloak]

Hope it lives up to the hype then.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:
Mantodea hominidparasitus

Underseen understood immediately what must be done. This monster had to be destroyed. He immediately shapeshifted into a red Brahma bull, and began to charge, shaking the ground with the strength of his hoofbeats. But the mantis used its raptorial legs to catch his horns and brace himself, as the mantis was, indeed, male. Whether this was because his parasitoid host was male as well was unconfirmed.

Underseen, quick on the uptake, shifted from the bull to a gnat, zipping away. Then he flew as high as he could before shifting to a small green whale, which would have caused tremendous collateral damage had he successfully body slammed the bug. But, with the sound of an old jalopy with a bad muffler, the mantis flew away.

Underseen had noticed this and rolled as he shifted into a blue hawk and soared into the underbrush. The mantis looked around, looking almost as if he was just some eerily good Jim Henson puppet. Too bad he wasn't, that would make this a whole lot easier. It didn't budge from its spot, almost as if it believed that it was camouflaged where it stood. But the ground was dirty white tile, and not green. And it was at least twice the size of a man standing upright.

For a while nothing happened. It was almost as if Underseen was watching, observing very carefully. Almost as if he were taking lessons from Cloak's usual method of fighting, and waiting. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself at the proper time . . .

After a time, the mantis seemed to decide there was no longer any prey here. It would have to move on. It was hungry, so it would have to find some prey. It began to walk with a certain saunter that mantids seem to have. It had allowed itself to drop its guard.

Suddenly, a violet velociraptor burst out of the underbrush and landed easily upon the back of the mantis. Underseen slashed at him with his sickle claws and bit at him with his sharpened teeth. But, while both scratched the exoskeletal armor, it did not penetrate it. Well -- this didn't go as planned.

Underseen was thrown off its back, and saw a really ticked off mantis in front of him. But he had a contingency plan formulated, but he couldn't implement it just yet. The angles were all wrong and the trajectory would be off. So he bounced back and shifted back to his human form, which he considered his default state.

The mantis lashed out with its raptorial legs, and narrowly missed Underseen. Instead it clasped Lee's porcelain body, ripping the shell from the mooring it had. His hands didn't part company with the tree, but with his wrists. It was like the soundless breaking of ceramics. The mantis quickly realized that it hadn't captured prey, and so smashed it with its raptorial legs. Lee's face fell down to right before its right front foot that wasn't a raptorial leg. The mantis unintentionally smashed it as it plowed forward having spotted Underseen.

This was the time to initiate his contingency.

Underseen launched himself at the mantis, which confused the simpleminded creature. But when he impacted, he was not a human. He was a giant, purple octopus. And when he made the impact, he swiftly wrapped all eight tentacles around the upper part of the mantis. This pinioned the mantis's raptorial legs against its body. Underseen's grip never wavered, as the bug wondered as to why its legs stopped working, before managing to piece it together. He struggled, but Underseen's cephalopod strength was sufficient enough to keep him restrained.

He had decided to try and bite, and maybe even eat, the soft, vulnerable flesh that restrained his raptorial legs. But only to find that the soft, yielding, purple flesh was replaced by hard, orange scales. Too hard for its mouthparts to penetrate, and the grip only got tighter. It exoskeleton was already cracking at strength of the constriction.

Had this mantis been a normal one, this might not have been a problem. But this one inherited the active respiratory system of its parasitoid host. With every exhale, Underseen tightened his orange boa constrictor body, forcing less air to be taken in. It wasn't long before no air was being drawn in. Without oxygen, it couldn't breathe.

It was not long before it was asphyxiated. It was dead, and Underseen had considered eating it as a snake. But then he remembered its manner of birth and decided against it.

Back in his human form, Underseen picked up the porcelain nose that was once Lee Anderson's actual flesh nose. He wondered how he would break this to his family. Little did Underseen know, Lee had chased away any relative or alienated them. None would mourn him.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:
Vincent "Vince" Eugene Greene

Saffa had followed a lead to an apiary, a place were bees and their hives are kept. She wasn't thrilled about it, if she was honest. Bees had stingers, and they weren't afraid to use them. Granted, they would die, but their brains weren't sophisticated enough to comprehend the ramifications of things like life or death.

Some might see that as admirable, being so passionate, so driven about a cause that you're willing to die for it. But that goes both ways -- selfless and selfish. Such a path could also lead to ideological blindness and fanaticism, both very dangerous in their own right, no matter the side of a cause you're on. Getting lost in your own hype or ideology -- it was a very slippery path to be on, as you could fall into zealotry and terrorism very easily, no matter how righteously you happened to frame it.

It is one thing to be fervently enthusiastic about a given subject, but quite another if you took it to extremes. If you allowed your passionate zeal to be come obsessive and all-consuming. If you allowed your fervent intensity take hold of you, and you lose sight of everything and anything else . . .

Saffa shook her head. This wasn't the time or place to be waxing poetic or contemplating unrelated, complicated issues. She should be finding the patient, and perhaps find out how what happened to them to make them creepy enough to weird out and intimidate nurses, who had experience dealing with dementia patients.

Saffa looked around -- there wasn't much to this place. The patient couldn't have hidden here -- yet, she was certain he or she was here. It was just a hunch, in the pit of her stomach. Yet the bee hives were about waist height and white, so, unless the patient was deliberately hiding . . . which was a good possibility.

Then something occurred to her. Not a single bee was around. She should have had to wear one of those beekeeping outfits -- the white suits with gloves and the netted hat things. This apiary was deserted. Almost as if all the bees in the hives were either dead or . . . or they knew something she didn't. Well, that was certainly ominous.

Then she noticed human fingers grasping a large, old black oak tree, and she beat herself up on missing it. She immediately went around the tree and saw Vince Greene. His face was blank, slack, and expressionless. His complexion was pale and its texture and stiffness was like porcelain. His eyes were affixed in his skull, vacant and empty. As Saffa continued around the tree, she noticed his hospital gown had come untied, but then saw the crack from the nape of his neck to the top of his buttocks. She gasped audibly as she saw this, and recoiled when she realized that there was something inside, trying to extricate itself from this shell. Some sort yellow mass was trying to come out of this crack.

There should have been a sound. There was none, but it most certainly felt like that there should have been. Saffa saw through the crack and saw that it was looking into a porcelain figurine. She didn't know what was more disturbing -- the creature mass or the emptiness of the shell.

The yellow mass had taken form, with its exoskeleton drying quickly. It was a hornet, Vespa hominidparasitus. Its transparent wings were taking the longest to dry. The area that connected the wings to the body was white. While it was primarily yellow, it was black at its joints. When it took flight, it sounded as if someone was using a buzzsaw that was perpetually on and active.

It saw Saffa with its red compound eyes. It hesitated, but only for a moment. Eventually, it decided that she was a threat. Its stinger shined ominously as it made a beeline for her . . .

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
Vespa hominidparasitus

Saffa dodged and parried the stinger with her Taydenite dagger. She wanted to eschew morphing, still feeling as if she was too reliant on it. But she had kept in practice with it, because refusing to morph altogether would make her slow with it, rusty. Besides -- this hornet wouldn't allow her enough time to morph. Not to mention she would absolutely annihilate the clothes she was wearing, although she did have her morphing clothing underneath these. But clothes weren't cheap, especially in this economy.

But how could she be expecting something like this. Even for RAFians, this was rather unprecedented. She supposed that it was like the . . . the issue they had with Hundred/Thousand/Million/Billion. But this? This seemed somehow . . . more wrong than that, darker than that, despite the fact that Billion (or whatever it was calling itself last) was fully sentient and this hornet was clearly not.

Using her crystallokinetic construct of a dagger and her Taydenite dagger, she dual wielded. She was still working on the energy expenditure for her crystallokinesis, training extensively between her schooling, but it worked well enough for the moment. She basically fenced the hornet's stinger, as it pressed its attacks. The stinger was this hornets only real weapon, and, unlike a bee, it was not barbed. It wouldn't die if it stung something.

Such a pity, too. It would make this whole thing easier.

But soon, the energy expenditure was too much and she allowed her crystallokinetic construct to dissolve away, allowing herself just to focus on her Taydenite dagger. She considered morphing, going through her litany of morphs, trying to discern which one would be best for taking down the hornet.

She came up with a couple of possibilities as she fenced the hornet's stinger with her Taydenite dagger. She dismissed her Panuncian, Psycholeopterran, Rootshark, Crabdozer, Slamworm, rancor, and Nexu morphs outright. That Shear Goliath's fire breath was a good possibility, but there were too many trees here, too many chances for unnecessary collateral damage. Her Tyrannopede morph's webs could be useful, but that would only restrain the creature, not kill it. Her Buglizard morph came from a species that preyed on Lepidopterrans, a flying insectoid species -- it could be a good choice. Her Terrorantula morph could possibly web it up, but this hornet was larger than its usual prey, according to its description in the database. Her Mucilator morph's sticky purplish-pink pustules could ensnare and suffocate it --  a strong possibility. But she would have to strip down to her morphing outfit first.

She made her decision, she managed throw the hornet a sufficient distance away, and ran to hide so she could get into her morphing suit. When she did, she immediately began to morph. First thing that went was her hair as her flesh grew gray and flabby as it expanded. She grew rock-like growths and purplish-pink sticky pustules. She quickly completed the morph*, and looked at the hornet. She had almost forgot to rein in the Mucilator's mind. She swiftly reasserted control over the alien beast's powerful instincts.

The hornet seemed actually attracted to the pustules, as if the pustules emitted a sweet scent that drew it towards them. Saffa didn't wait, as she charged forward with surprising speed. She thought she felt something shatter, but assumed it was just one of the apiary hives. Mucilator were hard bodies to maneuver, though not surprising considering their girth. The hornet was mired in it so thoroughly and the impact killed it as well. That was easier than Saffa expected -- then again, the hornet was very simpleminded and not sentient.

Saffa swiftly demorphed back to her human self, and it was then that she realized that Vince's shell was nowhere to be found . . . she ignored the mangled mess of the hornet's body, as she looked for Vince's shell, only to discover his shattered and cracked lips at her feet . . . that thing that she shattered. It was Vince's shell.

How would she explain this to his next of kin? But how could she know that his megalomaniacal ambitions had alienated or chased away (or both) anyone who could conceivably be close to him, Vince having seen such things as career liabilities.


*

[Cloak]

New chapter. Bit brief, sorry.

CHAPTER THIRTY:
Diane Dawn Goodsen

Aquilai had followed a lead to a meadow. He looked around and swore he saw a red-tailled hawk glaring at him, almost as if he were judging the Time Lord, almost as if he was sizing up the RAFian. But, when he looked again, the hawk wasn't there. Huh. Must have been his imagination.

He continued to take in the meadow and found it looking perfectly lovely, even with those grayish-black storm clouds rolling in like an unwelcome biker gang. There was a lively stream that cut through the area to the right with tall grass dotted here and there. It looked untouched and unmolested by human hand. One of the very few areas on this planet to be as such.

He, almost tentatively, crossed the threshold into the meadow proper. He almost felt like he was tainting the this perfect, idyllic place with his presence. Seriously, this meadow was like something from a painting. Honestly, it would be an ideal picnic spot, but that could draw too many people. Too many people would lead to the inevitable arrival of lazy people, who are unwilling to pick up after themselves, littering this place with pieces of paper, candy wrappers, or other such refuse and rubbish.

Then there were the ones who would want to "develop" this land . . . build buildings on it. That would ruin the beauty of this meadow. He glanced at his sonic screwdriver and acknowledged the tad contradiction of his advance technological ability, his nature as a Time Lord, and these views. But that didn't stop him from appreciating a scene of beauty.

And why should it? He may have came from a species with considerable technological prowess, but why should that obligate him a technocratic worldview? Such a stereotype!

But then something caught his attention to his left. He turned to confront this . . . this whatever-it-was. He quickly crossed over to the fluttering movement that he saw out of the corner of his left eye.

Aquilai had, rather serendipitously, had stumbled upon Diane Goodsen, clutching a chestnut tree very tightly and very firmly, causing six chestnuts to fall. Her vacant eyes were blank and looked as if they were affixed in her skull, as if she were a doll or something. Her usually expressive face was disturbingly blank and slack. Her hospital gown had come untied, presumably during her flight from the hospital.

The marble white mass took form, its chitinous exoskeleton drying so quickly that it was steaming. It had six long, slender legs attached to its hairy thorax, the first pair ending in hands like the Other Mother from "Coraline". It had a slim abdomen. Its head bore two yellow compound eyes, and two long, straight, slender, clubbed antennae. It had a long proboscis that was coiled, as it was not in use. It had four scale-covered wings that were like stiff white sheets, like the sails on a sailboat.

It was a butterfly, Papilionoidea hominidparasitus. With no hint of aggression or hostility, it charged toward Aquilai, with each wingbeat making a quiet "whoof, whoof" sound.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:
Papilionoidea hominidparasitus

Aquilai had a momentary thought of what if he got hit so badly and he had to Regenerate. By a butterfly. A butterfly, of all things. The humiliation would be all-consuming.

Yes, yes, it was a butterfly with wings the size of sails on a small sailboat, but it still was a butterfly. And there would still be humiliation if it forced him to Regenerate . . .

It was actually easy to dodge the charge -- butterflies are hardly fighter jets, after all. This one, at least, could not corner to save its life. It had to take a wide, sweeping angle to come back for another go. And it did, proving itself to far more aggressive and hostile than most, if not all, butterflies. Why it targeted Aquilai, he didn't know. Maybe the people in Hyvect would be more accustomed to such things, but he wasn't.

He didn't notice the long ovipositor until just now. This butterfly was female, and potentially far more dangerous than if it were male. Especially if this species was parthenogenic, like some species of parasitic wasps. Aquilai was only about eighty percent sure that he would Regenerate if this happened to him, but whether or not that would kill the neophyte grub . . . he could not say. But, all in all, he rather not find out.

But he was at an impasse. All he had to use was his sonic screwdriver, and it was useless in this scenario. He did have his waterbending, but that stream wasn't a sufficient amount to do any damage -- it was barely ankle-deep -- and too far away to be of any use anyway.

Then he felt a cool spot on the nape of his neck, and he actually jumped. But it wasn't the butterfly ovipositor, as proven when a few more drops darkened his shirt's shoulders. It was raining.

It took Aquilai a moment to register how the tables had turned. Because the rain wasn't a gentle drizzle, it was gearing up to be a great downpour. This was just handing him a weapon, like handing ammunition to Parker, not to mention that it would slow the flight of its adversary.

Aquilai took a stance, and raised his hand, hydrokinetically forming an elliptical cone     bubble so the rain would not penetrate, making what amounts to a water shield. The butterfly looked confused -- because her eyes were not sophisticated enough to process what they were seeing. The rain was making it very difficult for her to see, as well. As well as making it very difficult for her to maintain flight -- it seemed as if her wings were absorbing the water instead of whisking it away with every wingbeat.

"The circumstances, it would seem, have changed," Aquilai said. "The advantages have shifted. It would be unwise not to capitalize on it!"

After a few shifting movements, to gain power with his waterbending and gather more rainwater. He wanted to finish this as quickly as he could. It would take all the power possessed. Granted, he wasn't as strong as Cloak's hydrokinetic ability, but he wasn't by any means weak.

He had amassed so much rainwater that he thought that he could finish this off quickly. He broke out of his water shield and slammed it into the butterfly, mangling her delicate wings. If she somehow managed to survive this next onslaught, she would never be able to fly again.

Then Aquilai made a motion with both arms as if he was spinning a globe. This caused the water that surrounded the butterfly to swirl around into a watery vortex. Faster and faster . . . until the butterfly was just a bundle of lifeless bits. It was done.

But Aquilai wasn't done. He would have to somehow explain this to the Goodsen family, and they had a reputation for being unpleasant.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:
Joshua Adrian Warren

Parker had gone to an empty soccer field. He felt weary, but whether that was because of whatever this patient was or just those gathering storm clouds, he could not say. Tyr would insist, unhelpfully, that he was astraphobic or brontophobic, which Parker vehemently denied.

The field wasn't exactly overgrown, but it also wasn't so painstakingly manicured. The white boundary markings were faded away, and seemingly forgotten. The goals at either end of the field lacked any nets in which to catch the soccer balls. It was as if this soccer field fell into disuse, and that would explain the air of neglect around it.

It wasn't like it was even easy to get here anyway, with the winding, poorly maintained trail at roughly five o'clock. Parker suspected that this was part of a summer camp whose finances fell through, though he hadn't any real evidence to support this hypothesis. But, in the end, it didn't matter and it was superfluous to the mission.

And the mission mandated him to find the patient and return him -- or her -- to the hospital from which they had escaped. And he had intended to complete this objective.

The patient couldn't have been too much farther. He or she couldn't have possibly made any further in the timeframe presented by the nursing staff at the hospital. So . . . where were they?

Parker had secretly hoped (although his ego would never allow him to say it aloud) that his various improvements to his armor that he had made, after he had the Walker tech literally ripped out a month or two ago, was sufficient. In his downtime, when he didn't spend time with Helen or was on a mission of some sort or undergoing a training regiment, he would always work on his armor, like a gearhead would take any available opportunity to work on their car.

Perhaps a thermal scan would reveal something, as a human body generates heat . . . unless this patient somehow had been converted into something that doesn't generate heat, like a vampire or a zombie or a wendigo or something. And apparently, he was, because Parker couldn't find anything on a thermal scan, which caused his heart to sink a little. If something did convert this patient with this rapidity -- then there was probably very little chance, if any, to save them.

Parker tried a wide array of other types of scans -- every single one that his armor possessed. It would have been far more enjoyable if he didn't have to suffer Tyr's, in Parker's opinion, defeatist attitude. Infrared, ultraviolet, spectrum, night vision, chemical imaging -- Parker tried them all.

The infrared and ultraviolet scans showed him the twelve-year-old patient, Joshua Warren, braced himself upon a tree -- a birch, by looks of it. His eyes were affixed inside his skull, empty and blank. His face betrayed no emotion, showed no expression. His hospital gown fluttered open, untied. From the nape of his neck to the top of his buttocks, there was a crack in which a white mass was struggling to exit.

There was no sound. There should have been a sound. But there was none as the white mass extricated itself from the boy's porcelain-like body, which remained stiff, like a ceramic statuette. Yet, Parker was only really disturbed by the fact that this had happened to a kid of all people.

The exoskeleton-encased body was white. It was roughly the length of a minivan, longer than the twelve other Hyvectoid parasitoid, mostly because of the characteristic horns. It was a male Hercules beetle, Dynastes hercules hominidparasitus.

It saw Parker and decided to push him around. In Parker's mind, this wouldn't stand.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:
Dynastes hercules hominidparasitus

"Back off, buddy," Parker said, feeling a bit nettled by this creature's approach. When Tyr replied that he didn't think this Hercules beetle creature would listen, Parker promptly said, "Shut up, Tyr."

But it was true. Despite having inherited human-like hands on its first set of legs out of its six, which were segmented to make them look skeletal, it did not inherit Joshua's sentience. It did not recognize Parker's words as speech, but meaningless sounds that it couldn't decipher the meaning of. But it didn't matter, as they were unimportant to this creature's simple mind.

While it had no intention to actually eat Parker, it was intent on muscling him out of what it perceived to be its personal space. This was starting to generate a personal pique in Parker, a passing feeling of wounded pride -- this creature thought that it was so big, and so powerful. It actually had the unmitigated notion that it could push Parker around! Not bloody likely!

"Be mindful of the boy's shell," Tyr reminded him, "his loved ones will need some form of closure."

"I know that!" Parker protested. In truth, the audacity of this beast had nearly thrown him into a tantrum that Vegeta would have claimed for his own. "Keep your eyes on it at all times, Tyr. I'll focus on slaying this bug."

"One of us has to," Tyr replied. Parker didn't really appreciate the smugness in his voice, but there will be time to argue with this uppity A.I. later. The Hercules beetle was coming for him, whether to batter or to gore him, he couldn't be sure. But he was sure that neither would feel particularly pleasant, even with his armor.

But the SPARTAN deftly dodged out of the way, which confused and perplexed the Hercules beetle, when it noticed that it had not gored anyone or anything. It looked around, and it's eyesight was nowhere near as sophisticated as a human's one was. But it had one advantage that Parker had no knowledge of.

It dusted its human-like segmented hands, and became completely invisible to the naked eye. But Parker quickly went through the array of spectrum scanning software his armor possessed to uncover where the bug had gone. But even this took too much time.

Parker soon found himself flung into a sycamore tree, nearly breaking it in two, before the beetle's image wobbled back into view. It was Parker's armor that took the brunt of the impact, and easily withstood it, save for a small scratch on the right forearm of it.

"A scratch? I just polished it today!!" Parker complained angrily.

"Priorities," Tyr recommended.

"That is a priority!" Parker snapped. "Where did that thing go, now? . . . Oh, no. Not again. Not AGAIN!!"

This time an elm fell victim to Parker's impact.

"This is getting to be monotonous," Parker grumbled.

"On your left," Tyr warned. This time, instead of arguing, Parker wheeled to his right and brought a fist down on the horn. But he did not possess superhuman strength, so it did nothing of real importance.

Parker had to eschew firearms, because, despite those clouds overhead, the overgrown grasses here were dry, and any discharge from his weaponry could cause them to go up like kindling. Starting a forest fire. And he didn't need another blow to RAF in the PR department.

Besides -- he also felt that using a discharge weapon would be too . . . impersonal for what he wanted to do. He wasn't an ordinary bloodthirsty man, but try getting rammed into something hard by the size of a minivan -- and not once, but twice -- and see if you don't get a little vengeful.

Parker brought out his energy sword, and . . . it wasn't pretty. It was actually pretty brutal. . . . Actually, the less said about it the better.

"Now about the juvenile human shell," Tyr said, after Parker was slayed the beetle in this violent manner.

"I haven't forgotten," Parker said, breathing hard, his anger and frustration spent.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:
What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

Understandably, their families and next of kin (those that could be contacted and willing to show up, that is) were skeptical of the fate of their loved ones. Fortunately enough, Tyr had the presence of mind (without Parker's okay, mind you) to record the Hercules beetle's emergence from Joshua's back. It was rather gruesome for his family to watch -- but they had to know. Sometimes, ignorance of the fact is worse than the heavy knowledge.

Now they know what and why, and even how -- a parasitoid insect from another dimension had infected their loved one. Yes, it sounded absolutely crazy, but, with the video and auditory evidence as well as the intact shell of their loved ones (the ones that were shattered had no family or next of kin attend, as most, if not all, just didn't care). It wasn't much, and their loved ones could not be restored. It wasn't much of a comfort, to be honest, and it was a horrible way to go out, as well as a deeply traumatic one. But, at least, they had closure now.

Despite this rather eventful day, it was still not quite over yet. After the rain ended, a stranger had appeared, with blonde hair and wings -- a faerie. One that Faerie took immediate notice of, and evidently had a history with.

He began to sing:

"Here I am again --"

"YOU?!" she roared. Apparently, she was displeased with this male faerie.

"-- on my knees again!
I'd do anything just
To make it right.
Say you understand?"

"Not. Likely," Faerie growled. The RAFians who had gathered started to give Faerie ample room. They knew she was getting very, very . . . ticked. Almost as if someone called her a "fairy".

"I know you can."

"Oh, no, I can't!" Faerie said, fingering her battleaxe, just hung at her side. Almost as if she longed to bury it in his neck.

"C'mon, Larka, man."

"You CHEATED on me," Faerie said, jabbing an accusatory finger in his face. "Remember?"

"You left me at the alter, remember?" he said, as if this was a viable argument.

"BECAUSE you cheated on me!" Faerie countered quickly and easily. "Not to mention that I never said yes to your proposal in the first place, you charlatan!"

He seemed to recover surprisingly well from this proclamation, not immediately refuting it, but allowing a brief pause before singing:

"No matter what people say,
It didn't happen that way.
She was just a passing fling,
And not a serious thing."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Faerie said, with caustic tones.

"So, I hang my head.
Oh, I wish that I was dead."

"I can help you with that," Faerie said, patting her ax, as if the message was too subtle for this blowhard. He was almost as if Gilderoy Lockhart was made into a faerie.

"C'mon, Larka, man.
C'mon, Larka, man."

Then he ran in for an embrace and smooch, which actually took Faerie by surprise (she didn't have Earthsight, after all). She struggled momentarily to escape his grip, only to glare at him with more outrage.

"Say you can
Understand, my Larka, man!"

"I'm not your ANYTHING!" Faerie roared. She was not an object! She was a person! Why'd she ever fall for . . . oh, right. He was handsome, and she was naive.

"Hey, one tiny mistake," he said. The stupid fool.

"TINY?!" Faerie reiterated, full fury on that single word. And now he was starting to feel a little afraid. "You gotta a LOTTA nerve coming here."

GH, knowing a cue, quickly unshouldered his guitar and began playing musical accompaniment to Faerie's song. Leatherhead followed his lead.

"Think you got the best of me?
Think that you've had the last laugh?
Betcha think that everything good is gone."

The male faerie was quickly backing away, and he said, "H-hold on there, darling."

But Faerie wasn't done. She was just getting warmed up.

"Think you left me broken down?
Think that I'd come running back?
Buddy, you don't know me
'Coz you're DEAD wrong!"

"Okay, s-slow down there, Marianne -- I mean, Larka," he said, unhelpfully forgetting her name momentarily.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!
Stand a little taller!
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone!
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter!
Footsteps even lighter.
Doesn't mean I'm over,
'Coz you're gone."

But the male faerie was evidently not smart enough to know when something is a futile effort.

"Here I am!
On my knees again!
I'll do anything just
To make it right!"

"Yeah, right!" Faerie said, with a roll of her eyes.

"Say that you'd understand."

"Only too well," Faerie said, dismissively, as she continued to back this male faerie back towards the gate.

"Oh, I know you can!
C'mon, Larka, man!"

Faerie countered:

"Didn't think when I came back,
I'd come back swinging?
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!
Stand a little taller!
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone!
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter!
Footsteps even lighter.
Doesn't mean I'm over,
'Coz you're gone.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!
Stronger! Just me, myself, and I!
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!
Stand a little taller!
Well, it's time to say GOOD-BYE!!"

Faerie then roughly booted him outside the gates, and the shut them behind him. She said, "Bye-bye."

Then she addressed GH, "Thanks."

"No prob," the guitarist replied, "but who was that guy?"

"My business," Faerie said, clearly unwilling and not ready to divulge that information just yet.


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=NO85f1Fi69U

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:
Having a Blizzard

Cloak had been dispatched to arctic, of all places. There was apparently a fiend here. And Cloak was less than thrilled. He was not fond of the cold, despite his bipedal tiger physiology. True, some Dwellers that he had Walked with had described the sensation as colder than cold, but he, like all other Walkers, never noticed a temperature differential while Walking. And Walking was not a long process at all.

The area was fairly remote area that was covered with ice, considering how close he was to the northern pole of the planet. Cloak was less than thrilled walking on the ice, as he had lost contact with an earthen or metallic surface, which meant that he could not use Earthsight or Metalsight, which he rather depended on more than his own feline eyes to sense things around him. By leaving them behind, he was knowingly putting himself at a possible disadvantage, and he didn't like it one bit.

That biting wind, fortunately, didn't penetrate his cloak, so it provided him with more than simple P.P.E. -- that is, personal protection equipment, or something like that. His cloak was rather like a hazmat suit, only in reverse. It wasn't meant to protect him but protect the Dwellers from his hazardous corona. Funny thing was that this corona was just bioluminescence in the Nexus, and completely harmless. It only became dangerous to others whilst in-Realm. It's also one reason why no one barges into his thread, which had painstakingly taken precautions to ensure the others' safety.

He was so wrapped in his own thoughts that he nearly missed the fiend as it swept by. It was so unduly fast upon this tundra that it irritated Cloak quite a bit. Only when it slowed down enough to size up Cloak, and decide whether or not to attack was when Cloak got a better look at it.

The creature was about four and a quarter feet tall, and weighed at least three hundred and seventy pounds. It had a body like a snowball, with human-like eyes (dark red sclera and black pupils) set inside the top of the body below a blue crest with a black ball at its tip, rather like a snow hat. Its shoulders, forearms, groin, and lower legs were a cold orange, while its upper arms and thighs were a pale yellow. Its human-like hands were pale blue and held ski poles. It had four indigo buttons on its front, and two on the back with a blue growth between them. It had black feet, heels, and knees, and crimson skis attached to its feet.

It moved around the icy terrain with its skis, trying to get close to Cloak and leave him without space to dodge its attacks, so Cloak had to make sure to jump over it to avoid running out of space.

The creature seemed to have two main ways to attack. Its primary one was to form a small maelstrom of large snowflakes and then shot at different angles towards its target. It started moving in place on its skis and snowflakes will form around it, momentarily suspended in midair until they are launched at its target.

Its second attack was rolling into a ball, then speeding across the landscape, attempting to ram into Cloak. It was nearly completely invincible in this state, so nearly all attacks were useless while in this state. Still, it can be avoided by just jumping over it, which Cloak did in a somersault.

But seven fire spires at its most vulnerable state rendered it into nothing more. This took an inordinate amount of time, far more than Cloak would have cared to admit.

***

Demos called it a "burizadosapien". He claimed to have intended to use it to monitor arctic weather.

***

Malice was watching, aware that her parasitoid plan failed, but she did not comment on it, as she was fast asleep. Being eighty years (or eight hundred years, in Dweller Terran terms) does have its drawbacks. Even for Realm Walkers.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

BOOK CLVII:
AS THE WORLD DOESN'T TURN
CHAPTER ONE:
Back Petal

Az approached a botanical garden, not unlike the florist shop that Underseen visited a couple of days ago with that mantis parasitoid creature, only -- and it was almost impossible to imagine just how -- more extravagant and expansive. And nothing was for sale. Total "look, but don't touch" territory.

It seemed to contain every plant species known to mankind. Croci. Mulleins. Rosemary. Lilac. Rue. Balsam. Cypress trees. Agrimony. Narcissus. Snowdrops. Anenome. Stars of Bethlehem.  Balsamine. Acacia trees. Nasturtium. Angrec. Bay wreaths. Aloe. Stinging nettles. Anthurium. Begonias. Mistletoe. Bellflowers. Apple trees. Oak trees. Jonquil. Bells of Ireland. Clovenlip toadflax. Oats. Lilies of the valley. Bird's-foot trefoil. Arum. Olive trees. Hydrangea. Bird-of-paradise flowers. Lime trees. Orchids. Arborvitaes. Oxeye daisies. Asparagus. Boxwood. Almond trees. Pansies. Lobelias. Starflowers. Arbutus. Peach trees. Bamboo. Broom trees. Asphodel. Pear trees. Amaranth. Bulrushes. Lotus flowers. Bumblebee orchids. Ancanthus. Peonies. Velvet flowers. Buttercups. Laurel. Cabbage. Asters. Phlox. Jasmine. Camellia. Magnolias. Pitch pines. Amaryllis. Canterbury bells. Mallow. Plum trees. Irises. Plumeria. Azaleas. Primroses. Willow. Protea. Marigolds. Carnations. Laurestine. Poppies. Mayflowers. Rainwaters. Aconite. Roses. Mignonette. Celandine. Lavender. Cherry trees. Mint. Chestnut trees. Lilies. China asters. Bachelor buttons. Chrysanthemums. Lemon trees. Calliopsis. Moonflowers. Cowslips. Ivy. Cloves. Balm. Clover. Ambrosia. Granny bonnets. Morning glories. Coriander. And more, all clearly labeled for the botanically illiterate.

Az could not help but feel rather out of his element here. What was worse was he had no idea what this fiend would look like. Although . . . considering this locale, it probably would be a safe assumption to guess something plant or insect-based. Or possibly simian.

Fortunately, as did not have to wait long before the fiend revealed itself, with a bestial mindset. The creature was just under five feet and had to weigh at least two hundred and fifty  pounds. It had, round, human-like eyes (green sclera and black irises) with a smug look on its bark-textured, human-like face. Said face was wreathed with vibrant green petals with blue spots, attached to its purple head with a green stripe down the back end. It had leaf shoulder pads, and had a yellow arm cannon for a right hand and forearm. It had a yellow left forearm, chest, groin, and lower legs. Its upper arms, abdomen, and thighs were paper white. It had a red gem on its chest, and red feet with green triangles on it. Its left hand was a red and it was draped in thorny vines.

It fired a flurry of petals -- deep green with blue spots -- which orbited it in a kind of shield, possibly via his florapathy. It did this for a few moments, before projecting it forward, always jumping directly afterward. These petals were not to be taken lightly, as each had the hardness of diamonds, but the flexibility of petals.

Az had somehow managed to tank some which ripped his clothing to bits and managed to lacerate his left arm some. Fortunately, it was nothing permanently damaging. Kelly would be able to patch him up in a thrice. But it was something that he did not want to try to tank again. He might not survive more of those.

The fiend tried it again, but Az froze it solid and shattered it into glitter. "No. Not again."

It just leaped over him to his back, and formed the petal shield again. Apparently, it was of a very simplistic intellect, unaware that this attack would not work when it did not work a second time.

Az already wanted to end it. He threw his right behind him, forming twenty-eight snowflake-shaped shurikens. Then he threw his right hand in front of him, sending the sharp projectiles forward at a considerable speed. They ripped through the fiend's body in a most brutal, violent manner.

It was over and he needed to see the Forum's medic.

***

Demos called it a "florasapien". Demos had intended it to oversee a botantical garden.

***

"Perhaps I should have planted better idea," Malice said, groggily. She was still waking up.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
Failure

Rotiart was fleeing the scene of what appeared to be a petty crime. He stole something, something yellowish that was was stuffing into his threadbare satchel. GH was giving chase, secretly hoping that the former RAFian could be reformed.

He felt partially responsible for Rotiart's heel turn to evil and villainy. She he was lazy and boastful. He was a teenager. But that didn't make him evil -- and GH believed there had to be some moribund, latent goodness in him that desperately needed to be brought out again.

Unfortunately, GH's attempts to coax him, led to Rotiart stopping in front of GH, with a venomous glare. He was lit from behind by a single lampost, glowing yellow in the semidarkness. It threw his scars into sharper relief, which stabbed at GH's heart. Then the former RAFian . . . sang:

"I've been . . . mistreated.
I've been abused!
I've been trespassed,
And evaded.
And I am not amused!
I've been INSULTED!
DISRESPECTED!
I've been MISTREATED!!"

"Rotiart! Rotiart . . . wait . . ." GH shrugged off his guitar and began playing.

"You will not manipulate me, RAFian!" Rotiart snarled, his satchel seemingly wriggling of its own accord.

Instead of answering, instead of matching Rotiart's anger, GH played a somber, sorrowful melody. Then he sang with every ounce on sincerity he had:

"Rotiart, I am humbled,
For tonight, I understand.
Your innocent blood was never
Meant to decorate the sand.
You suffered great injustice,
Just as thousands before you.
I offer an apology,
And one long overdue."

GH took a breath before continuing, pouring his heart and soul into the song.

"I . . . am sorry.
Rotiart, I am sorry.
Hear my song,
And know that I sing the truth.
There is no need for us to fight.
I reach for kindness in your heart tonight.
And, if you can forgive --
And, if you can forgive,
Then love can truly live."

GH now shut his eyes to put more heartfelt power into his music.

"And, if you can forgive --
And, if you can forgive,
Then love can truly live.
Too long in agony
That to your heart we sent.
Here now are my amends.
The senseless mistreatment ends."

Rotiart was unmoved.

"I am sorry.
Rotiart, I am sorry.
Hear my song,
And know that I sing the truth.
There is no need for us to fight.
I reach for kindness in your heart tonight.
And, if you can forgive --
And, if you can forgive,
Then love can truly live.
And, if you can forgive --
And if you can forgive,
Then love can truly live.
And, if you can forgive --
And, if you can forgive,
Then love . . .
Then love can truly live."

But Rotiart saw this as nothing more as GH trying to manipulate his emotions with music, like how he soothed Cloak that one time. He saw his whole song as being insincere hogwash. Complete garbage. Even though that was not the actual truth.

Rotiart sang again before disappearing into the night:

"I've been INSULTED!!!
DISRESPECTED!!!
I've been MISTREATED!!!"

"Rotiart . . ." GH said, as the wayward former RAFian fled the scene. "It doesn't have to be this way. There is good in you, I know it. Pity that you can no longer see it."


SOURCE SONG: https://youtube.com/watch?v=kJD93UQ2F9E and https://youtube.com/watch?v=ttR5s-pwrcQ

[DinosaurNothlit]

Finally caught up again!  Underseen's battle with the mantis did not disappoint.  And I am intrigued about the red-tailed hawk that Aquilai thought he saw.  Was that someone we know?

As for the Faerie plot idea . . . I have a feeling that wasn't the last we've seen of that guy?  I almost hope not, because I now want something horrible to happen to him.  And given that he messed with Faerie, I think it probably will.

And Rotiart's back again!  I wish gh the best of luck trying to get through to him.  Poor Rotiart.