"You're not real. It doesn't matter what he says. You're not real. If anything, you're hurting him. He won't heal as long as he has you here with him. While I would ask you to think about it, I know you can't. Because you're not alive. You can't think. You're just a fictional creature he's made for himself. I wonder how that would feel. Then again, you can't feel, can you? Just metal. Cold. Unfeeling. Staring out, knowing nothing. Doing nothing but weigh him down."

"Hey, Monger, you down there?" Called Dove from the deck.

"Yes Dove," Called back Phillip Manger. "Just checking out the handiwork of your little friend."

"It's just a regular security droid. Shouldn't be anything special about it."

"That's why it's so interesting." Manger walked above deck and watched as Dove maintained his grip on the winch. "It has been a while since I've seen that kind of model after all."

Dove cradled his chin in a thoughtful look. His mask remained tied to his breast "I guess it has. Sometimes I forget that fact."

"Not all of us are leading the lives of excitement you kids are."

"I guess not." A look of realization passed through his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm getting old anyways." Manger grabbed the edge of a bench and slowly lowered himself into it. "It's us old folk's job to look after you young'uns anyways."

"C'mon, I'm not that young."

"Kid, you'll always be young to me." Manger popped open his flask and looked down into it. He was going to need courage soon, not for what he was going to do, but for the kid. The artic sea wind nipped at their faces, brightening their noses and cheeks into a rosy red. It was times like these that he was glad he had gloves. "How are your ears faring?"

The kid reached for his ears. "My ears?"

"Yeah." Manger let his breath hang in the air. "Your ears will get chilled real easy in these winds. They don't feel like much, but they really eat away at you."

"Oh." Exhaled Dove. "Don't worry about that. My helmet actually has some padding in it."

"Really now?"

"Of course it does. If it didn't, I'd be clattering my head in a tin can whenever I fall down or get hit."

"Fair enough." Manger lifted the flask to his lips. It was a cold comfort. It left him feeling cold inside.

The two watched the waves as they drifted along the waves. A black fin crested from the water, the weathered spines and skin almost seeming of another age. A time weathered sail. Something he could respect as a sailor. It would be soon. Soon he could put the plan into place. And seeing that sail told him that soon, very soon, they would be upon them.

"So, what are you thinking about, old man?"

Manger snapped from his daze. "Oh me? Just some scheming from an old man. Thinking of better times, being old and all that."

"Thinking about how the kids don't appreciate what they have?"

"Now, now Dove, I know a couple of kids who appreciate what they were given." Manger stared off again. "Just thinking how to make it easier on them."

Dove lurched off of his seat and hugged Manger. "Thanks, old man."

"Yeah. No problem." The guilt hurt Manger deep inside. He wasn't lying to him, per say. He just wasn't telling him everything. And what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Too much. It'll be taken care of before he ever really figures it out.


"Mom, why do fishermen use such big hooks?"

435 looked down on her little tyke. Of course, after a long day, this is the first question he asks. Well, can't say it doesn't bring a smile to her face. "Well, it's to make sure the fish doesn't get away."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't think fishes think the same way you or I do. I don't think the feel it as much as pain, and more of 'there's something in my mouth!'" Her boy giggled. He enjoyed it when she did her voices. "Of course, this is just what I've heard from others."

"Like from Mr. Manger?"

"Maybe." She smugly grinned. "Just maybe."

"C'mon mom!" Tiny hands gripped the numerous pockets on her pants. "Tell me!"

"I heard it somewhere. Don't exactly remember where though."

Her boy pouted. "What about the grimm then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do grimm sometimes go after fishing boats if the fish aren't in pain?"

She smiled. "See, honey, that's what happens when a boat goes after something bigger. Like seals. Or a whale. They're smarter. They do hurt when fishermen hunt them."

"Then why do we hunt them?"

"Sometimes, there aren't enough fish in the sea."