"Every body up- get up!," Kalus's voice woke Bulla form a cold sleep.

Bulla forced her groggy body to rise. She shambled to the door of her cell, feeling numb to their shenanigans. She was certain a group of red suits would be clamored around some poor soul, eager for either vengeance or entertainment.

There were red suits, but they hurriedly buzzed in and out of cells, carrying off the units' occupants. Bulla yelped when Kalus threw open her door. He grabbed her elbow and she immediately struggled, stiff arming him away.

"Girl- listen sweetheart, we've gotta go," he tried to calm her, "Don't fight me. We don't have time."

Kalus shoved her into a corner. Bulla waited for him to tear at the seams of her clothes. She was certain of what was to come as his calloused hands grazed her shoulders. Her collar fell to the floor with a loud clack. She froze as her hands felt the dry skin of her neck for the first time since her capture.

"Kalus?," she weakly said.

"No time- come," he said as he pulled her out of the cell by her forearm.

He dragged her down the hall, half running. Blinding white lights started to strobe overhead. A loud siren blared through her flesh. The sounds of a chattering crowd grew louder and louder, slowly mixing in with distant grunts and yells of working men. The sound of distressed voices swallowed her as he pulled her into the large staff cafeteria. She was shoved into the shifting multitude without warning. Kalus grabbed her shoulder and stared into her eyes.

"Take this and find Yolandi Ancaxo," he said.

Kalus pulled his utility knife from his belt.

"What are you doing?!," Bulla screamed at him.

Kalus dug the dull blade into his discolored forearm. Blood gushed from the wound, running down to his hand. He wedged a blood-stained microchip from his flesh.

"Please give this to her," he pleaded- forcing the bloody chip into her hand.

"Why would I help you?," she groaned.

"It's all she'll have, ple-"

"The metal around them whined like it was in pain. The floor quaked beneath them as the room swayed from side to side. The crown of anxious bodies clamored in the shrill noise. Kalus shot his plasma gun in the air. With two shots panic was temporarily stifled.

"Listen up," he hollered over the rumbling structure, "We're being shot down over a terrestrial planet. The pilots are going to try to ease us down-"

"What is this?," An all too familiar voice interrupted Kalus' instructions.

Cloak weaved his way through the bodies.

"Get back in your cells this instant," Cloak demanded in a ragged voice that resembled a strangled whisper, "Captain Naisong, are you to blame for this insurrection?"

"Insurrection? We don't have time for this,' Kalus addressed Cloak before turning to the huddled bodies, "Listen to me. Go upstairs on loading deck C before the artificial gravity is disabled. Officers are there to open the security ports-"

The lights above jiggled in their sockets. Plaster crumbled onto their heads. A low hum of sore voices perforated the crowd. They all listened intently as stragglers wandered into the fold. A familiar noise drowned out Bulla's surroundings. She slipped past each sweating body, barely squeezing between them. They each retracted back form her, battered and shy from their experiences.

The diversity shocked her. They were young and old, tall and short, human-like in structure and some were so foreign they barely appeared to be living things. The throaty cries drew closer and closer until she spotted a pair of sharp ears.

"Drewda-Drewda!," She greeted him despite his deafness.

Bulla brushed the back of his arm with her hand. He shuddered at her fingertips until his pale blue eyes looked up. With a choking cry, he latched onto her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

With a breath he let her go and signed, "What happening?"

"Crashing," she signed back, "Need to get out."

"Help me," he signed.

"Help what?"

"Find-"

"Find what?," she returned.

Drewda grabbed the tips of his hears. Bulla held onto him tight and ignored his chatty hands to focus on the argument among Kalus' group and Cloak.

"I am the Defense Coordinator of this vessel. My word is final, pup," Cloak told Kalus.

"Don't you get it. We'll all die!," Kalus shot back.

"Loss of lie doesn't negate our contract and you know it."

"I'm not letting this happen," Kalus asserted, "This is your fault! They marked the ship and the embassy is after us!"

"Make no mistake. I will protect the assets at all cost. Do not get in the way Kalus. I must follow my prerogative," Cloak seethed.

Kalus ignored Cloak and herded the crowd toward the opened double doors," Get moving. Time is of the essence. Top floor- Deck C!"

"Oh pup," Cloak sighed, "You hurt me. I'm sure of it. This is what it feels like," Cloak rambled.

Kalus turned to Cloak's black figure. For a moment he thought he saw a frown in the twisting vapor. His voice seemed heavy and pinched. Kalus saw something alien ands somber in his old mentor.

'I'm sorry boy," Cloak managed.

Cloak released the edges of hie being onto Kalus. The smoke shipped him away before their very eyes, like a swarm of locusts. His flesh unraveled, disintegrating within seconds. Kalus' last agonizing cries reached the ceiling, searing his stripped organs and bone marrow into Bulla's memory forever. Death lost its sting to Bulla, but this was something else all together.

It's like he was erased and never existed, she thought.

Bulla let go of Drewda and caressed the scars on her face to see if they were real. The nail grooves were still there, a confusing testament to Kalus' existence. In an instant the bloody chip in her hand became heavier. She studied its stained edges and considered tossing it to the floor to be trampled, but instead, she shoved it in her mouth and swallowed it after wiping his blood on her white slacks.

Cloak pulled the turbulent smoke back to his body, adding it to his number. Calamity broke out among the crowd. They scrambled like drowning rats in a bucket of water. Bulla froze in the discord. Cloak summoned his purple hounds. They rushed the multitude as it they were hungry for fear itself.

"Back to your cells!," Cloak directed them, "I will find you!"

Drewda started to wail as he looked into the smacking violet jaws of he hound. It's dead- doll eyes bobbled around in its empty head. Bulla hugged him tight figuring it would be a waste to run from the inevitable. A violent impact rippled through the cafeteria. The wave battered the hounds jello-mold like body. Light bulbs shattered overhead. A pitch black world began to swallow them. Their feet slide on the vibrating incline that was the floor. The world spiraled around them as a mauve hurricane filled with shrieks of horror. The squelching sounds of hounds and bodies bursting on the walls and ceiling surrounded them. Then, finally it stopped; the flood lights flickered on.

Bulla held onto Drewda with all her might. His sobs evolved into hyperventilation.

"Dow! Dow!," he begged her.

Bulla snapped into the present, realizing they hovered in the middle of the air.

I flew! I've got my ki back!, she thought.

"It's okay," she consoled the boy as she lowered him to what was the ceiling. Bulla followed suit of the other lingering survivors and tugged Drewda toward the doors. Drewda dug his heels in and refused.

"Where go?," he asked her with trembling fingers.

Bulla pointed upward, not knowing how to convey her thoughts and signed, "No here- out."

She tugged Drewda's hand, but he ripped it away, vigorously shaking his head.

"Trust me," she signed.

"No, can't leave him," he signed.

"Who?"

Drewda signed and pointed to his tipped ears.

"More dogs," Bulla signed quickly to him, feeling desperate.

Drewda's face scrunched into painful wrinkles.

"Really?," he asked.

"Yes," she signed.

He rubbed his eyes with his palms and followed her. His lips twisted into a begrudged pout. Bulla held him close to her body. They inched down the fall in heir frightened waltz. She did her best to make sense of the topsy turvy world.

Kalus said to go up, Deck C, Deck C, she told herself, but I can't read these fucking signs.

She stopped moving to get a grip on her thoughts. Drewda held fast to her before trying to sit down.

"No baby," she said as she yanked him back to his feet, "I know you're tired," she talked to herself.

They worked their way from hall to hall until something cold painted the bottoms of her bare feet. She could barely make out the thin trickle of briny water streaking the floor. A dingle flood light cast its light on their backs from the way they came. The hall tapered into a black cave dappled with yellow blinking spots. Grueling moans breached the walls, creating a harsh reminder of suffering. Feet pitter pattered around them

Are those- on the walls… eyes?, she thought, We can't go back.

Bulla waited for Cloak's dogs to charge and encapsulate them, but they refused to budge.

Can't they see us?, Bulla thought.

She decided to take the gamble at the hope of getting out. She tip toed one foot in front of the other. She wrapped her hand over Drewda's mouth and ran her other hand through his hair to signal good will. The hounds growled and cackled like a band of blood drunk hyenas. Their pulsating silhouettes slithered on the walls and ceiling. Bulla realized they were mutilated and cobbled together. A mushy damp odor hung in the stagnant air.

"They can't get us. They can't get us," she repeated as they slinked further into the darkness until she reached the halls end. Bulla stepped through the membrane door, eager to leave the mushy mass behind them.

She felt locked into the darkness. She waved her hand in front of her face and saw nothing. Drewda squeezed her hand tight.

This is it, she thought, It's going to eat us alive.

Drewda tugged her shirt at its hem and tried to climb her lean frame. She obliged him, deciding to finally hold him after all this time; she figured it was the least she would do for him. Regret overcame her as the thought about all the times she pushed his hugging arms away of forced him from her cot.

To her surprise, she saw his face outlined in silver dapples. Large glowing streaks swept up the top of his ears. Feathery streaks marked the ridge of his nose and cheeks. Bright blue dimples marked his brows a matching his eyes. They were like pearls embedded in his forehead. Thin lines of bioluminescence traced his arms. More grey dots painted his elbows and wrists. He wiggled down from Bulla's grip. He lulled her by the hand into darkness with gentle dexterity.

"Truss," he said to her.

He indulged her baby steps and her high kneed walk. Bulla's toes snagged the lip of the ramp. She banged her shin into the metal edge. A loud resounding gong echoes through the stair well. Growls and snorts echoes from the door and from the walls. The stampeding feet thundered around them. The undeniable sounds of people screaming and pleading followed. Drewda dragged Bulla up the steps and onto flat ground. She wasn't sure of how many flights they scaled but her thigh muscles were set ablaze. A loud creaking sound rippled across Bulla's ears. Drewda pulled the heavy door in front of them back on its squeaky hinges. The yellow flood lights from the hall provided a welcome break from the darkness. Bulla poked her head into the hall and waited. She went first and waved the boy to follow her. They tiptoed down what was the ceiling only stopping to inspect the signs protruding from what is now the floor. Red and yellow symbols marked the frosted glass. The hall split before them to the right and the left.

On Earth, the red signs are usually the exit, she thought, but who know what it means to them- one wrong turn and we're dog chow..

Bulla tapped the sign, hoping for an informed second opinion from Drewda.

Maybe the guards brought him this way, she hoped.

Drewda shrugged his shoulders indecisively. Bulla decided to trust her gut and follow the red hall. She eased around the corner with Drewda tucked closely behind her back. Her feet tingled again with the cold wet sensation.

"Where is this fucking water coming from?," she spat.

She buried her frustration deep within. She mustered what little bit of mental fortitude she had left to keep moving through the maze of the ship. The hall ended in two double doors marked with the same red symbols as before. Bulla sheepishly pulled one open. To her surprise, they had not made a circle as she expected. She prepared herself to see another long dark hallway. Instead it was a large room dressed in brown, saggy carpet. Big glass observation windows spanned over console panels. Their feet sunk unto the sopping wet carpet. Two rampaged maroon uniforms laid on the floor. They were ripped to shreds and empty. No trace of a body was left. The carpet's lacked the tale-tell blood bloodstain of violence. Two topped helmets laid on the floor. A pair of pantlegs tangled around the base of a metal stool. Bulla herded Drewda around the display, feeling some shred of respect for the dead. She looked down at her bare foot watching the black inky liquid pool around it. Drewda bounced over to the console, drawn in by the knobs and switches.

"Hey- don't touch that," Bulla said as she swatted his curious fingers away, "We don't know what it does."

Bulla peaked out the panel windows, seeing the metal steps level down from the control room to disappear into a deep pool of sandy brown water. Her brows pinched the skin between them. Long deep groves lined the bottom of the hull. Metal crates bobbed in the pool. She studied the wired grates on the containers and a dark memory brewed in her head. She remembered laying in one just like it for hours on end.

Did I come though here?, she thought.

Another helmet rolled around in the water below.

Another body, or lack of one rather, she thought, until the black visor peered up at them.

She clamped her hand over Drewda's mouth. When she perceived swaying arms beneath the water's surface. They watched as the air of the room below became thick and grey, like a salt and pepper marinade. The helmet dipped below the water and out of sight just before Cloak's body formed over the surface. He tread the air back and forth, looking into the gritty brine below. A dusty black mass followed his back, like a cape made of human ashes. Once satisfied, he gave himself back to the air, vanishing to hung for survivors elsewhere.

A few moments paused before the helmet popped back out of the water in a couching fit. The person below scrambled onto the grated deck, the only dry ground available other than the stairs. His dripping off-white attire sent a jolt down Bulla's spine.

Surely not… no way, she thought.

His almond skin made her suspicions even more plausible.

He's about the right height too, she thought, loathing the situation, we'll go back and hope he leaves.

Before Bulla could even start to sign her plan, Drewda bolted from her arms. He splashed through the soggy carpet and rushed down the rusted steel stairs. He stopped on the last step with Bulla hot on his heels.

"Tsungage, Tsungage!," the boy hollered.

"Grouda!," the man hollered beneath his helmet.

Drewda threw himself from the last step and spattered into the water. He awkwardly paddled himself to the other side, barely able to tread water. The man eagerly fished him out of the water, entering into a long embrace with him. Drewda laid his head on the broad shoulder that waited for him. The man spoke to him in a soft slow murmur. Grouda rubbed the waxy helmet and picked at the visor with his nails. He caressed the man's neck just below the welded collar. Grouda rattled the apparatus, trying to futilely pull it off . The man cried out in pain, nearly dropping the boy from his hip. Grouda slid down willingly, then put his hands to work; his fingers took off fast and confidently. The man responded in turn, fostering a silent and eager conversation.

Bulla longed for such comfort from the mouth of someone who loved her. The fuse was lit within her, sparking toward a deep laceration and longing in her heart.

I'll never see my parents again. I'll never get to tell daddy that I'm sorry… even if I do by some divine intervention, would they accept me after so long? Oh, they could never know.

Just looking at them forced her to remember. She felt the stranger's skin hugging her back and the gnarly unwanted sight of his naked body. Her jealously boiled over and bubbled just beneath the skin; she had enough. Bulla swam over pulled herself up on the deck.

"You raped me, and I took care of your kid all this time!," she cried our with water dripping from her clothes.

Bulla boldly jerked Grouda back to her by his arm. The man stepped forward. His chest puffed out and his shoulders rose an fell with deep, fast breaths. Bulla turned to the boy and signed, "Bad- dangerous."

"No," Grouda returned, "Friend."

"No," Bulla said breaking the silence with her lips as well as her hands, "He hurt me. Don't trust him."

Drewda looked up at the welded helmet, then back to Bulla. He tucked his wringing hands close to his chest.

"Go ahead," Bulla said to the ma, "Tell him how you held me down and-"

The man interrupted Bulla with his indecipherable tongue before he raised his hands. He signed to Bulla slowly with exaggerated movements. Bulla imagined that he talked to her as if she was a toddler, not well versed int heir oven native language.

"I- no -want -that -to -you," he said.

Bulla managed to glean the rudimentary message, but she shook her back and forth ad continued to pull Drewda away.

"End," Bulla signed to the boy, "No leave from here. Go back."

A stern voice befell them from the face behind the visor. He wanted in his own sharp tongue. His raised voice made Bulla wince.

"No," he signed with such force, that his sleeves on his arms audibly popped under the tension. He pointed his drilling, square finger at the boy signing, " Stay."

He leaned close to Bulla and ripped Drewda away from her. The tips of Drewda's ears sagged. He shriveled within his own body, squeezing his shoulders against his neck. His hands folded over themselves over and over again.

"You're going to get him killed," Bulla spat, not caring to translate it to sign.

"I saw a door- down- under," the man signed, "Come with us. I- not- hurt you."

Bulla paused to consider the proposition. The idea seemed moronic to her at best.

Kalus said to go up. Who knows where that water is from. It could be burst pipes, or kami forbit- sewage, she thought.

"No," she signed back to him, "We go up."

"- you know- we?"

"What?"

"No," he paused, "You go up," the man said.

Bulla batted her eyes as she quietly processed the charged response.

I could just let Drewda decide who he… no no, nope. I am not letting a child make such a decision. I will not let him be responsible for his own demise, she concluded.

Bulla marched up to him and reached for the boy. She tore Grouda away from her assailant. She carried him away kicking and screaming.

"I'm sorry, but he's going to get us killed," she whispered in Grouda's ear, hoping that he would understand her tone, "I've took care of you all this time. I want you to have the best chance."

Bulla lifted herself and the boy into the air. A rogue ki blast seared her back, sending them crashing into the salty water. The man pulled the flailing boy back onto the deck, guarding him with his body. Bulla pulled herself from the water. A musky residue lingered on her skin. The man pointed to Bulla and dragged his thumb across his neck.

"NO MORE," he signed.

"You shot me in the fucking back, you coward," Bulla fumed.

"Try then," He signed.

With a breath she lunged at him digging her knee deep into his gut. His large open hand landed on the side of her head. It felt like a swipe from a bear. Her neck audibly cracked under the force. The blow sent her to her hand and knees. He wrapped his arm around her neck and constricted until the vessels of her head bulged and her chin cut into the crook of his arm. Her oxygen deprived body still managed to struggle against his strength. Bulla slammed her fists into his kidneys over and over until he broke his grip and shoved her away. The man pushed Drewda off his leg, paying no mind to his pleading cries. A great pulsating blast erupted from his hand, cornering Bulla in its wake. She managed to dash under it, just being grazed by its tail. He saw right though her and heaved his right foot into her chest. She crashed into the water like a cannon ball, but quickly bounded form the pool. Her opponent pulled his shirt off and stretched it out in front of him.

He's trying to keep me at a distance- shit, she thought.

They circled each other before Bulla moved in again. He managed to shift her blows, glancing them off the fabric. He trapped her arms in the white tangle. He dragged her closer with her feet scooting on the slippery deck. She pivoted her feet to guide them between his legs. His hands glowed with green ki, harboring malice and unborn destruction. She brought her wrapped hands up into a stout sucker punch right between his legs. His legs quivered, but he managed to stay on his feet. Bulla pulled away shirt and all before he had to stop on one knee. She thought about scooping up Grouda and breaking for the door.

No, I have to kill him, she realized.

Bulla leaped onto his back, wrapping her long legs around his torso. She tried to snag his neck with his own discarded shirt. She bore down with all her strength, but his trachea remained intact. He snatched her knee with both hands. He ripped her from his back. She sailed through the air like a rag doll. He banged her body on the ground over and over like an overgrown toddler having a tantrum. He held her floppy body upside down and examined her for signs of life after the thrashing. She hung limp like a skinned carcass from a hunter's trap. He laid her body down carefully, not to fold up her limbs. With trembling hands he ushered the wailing boy to his side. Whining groans escaped from beneath the helmet and he ignored Drewda's signing hands. He stood at the deck's edge with the boy in tow when Bulla came back to reality. With a grunt Bulla shambled to her feet. In a split second she ran. She leaped onto the wall to gain the extra height. She scaled it despite her wet feet, managing to climb above the speechless man's head. Her heel caved in the helmet and quaked his skull. He fumbled onto the ground. She landed on top of him, digging her elbows into his chest. They skidded to a stop, scraping his back against the floor. Despite his flailing arms she held his head in her hands. She smashed his head against the ground until the fiberglass encasing it crumbled. She grasped at his burned face. His golden-honey eyes and pointed ears confirmed her suspicions. His diamond shaped face was hollow and more sunken. His chocolate hair sat on his head in an oily swirl. His filthy face grimaced in pain. His beard was crusted with a pungent mixture of dead skin and snot. His prominent cheeks were streaked and chapped from marinating in his own tears. Bulla wiggled out a big piece of the fractured visor. She hoisted the sharp edge above their heads. She griped it with such tension that it embedded itself into her palm.. She couldn't feel its sharp edges or her raw bloodied knuckles. All she felt was rage steaming her alive from the inside out. Her heart slowed in her chest. The murderous snarl evaporated from her lips. All she could see were the little round 'potatoes' offered in his big hand. The visor piece clinked onto the ground from her bare hand. She dismounted him and trudged past Drewda, throwing herself over the water. From the corner of her eye, she watched Drewda pull him the man to a sitting position. She felt them watching her as she glided to the top of the stairs.

The smell stopped her head in her tracks. It was lite rotting fish smoldering in electrical wiring. The air became a soupy grey haze as Cloak too =k his shape in the air. She turned around, getting a glimpse of them all before the pointy eared man opened his mouth.

"What did you expect?," Cloak responded, "I know exactly."

"What are you gonna do, Cloak? Take us back to our destroyed cells?," she mocked him.

"And what will you do? Hide under the water' till you starve for air," Cloak said eyeballing the man on the deck. Listen pup, you can come as a willing asset or not. I would prefer the first," he said to her.

His ashy cape had grown into a long black train, following him around like a veil trailing a bride.

"And go where?," Bulla said, "Everyone is probably dead. We're trapped on this busted ass ship with what ever the fuck you are."

"Pup this rigg befell ground hours ago."

"What?"

"That water is from an ocean," he said, "We landed head down. You'll drown before you'd make it to the surface."

The pointy eared man on the deck interrupted Cloak's speech.

"This door? The bay door?," Cloak responded, "Even if you pried it the rest of the way open, you'll drown before you get to the surface," Cloak said.

"You lie!," Bulla yelled at Cloak.

"I don't lie, pup," he sighed.

"I was stupid to ever trust you!"

Cloak hovered in the air, responding to her anger with silence. He crossed his legs beneath him and made the air his pillow. With a shake, his smokey cape lifted from his shoulders. His idleness infuriated her. She didn't want her last moments to be tainted with his presence. Her mind reeled with possibilities for escape.

If I can get the door open, I can try to fly to the surface, she thought, but hope dwindled by the second as her analytical brain took over.

"Just do what you came for!," she called to him.

"I'm tired pup," he said, "I will bend the rules no more."

"You and your fucking rules," Bulla scoffed, "You talk about it an awful lot for a man who gets to play God."

"I am no God," he rumbled.

"Funny, I've heard of many mortals turned God. You're just like the other wanna be turd, don't kid yourself."

"Is that so?," he said standing up. Cloak puffed a handful of dust form his palm. Kalus' dusky blue body formed from nothing. Cloaks paraded his clunky stiff form around like a marionette with broken strings. Kalus' dead grey eyes pepped at her from his half-opened lids. His arm offered a choppy wave with his hand wagging on his wrist.

"You're disgusting," Bulla cried.

"I've re-assembled him perfectly. I can even make his heart beat, but there is no life- no soul."

Cloak filtered into the stiff shell. Kalus' ski flushed and he opened his mouth.

"I can use his vocal chords," Kalus' body said, before evaporating and morphing into the unsuspecting form of a human man wearing a grey jumpsuit, "Or wear a face," Cloak finished through the second skin before turning back into a shadow, "But I cannot give back a soul."

"Just do it Cloak," Bulla said calmly.

"I made no mistake that night," Cloak continued, grabbing her attention.

"What?," Bulla asked.

"I indented to add you to my collection, I wanted to wear you and stroll right into the Son residence-"

"Shut up!"

"I do not lie," he goaded her, "There would have been no pan. It would be quick. Her daddy would open the door and let right in, just like yours did, and-"

"I told you to shut up! Shut up!," Bulla screamed at him.

"Or what, pup?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Anything that must breathe is like a little dog groveling at a master's feet."

"You're no mater just a damn tyrant," Bulla said.

"Only over the weak…," he antagonized her.

Bulla's struggle for power lifted. She accepted her weakness as she remembered being chased through the river in the woods and every fleeting moment of survival since. The murders and assaults stung like a slap across the face. The colors and smells were all too vivid and real. A painful montage of the last several months played through her head like a bad infomercial.

"I'm not powerful; I'll never be my father or my brother. I'm a lame-ass cat lady who likes plants. I'm no warrior, but I am anything but weak!"

Bulla jumped the stair rail in her berserker rage. She dashed to Cloak and latched onto him.

"Take me you bastard!," she screamed.

Cloak stood still. He didn't bother to dodge her. The pointy eared man and Grouda held each other, trying to find comfort in the face of death. Bulla's attack landed. She didn't seep through Cloak's very being. He wrapped his arms around her. Bulla flew into the walls, like a bat trapped in a fishbowl. Cloak's smoke tangled around her like a black bed sheet on a wind tossed line. They plummeted to the water below. Bulla was trapped in his bear hug. He bled into the pool, staining it like watercolor paint. Air bubbled from her mouth as she tried to call out. She stopped resisting when she opened her eyes in the velvet ink. She saw him, all of him. He was thin and long with splayed feet. The four toes on his feet were parted down the middle like a sandal throng. His narrow heat shaped face sported a snubbed, round nose. No eyes filled his empty sockets, just tightly stretched skin. His head tapered off into two fleshy lobes cascading from his crown like two French braids. Two golden orbs burned next to his temples, illuminating his ashy skin., brindled with indigo undertones.

Are those your eyes; Bulla thought.

His chest glowed with pulsating light that matched the flames by his head.

"Oh, pup," he spoke form his mouthless face, "I'm sorry to bate you with fury."

"Can- can you hear me?," she asked in her heart, "What are you?"

"A tyrant in rebellion," he answered, "Since that day, I knew. I knew when I couldn't disintegrate you in my wake- when you bit me and I bled."

"Let me go!," she said.

Cloak eased his head onto her shoulder in a content embrace.

"Your soul refuses to detach from your body- you can do this."

"I'm going to drown!"

"You can shield them-I'm sure of it. The priest made the Kurai to create in our death. I imploded instead. I don't want to annihilate what already was, who already was. I ran from death, refused to complete my purpose. I want to feel. What is it like to be loved? I hope the priest is merciful."

"What are you talking about crazy ass- I'm going to die!"

"Do what you must- friend."

In desperation Bula balled up her fists and battered his ribs. The exoskeleton and cartilage lost their fortitude. Her right hand punctured the membrane and sunk into his flesh. The light inside pierced the darkness and a mighty blast deafened her. Her body was flung into the water and debris. Blinding light consumed her whole being. The water evaporated around her body from the intense heat. The ocean boiled as turbulent water slammed her from all sides. She rode the wave of energy up and out of the darkness. She looped up into the funnel and saw an orange blazing sun beaming into the deep waters. Her lungs begged to expand. Black and blue dots speckled her vision. Bulla propelled herself with her ki, blasting past belly up fish. She could barely keep her eyes open as the salt water began to gurgle in the back of her throat. She clenched her neck with her hands, that's when she noticed it. Her wrist glowed like the silver lining of a cloud. Focus returned as she found vitality in the angel's breath. Given a second chance, she clawed her way toward the shimmering reflections above her head. She erupted form the choppy water. She shamelessly sucked in the air with a loud obnoxious whistle like a donkey's bray. The sun warmed her skin for the first time, feeling clueless about this world. The light of day blinded her, but she made out the large chunks of floating debris burning on the water's surface. She watched the orange flames skim the lapping waves. The water cycled into rolling peaks. Crashing water echoed in the distance. The horizon was a never-ending white cap. The data processed in her head, but it was too late. Bulla tried to forsake the water for the air, but the colossal wave was already upon her. The ocean's gaping mouth loomed over her. The sun disappeared behind the tsunami's fizzing crest. The wall took her, blowing her over in its gluttony for suffering. Cloak's blood curdling scream fractured her mind in the silence of the ocean's gullet.