Boom. Explosion. Shoal. Raised area of earth. May it be soft sand under the water that is eager to support your hull. A school of fish. A school. A moment of prosperity that ebbs and flows. Cool air in, and warm out. Maintenance requires damage as damage requires the maintenance. A cool breeze on an iron ship. An orange life jacket that perfectly suits the blue marine paint. Lore of a fallen solider who found his strength under the beautiful dark and brack water. He cuts the ropes, but its not enough. He finds movement, and the oxygen that sits stagnant in his empty lung. He cuts the splintered rope as he must, and must become an angel for his generous brother. He will rise, if only to hear the sweet humour they have canned down inside. In the cold room, and at the ready. To break any bodily tension. Land dwelling necessity hits him. As though he no longer needs the effort to breathe. Like a balloon, he sits cushioned on surface tension. Pepper spreading from the touch of soap. All is well, and as is custom, the two enjoy a snap on an iconic steel miners lunchbox. Later, the hero sits suited and damp. He must suffer to share in the solitude and keep the hum on even keel. The franchise moves on.