“I’ve… lived through some ‘f that,” Bruce said, gesturing mildly to a scarred indent on his left side; a puncture wound, be it from a harpoon or spear. “Researched other things. Asked ‘round. Once I realized what I was, I found that m’ sources could go b’yond just other sharks…” The great white sighed. “And it turned out worse than I imagined.”

“Oh,” the Repairman nodded, grimly. He didn’t have much reference for death, but what little he did have was enough to know what that meant.

“Well,” he asked, after a moment, “I hear some of the older ‘edutainment’ Toons are getting together to work on issues…over there.” He looked back at Bruce. “You think they could help?”