The space between galaxies was smaller than the distance between Charles and the nearest real thing. There was truly nothing in the mind of Andrew Becker's body. Umbra was the antithesis of substance, a mind that never got the chance to find its body and [i]relate[/i] to the feeling of being corporeal. He was born a ghost, for all the good it did him to still exist. He could die a normal death like this, trapped in the body of Andrew and effectively kneecapped in terms of his ability to affect the world. Being chained to a body had its appeals, and it was [i]Ryder's[/i] body that he had hoped to eliminate the downfalls with.

This one would do, if they could just kill him. But first, they must try.

The nothingness pressed down on him, and it screamed. It was, in a way, like the screams of Ryder's mind. Loud, aggressive, uncaring.

[i]WHO ARE YOU TO STOP ME?[/I]

There wasn't a voice to hear. It was a language only heard in silence.

[i]SHE IS MINE. HER SHELL IS MINE. SHE EXISTS TO BECOME MINE.

YOU ARE FLESH. YOU ARE BONE. YOU ARE WARMTH.

YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. YOU CANNOT.

[/I]

Sure enough, the guards had backed off surprisingly quick. There wasn't a single one in sight.

Ryder couldn't even tell where they were. She didn't know why, but even their radios were starting to flicker out of notice.

[color=00ffff]"...Something's wrong."[/color]