Frankie held his breath, hunched on all fours in the blackness.  The minute Dorian turned his back to look for him, he pounced through the air, wrapping his arms around Dorian in another twisted embrace.  "How many times were you buried?"  Frankie whispered, slamming his palm into the tip of Dorian's sword.  Latin characters lit up on Frankie's arm, softly illuminating the monsters' faces.<br/><br/>He began to squeeze Dorian slowly, cutting off his air supply delicately.  "I told you.  We artificial life forms aren't sexually frustrated.  And I don't need a wedding tackle either."  His voice had a hint of malice in it as he pushed his palm further down the length of the sword, sliding his massive hand to the hilt.  "How many rapes have you committed over the years?"  Frankie hissed, his eyes beginning to glow.