A collected pool trickled from the edge of the overhang to the concrete street -- Kara stepped out from under that open-form shelter.

Relieved by the fortunate turn of events, he hit the pavement, carefully avoiding the edge of the sidewalk.He was in no mood to be drenched by the vehicles that passed through the roadway that sprayed the cement with filthy runoff.Yet, as careful as he was, he still managed to step on a pool -- a shallow sheet of water that made more of a sound than a mess.

He stopped and looked down -- the surface quivered violently but it calmed quickly and he caught a glimpse of himself, distorted, as it were, by the steep angle of view.He was not able to study his features for long for the momentary tranquility was interrupted by a pair of feet that treaded over the pool and splattered its water.He turned his eyes up and saw to his shock, a tall, well-built figure from the back, leaving the area around the hospital, heading to a nearby alley.

The stranger was Thunderian, scantily clad in a manner that had rapidly become familiar to him.Although he had not seen the cat’s face, by the massive musculature alone he could tell who and what he was.A bandage around his arm and a slight limp only reinforced his intuition.

Keeping himself at a safe distance, he followed the throwback through wandering, meandering jet-black passages.To his left were the blunt, flat edifices of brick houses, grimy and dingy -- the rain had done little to alleviate centuries of uncleanliness.To his right was a narrow strip of walkway littered with broken boxes and bags of garbage that the sanitation workers had not yet collected.

The sounds of the laborer’s footsteps were loud and heavy and -- he hoped -- masked the patter of his own gait, nevertheless, to shake his comfort, a series of tense moments followed one after the other in random succession.The figure would stop and turn around but Kara, so in tune with his motions, could spot the move.Quietly -- or as quietly as possible -- he hid behind the trash and waited for the stranger to continue on his way.

The lion thought he was getting away with it -- until the end.

That last time it happened he was not in the alley -- rather, he was in an open area that appeared to be a run-down playground, long abandoned.Weeds and coarse plants overgrew the rusted, mangled equipment.Without warning the cat stopped under the green leaves of a twisted, gnarled tree.An upsurge in the air caused its branches to sway and the chirping of its rustling leaves deafened the haste of his ducking and diving behind a mound of yellow sand.

But he had not been careful and kicked piles of empty beer cans, scattered them across the rocky turf.He thought the world had come to an end and as he crouched in the safety of the makeshift cover he wondered and feared what would happen and how he could deal with it.Not a sound came from the throwback -- not even the whisper of breath echoed in the air -- and in time he came to believe that the figure was not there, not there anymore.He convinced himself that the imperfect Thunderian had just simply continued his journey.

Unable to take the dread of it, Kara took a deep breath and poked his head out -- “No!” he shouted and darted in.The stranger was still there, still under the shade of the tree, the features of his face clear despite the darkness.And he was looking, spying on the lion.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins -- he felt absolute terror beyond bearing.

The grown-up cat knelt over the rotund, metal cap of a manhole and, with his bare hands, tore it free from the soldered threads that kept it in place.The violent exertion was made with but barely a few grunts.The lion had gotten up to his feet in time to see the throwback ease his way down the tube.

Kara waited for about a minute before he advanced.He looked about the cluttered playground -- the courtyard was surrounded by the rear of gray and white brick buildings.An unexpected moment caused his gaze to shift from the exposed manhole to a blackened window of an ancient structure.It was a curtain that had been drawn back and let go to sway in a bizarre rhythm.

The youngster was taken aback and, as if to compound his sense of foreboding, words that Marsala had spoken to him came back -- no, it was not his world, it was not meant for him.He shrugged it off and knelt before the portal in the concrete that had been left unblocked.He tried to look into the darkness, but all he saw, all he understood was but a reflection of the gravity of the situation.He realized that he was miles from home, a stranger in unfamiliar elements -- but to take the next step, the ultimate, logical extension, to go from the lofty heights where he was worshiped as a god, to the lowly depths where his life was insignificant, expendable to the business of running and keeping the machines required a moment of pause.

He could turn back, he could always turn back but the die was cast.He had gone too far already to turn back.He reached into the manhole and searched the inner wall for the rungs of its ladder.

Locating the protruding, iron bars, he descended.Reaching new depths, eyes adjusting to the dim atmosphere, the circular opening above seemed so unreachable, so faraway that its wide mouth had shrunk to little more than pinpoint of light.His ears, too, had attained a new, more profound acuteness, but all he could sense was the distant drip of water -- he was so lost in its steady beat that he was, to a point, almost in a hypnotic trance.

“Ahhh!” large, beefy hands grabbed his neck and thigh.

“Got you!” came a low, gruff voice, more of an animalistic growl than a voice.It was the throwback.“Why do you follow me?” he asked, pulling the lion from the ladder to him, spinning the youngster.“Who are you?” He dragged him into a side tunnel and, with the glow of red, emergency lights, examined the captive with his eyes, letting go of his hold around the mouth, grabbing onto the shoulders instead.

Kara winced in pain.“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, meekly.“I just, ahhh,” he squirmed.“I just wanted to come to the surface.”

The figure laughed -- not so much because of what he heard but what he saw.“You’re only a cub!”He let the youth go as if to toy with him.“And why would you want to come here?It isn’t your world.”

Trying to find a way to explain it, the lion moped and paced.He caught a glimpse of the cat’s bare feet -- his toes were rounded, swollen, almost.He looked at his own digits -- stubby, short things, more human than feline.“I need to see someone.”

Again the imperfect Thunderian laughed:“And how do you know someone down here? To your kind we’re not even numbers --”

“He’s not one of you,” the he said defensively, he found himself backed up to the wall.

The grown-up cat’s face met the cub’s:“You aren’t afraid?You really aren’t afraid?”

“I have to reason to be,” the youngster responded, firmly.He tried to reach out to touch the throwback’s face but his arm gave way at the last moment.

The stranger stepped back and, after a silent pause, knelt before the lion-cub.“Go back, go home.I can’t help you.”

“I’ve come so far,” he whimpered.“I want to know more about this underworld, I want to understand it.”

The man shook his head.“Why?Had I the power I would leave this place and you, who can, want to come here?”

“This world and the people in it are important to someone I care for and I do, genuinely do want to know more.”He put his hands on the throwback’s exposed shoulders, inching his fingers toward his curly mane -- the cat was a puma with tan fur, brown and white hair and the softest eyes.

“Who is this person?”

More than anything it was his facial deformity that caused his voice to have the deep, rough character it had.

Even before Kara was able to say the name, already his demeanor, his manner, his whole expression had changed dramatically.He was almost a different person, fidgeting his fingers and everything.The stranger -- who was still nameless -- actually smiled.“His name is Caesar.”

The puma’s eyes widened:“You know Caesar?”

“I know him some, but I’d like to know him better.I was told he was down here.”

“Yes, yes, he is.”He stood and wrapped an arm around the youngster’s back.“He is such a -- hmmm -- I can take you to him, cub, but you’ll have to wait a bit.”He stopped, looked up and down the passage and whispered: “The meeting is at two, at the end of this shift.”

“What kind of meeting is --”

“Shhh!” Again he whispered: “We don’t talk about out in the open.”

The lion nodded.“I can wait,” he said, walking along the tunnel with the laborer.

“You’ll do more than wait.If you want to blend in you’ll have to do some work to get yourself dirtied.I see you’ve already begun.”He ended his quip with a slight chuckle.

“Where do you work?” the lion-cub asked.

“At a relay station.I used to be with the dynamos but an accident put that to an end -- so I switched places --” he smiled, “I didn’t mean to scare you -- but we have to be careful.We all love Caesar, some of us more than others, I guess,” he paused.“I guess that makes us, special, huh?Maybe not so special.”

“Do you have a name?” Kara asked.

“I call my self Pumalo,” he answered, “but we don’t really go by names down here.”Again the youngster nodded.“And what’s you name, cub?”

“Kara,” he answered, without hesitation.