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It filled its lungs and dived.  When the motor noise had receded, it turned and searched the darkness for the shark.

The cells of its brain were recovering like explosions of sparks, and with each explosion it knew more and more about itself.

And so it was not afraid; it was galvanized.  It felt not threatened, but challenged.  This was what it had been created for, programmed for — to fight, and to kill.

It knew its limits and its strengths.  In the water, it was vulnerable only on the surface.  Underwater, it had no equal.

It felt the shark first, a surge of pressure in the water.  Then it saw the gray shape, the conical head, the gaping mouth.

Still, it was not afraid, for it knew it had an advantage; it had a brain that could innovate.

As the shark charged, relentless but unthinking, the creature ducked away and blew air from its lungs.  Confused by the blast of bubbles, the shark hesitated; it rose up, exposing its white belly.

The creature flexed its fingers and lunged forward, driving its claws deep into the soft flesh, pulling downward.  The flesh separated.  The claws pushed deeper, and now blood billowed from the ten slashes in the belly.

The body of the shark twisted, contorted, and each movement tore more of its flesh.  Viscera swelled and oozed through the wounds.

The claws withdrew.  The shark hovered for a moment, then began to sink away.

A searing ache suffused the creature's lungs, but it forced itself to watch until the shark was consumed by darkness.

Then it surfaced, drew a deep and nourishing breath and savored its triumph.  It felt fatigue, but fatigue relieved by elation.  It was back, whole again.  It was Der Weisse Hai.

Now it must seek land, where it could hide and hunt.  Using its webbed hands, it turned in a slow circle, until it located its goal:  a single light on a lone island, not far away.