Despite the looming threat of a storm, my crew is ever dedicated to expeditions to the sunken city. Well, all except Wagner. He refuses to even leave his room let alone the Leviathan. Can’t say I sympathize with the man. My best friend, sure, but a man’s got duties despite what happened in the past. At least I know there’s someone that I can trust on ship at all times.
The storm is concerning though. Cisco says that that’s what got his crew. In the face of the storm, I decided to cut today’s expedition short. Not before I managed to pull up chunks from three different pieces. The three are included below but that’s not it. I want you to vote for your favorite. That is the one I will retrieve the rest of come tomorrow–if the storm doesn’t sink us first. Make sure to read through to the bottom for the voting station.
The gas pedal pushed on the back of my foot as I gently relieved pressure. I cranked the steering wheel to the side, a hard right turn, and immediately slammed the gas pedal to the floor again.
The sirens wailed behind me.
I bit my lip, watching as the speedometer climbed and climbed. Traffic swerved left and right as my car barreled down the center of the street, easily going 70/75 in a 25MPH zone. I eased off the pedal again as another concrete wall rose up before me. This time though I jerked the steering wheel to the left.
“What do you mean the line’s dead?”
There was a pause. “I’m sorry, sir, but exactly that,” came the crackled response. “The line is dead.”
The man frowned and paced across the room. He paused by the window looking out over the busy city street. The sun was beginning to set and people were rushing home from busy days at work. More like lazing about drinking coffee, he thought angrily to himself. Without turning back around to look at the receiver on his desk, he spoke again. “I need you to get a hold of him no matter what the costs,” he said.
You move gracefully as you saunter through the night. The moon is full above you while the stars are black. It should be unsettling but the absence of the stars doesn’t affect you like it has the others. While they moan, almost in pain, crouching over to clutch their stomachs, you pull your shoulders back, chest out, and walk swiftly with your head held high.
You never realized before that the stars had been making them strong and yet had made you weak. But now, now things will never be the same. You will no longer shuffle forward, bowing your head to each one you pass. You no longer will collapse to your knees and press your lips to their mud covered boots. They hold no power over you anymore.
I wonder about the pieces we retrieve. Maybe we’ll be able to shed some light on the people of the sunken city of gold and the reasons behind its descent into the sea. I haven’t seen any pieces like that yet, but I’ll keep my eye out for them.