by Travis Perry -
As Ernsto Mons slipped deeper into the inky blackness, his armored dive suit creaked and popped under the pressure. He swallowed hard—he had never been a deep diver; he’d never faced the deepest depths before. But he had been a smuggler and had killed men in cold blood when he needed to; he knew he was tough, so he brushed past his fear.
The movement locator built into his suit—an expensive piece of sonar gear his wizard benefactor in Avenir had paid for, like the suit and most of his weapons—flicked with green dots of movement. Dozens of dots, moving fast, around two hundred meters below him.
He tilted his helmet forward, straining his eyes to see any sign of anything down there. The only image his retinas received was of deep, deep dark.
Ernsto swallowed hard. This is nothin’, he told himself, his brow damp with icy sweat.