Simon was never fond of the wide ocean. It stored nothing but death in his mind. No air, no land, no food, no safety. The faint stir of the military boat's fans, the waves crashing up on the vessel. Despite the noise, he felt... calm, almost a feeling of shelter, yet he was anywhere but home.

A cigarette in his right hand, the black outline of his clothes lightened by the dimming glow of the sun. A crisp orange fell over the sea, a view only you would see on a famous touring magezine.

A hitch of his breath, and suddenly Simon's head fell. His hand shook, it was a single feeling he hadn't felt since he was a young boy. Fear. Remembering when he once couldn't breathe under the depths, water dragging into his lungs. He knew he felt a tentacle stuck around his leg, but nobody had ever believed him.

It was only the sudden pitch black of the sky and the silence of the ship that snapped him out of the flashback. Tapping his cigarette and tossing it out to the waves, he watched as it diminished with ease into the depths.

"No moon tonight..."

Husky words of exhaustion left his lips as he pulled his mask down once more, turning back to the ship. Feeling a twitch on his ankle, he merely tried to kick it off with his foot. It didn't budge. It was only then he realized he felt suction cups, the familiar tentacle yanking at his leg.