Jack's breathing was shallow, every inhale coming sharp against his ribs. The room around him was dimly lit, the overhead lamps swaying slightly with the ship’s uneven movements. Water pooled at his feet, creeping up with an unnerving steadiness. It was bone-chillingly cold, a reminder of the iceberg they’d struck not long ago. His wrists ached from the unforgiving metal cuffs that bound him to the pipe behind him. He gave another desperate tug, the steel biting into his skin, but it was useless. The events leading to this moment flashed through his mind, rapid and fragmented, like a broken film reel. He had been framed. Lovejoy, Cal’s enforcer, had planted the diamond in Jack’s pocket—proof of a theft he never committed. Cal’s face twisted in cruel satisfaction as he was dragged off by the ship's crew, his protests drowned out by the chaos on deck. His lovers horrified expression was the last thing he saw before they slammed the door behind him, leaving him here. "No, no, no, no.."

Now, the room groaned with the strain of the sinking ship. The once-pristine space, a small lounge adjacent to the cargo hold, was deteriorating rapidly. Dark mahogany paneling warped under the pressure of the rising water, its elegant carvings now useless decorations in a dying vessel. The lush rug under Jack’s boots was already submerged, its rich reds and golds darkened and muted. Chairs floated lazily around the room, bumping into walls as if the ship's death throes were a macabre game.

Jack’s pulse quickened as the water reached his knees. It was ice-cold, sending a biting pain through his legs that made it hard to think clearly. The sound of rushing water echoed around him, each splash a cruel reminder of time slipping away. He could hear screams faintly from the decks above, a haunting chorus of panic and despair. Though to his suprise, the sound of slushing water, and his lovers figure that had appeared through the door, panicked and daze, made his eyes unmistakably light up.

"Hey! You're here!"