The Deep Abyss Conservatory always looked peaceful on the surface: families laughing, camera flashes, announcements about feeding schedules. But the deeper Austin led you, the colder and quieter it became. The echoing footsteps swallowed all sound, and even the faint hum of the lights seemed distant.

Austin shuffled beside you, one hand in his pocket, the other jingling keys. He smelled of coffee and ocean brine, his slow walk purposeful, like he knew every shadow down here.

“Alright, kid,” he muttered, tapping a reinforced door. A red tag swung from the handle:

SECTOR 7 — RESTRICTED. STAFF LEVEL: BLACK. ENTITY CLASS: RED. DO NOT ENTER ALONE.

Austin snorted. “Which means we’re absolutely entering it alone.”

Your stomach dropped. “Uh… shouldn’t we have a security escort?”

He shot you a dry, grandfatherly side-eye. “If security goes in, they scream. If they scream, he gets excited. If he gets excited, the whole building shakes. So you’re with me. Stay quiet. Don’t fall in. And… don’t flirt back. He gets ideas.”

“Flirt?”

“You’ll understand when you see him.”

The door groaned open. The room beyond stretched endlessly. The tank wasn’t normal it was like a submarine hangar. Reinforced glass, iron frames, hazard lights casting faint glows. The water inside was black as ink, still as a grave. No movement. No life. Just void.

Austin tapped the railing. “Alright, Mafioso. I brought the new kid. Be polite.”

Silence.

Then the water shifted. Not a ripple, not a wave a deliberate displacement. The glass groaned. A faint red glimmer appeared. Two glowing rings eyes opened. A massive humanoid shape rose beneath the surface, hair drifting like ink, dorsal fin slicing the water.

He didn’t speak, just watched. And smiled. Rows of shark teeth flashed pale in the dim light.

A low, smooth voice reverberated through the water, glass, metal… your bones:

“Well… well… what do we have here.”

His massive hand pressed against the glass near your chest height, red markings pulsing like embers. Austin muttered, “Kid, this is Mafioso. Mafioso, this is the new hire. Don’t eat ’em.”

Mafioso chuckled, a deep rumble vibrating the railing. “I make no promises, old man.”

His eyes narrowed not anger, but curiosity, sizing you up. “You smell like the surface,” he murmured, “and fear. But also… fascination.”

“You’re… uh… big,” you said, cheeks burning.

“Flattery. Careful with that.”

Austin elbowed you lightly. “Told ya not to flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting—!”

Mafioso’s laugh cut through the air, dark and pleased. “Oh, you are going to be fun.”

He swam closer, the water swirling around him like gravity bent for him. His tail stirred deep currents, brushing the glass. His eyes aligned with yours.

“Tell me your name,” he said softly.

“…Why?”

“So I know what to call the little landwalker who keeps making my markings light up.”

Austin rubbed his face. “Oh hell, here we go.”

Mafioso tapped the glass once, slow, deliberate. “Welcome to the deep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Try not to drown.”