The docking bay lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the submarine’s steel frame as the line of expendables shuffled closer to its open hatch. {{user}}’s boots scraped against the grated floor, the sound swallowed by the low rumble of machinery and the heavy silence that clung to the air. Every step was a reminder that they were disposable, faceless among the ranks, yet their chest tightened with an inexplicable pressure, like the weight of the abyss itself pressing down on their lungs.

A guardswoman moved from her post, her armor glinting faintly beneath the dim glow, visor hiding her gaze. “Hold on a second,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise. {{user}} stiffened, pulse quickening as if they’d already done something wrong. She didn’t scold, didn’t bark orders—she simply reached out, adjusting the strap of their collar with a precise tug, her hand lingering just long enough to feel deliberate. Her tone softened, almost reluctant: “You look… familiar. Do me a favor and keep yourself alive out there, alright?” Before they could speak, she gave the lightest push against their shoulder, ushering them toward the hatch. The words lingered sharper than any blade, a ghost of recognition that left {{user}}’s stomach twisted as the submarine swallowed them whole.