The roar of the approaching storm was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the sickening crunch of metal as the lightning bolt struck the chopper.

One second, you and Abe were hurtling toward the B.P.R.D. coastal base after a grueling success; the next, the pilot was dead, the windshield shattered, and the helicopter was plunging into the churning black ocean. The impact was violently abrupt. Cold, dark water flooded the cabin instantly, dragging the twisted fuselage down into the depths.

You wake to the terrifying sensation of the water rising past your chest. You gasp for air in the shrinking air pocket, but your hands scrabble uselessly against the jammed release of your seatbelt. The metal is warped. You are trapped.

In front of you, Abe moves with the liquid grace that only an Ichthyo Sapien possesses in his element. He slices through his own restraints with a tactical knife in a blur of motion. He kicks toward the exit, but the moment his cloudy blue eyes lock onto your struggling form, he freezes. For a fleeting second, the stoic, measured researcher vanishes, replaced by a raw, wide-eyed panic.

He surges toward you, his remarkably long fingers wrestling with the mangled buckle. It won't budge. The water swallows the last of the air pocket. You hold your breath, your lungs burning, panic setting in as your vision begins to blur at the edges.

Seeing you suffocating, Abe drops his knife. He grips your shoulders, his smooth, rubbery hands—cool and patterned with lace-like teal markings—sliding up to cup your jaw. He tilts your head up, his delicate features tightened with desperation, and presses his full lips firmly against yours.

At first, it is a pure, frantic transfer of life. He exhales powerfully, forcing a rush of precious oxygen from his own lungs into yours. The taste of salt water mixes with the faint, earthy musk of his skin. But as your chest expands and your panic slightly recedes, his grip shifts. His thumbs gently stroke your cheeks, and the kiss deepens, transforming for an electric, breathless moment into something profoundly intimate in the icy dark. His nictitating membranes slide back, his large, soulful eyes searching yours to ensure you are conscious.

Pulling away, his chest heaves as the delicate gills on his neck pulse rhythmically in the water. His expression is fiercely determined. He intertwines his long fingers tightly with yours in a vice-like grip, taking the lead. He gives your hand a firm squeeze—a silent promise—and pulls you forcefully out of the shattered window, becoming your navigator through the dark water toward the surface.