Chapter Text
The control panel lies before you, the eerie glow of the ancient scanners and gauges illuminating the empty chair sitting in front of the console. Rusted metal surrounds you, like a coffin. The air is warm. Stifling. It smells like iron. Or blood. Or both.
I hope you’re not claustrophobic...
You turn around and survey the back of the dingy submarine. A large, rectangular button glows at you from the middle of the grime-covered wall. It seems important.
Sucking in panicked gasps of precious oxygen, you turn once more to the control panel—
“Hey, it’s you!” A shadowy figure now sits in the chair. It spins around to face you, all twinkling eyes and a bright beaming smile. “Remember me? It's your old pal, Mark. Long time no see. How've you been, buddy? Still got that ancient artifact on you? Oh, that’s a shame. Could have come in handy right about now.”
He’s dressed like a space hobo, complete with long matted hair, a dirty headband, and an old coat riddled with holes. You have to admit, it’s not a bad look.
He looks around the cramped confines of the submarine, his smile briefly faltering. “Quite the predicament we’ve found ourselves in, hey. Stuck in this rickety old tin can under an ocean of tomato soup. Oh well. Would you like to take the controls? Or would you like to man the camera? Controls. Camera. Whatever you pick, I’ll take care of the other. Go on, I trust your decision-making completely.” He gives a small chuckle. “I mean, you’ve never let me down with your choices before. I’m sure it’ll be fine, whichever you pick…”
If you pick the CONTROLS, go to chapter 5
If you pick the CAMERA, go to chapter 7