Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He didn’t know how it had happened, but Peter Johnson had been pulled down deeper than was possibly allowed for him. His diving partner hadn’t been able to save him, and releasing the weights didn’t seem to be an option, unless he wanted a ruptured lung. But, at that point in time, oxygen seemed to be a more critical matter. More specifically speaking, he was running out of it. The temperature at the depth he was at, combined with the pressure, essentially spelled “disaster” in big flashing neon letters. And Peter couldn’t even think straight. And then, the abrupt halt that meets a diver when they run out of air, and try to breathe. That one horrifying moment, where all hope was lost, and drowning seemed to be all he had to look forward to. Except Peter was making an –obviously desperate and futile – break for the surface. Considering his condition, and the surrounding area, it was a miracle he was still alive. However, if he didn’t get protection against the cold, and some oxygen in his lungs, that wouldn’t be true for much longer. Slowly, blackness began to settle in, with Peter falling further and further with every second.