It was a sunny day. A sunny day with an occasional shadow, cast by the cloud. A rhythmic sound was heard. A rippling and splashing of the waves.
It was a typical day in Curacao. It was run as a pleasure planet by Orbital Spa and Cruise. They offer many kinds of accommodations and entertainments.
In one of those accommodations, in a hotel room, someone was sitting at a desk. The desk was situated in front of a window. Its curtain was open, lights permeated in. A blueish light, shone by the blue dwarf at the center of Cortez. The window was slightly open, enough that some breeze would sip in. It brought the scent of pristine ocean. A pure, untouched and untainted by artificial pollution.
By the window, there is an open door, a glass one, leading to an outside balcony. The balcony was overseeing a pool. Just like a typical hotel room layout. The room was on the fourth floor, a modest floor. Enough to make an honest person turn to piracy, to just have those kinds of privileges.
The person sitting, was twiddling some kind of device. It was rather old, unlike those shiny, up-to-date, futuresque devices that many have. At a glance, it has number seven glared on its screen. He breathed in the air, a big chunk of air, and started recording.
Some time has passed. He got up and started to walk out onto the balcony, a firm walk. He checked the surroundings. The sight of the pool below was his main focus, a lascivious gaze ensued. A fiendish smile was seen on his face.
He breathed in the evening air, rather calmly, and rhythmically. It felt like an accomplishment to him. He'd gone into the room while closing the door toward the balcony. On to the next, he said.
A deafening hum echoes all over the hallway, a rhythmic, almost unbearable, gut wrenching, sickening sound.
The hallway from the bridge to the crew's quarter was long, albeit quite large. It's sound insulation wasn't decent enough as the engine's hum was heard, a contrast to the bridge.
A skeleton crew of five, on quite a large frigate with a fragmented schedule. Three must remain on the bridge, always. A man stepped off the bridge. A black boot, black pants, a red long-sleeve T-shirt, and a bulky grey-ish jacket was the man's attire.
Aside from the engine's hum in the hallway, a clanking rhythmic sound was heard as the man walked hurriedly towards the crew's quarter. The doors react instantly, opening and closing. A silent ensued. A large observation window overlooking the vast space, a Rheinland's space, was seen.
A comfortable-looking double-bed sits beside the window, a small coffee table with an armchair near the bed, and a desk with its own chair across the room. It is a typical single room design for a frigate's crew. The man walked towards the armchair, sat down, and started recording.
Some time has passed. He got up, walked towards the bed, and laid on it. Heavy eyes were seen on the man. As minutes went, so did the man. Onto Hypnos's embrace, he'd gone.
A deafening silence was heard in the man's quarter. The lights dimmed. The Nyx and Erebus linger.
