It was the soft pat of water on his cheek that awoke him. Weakly fluttering open his eyes, Shark was meet only with darkness. He blinked a few times to make sure that he had truly opened his eyes but the darkness did not fade. Afraid he had gone blind Shark went to sit up but found that he couldn't. Both his right leg and chest were immobilized by a heavy pressure. In fact, there was a pressure all over him. It was profound but not unfamiliar. Strangely enough a stream of bubbles came up over his visor outside of his helmet. Another drop of water fell onto his face. Shark held his breath. He was underwater. For a moment, he panicked unable to remember how he had gotten there. Shark closed his eyes to try and calm himself. He had been in bad situations before right? But this somehow seemed to be much worse.
Shark held his breath. Calm down, Calm down, assess the situation, what do we do when stranded in the ocean? He coached to himself. Shark's frantic breaths calmed as he listened to the silence of the water world. He relaxed his body, feeling the flow around him. Sand, there was sand and mud underneath him. There was a current, slow but present. The water was cold, chilling. He was down deep, at the bed of a river, a river, the bridge, Lioness. Shark opened his eyes as flashes of asphalt and Lioness came back to him. He remembered going to the warehouse and stumbling upon Paine, getting beat to a pulp and then waking up on the back of Lioness' MTX. There was an explosion, they had been tossed. The face of Lioness came to Shark, the expression she had when holding onto his arm. It was the last thing he remembered.
Shark carefully touched a hand to his helmet. He must have fallen in the river and it was because of his helmet that he had been able to breathe. Shark activated the light built into his helmet. The two lights attempted to turn on. Both flickered and one went out leaving the other his only means of visibility. Even then the remaining light flickered after being damaged. The communicator line had also gone dead with not a shred of static to help him. Using the little light he had, Shark looked down to his chest and leg. He saw pieces of bridge and road on top of him, keeping him anchored to the bottom of the river. More bubbles streamed up through the light towards the surface. If this was the same debris from the bridge explosion then it must have meant he was still close to the bridge. Yet at the same time the debris had kept Shark pinned at the bottom of the river out of sight of a rescue attempt. And without his communicator, there was no way for the team to find him.
Shark gave a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He could feel his body shiver. The tears and cuts in his suit had allowed the cold water to touch his bear skin. An expert of everything aquatic, Shark knew that he was in trouble. He could already feel the ache in his muscles that seeped down into his bones. He could barely breathe now that he was awake and had such a heavy burden on his chest. Although Shark had rested in his unconsciousness, and his mind had time to heal and rid itself of the venom Paine had left inside of him, the surfer's body had not the strength to recover all that had been lost.
Feeling all of the moisture that was gathering in his helmet with every breath, Shark looked to his visor. A large crack streaked down the middle and allowed another drop to splash onto his face. Shark became aware of the pool of water that sloshed around his neck. Not only was he probably on the brink of hypothermia but his one and only lifeline was threatening to give way any moment. Shark knew he had to get out of the river as soon as possible. Using every bit of strength he could muster, Shark managed to get his hands under the piece of metal over his chest and push it off of him with a groan. Almost immediately his body began to rise off the riverbed before the weight on his leg held him back again.
Even though he had moved the weight from his chest, Shark was forced to wince and double over while holding onto his torso. The action had released all of the pain from his old wounds. He had not realized how numbed his body had become from the cold waters. Now that Shark was awake the sharp stabbing tenderness was almost unbearable. Looking out to the water, aside from the mud settling back onto the ground, Shark could see a dark haze emitting from various parts of his body. Blood. The haze was blood being swept down the current of the river. He was nauseous, dizzy, and weak. Every movement, every breath, was like pulling a knife in and out of his body. Shark's arms felt as if they had held up a steel beam for hours, his legs as if he had run a marathon when they were broken. And even without his crippling wounds there was the drag of his water filled suit that made every moment that much harder as it pulled against him.
Every ounce of logic told Shark that he was dying. Even his own body told him to rest, that it was over. Not a single person would expect more from him than to lie back down on the river bed and close his eyes for good. Fall asleep in the comfort of his favorite element. And Shark would have, if it was not for the palm that swayed quietly through his thoughts with the ocean breeze. He saw the image of Lioness as she stood in the tree's shade playing with her toes in the sand, looking back to him with that beautiful smile of hers. Shark wanted to see that smile again. Going against every ounce of pain, soreness, and hurt he felt, Shark reached out and freed his leg from the rubble. With a push off of the river bed the surfer headed for the surface. Every stroke and every kick felt as if a one ton weight had been tied to his limbs. The ascent through the darkness felt like forever until he suddenly broke the surface of the river. His appearance sent a spray of water sprinkling across the river, catching the moonlight in the process.
Looking to the moon to gather his bearings, the surfer tensed when he realized it was nightfall. How long had he been trapped under the water?! Following the dim glow of the city out of sight, Shark looked towards the bridge and the emergency lights that had been posted around it. There was only a single white light of a vehicle upon it. With the current pushing against him, Shark quickly swam for the shore that was closest to him. The surfer struggled to fight against it as he made his way closer to the shadows of the bank. It grew harder and harder for Shark to stay conscious as he made his way slowly and painfully across the dark waters. Many times his head fell under the water line in exhaustion.
After what felt like hours, Shark's legs managed to run into the sandbank. He attempted to stand out of the water but the onset of gravity was too heavy. Shark was forced to hunch over with his arms dangling in front of him. He waited a minute too tired to move. Shark managed to lift his heavy arms, grab onto his helmet, and pull it off. The wind was cool and dry as it touched his wet face and rustled through his hair. The wind was a relief to his senses. He was almost there, almost on the bank. Shark tried to walk farther in until the exhaustion and weight got to him.
Shark fell to his knees with his head bowed towards the water. The small waves of the river crashed against his legs. He had made it to the bank. The darkness, fatigue, and waves softly lapping up against his legs were an irresistible lullaby. The surfer could fight it no longer. Shark fell forward for the sandy bank. As the moonlight vanished and the world went dark, Shark never felt himself touch the sand. And minutes later, the only trace of him left on the bank was the imprint of his helmet in the sand.
