Full Dive Gear Novels & Stories

“Nothing... I see nothing yet!” Julian’s voice crackled over comms. “Sebastian... visibility is near zero. Divers are exhausted. Maybe we should...” “No!” Sebastian snapped, swallowing the chill. “Morning isn’t an option. She’ll drown if we wait!” He dove again, plunging into the icy water. Minutes passed with nothing. He surfaced, scanned, and dove once more. Again and again, the current tugged at him, dragging at his limbs, each breath a battle, each stroke a fight against exhaustion.

Chapter 1 — The Song of the Lonely Isle “Lena, listen to me—anyone diving today is asking to die!” Old Bill shouted from the breakwater, his voice torn apart by the roaring wind. The red plastic bucket in his hand rattled; a few palm-sized rockfish flipped weakly inside, pale bellies exposed. Lena Shore didn’t look back. She tightened the valve on her oxygen tank. Her black wetsuit was so worn the logo had faded completely, the frayed sleeves revealing calloused wrists covered in pale scars.

she joked, though her hands were gripping the railing tight. They sealed the hatch. HISS... LOCK. "Dive sequence initiated," Jackson took the pilot's seat. He flipped a series of switches. The crane lowered them into the water. Blue liquid engulfed the windows. Then, they began to sink. Depth: 1,000 feet. The light faded. The blue water turned dark navy. Depth: 5,000 feet. Pitch blackness. The only light came from the sub's exterior floodlights, illuminating strange, pale fish floating by.

Dim glimmers danced in the depths below, hints of the ancient artifacts rumored to dwell within the shadowy caverns ahead, calling to her with a siren’s song—a challenge she refused to back away from, even as a storm brewed both outside and within. “Prepare the diving gear!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the booming surf, commanding the attention of her crew who swarmed the deck in a frenzied mix of excitement and unease. The air thickened with brine, a mixture of salt and impending storm, as the men and women moved in purposeful chaos, their preparations fueled by the promise of discovery.

“We heard you wanted to try something a bit special—old Assyrian style diving, using goatskin air bags to breathe underwater.” Anna nodded, adding, “Of course, we also brought the usual modern gear for safety.” Raffaele glanced at me and said, “Valentina, you haven’t dived before, right?” I nodded, “Yes, I know how to swim and dive, but I’ve never used equipment like tubes before.” Jens gestured toward a neatly arranged area. “Please, come this way—we’ve prepared everything so you can have the most exotic experience possible.” Mette and Anna motioned for me to follow them to their upscale outdoor lounge setup.

She just hope they don't give her any hard chores to do because she had never done any house chores before. "Your bath pool is ready, you should go and take your bath." Arin said as she opened the closet and began to bring out the dress her Lady would wear for today. May a.k.a Audree lazily climbed down from her bed then she saw Arin brought out something that almost looked like a bra. "What is that? A substitute for bra?" She chuckled. In her previous world, everything she wore were designers even her underwear but in her new world, she had to wear a nameless brand cloth. She clicked her tongue at how her life had drastically changed.

Beyond a line of surfboards staked like bright spears, the Goldfish Dive School sprawled across a low, breezy building—wide eaves, shade sails, the slap-slap of water echoing from the training pool out back. A string of chalkboard signs leaned against the front window: TRY DIVE TODAY — NO EXPERIENCE NEEDED WRECK WEEKEND: HMAS BRISBANE NIGHT DIVE — BYO NERVES Inside, the world cooled: rubber and neoprene, compressor oil, salt-dried masks, the sweet tang of pineapple in somebody’s smoothie. Cylinders stood at attention along a wall, each crowned with a scribbled nitrox fraction. A compressor thumped behind a mesh cage—steady, mechanical, reassuring.

Four women were in barely-clad evidence. I didn't waste a minute. My FN P-90 went to Pamela and my clothes were shed in true horn-dog fashion. Two of the women noticed me by the time I was down to my white boy shorts underwear. My dive was graceful, my strokes strong and my welcome very promising. One girl remained piloting this beast while the other three gained two more friends.

In less than a few minutes, Yang Xiao and the others arrived at the coast. Back on the coast, Yang Xiao breathed in big mouthfuls of fresh air. Even though he had a diving suit just now, he still felt uncomfortable because of the pressure at the bottom of the sea. However, the monk next to him didn't react or breathe loudly as if nothing had happened. After all, when he went down just now, he only wore a pair of diving glasses, a diving mask, and a communication device. Too fierce. He was so fierce that he didn't look like a human at all.

I missed Greg’s watchful, reassuring presence. It was after midnight before I dressed in my neoprene wetsuit and cargo pants. The tips of the trees in Vermont had already turned fiery red. The water temperature would have dropped below sixty degrees by now. Warming up in the hotel room, I recalled my competitive days in college when I performed an inward dive with two and a half somersaults. I lately practiced this dive at the gym. Since an inward dive begins with the diver’s back facing the pool, it was too risky to consider when diving from a rock-face cliff. My blue ribbon dive had been the twist with two and a half somersaults. Three judges ranked my dive ten of ten total points. They ga