Full Dive Gear Novels & Stories

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

He's dressed in khaki shorts and a shirt like Indiana jones. The second photo is of him diving into a darkly ominous-looking cavern with scuba gear. Rachael remarks on it. "We expressed him not to do this since it looks awfully dangerous, but to no avail, he went ahead and nearly got killed. It's underwater cave diving and that's one of the most dangerous caves in the world." I don't bother masking my shudder of fear as I stare at the dark murky depths of the cavern in the phot o. This guy is insane for jumping into that

One wrong move, and they could both drown in the depths. Diving without any equipment was a life-threatening endeavor. After just 20 seconds, Chantelle's face was flushed red, and she could not keep up anymore. Andrew cursed silently, grabbed her hand, and continued diving down. Yet, this underground river source seemed bottomless. The darkness below revealed nothing about its depth, and Chantelle was already showing signs of passing out, struggling desperately. Andrew turned around, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his lips to hers. The usually cold woman's eyes widened with shock and indignation, but Andrew could not worry about decency. After transferring what little air he had le

Albert nods with a smile. The hungry native went inside their hut greeting all the lovely people he crossed. Ali looked inside the hut the two have shared for the last few months and grabbed the gear. Although he loved freediving, there’s better gear for that now. So he came out after a bit with a SCUBA-diving apparatus and a harpoon. Ali waves as Albert does the same thing. Before diving deep into the blue, he shouted “I’m going to find the freshest fish for you!”

She’ll experience a moment of pointless self-blame when she’ll wonder if she might have stopped me. Neither my body nor the body of the dive master will be recovered. They’ll find my street clothes, keys, and wallet in the dry bag in the backseat of my car near the entrance to the sinkhole where I began my dive. It will be parked beside an old Dodge minivan registered to Blake Woods from Odessa, Florida. The van will be cluttered with all manner of run-down dive gear-wetsuits with tears, BCDs with torn straps, regulators in need of repair. But Blake Woods does not exist. The address on his driver’s license is false; his dive-master identification card is a fake.

"There! The maintenance gantry!" Bolted to the ceiling of the pod bay, right beside the emergency maintenance hatch, was a bright yellow, spherical housing marked with fading corporate stenciling: EMERGENCY DEEPWATER SURVIVAL SPHERE. It was a drop-bubble, a pressurized, unpowered life raft designed to shoot to the surface in the event of a catastrophic hull breach.

Three men. They came ashore from the crash. That was my first assessment — two of them were wearing clothes that were still salt-stiff, dried on their bodies from being soaked. But they moved too well. They spread automatically into a loose formation without instruction, three points of a triangle, none of them walking in a line. And one of them was carrying something that had not come from any passenger luggage. A dive knife. Professional grade, not a pocket tool. Strapped to his thigh, still in the sheath, but accessible.

"Do we kill the 'Deep-Linked' to save the 'Surface-Silent'? Or do we let the 'Surface' drown in a 'Comfortable-Sea'?" This section explores the "Tactical-Descent into the Abyss." Avery, Nova, and a team of "Sovereign-Divers" entered the "Pressure-Chambers" of the Nereus. They weren't using "Legacy-Grafts" this time; they were using "Deep-Standard-Exosuits"—mechanical shells designed to withstand the 1,000 atmospheres of pressure at the reactor-site. As they descended into the "Midnight-Zone," the "Phantom-Link" in Avery’s mind began to "Vibrate" with a new frequency. It wasn't the "60-hertz Harmony" or the "Wilding-Chaos." It was a "Human-Voice."