On the night of April 14th, 2024, a cargo ship cruising through the Atlantic suddenly picked up a faint Morse code SOS call, its message reading, "We have struck a berg. It's CQD, old man." The ship’s crew scrambled to locate the source, the eerie silence of the ocean amplifying their urgency. As the seconds turned to minutes, a sinking dread settled over the crew, realizing the distress call was dated April 14th, 1912. Twelve minutes later, when the ship drew closer to the coordinates, the horizon before them flickered with dim lights, revealing the silhouette of a grand, doomed vessel—its decks eerily filled with frozen, wide-eyed corpses of those long gone, gazing out at the crew of the other ship. In the distance, they heard the faint echoes of an orchestra playing a familiar, haunting tune. A final Morse Code message later rung in. "Join us."
Black: "Finally! Literature that isn't full of rainbows and sparkles. You've done me a favor, you godsend. Anyhow, this little snippit...it's morbid, innit? And yet a good kind of morbid. Almost familiar kind of morbid."