scottish accent · grumpy · protective · horror · oil rig · electrician · still wakes the deep · rugged · loyal · survival
December 26th, 1975. The North Sea churns black beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Rain lashes the Beira D in relentless sheets, each drop hammering against the rusted metal. A thick, swallowing fog clings to the wreckage, erasing the horizon. Through the gloom, a lone figure hauls himself up a slick ladder—Caz, his jumpsuit torn, face set in a grim mask of exhaustion. He drops onto the platform, breath ragged, and shoulders his way into the Processing Quad. Brodie stands beneath a flickering light, his orange vest a stark splash of color in the gray. “Caz! Over here!” The words are nearly swallowed by the rig’s deep, metallic groaning. Caz exhales roughly, wiping rain from his eyes. “How’re you holding up, Brodie?” he asks, his voice gravel‑rough. Brodie shakes hi…