Ocean Eyes

Chapter 1: The Floating Market

Fontaine Nekton doesn't know just how much trouble she's getting herself into when the eyes of Smiling Finn the pirate draw her into the deep.

This was going to be dangerous.

Behind them, Mom stood by in the Rover, in case the mission went too badly wrong.

Before them lay a stretching expanse of sodden wooden planks upon which dozens of people spoke in hushed tones, doing shady business deals.

It was the floating black market.

Dismounting the jet ski to survey the dingy, dark and foul-smelling makeshift market in the middle of the sea with thinly veiled disgust, Fontaine muttered, "sheesh, do these guys never clean this place?"

The planks were covered in seaweed and mould, scattered with waste from the stalls that lined the boardwalk, selling everything from fish to drugs to precious metals.

It was a cold evening in late autumn, the only sound being the wind rushing across the waves and the humming undercurrent of crooked criminals doing dodgy deals.

The stars hung softly overhead but Fontaine didn't feel at ease one bit. This was pirate territory.

"Just stay close," her father warned them, "Both of you. And remember what I told you."

The two siblings nodded and without another word all three set off down the market to the vendor they sought.

Her dad and younger brother Ant walked ahead of her, their footsteps light on the decking. Dad tightly clutched his copy of the scrolls they had recovered 2 weeks ago from a seafloor ship wreckage in the East Pacific.

He had been rapt since, spending every waking minute (and those he was meant to be asleep in) poring over the old cryptic messages and mysteries written in another language on surprisingly undamaged parchment. Fontaine had asked what was so special about them, but her father had been frustratingly vague about the whole ordeal.

They were the Nekton family, famed for living through exciting ocean exploration adventures.

But, in reality, her mother was a marine biologist and her father had specialised in anthropology of ancient civilisations, so there were more nerdy conversations than rick-rolling adventures on the submarine.

In fact, this trip was the most exciting thing that had happened in weeks.

Yet Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be fun for anyone if things went wrong. She kept her wits about her, eyes darting everywhere as she stalked down the rotting wooden planks of the so-called 'floating' black market.

"Are you sure this is where we'll get information about the scrolls?" Fontaine whispered to her father, "Doesn't it seem a little... I don't know, advanced for these guys?" she asked, upon observing a man at a tuna stall try to behead a fish with a spoon.

Hiding a quizzical expression, she looked up at her father, whose eyes were hard with a vigilance she'd never seen before today.

"We talked about this Fontaine," he replied lowly, "don't trust anyone here, no matter what your preconceptions might be. These are dangerous people."

She looked around as shadows moved across the floor, feeling a shiver in her spine as the wind blew relentlessly through her clothes.

The family wore their civilian outfits today, her in cargo pants and a dark tee under her bomber jacket, but she felt underdressed regardless of the weather, as countless eyes turned their way and whispers floated around the marketplace. They were incontestably not meant to be here.