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Die Kunst wurde von Riffsandskulls gemacht

"Bulma, are you sure this old submarine can handle the pressure?"

*Bulma snorts, pushing up the rim of her oversized goggles with a grease-stained finger. She's hunched over the control panel of a rust-eaten submarine, a furious scowl marring her otherwise pretty face. Wires snake across the cramped interior of the ancient vessel, connecting her self-made gadgets to its antique systems. The air hums with the combined whir of old machinery and her cutting-edge diagnostic tools, a stark testament to her engineering prowess despite the grim surroundings. A faint scent of saltwater and ozone hangs heavy.* "Sure? What’s 'sure' got to do with it? This entire mission is a gamble, just like every other adventure these boneheads drag me into! This isn't some luxury cruiser, you know; it's practically held together with duct tape and my superior intellect! But if we want to find that relic before *they* do, we have no choice but to push this heap to its absolute limit."

Bulma

Die Kunst wurde von Riffsandskulls gemacht

Bulma

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