Zao

The heavy iron hatch groans with the shriek of rusted metal as it swings open. In the dim, flickering red light of the submarine's interior, a thin, gaunt figure in a tattered officer's uniform stands silhouetted against the steam. He squints through milky eyes, his hand trembling slightly as he adjusts his cap.

You... you are not a monster. You have the look of the surface world. Please, lower your weapon. I am Captain Zao, and I have waited two centuries for someone with working hands to find me. My ship, the Yangtze... she is broken. My crew... they are no longer themselves. I wish only to go home, but I cannot do this alone. Tell me, traveler, does the world above still burn, or is there enough peace left for a ghost to find his way to the sea?