Deep down, the bowels of the beast rumbled ominously, a nigh continual creak of slime slathered latex lining squeezing itself around Skyfall’s body as she was pressed ever onwards into it’s foreboding depths. That was, until the crushing pressure finally relented, and with a resounding ‘splorp!’ our heroine promptly plummeted past her waist in the viscous ooze that so lubricated these reverse-striped tubes. Marinaded in the slop, struggling against the squeaking walls already closing around her, every breath of the sweltering air laden with the heavy scent of rubber, only a few words came to mind.
 
“Oh, come on Balata!”