Okay this is my first story on this account. :3 I will say that I have to put a major warning out for spoilers...seeing as one of the main characters in this is not even an archived character yet on this site. XD (I am working on getting him added though) Anywho, this is sort of a background story for a certain new sharky character. I hope you enjoy it. :D Read and review please and be perfectly honest.
The world only ever looked sane when it was balanced upon the edge of a dagger. At least, that's what this particular fishman had always thought. The chariot was swinging low today, lower than it had ever managed before, but he knew all too well that the ride was not for him. No, it was for the insolent fools that had chosen to defile the sanctity of his homeland and make his blood run with all the fire of strong whiskey: humans. If he could only have his way, he would personally see to the downfall of such an insignificant race, the pale, unctuous worms of the world, and cast them down either as slaves under his right fist or as a writhing, bloody mass. How he yearned to sink each one of their battered bodies to the ocean floor like the plummeting carcass of a dead Sea King, and feed the fish that were so much more deserving of the spark of life in the process. His plans were cruel, yes, but were all foiled before they were even put into motion by the one person he despised the most: the sympathetic and vulgar queen of Fishman Island, that wretch Otohime.
Veins strained against taunt flesh as the grip upon his trident strengthened, muscles pushing against his palace guard uniform in frenzied anger, a sharp line set to his jaw. Just the thought of the vile women twisted his organs into an irritated knot. Too long had he daydreamed lonely at his post of the day where he would be able to end her, to tear her veins from her heart and her flesh from her bones, to leave her as nothing more than a shattered waste of iron-scented viscera. It was perhaps her fondness for "land and sea cooperation and integration" that irked him the most. If there was one thing that he scorned more than humans, it was the part of the oceanic community that had become sensitive to the plight of Homo sapiens, especially those who advocated the migration to the surface world. He knew these Blasphemers would receive holy retribution someday, just not when or how. Their senseless endeavors needed to be quashed; they gave him an acerbic taste in his mouth and an unusual chill crept its way into his bones whenever his brain was foolish enough to mention them.
The quick drumming of a metal handle against the prison tower floor's tiles awoke the fishman from his perverse musings; the Minister of the Right had chosen to push himself into the guard's mind and swing close to his face the end of a sharp-edged trishula, a grumpier expression than usual knitting his brow. This particular man responded to the higher-ranking official's attempt to provoke his responsiveness with a curt harrumph, crossed arms, and a pair of rolled eyes. He stared warily at the seahorse merman, awaiting the obvious complaints or bad news that he was sure to come, let alone the endless piles of paperwork the man was bound to dump on him, which would all need to be hastily filled out. He tugged at the loose scarf around his neck as if to improve his ability to breath and repositioned his spiked helmet, his gloved hands shaking with sullen anticipation. It just so happened that the equine undersea dweller chose to scratch his chin broodingly before taking out an extremely authorized-looking document and shoving it into the fishman's scowling face, which, if memory served right, was never really that great of a sign for how the rest of the day was going to progress.
"Soldier! I need your undivided attention for one moment please! The king has made some changes to our policies vis-à-vis the ground forces currently pulling lookout duty in the army. After some deliberation, we have decided to implement a rotation procedure," the Minister finally managed to sputter out.
A chuckle blissfully escaped from the addressed man's upturned lips. This was a situation that he had become accustomed to long ago when he was still nothing more than a new recruit. The Minister of the Right's overreactions could always be considered golden sources of entertainment. The guard's obvious amusement at his superior's fatigue did not go unnoticed, however, and the seahorse merman quite visibly inflated within his elaborate armor like a flustered hen. He did not work so hard to get this much military experience under his belt just to have to deal with daily doses of underling insubordination. He was literally the right-hand man of the king after all.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" the Minister bellowed with indignation. He directed the razor-sharp end of his weapon even closer to the fishman's stub nose. "I do suggest that you start acting with respect to your superiors, boy! Now, are you a member of Neptune's Army or not? I suggest you start showing some decorum or I will change your sentinel contractual obligations to janitorial obligations! Understood?" he continued, but the palace guard still remained unfazed.
The seahorse merman puffed up once again, the coronet bristling on the back of his head, and he brought down the end of his trishula onto the tiles of the floor for a second time with enough force to shatter them, this specific occasion producing a sound so loud that it resonated harshly against the fortified walls of Ryugu Palace. Fury seemed to explode out of his beady eyes, telltale signs that he was now willing to vent all of his frustration and impatience out on the fishman.
"Hody Jones! I want you to go to your designated guard position at the outer wall today and I don't want to see your face again until tomorrow. You understand me?" the Minister of the Right said with enough force to shake the heavens. He was sure that even King Neptune, Queen Otohime, and her children had had the chance to hear his last inquiry within the imperial, interior chambers, which made him more than satisfied for the day. He smiled smugly with the pleasure that could only come with the knowledge that he had possibly gotten his point across.
It seemed as though his efforts had been successful, too, as the man known as Hody Jones finally looked as though he was going to address the equine undersea dweller. He uncrossed his arms, batted his long eyelashes at his superior, flashed him a winning smile that was more menacing than reassuring considering his ample rows of triangular and jagged teeth, and he twisted a stray tuft of his long, black, curly hair absentmindedly around a finger on his left hand before saying in a mocking voice, "Yes, Minister! Whatever you say Minister! Right away MINISTER! Jahahahahaha!"
He then promptly turned on his heels to head to his new position, too overwhelmed by bouts of laughter to continue any further, leaving a startled and infuriated Minister of the Right in his wake. The echo of his heavy boots against the tower walls and the soft swish of the skirted bottom of his uniform disturbed the air, corrupting it.
"Damn shark," the seahorse merman muttered more than a little disheartened; he had just been put in his place by one of his underlings again, and he was undoubtedly depressed by the fact. He hung his head as miserably as his seahorse frame and prehensile tail could allow, and made his proverbial march of shame back to his office quarters, the assignment papers falling from his hand like summer snow.
As the undersea sun took one final breath and began to sink down below the coral hills, forever like a pink curtain shielding its leading actor after a grand performance, Hody Jones looked far off into the depths of the serene ocean water surrounding Ryugu Palace, clasping his trident across his chest, hoping for some sign of violence, of any chance for combat-related mirth, but none came. He deflated sullenly, his hair becoming a waterfall of his discontent. The shark fishman then chose to fall gracelessly to the ocean floor with a childish pout on his lips, his bottom sinking back onto the cold ground.
To produce at least a miniscule amount of entertainment, he busied himself with watching the eddying colors within the great bubble wall surrounding the bastion of Neptune's kingdom, but not even their desperate ballet, so akin to the struggling movements of a drowning human, could hold his attention. Hody Jones longed for an ocean filled with bodily red wine, of water overcome by the sheer and unimaginable carnage of war, of bodies to maim and mutilate. How he wanted to test his power. One day, he was certain, he would be able to achieve his desires; he would be able to show them all, to prove himself to the man he respected the most: Arlong the Saw. Turning his eyes to the heavens above, he made his restless oath as he did every night, promising the world happily its end of harmony and peace. He could have sworn that he even saw his first star.
Hody Jones wanted to be considered a hero of the fishman race, but, at the age of twenty, he was still young and indecisive. It would only take one folly born of the world above and beyond the sea to give him the call to action that he so desperately desired.