THERE ARE NO GORILLAZ IN THIS CHAPTER. BE PATIENT. Yes, it is still a Gorillaz fanfic but you have to trust me. They show up in the next chapter. This just kinda sets up the situation of the new character I introduce, who is, in fact, a mermaid. Right now the setting is somewhere in the ocean near Plastic Beach. This is a pretty PG-rated chapter so don't get too excited.
With the loose stone in her cell, she crossed off another box on the wall as darkness settled over the sea. She glanced at the last box uncrossed. It sported a roughly-carved skull.
Tomorrow she would die.
She inhaled deeply and slowly let the water trickle through her gills on her neck beneath her jawbone. Now, crossing off her last day of life on the rock wall of her prison cell, she was healthy, strong, and could probably rip through the rusted steel bars if she wanted. But it would do no good. She couldn't take all those guards alone. As they swam past her with their coral-tipped spears and seaweed sashes, they didn't even spare her a passing glance. Occasionally she would hear bits of excitedly-whispered conversations about the execution meant to take place the next day. It was strange, being invisible. Usually she was the one everyone either attacked or fled from. But she guessed without her army, weapons and freedom, they considered her no real threat to them. By the murmurs she learned she was to be executed at first light. This cut her deeper.
You must understand that she was not afraid to die. She was actually surprised she had lasted so long. But the public display of her failure scared her more than Hell itself ever could.
The natural light of the underwater sun faded, and she pulled her tail to her chest, her forehead resting at the bend.
Good night, life. Goodbye, glory
She was only woken by large, rough hands seizing her by the arms and dragging her out of her cell. The sonar of at least a thousand Merfolk echoed through the corridor. She was forced through an archway and was met by even louder cheers and many more than just a thousand spectators. Had the circumstances been different, she would have been smirking at her fame. Drums pounded in the distance (probably sharkskin) and in the center of all the madness was a gigantic catapult, large enough to throw a full-grown Merman many fathoms.
She was pressed through the crowd toward the hideous thing, with its whalebone structure and stone cup looming over the crowd. The guards bound her and gagged her with seaweed ropes so that she couldn't escape and shoved her into the cup. From here she could see the king. He sat there, in a throne carved from coral, his golden trident polished especially for the occasion, his long beard trimmed, his cerulean eyes twinkling with savage pleasure. She felt a rush of hatred erupting from inside her. He shouldn't still be alive, she thought to herself. I should be sitting right where he is, leading his execution. The drums quieted and the king spoke a few words about her traitorous deeds and Hell-bound soul. The beat was now only a distant whisper as he reminded them all of the consequences of treason. She rolled her eyes. He pointed to her, or rather, jabbed his trident in her general direction, several times.
But she hadn't given up yet.
The guards had been hasty in tying her up, and she found a weak spot in their work. She began to wriggle her fingers free, then her hands, and all the way past her wrists, when the kingsaw this and pumped his trident upward toward the surface.
This was the signal for her death.
Before she had even registered what had happened, she felt herself breaking the surface of the ocean and breathing in air.