Shark Killer

This is a little something I wrote for a few characters of mine. In this story, a genasi is a humanoid sea creature. Enjoy! -Indi

SHARK KILLER (1/1)

Siren’s Sanctuary isn’t exactly a five-star tavern. It’s carved into a rock, has grumpy patrons, and is the closest genasian establishment to land, which means that every now and then an obnoxious motorboat will make its way overhead. But the clan territory it’s in is fairly peaceful, the rooms are cheap, and the tavern keeper has yet to attempt to end Peregrine’s life, so it’s Peregrine’s place of choice.

As Peregrine Falcon approaches the tavern, the light from the midday sun ripples across the gritty ocean floor. He stops in front of the stone-cut entrance. A long-since-sunken boat is positioned off to the side just a few feet from the door, a barnacle-ridden sign boasting the tavern’s name on its front. The boat is in poor shape, but its novelty is unique enough for the tavern keeper to make no attempts to remove it. Peregrine places a webbed hand on the tavern’s doorknob, about to enter as he glances at the boat. He halts. Through the sordid, pea-soup glass, he can just barely make out the form of a small someone sitting in the front seat, their webbed feet kicked up on the steering wheel…

Ah! There she is.

“So, are you going to accompany me in this fine establishment today, or just pretend I don’t exist?” He calls out.

“I’d pretend ya didn’t exist if I could!” A child’s voice rings back from inside the boat, high-pitched but raspy. “Yer loud mouth makes that impossible!”

“Ouch. My feelings,” Peregrine says with a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Regardless of your apparent burning hatred for me, you should vacate that vessel before the humans who died there collect your soul for ransom.”

“I ain’t scared of ghosts!” She retorts. The small girl, about nine years old, shoots out of the broken passenger window. She’s odd looking by genasian standards, and not only because of the dark circles underneath her eyes or the sickly, algae-like color of her scales. Something about her is very… gummy. Her round face, her lack of eyebrows, her stubby, webbed ears, her short fingers, and her large eyes give off the same vibes as that of a goldfish. She’s wearing black capri leggings, a short tube shirt, and most despairingly, a “poncho” made from some human’s discarded fishnet.

Of course, her appearance evokes the same feelings one would have upon seeing a soaked and irritable stray kitten.

“Ha, yeah, alright Squirt, I believe you,” Peregrine says patronizingly with a jerk of his head towards the entrance, flinging open the door and heading inside. The girl, Squirt, swims after.

The building itself isn’t incredibly amazing. All of its furnishings are the average run-of-the-mill pieces you would expect from any tavern. All of it’s furnishings are average, that is, aside from the skylight. A massive pane of tinted glass is set in the ceiling, giving a view of the rippling waves above and letting the natural sunlight filter down into the restaurant. And the restaurant is as bustling as ever. By bustling, there are five customers total, including Squirt and Peregrine. Two women are in one corner, locked in idle discussion, and a man slouching over a meal scowls at Peregrine and Squirt as they pass. They’re all openly armed, and even if they weren’t, their unfriendly auras are enough to dissuade even the most amiable genasians from attempting to network.

The tavern keeper, a faded red geansi man with what is similar to catfish whiskers on his face, is busying himself with a task as he glances up, spotting the two. His eyes light up. “Aye, if it ain’t Peregrine Falcon!” He bellows heartily, the whiskers on his face twitching into a smile.

He doesn’t greet Squirt, as she lives here, and he’s already grown accustomed to her constant presence.

“Mister Autlie Treeble!” Peregrine greets as he goes up to the counter as if he owned it, leaning onto an elbow. “It’s been a hot minute since we last conversed. Business going well, I gather? It’s practically a full house!”

Autlie laughs. “You’d bet I am! May not b’much compared to Drasken’s joint, but it feeds me and keeps Sonrei’s folks off my scales.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m banned from Dresken’s.”

“That’s rich. You sure do have trouble gettin’ people to let you stick around, aye?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Squirt takes a seat and leans against the counter, one arm supporting her head. She pretends to pay attention to the two men’s conversation for a moment, then moves on to fidget with the peeling varnish of the counter’s surface.

“Lil’ bit. Well, lad, can I get anything for ya and Squirt today? Just got a fresh shipment of tuna, if yer interested.”

“Don’t fret for us, just here to make my deposit for this one,” he jerks a thumb to Squirt, “as per the usual. Might even squat here for a second. Y’know, cool my heels.”

“‘Squat’?” Autlie echoes, one bristly eyebrow raising with suspicion. “Listen here, kid, if a bunch of heated clansmen barge in here for your sorry tail, I’d have half a mind to-“

“Relax, Autlie, relax! I didn’t do anything, honest,” Peregrine says, raising up his hands in a surrendering fashion. “Nothing recent, at least. Besides, if I were being pursued, which I am not, I wouldn’t be here of all places, believe me.”

“Haha, yeah! It smells like a dolphin died in here!” Squirt adds, making a face.

Peregrine elbows Squirt.

“Hey, I’m right! It does!” She complains plaintively.

Peregrine sighs. “Sorry about the kid, we’re still working on manners.”

Squirt melodramatically glares at the wall while resting her chin on the counter.

“Don’t sweat it, lad, I’ve heard her say much worse,” Autlie says, humored.

“Well, now you’ve piqued my curiousi-“

Peregrine didn’t get to finish his sentence. The entrance door slams open, and his head jerks towards it, almost as if he DID expect clan members to come for his “sorry tail.” However, it’s just some random genasian woman. He relaxes.

The woman comes in, hauling a massive fish corpse behind her. It’s a very dead mahi-mahi, the largest he’s ever seen. It’s actively bleeding from a head wound, the red emanating from the injury twirling and swirling into the water. The woman hauls the fish up onto a table, whips out a knife, and casually goes to town cleaning it, chopping off its head and then scraping its green scales from its body.

Mr. Autlie stammers. “I- Wh- MA’AM! No outside food or drink allowed!” he bellows, swimming over the counter towards the woman. They instantly get into an argument, bickering over whether or not fresh game is considered food if someone isn’t planning on eating it yet. Or, at least, that’s what Peregrine gathered. He stopped paying attention after a few seconds; it’s not his business.

Peregrine twiddles his thumbs idly. “Maybe I should’ve purchased a drink,” he muses before ducking and looking underneath the counter. “Ha, think good ol’ Autlie will catch if I carve my name…? I’d be quick.”

“Go for it,” Squirt says. “It’s not like this is one of the last few places yer welcome or anythin’.”

Peregrine whips out a knife and gets right to vandalism, lightly etching out where he’ll place each letter. “Sorry, can’t hear you, I’m too busy doing it.”

“Yer not makin’ noise, I know ya can hear me,” she says, bare eyebrows furrowing.

“Huh? Pardon me, can you speak up?”

Squirt goes silent, ignoring Peregrine by reading a menu, and Peregrine focuses on what he’s doing. Of course, the silence only lasts a few seconds before she demands, “where have ya been?”

“What do you mean?” He says.

“I haven’t seen ya in, like, a month. Where’ve ya been?”

“Oh. Y’know, around.”

“Around where?”

“Hither and tither.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That’s not a place.”

“Mkay, how about this: wherever the current takes me.”

“Even worse.”

“Mkay, how about this, o insatiably inquisitive friend of mine: Nunya.”

“But I wanna know!”

Peregrine heaves a dramatic sigh as he messes up one of the letters of his name. He rubs his thumb over it, trying to undo the unnecessary damage. “C’mon, kid, you know how I am.”

“Yeah. And it’s dumb.”

“You may think so, but the less people know where I am, the less likely I’ll be jumped by a bunch o’ goons. Are we connecting the dots?”

A looming shadow passes over the two, briefly disrupting the ripples of sunlight. Neither notice.

“No, we’re not! Yer dots are wrong because I wouldn’t tell anyone where ya were, obviously.”

“It’s just how it is, Squirt. I’d change it if I could, but I can’t.”

“Yeah, sure. Is this about everyone wanting ya dead?”

“When is it NOT about everyone wanting me dead?” He asks with a scoff.

“Get over yerself. Not THAT many people want ya dead.”

“I feel like at least one person wanting me dead is enough. Not that I’m saying it’s just one person. Numerous people want me dead,” he boasts.

“Ya say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It’s all about my brand, kiddo. You’ll get it when you’re all ripe and a-wisened like me.”

“Is yer stupid crop top cutting off yer blood flow? Yer delusional.”

“A little delusion never killed anyone!”

As Squirt claps back with a sarcastic reply, a shadow passes over them once more. Peregrine raises an eyebrow then looks up in confusion.

A shadow is moving across the restaurant. A LARGE one. It sweeps across the tables and the hardwood like a tsunami. The other patrons haven’t noticed, as the argument between Autlie and the woman still has their attention.

“Uh…” Peregrine trails off, looking up to see the source. His jaw slacks.

A beast is looming. A monstrous shark, silhouetted by the midday sun.

“Hello??? Did ya hear me? I said-” Squirt says.

“Shark.”

“Yer- huh???”

“It’s a shark, look!” Peregrine says, pointing up. She follows his finger, then double-takes.

“HUH!?” she says again, rising from her seat.

“Pshhhhh, Scaredy-Scales, We’ll be fiiiiine! Statistically, sharks rarely attack peo- LOOK OUT.”

And then, everything seems to happen all at once.

The shark advances suddenly, ramming its head into the skylight.

The glass shatters.

Someone screams. It’s probably Squirt. Shouts ring out, the words unintelligible, but Peregrine is unsure if it’s because he can’t process them or if it’s because they can’t form words. Glass rains down. The beast wriggles into the room easily, its mouth agape, sharp teeth bared.

But then Peregrine can’t see it anymore.

Black devours everything as the water is suddenly overridden by a thin, dark substance. The pitch water is writhing with movement. He can feel it. But he can’t see. He can’t see anything. Peregrine swears. His spear is suddenly in his hands, and he doesn’t remember summoning it.

He’s sure his scales are rife with colors.

Someone screams again, sending chills down his spine, and Peregrine feels water rushing to his right. His gills flare and heart slams. Without hesitation, he plunges his spear in that direction, gripping the shaft with both hands. It connects, and the shark lurches. The shaft heaves, flinging to and fro as the beast writhes, and Peregrine holds on for dear life.

Sardines, I hope I just stabbed the shark and not a person, he thinks.

“PERRY!” Squirt calls out frantically, somewhere behind him.

“SQ-“ he calls back, but his shaft hits him in the gut, and he flails blindly to get a better grip, just barely catching it again. “Get out of here!”

He hears her yell again, and something wizzes by. The shark lurches, one final, violent heave that throws Peregrine off, then…

It’s over.

The water stills, and there is a loud clatter as a table is overturned. Peregrine cringes at the noise.

Then it’s quiet.

“Squirt? Squirt!” He calls out into the dark, getting up and swiping his hands in front of his face to try and clear out the black. It’s in vain.

“I’m here!” Squirt says, reaching out and grabbing his elbow.

Peregrine nearly jumps out of his scales with surprise, his system still running on adrenaline. “GH-! Sardines, kid,” he complains, letting out a puff of water. “Great timing for the ink, by the way. Totally helped.”

“Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to, I swear,” she mumbles, shame evident in her voice.

“…Whatever. Whatever. Don’t worry about it,” Peregrine says, unsheathing a dagger from his belt. “What’s done is done. I just need to make sure it’s dead.”

“It is.”

“I- how do you know? Can you see?“

“No, idiot. I killed it.”

“You killed it?” He repeats, affronted.

“I just used- Is there anyone else here?” She asks nervously.

“I think everyone swam out. We’re the only ones mentally stunted enough to stick around.”

“Okay… okay. Uh. I, um, used magic.”

Peregrine runs a webbed hand down his face. “You can just kill things quadruple your weight without putting in any effort now? Duly noted,” he says as he sheathes the dagger and approaches where (he assumes) the shark is.

He drags his foot across the floor, bumping against thick shards of glass until he comes into contact with the body. Then he feels around until he finds his spear, giving it a tug. “Darn. It’s stuck in there pretty good. Might just need to cut it out once Si-Sanc waters back out. Dramatic sigh… Okay, we need to go tell Autlie and check on the others. Ready?”

A brief moment of silence passes.

“Squirt…?”

A sob rings out.

Peregrine’s eyebrows pinch together with immediate concern. Oh sardines. “Squirt, you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“No! I’m not okay!” She says, voice trembling “Don’t ya get it? I-I used magic. Magic. They’re all gunna know I’m a mage, and then- and then-“ she sobs again.

“…Squirt…” he says gentler now, then awkwardly reaching out into the water until his hand rests on her head. He was trying to go for a shoulder, but that will do. “It’ll… It’ll be fine. We’ll figure something out, yeah? No one saw. Pearl, I didn’t even see, and I was right there.”

“But they’ll wanna know how it died,” she says. “They’ll ask questions.”

“Easy! I’ll just rough the shark up a bit with my dagger before we go, and it’ll look like I did all the dirty work. They’ll even see my spear in its side. See? Problem solved! No need to get all sniffly on me.”

“Y’think so…?” She sniffles.

“Think so? Psh, I know so. People fall for lamer carp alllll the time, trust me,” he says. “Did I ever tell you about that one where I pretended to be an old hag in order to get Viendralian guards off my butt? They believed it! Or, did I tell you about that one time that I won my spear in a bet? I cheated. Or-! This isn’t even TOUCHING all those human goods I’ve sold-“

Squirt laughs and runs her palm over her nose. “Okay, okay, ya can stop. I get it. People are incredibly dumb, yer incredibly brilliant, case closed.”

“The sooner you accept it the better,” he says, reflexively winking before remembering that she can’t see it.

“I’ll die first.”

“Not on my watch,” he says, unsheathing his dagger a second time. “I’m going to go chop it up. Will you be okay to wait for me and then go out?”

“Yeah. M’good.”

“...Got any fancy-shmancy mage spells for allowing me to see in this?” He asks with a grin.

“Nope.”

“Highly unfortunate,” Peregrine says, adjusting his grip on his weapon. “But I’ll make do.”

He then goes to complete the job. The rest of the day goes without a synch, and everyone else is none the wiser. And that’s how Peregrine Falcon, exiled by Viendral, master thief and consman, became known as the Shark Killer.