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Adventures Of Sharky
Chapter 1 - Sharkygenesis
The Beginning


Large canines grinding…

Deadly fins flipping…

Huge muscled tails swaying a dance of destruction… Indeed, I woke up in a middle of a great battle under the sea.

My head aches. I am still fighting to regain my consciousness. The last thing I can remember is that I was thrown out from Sharky's back. My face is still doused with blood and I thank God it is not my own. My vision is a bit blurry because of the shaken seafloor and perhaps of the dissolved blood in the water too, yet I can clearly hear angry growls like thunder trying to break the sea rocks underneath. I am in a middle of a loud and graphic fight.

"But where is Sharky?" I asked my self. He is nowhere to be found. I can't see him swimming nor fighting. Could he dead? Could he have been defeated? That is impossible. Sharky is invincible. If he is just old enough, I would say he invented fighting himself! No one can defeat him. Not in under here. Not in this world.

I tried to look for him, but I can't seem to move. This huge rock that clipped my tail is just too heavy for me. I tried to clear my foggy vision. I shook my head, yet all I can see are the other beasts roaring, trying to kill each other – and yes I thought, this is the Ocean War III.

Beasts so fierce, sharks, whales and other creatures alike! This is a grand battle undersea. I already forgot how this thing started, and I don't think I'd like to see how this is going to end.

I looked on my right, and then I saw a mob so devilishly eager to devour a target that I vaguely recognize. It was just a shadow, yet you will see how it stands still, focused and determined. One look and you will know that the shadow belongs to a creature, no to a warrior – a warrior who does not know fear, who stays robust amidst an angry crowd. He is ready to fight, ready to protect himself, and as if read to kill! He projects an aura so dangerous; it will instill fear in your soul even from a distant. This cannot belong to any creature here under the sea, this can only be Sharky!

I pulled my fin under this large rock. It was so painful, yet I know I need to get out of this trap to be able to get near Sharky. He needs me now more than ever. I know I cannot help him in pounding the enemies. My body is feeble compared to his 245 pounds of solid muscle. I couldn't swim at all; I tried to drag my self, slowly, but I failed. I was like a snail swimming on the salty seabed. I know I can't do much to help Sharky, or if he is in need of help to begin with, but I am pretty sure that my presence near him can make a difference. I am his best friend after all. And I know that he has been all alone half his life, and there is no way I will allow him to feel that pain again – not even for a single instance.

As I go nearer Sharky, I saw him more enraged. Never did I saw Sharky before in this level of killer mode. It was liked he just drank a power solution, or garnered an extra life. It is like the very old Sharky that I knew and I once feared. I was the dominating Sharky, the killer Sharky, the one whose name shouldn't be spoken of.

Sharky then fought the mob. He moved swiftly like a sleek flash of razor wind cutting through each mob. The mob cannot do anything; Sharky can evade every attack they made. Sharky can easily block assaults coming from any direction. He is a warrior. He is an assassin. And what's even more interesting is that how this entire fight appealed to him. "This is just like a video game", Sharky exclaimed.

"A video game? Yes!" I told my self, Sharky sees this fight as nothing but a challenge to his skills, just like the video games we used to play, not before he was robbed of his childhood. There is no way he is going to give up and there is no way he is going to loose. I know how Sharky plays; he is a true gamer, a true warrior. From our youth I've seen him win levels, topple champions, outrank the seniors, the more experienced ones. He can basically win over anything. And that's not just for games we played.

There is clearly more to him that brute strength and superb fast thinking skills. He was the top hitman of the Bermuda Gang after all – the most notorious undersea illegal operations group. I heard even the Mafia and the Triad feared the Bermuda Gang during its glorious days. The CIA, FBI and KGB combined were not able to do anything to its leaders. Until the day Sharky left them, the Bermuda Gang and its fierce leader, Don Rizzonni, aka The Don.

Sharky is a man of no motivation, he doesn't really do things out of pure will, or charity. He does things as he was ordered to. The Bermuda Gang used to control him. He follows every order, like how a poor dog follows his master. And up until now, I don't know what happened to change all that.

Sharky is almost done with the mob. As expected of him, he clearly finished them one by one, even faster than the famous assassins of the upper land. If there is a Justice League underwater, I'm sure they will even fear him.

From a far, a Jail Guard eagerly watches. "The Bermuda Kid Sharky really knows how to fight", he said. Of course he knows how to fight. Fighting is like a child's play to him. While other's live to serve, or to work, Sharky lives to fight. And in a no holds barred prison like this, only Sharky and his kind will survive.

The battle seems over. No one dares to move against Sharky, all eyes on him as well as his apparent comrades. While I don't have a clear grasp on who started the fight, Sharky is clearly on the right side.

He approached me delicately, like a man longing for an old friend. "Are you alright?" he said. He was haggard, clearly he just came out of fight. Yet I could not even hear him catching his breath, as he wasn't tired at all. What vigor! He is truly powerful. The warzone left him with no alarming wounds. Although the cut on his right fin which he got last month appears to have reopened. I looked at it worried, just how a best friend would really feel. "It's just an old scratch", Sharky said smiling.

You might be thinking how can he act like that, was he made of steel? Was he not organic? Doesn't he feel anything? Even I do not really know if he is made of steel, considering his strength and endurance, I might as well believe the old myths about Sharky. He is strong; guys at the Black Reed would even call him SuperShark. But the fact that superheroes put pants instead of underwear first doesn't really attract him, so he disowned that title. Besides, he isn't someone you can consider to have a pure heart. His heart is mean and firm just like his character. At least that is what other think of him, that is the image he projects, or that is the image he wants to known for.

Sharky then picked me up. He put me up on his back as if nothing had happened. He then goes to a safe place where few of his comrades were waiting. I saw his blood, dripping as it dissolves into the salty sea. He doesn't feel a single pain, but I am afraid it is whose feeling it for him. We are connected, we are inseparable. His pain is my pain, only cannot endure it.

The jail guard then approached them; hastily they put chains on to Sharky and all the others who were still swimming after the grand brawl. It was a simple act, no tension or whatsoever. It was as simple as breathing. It readily seems that it doesn't matter anymore who was right or wrong. What matters is that someone will get punished. They are in for some major trouble.

Sharky knew it was coming, but he didn't show any fear or regret, as if it doesn't matter. He has been less enthusiastic about getting out lately. He can surely escape if he tries. He can easily knock out every guard around in no time. His speed can surely outlast any jail chasers around. The sharky I knew would not let his self confined for a long time. Perhaps, it is true that he changed already, or maybe all is just his plan, perhaps he is pretending to be okay since knew that something good is about to happen.

Even I, as his best friend cannot figure it out. That is one thing about Sharky, he is a swimming mystery. He even mystifies himself sometimes. But there is one thing I am sure about Sharky, he won't let a comrade fall. I knew it first hand.

Sharky was then place in a enclosed temporary separate small cell for inmates being punished for violation of jail rules. The Jail Warden then ordered Sharky and the other inmates to be placed in that enclosed cell with little sunlight and little food for 10 long days.

As if Sharky will consider this a punishment. He was the elite hitman of the Bermuda Gang. The childhood that he lost was replaced by rigorous and often inhumane training, lead by the future Bermuda Gang Boss, The Don. He was supposedly the 2nd father of Sharky. I knew Sharky regarded him as his father. That's why he followed and respected him. He was his idol, his inspiration. But I know The Don doesn't think of Sharky the same way, he doesn't feel a thing about Sharky, and I know, deep down inside, Sharky knows this. Days and days had passed, yet Sharky is in no way eager to be out of that special cell. He spends his time training, bench pressing a thousand times a day, controlling his breathing like air is scarce. He tries to increase his swimming acceleration; he trains and trains as if he is going to have a championship bout. He was even more determined to train than a pro fighter, a boxer perhaps. Although Sharky has been living outside the shadows of a hitman, of a Bermud Gang member, his ways and skills are still that of a professional assassin.

Five days had passed… four days, three days, and two days and then he came out. He breathes a new air not entirely different from the special cell.

As Sharky walks back to his original cell, his inmates were cheering. Although almost shaking in fear, the inmates welcomed Sharky back with full enthusiasm. All are smiling at him, telling him "congratulations". "For what?" Sharky said. Then at the end of the pathway, just beside the door of his cell, he saw a certain man in police uniform, his nameplate says Col. Jeffries. They looked at each other; there was no sign of surprise from Sharky as if he knew this person very well. Then one inmate shouted "Farewell buddy, grats on your parole". The air froze, it then it hit me. Sharky is going to be free!

Sharky looked at Mr Jerries, straightly, without saying a word, Jerries handed a letter to Sharky. This is the parole release, an official letter signed by people from above, really powerful people.

I know that this moment is supposed to be celebratory. He is going to get out finally. But then I remembered, Sharky never intended nor hoped that he will be able to go out. Not because he has no intention, he never talked about it, not to me, not to anyone. He never dreamt of this day. He never so his self beyond the bars of this dirty prison. He was, so to speak, ready to die inside these cells.

Sharky read the letter, silently, and for the first time in many years, I saw him smile. It was a smile of hope, or satisfaction. But what is that smile for? It cannot be for that parole. It cannot be for that freedom.

Sharky and I then carried our things; we went out of the halls. Sharky looks as if he was saying goodbye to all the inmates. This probably maybe the last time he will see this place that he once called home.

I have been dying to ask Sharky, if he knew that the parole was coming. I wanted to know what he was thinking at that very moment. I wanted to hear what his plans are. Is he happy? Is he excited? Why? What for? What are you going to do now Sharky? Are you going to take revenge? Are you going to rejoin the Bermuda Gang? Are you going to build your own group? Are you going to kill someone?

Hundreds of questions keep flashing my mind. But I couldn't ask Sharky any of those questions. I wanted him to tell me everything by himself. I don't want to force him. I don't want to intrude in his thoughts.

And then as if the heaven heard my plea. Sharky uttered his very first words right out prison, "I am going to establish sharkysgames dot com".