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<br/>
Jango Soza<br/>
Pacific Islander<br/>
Shortfin Mako<br/>
26​</div><br/>Isla Cazedor was an unassuming island in the Pacific, known for its idyllic tropical climate, luxurious beaches and resorts, rustic coastal fishing towns and a little known tribe whose origins were only known to its members. Most tourists knew little about the island beyond what they read in the tourist brochures. They didn't know that a single, ancient tribe of people controlled the tourist industry as a way of hiding in plain site, steering visitors away from historical and religious sights that might catch the eyes of archaeologists and anthropologists alike so that their existence could remain a mystery. Surface details were known, of course. They didn't hide their tribal heritage. But the true nature of their culture was... obscured. It was generally considered prudent not to reveal that there was an entire island in the Pacific inhabited by human/shark hybrids blessed by an ancient god of the hunt in the form of an enormous great white.<br/><br/>It was the beginning of summer and the tourist traffic was ramping up, the island's docks and small landing strip a mosh of activity. Many of the resort employees facilitating tourist activities and services, unknown to the average visitor, were either related by blood or through tradition and quite a few had tattoos that, while resembling other trends in pacific islander nations, had a unique flare to them which, again, most visitors knew nothing about.<br/><br/>It was a long day for Jango. He held a rather ambiguous position at one of the larger resorts. He was not very good at customer service but he sometimes filled in at the pool bar. His other duties included routine maintenance, some cash handling, and leading tours of the inland hiking trails. It was a flurry of activity as new guests were checked in and by the end of it all, the young man was in desperate need of some time to himself.<br/><br/>The temperature had dropped some as night came on, local weather reports warning of a storm that would be passing by the island some time in the night. Guests were advised not to go night swimming. It caused a bit of concern to some of the guests unused to tropical climates but Jango and the others were unafraid. He was comfortable around the ocean, even when it was being temperamental and when storms passed over, it usually cleared up in a day or so.<br/><br/>The ocean spray was pleasing, mingling with the cool air coming off the water. He stood in a pair of trunks at the end of a rock jetty. The water was an ever changing, obsidian landscape, dark clouds obscuring the moon and making for the perfect cover for a swim as his true self. A soft light hit him from the back, reflecting off the little pools of water in the divots of the rock beneath him, emanating from the many windows and hanging lights in and around the resort. He could hear music, sounds of laughter and clinking drinks far away. Everyone would be too busy partying to notice him.<br/><br/>He closed his eyes a moment, letting the sound of the waves roll over him as he relaxed, feeling his mouth growing full as new rows of teeth sprouted from his gums. He took a breath, his sense of smell deepening, filled with the scent of ocean spray and the palms along the beach, scents of alcohol, the sweat of dancing, happy people, fire from the torches...<br/><br/>An enormous wave crashed across the jetty and he let it pull him from the rock, surrendering to the waves as they closed over his head. He was plunged into another world, senses magnified tenfold under the water, feeling the power in his muscles as his limbs beat against it, propelling him out into the ocean to gamble among the coral reef, scattering frightened fish. Were it brighter and one were to observe him, they would notice a darkening of his sun kissed skin as it tinged slightly blue, darkest at the tips of his fingers and toes, nails turning blue grey, webs forming between his digits. Gills flared behind his ears and he opened his mouth to draw in water, eyes turning a lustrous silver. The seawater suffused his body with a cool vigor and he took joy in his freedom as he defied the currents, gliding smoothly through the water.<br/><br/>He let his sense of smell guide him, chasing fish and other marine life with no real intent to catch them. He could sense the electrical impulses of creatures from almost a mile away, his unique senses painting a picture of the chaotic ocean world he truly belonged in.<br/><br/>And then: an interloper.<br/><br/>She didn't smell like another Malie*. But it was unmistakable. He couldn't see her, the ocean too dark for his weak eyesight**. But he could smell her, electrical receptors pinpointing her location. She seemed to be in distress and then he sensed something else. They were rare, the stuff of his people's ghost stories. Nakiki, the shark god, was constantly at war with Jelung, the many armed, taking the form of a great octopus that lived in the sea caves beneath the island. His children were beings of darkness. They had not been seen in centuries.<br/><br/>Of course, being a modern Malie youth, he put little stock in such tales. But the thing attacking the girl, evidenced by the faint tang of blood in the water that he was ashamed to say was practically making him drool, was no eel or small reef shark.<br/><br/>Jango's strong arms and legs propelled him through the water like a bullet, a blue blur. The creature smelled of decaying meat and rotting fish. He still couldn't see it but he grasped for it, feeling a muscular body, amorphous, undulating. It was too strong, dragging the girl down. He punched at where he thought its head was, feeling his knuckles scrape against sharp teeth. Its response was to slam its weight against him, still holding the girl by the leg in its jaws. He felt his shoulder connect with the jetty, scraping along the barnacles and opening a gash. He snarled, silver eyes turning black as a cold rage overtook him. Steeling himself against the smell, he clutched at the creature again, tearing at its scaly skin, jaws clamping around its cranium.<br/><br/>The taste was truly awful and he felt the creature thrashing as his sharp teeth sunk into its face. It shrieked audibly as he punctured what he thought was one its eyes, feeling several of his teeth break off as it relinquished its grip on the girl's leg and recoiled. Jango kicked it away, using the momentum of a crashing wave to carry him closer to the girl, put an arm around her waist and drag her with him toward the surface, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as his arms propelled them up to the edge of the jetty. He helped her up first, grunting as he climbed up after her, collapsing on the rock, blood pooling from his shoulder and her leg as he breathed heavily.<br/><br/>After a moment, he sat up, turned over and spat, trying to get rid of the acrid taste in his mouth. They'd have to put out a shark alert tomorrow to discourage swimming beyond the safety lines. The guests wouldn't be happy.<br/><br/>He turned back to look at the girl he'd rescued, recognizing her as one of the guests of the resort. But she smelled like a Malie. It was rare but sometimes outsiders felt the call of Nakiki. It was always dangerous as the tribe tried to help them learn but also remained wary of weather or not those outsiders would expose them. One of these outsiders had never shown up in his entire lifetime. But why did she look familiar...?<br/><br/>"Are you alright?" he asked, glancing at her leg. If she was Malie, she would heal quickly but it still looked like she might need stitches.<br/><br/>*Samoan for "shark"<br/>**sharks have terrible vision