Welcome traveler. Welcome to the South China Sea. Welcome to the city that rules these waters. You have arrived from far away haven't you? Did you use the ITP? You don't know what that is? It is an instant traveling porting. It's energies are a beautiful blue color that often branches out like a tree. It wraps around it, entwining with your tail and body until suddenly, you have teleported to another location of your choice.

As you can see, the citizens of the South China Sea have a variety of energized abilities at their disposal. Different colors, styles, uses, and shapes they do indeed take. Look over there. There comes a particularly gruff character. Yes, the one with white hair streaming behind him. He is particularly fond of his staff he carries on him. Unlike the crystal I wear around my neck or the glowing rocks most have on their belts that make everyday tools, his staff is a weapon. Be warned and stay away.

Why you ask? Why does he have such a menacing air? He was in love once. And betrayed. He ran across a group of nomads while he was scouting with his childhood friend in their early adult life. These nomads seemed like your normal mermen but were not. He escaped with his life but his friend was not so lucky. Wounded beyond help, he could only hold him as he drew his last watery gasp.

So knowing this tale as you now know, beware. Beware the merman whose gaze is not warm and inviting, but dead and cold. Beware. Beware the merman whose hand offers not treats to nibble, but the full power of a swarm of clan of jellyfish on steroids. Beware. Beware the sudden anger of this swimming typhoon. The swirling hatred and vow of revenge he carries will carry you to your doom. Beware... the wing-finned merman we all know as... Bruce.

They liked to call him 'Angelfish', but he preferred Angel. It was all because of his long, beautiful tail and their shifting tendrils. A pure white, smooth skin that spread almost endlessly behind him. A thin white sheen that was his tail spread out in the same manner a sunfish might, fluttering in the water current as he slid through. Platinum hair slid over his skin, his tail, his thin but powerful form. His glimmering blue-green eyes were half closed, gloating over the world in front of him, his hands lightly hanging below him. The current was barely there, though it still existed. Resembling more of a ghost, Angel slipped through a pair of pillar-like rocks gently and sloped down to a coral bed. His hair caught, but swiftly released the rough coral, his slender fingers passing over anemones.

He smiled a little, feeling the lonely sensation ebb and flow, but he liked it. Other merfolk were rather pushy, a little rough. Some said they were just jealous of his almost feminine elegance, but Angel wouldn't even think that. He surfaced in the relative shallows, glancing around. No one was near, and he could only barely see the city that burst out of the water. Ducking down again, he slid through a kelp buildup and broke free, darting his tail up and down and flitting forward.

Most mermen liked to use their power. Their weapons. They seemed to like to show their brawn, but Angel, perhaps, deserved his name; he didn't like to. It felt cruel, and he didn't like the concept at all. Harming others, creatures, with what he may or may not be able to do. He didn't even know the extent of his power like most. Letting out a watery sigh, Angel dove down into a darker area---a trench.

It was probably the extra fins on his back that gave him trouble in his youth. Bruce had plenty of time to wonder about that. They were an awkward thing for a little merchild to use. The reasons for bullies to pick on him. Yet it was those very fins that gave him an edge in faster movement. Just not fast enough to save his friend. Long white hair streaming out behind his lean, muscular frame, Bruce looked somewhat like a harbinger of death. Looks that were not far from the truth. The staff he carried was part of that purpose. It's powers more electrifying that should be allowed in water environments. His eyes hardened as he remembered becoming more adept with it's use. Some had been innocents. But so once, had he.

Time for regrets filled his night. But right now it was day. He swam along an old-fashioned route on the sea bed, keeping an eye out for singular travelers or those termed as nomads. It was a simple thing to him. The civilized mers would keep to the more technologically advances ways of life. They wouldn't wonder out in open sea unless they had something to hid. He raised his staff. The power of the weapon filled his being. Tendrils wrapped around his hand, connecting to his nervous system. Then with controlled focus, he sent a test shot of energy out. It hit with explosive force and expanded around the rocky formation he had aimed at. Tendrils of powerful energy clinging until they died out. The backlash of water pulsing away from the place before becoming come again.

He drifted towards the sand with the emotional let down that came from outbursts like that. Much of his problem seemed to be that he had a reputation. If he was known to be in an area or going a certain direction, then it seemed lately that those he hunted also disappeared. True, he never found the same group he longed to kill. But he had dispatched plenty of others. Only by having proof of their crimes had he avoided going to jail himself for his own fierce deeds. The law had no love of him. But everyone had respect for his abilities and fierce skills.

The trench was so quiet---so dark. Angel liked it in the dark areas of the ocean, where he could find them, and he could find many very easily. The only time he would ever use any power he may have was to light up the dark with small, quick bursts, his hand held out in front of him, just so he didn't run into anything, disturb a creature that was larger than him, or get trapped by something he didn't notice before. The water carried noise well, but the constant shift didn't give it much room for him to have faith in it. Coming back out of the trench, blinking hard in the sudden light. He could see the city from where he was yet again, but didn't want to go to it. His kind were as cruel as humans. They targeted the different, no matter what they seemed to be like. They called him Angelfish because of his elegance, despite angelfish resembling much different concepts. It seemed women were jealous. It seemed men liked to torment him. Kids played in the tendrils that slid the length of his back, his long, sheet-like tailfins. When he surfaced he was mistaken as a mermaid from behind.

It was all so embarrassing. He rarely went to town, and it was for what was necessary. When he had no luck fishing, no luck fending for himself. When he found gems or precious metals to trade or sell, he used them in exchange for water-able cloth and foods, then left the city as soon as he could. There were various beautiful formations dotting the landscape, even small tunnels and underground air pockets that he enjoyed basking in.

The quiet ocean---broken by the fish, the whalesong, the very distant human-made ships and ocean probes---was gentle on Angel. But a sound stabbing through the water shocked him, forced him to gasp and flit toward a sand bar and lie low on the shifting, light sand. He'd always been so jumpy, and people had decided to call him a coward because of it. Angel thought he was rather bold, staying away from the massive, sprawling city where he could be on his own. He felt the jumpiness came from that being alone, and because of it he'd been saved on many occasions. But the noise... it was so sudden, and seemed to come from every direction. He didn't know where it came from. Sighing, Angel settled on the sand, turning over and watching his platinum hair slide upward and shift with the currents. Small fish flitted through, and some nibbled at it until he waved them away.

Swimming along, his anger burning up his soul, Bruce felt his an insatiable desire to inflict his inner pain on something. Anything. It wasn't fair that so many others could be so happy. Why didn't they respect that life couldn't be happy. Couldn't be good. Not with such evil roaming these waters. His muscles in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. Perhaps if he couldn't find the nomadic group, then maybe it was time to switch tactics. Disappear to let his presence fade, then craft a trap to lure in those heartless criminals.

Coming over over a rise, Bruce felt his heart stop. An angel. No, a ghost lay on the sands some ways away. The feminine figure so similar, yet so divine. Was it the spirit of his friend? Overcome in awe, Bruce swam slowly towards the white wisps that floated above the mer form. Such a creature... was it here to haunt him? Heart thudding faster with each swept of the tail, Bruce wondered if he would ever be able to reach this holy grail that taunted him. It wasn't until he was a mere mermaid length away when he realized it was no heavenly apparition but a merman of unnatural beauty.

Anger flared up. How dare this creature taunt him with his beauty and similar appearance to the lost one. And out here alone. Only nomads and criminals traveled alone. It isn't right or normal. Hand clenching on his staff, Bruce swung it around and let his rage fuel his intentions. The staff activated and connected to the nerves in his hand. Instantaneously, tendrils of energized light shot out and hit the white form resting in the sand. Blasting the merman into the air forcibly and holding him there with shocking tendrils that created a net-like vise, Bruce glared at his nemesis with all the hatred he had harbored so long. "Devil take you, impostor of all that is good."

A light sigh escaped Angel as he pressed his arms over his face, watching the rippling water's surface not too far above him. The sun was shining down a wild series of rays that penetrated the water and fell warmly on him and the surrounding sand. Often he wondered about the surface, the dry land. He wasn't sure if he or his kind could simply shed their tails in favor of legs---he'd never heard of such a thing, at least. Those that visited the higher spires of the city---the parts that jutted out of the water to allow humans to interact with his kind---often traded waterproof books for the creations the merfolk made that simply couldn't be recreated anywhere else. Angel had a few scraps of paper that showed beautiful places above the water, locked by airy mountains, snowy or icy lands. While he had gone both to the far north and the far south, shivering in the cold waters of the arctic lands, Angel had always found a desperate desire to see snow-caked pines and fiery forests in the autumn.

He turned a little, pulling his arms away from his face and glancing toward the deeper blue of the ocean as it spread further out. When something moved, he blinked and studied the figure as it moved through his adjusting vision. A merman? Angel shrank back, gaze lighting on the staff in his hand, and gasped when it raised, crackling with electricity, and shot toward him. He tried to dart aside, but reacted too slowly, and was caught in a strange, pulsing net that sent a painful zap through his body when he touched it. Unfortunately the net circled his tail as well, and he couldn't control where his drifting, flailing tail went. Every twitch as the glaring merman approached made him cry out.

When he managed to lock eyes with the merman, Angel felt as if he were withering under the glare that put all the world's horrors on his shoulders, as if Angel were responsible for every death, every torment, every ounce of pain every living creature felt. He shook his head at the merman's words, feeling as if his eyes would be streaming were they not under the water. "I-Impostor...? No... N-no, please... I do... I d-don't know what you're talking about, please..." He shrank away from a painful pop that came from the net's energy and going back, crying as his back hit the energy surrounding him from behind and struggling slightly to regain a sense of equilibrium. "Please... let me go! I d-don't know you, let me go..." It felt as if a sharp pain were worming its way into Angel's heart, pulsing with an energy he couldn't handle.

Watching the merman struggle to not struggle and fail brought a sense of glorification to Bruce's soul. Adrenaline surging on the terror filling the man, Bruce didn't have an ounce of compassion to offer. This strange white and angelic creature deserved every electrifying jolt that spiked through him. Unable to stop his a grin from forming, Bruce's dark eyes narrowed at the creature before him. "Your kind showed no mercy. I will show you none... you human fish!" Taking his staff and swinging it up and around, he pulled the merman through the waters into an arch that gained speed, only to be whipped down against the sand. Unyielding sand. Letting it grind into the mermans scales with electricity sweeping in pulses around the agonized merman, he yelled, "You deserve worse that this!"

Then he pinned the angelic creature back up into the air where he could examine him again. The feminine form so similar to his own boyhood friend. The hair and fins were unnaturally longer, but the ghostly remains were plentiful. It was possible this creature could pass for a female it forced into a white human blouse. That would be almost too kind. Especially if a group of wondering nomads should find him alone and defenseless.

An idea popped into Bruce's mind and he froze, evil contemplations widening his grin. A trap was what he had been thinking. And a trap would be what he did. He had unwittingly caught his bate. What better idea than to disappear as if he had gone to search more promising waters, only to return to one of the old camping caves with this whimpering soul injured within. They wouldn't hesitate to attack and mangle him in their greedy joy of destruction. While they were preoccupied, he could then take them out. He could repeat this process over and over until he found the very ones who had destroyed his friend so long ago.

"No... I'll not kill you. I have a fate far worse for you... my friend." The last two words were said with a sneer.

He deserved it? What had he done? He'd never met this merman before and yet, in the midst of his ringing ears and screaming skin and muscles, Angel couldn't understand why this complete stranger targeted him for such horrible punishments. He tried to gain momentum to get away, but hit the electrified net of energy and cried backward, pulling up his tail as much as he could. He shuddered, hair tangling in the energy net as it raised above him again, and when Angel tried to keep himself away from the net, he began tumbling through the water. "I don't even know you!" His voice cracked in a begging tone and spilled a ragged sob as his tailfin was zapped again, and he yelped. "Please let me go, I won't tell... anyone... Please..."

He shuddered, clenching his fists. Angel hadn't used his power but to send small pulses into the darkness so he could see, but suddenly he felt his skin burning and prickling as if he had been in the sun for far too long. When he acted, it was immediate and surprising, as some heated burst of energy broke the net apart and sent him flying through the water, bruised an burned arms and shoulders working harder than his tail, and almost immediately he breached, flying into the air and taking a swift detail of his location. A small island was nearby, with rocky outcropping that looked to be what was left over from the underwater volcano that created it. He sped forward, barely slowing down as his hands slapped it and searched for a grasp on the smooth stone, and when they found one, Angel pulled himself up.

He pulled forward, sliding his tail and tendrils out of the water, and curled up away from the ocean, feeling as if he had just been violated viciously. Never had he been met with someone so full of rage they would take it out on the first living being they saw. Delusional, that was what he was. Simply delusional. Curling up, Angel pulled his hair over his face and stifled a cry in case he were still searching.

Startled backwards as an energy pulse flew threw the water, Bruce lost his grip on his staff and it fell away. Tumbling over and righting himself, he steadied himself and let his mind orient him. Finding his bearings, he looked up and saw a shadow of his bait swimming away. Cursing himself, he turned and swam down for his staff. Grabbing it angrily from the shelf where it had come to a rest, he didn't notice nor care about the small scraps on his knuckles. Turning, he started swimming in the direction his bait had fled.

Easing through the different currents as he swam, he soon came to a sort of volcanic base. Swimming slowly and cautiously, he worked his way around checking all crevices and seaweed beds he saw. No sign of the angelic merman was to be seen. Fighting down an urge to hit something, he worked his way up halfway and looked out over the ocean. There was no sign of the creature. He had swam a direct path this way. Was there a hidden cave that he somehow had missed? Looking up, he shrugged and headed to the surface.

Reaching air, he paused and looked around nothing. This was a most aggravating search. Diving back under, he swam around the volcanic island a little and surfaced again. Still nothing. Not even a small creek or waterfall trickled down to the sea. Going back under, he looked around and scrutinized the base of the ocean floor. There was no place left that he hadn't checked. Swimming around a little further, he surfaced. And there lay an apparition of an angel, shuddering silently with slightly moist scales and fins. Much the same way his friend had lane dying in his own arms. Biting back the sob, he went under again. His pain threatening to tear out of his chest. Anger was the only cure. The only way to stop the scream that wanted to burst out of him.

Gathering every ounce of anger he could, Bruce collected himself and steeled his heart. Then he surfaced again and swam to the edge of the rock. Blood smeared itself across the rock towards the merman. The sharp, glass like rock that is characteristic of volcanoes having sliced the merman's skin and scales. Bruce realized in a round about form of misconstrued sympathy that perhaps his "bait" should not be so horribly destroyed. Using his hands to pull himself up a little, but staying very much in the ocean, he asked coldly, "You think hair is camouflage? You really should go back to school."