Forms of Justice [Sergei]

[Zambezi Long]

Standing on the docks, having only just disembarked off of the Marine ship, the Petty Officer stared out across the island. Kilauea, an island of weapon smiths. The land of fire, as it was also known, due to the expertise of the many weapon-makers across the island. People who spent their entire lives hammering sheets of metal, forging the strongest and most deadly weaponry. It was only natural that the Marines often collaborated with them in North Blue. After all, it was an efficient system. The Marines provided the island with protection and paid handsomely for the high-quality weaponry the weapon smiths had to offer their clients. Zambezi personally did not use any weaponry beyond the protective arm-bracers he wore (Which were really more a form of armor than weapons), but he was aware of the importance of keeping the Marine forces well-equipped.

Hence, despite having little to actually do on this island, he was here regardless. Some of the Marines were sent into the city for weaponry to bring onto the ship. Others were sent simply to restock the ship. He was one of the ones who hadn't been given any specific task as of yet, so he stood on the docks by the ship. Zambezi of course was a bit dismayed - the young Bull Shark Fishman was a dutiful one. He was a hard-worker, looking to prove his worth to his superiors. Perhaps to some extent it was in hopes of promotion, but his true ambition was to become a strong Marine to protect citizens from Pirate attack. A noble goal if there ever was one for a Marine. Of course, that didn't change the fact that he was, if anything, a total newbie. He'd completed basic training, sure, but he still had a lot to achieve.

Folding his arms, Zambezi bit his lower lip in anticipation of something. Of course, doing this also meant exposing his incredibly sharp, dangerous teeth, which more than unnerved some of the other people on the docks. His wild, untamable blond hair hung down over his shoulders, providing a contrast with his otherwise uniform appearance - with the white, short-sleeved Marine shirt, blue trousers, blue neckerchief and Marine cap, he was almost fully dressed in proper Marine uniform. The sole exception was the shoes - he'd forgone them in favor of going barefoot. He considered it something he was used to. Everyone else thought he just looked more wild. Sticking out a thin slit in the back of his shirt was his dorsal fin, which seemed to only emphasize his difference to everyone else. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, his eyes turning half-lidded as he gazed across the docks. One eye remained hidden behind some stray blond bangs, the other sharp and piercing were only it a tad bit more focused.

"I need to do something. I'm going to go mad otherwise," he remarked to himself, bored and impatient. He wasn't very good at waiting.

[Sergei Zaharov]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true] [style= margin-top: 50px][style= float: left; text-align: left; font-family: impact; font-size: 30px; margin-top: 10px; color: CCCCCC; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -55px; margin-left: 10px]i came, i saw[/style] [style= height: 100; width: 100px; margin-right: 10px; float: right; margin-top: -24px][style= height: 350px; width: 90px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; font-size: 8px; padding: 5px; border-top: 10px solid C11B17; color: 000000]TAGS people. COUNT number. NOTES random. SONG hearts. coded by JIN of PRE & OTE[/style][/style] [style= margin-top: -50px; width: 430px; background-color: 656565; border-top: 10px solid 000000; border-right: 10px solid 000000; border-radius: 8px 8px 8px 8px][style= width: 280px; height: 350px; padding: 20px; font-size: 9px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; color: 000000; border-right: 10px solid C11B17; border-top: 10px solid C11B17; overflow: auto]Another routine mission on an average day. Sergei's work schedule was packed with menial tasks, jobs, and other assignments that he found himself flitting over with ease. They required no skill, no intense thinking, as most tasks given to him were work reserved for cabin boys. It ashamed him, maddened him, and annoyed him when he knew that his skills and talents were being wasted on such minor things. But not much can be done about that. He'll have his day when he gets promoted. But until then, it was his task to follow orders, and keep the ship in tip-top shape. The thirty-three year old Marine, having no real assignment other than monitoring the ship deck while they docked in Kilaeua, found himself leaning against the edge of the ship opposite the island. His eyes overlooked the smithing town over the heads of the milling Marines who walked on and off the ship to gather supplies. It was a busy day for some. It was a lazy day for Sergei. Then his eyes met the back of Zambi's head. The Fishman Marine was a particular individual Sergei took attention to. The man was smart, intelligent, but too kind for his own good, as Sergei observed. Too many disagreements popped up when it came to talk about the treatment of Pirates. Sergei wouldn't call it a rivalry as much as two sides of the same coin. Sergei crossed his arms, and stood tall, looking around before walking forward. Luckily, his size was ai intimidating factor, and the other Marines, some of equal Rank, a few others one or two Ranks above, walked around, not through, him as he walked straight. Sergei wasn't one to defy others, but he was one to stand up for himself when challenged. He silently walked, creeping up on the Fishman who he considered, loosely, a comrade. Making sure his steps were quiet, he walked up to him from behind, and in a shoving gesture, pushed him hard, before quickly lunging forward to catch his shoulders before he fell into the water overboard. "Saved your life!"[/style][/style] [style= float: right; text-align: right; font-family: impact; font-size: 40px; color: CCCCCC; margin-top: -15px; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-right: 10px]I CONQUERED[/style][/style]

[Zambezi Long]

It was safe to say that Zambezi hadn't really been bothering anyone aboard the ship and that he had been mostly keeping to himself. It wasn't like he had a reason to pick fights with anyone - after all, how unbecoming of a Marine would it be to do such a thing? He didn't just believe in Justice, like any Marine was expected to - he believed in not being a total asshole. Quite simply, he tried to be nice and polite to people whenever possible. The only reason people got nervous when they were around him was because he looked like the kind of person who didn't know what manners were and wondered if they were a kind of animal. The incredibly shark teeth capable of tearing flesh didn't help his cause, especially when they were visible for all to see. In any case, it was no doubt a surprise when he felt himself almost get pushed overboard.

He jerked forwards quickly, almost falling over the guard railing and into the ocean below, but before he could stop himself someone else decided to do it for him - grasping his shoulder tightly someone managed to stop the Fishman's fall before it happened, almost all too convenient in a way. Turning to see who had been responsible, he looked up to one of the few men on board who was taller than his 6 feet of height. A towering, muscular man Zambezi had learned was named Sergei Zaharov. A Petty Officer who looked nothing of the sort - the man was in his early thirties and had a certain presence about him that, while not perhaps threatening so much was at the very least intimidating to most people. He was the kind of guy you didn't try to pick a fight with, even when you were drunk, in a bar, surrounded by a bunch of your mates. And he had apparently saved Zambezi's life just now.

"... Saved my life?" he asked the question with a blank stare. He blinked just once. The Bull Shark Fishman briefly wondered if he was just joking. "From falling... Into the sea?" he questioned further. There were probably a few things out there that could kill a Fishman. Falling into the sea was definitely not one of them. Nevertheless, shaking his head, the Fishman stared up at the fellow Petty Officer and waited for some kind of response. In all likelihood, the large man was probably the one who pushed his back in the first place. If he had to take a wild guess, this man was probably looking for something. Exactly what he cared to achieve, however, was anyone's guess.

Zambezi hadn't been around long, but he knew a few things about Petty Officer Sergei Zaharov. For starters, his view on Pirates was a little more extreme than was comfortable. He didn't object to capturing Pirates and he wasn't exactly losing sleep over the death of Pirates, but he'd never met a man so set in his ways, so obsessed with killing Pirates than this man before him. It was almost as if the Marines had hired a killing machine and it was only the good fortune of it being on their side that stopped it from killing Marines. But he'd seen men who took to extremes before - he was more than a little worried about how stable this man in particular was. Nevertheless, he didn't voice these concerns yet. No, right now, things were of little to no consequence. He just wanted to know what Sergei wanted.