The water lapped at Arugan sand, the dark, coarse particles swayed back and forth with the ebb and flow of the surf. Wave hummed their rhythmic song, a neverending choir of motion and relentless swirls of turbulence. The sun tried its best to pierce through the morning fog, the brisk cold air of the ocean breeze slamming against the nearby city smog, a war between nature and man taking place at the threshold between country and sea.

Loose seaweed inched closer and closer to shore, twisted around the carcass of a dead, deep sea tuna. Its flesh had been gnawed, rotten, its glassy eyes red like a devil from the deep. Something had chewed on this unfortunate creature, but given the state of the fish’s body, it was a wonder if the meal it provided was any sort of comfort. It looked poisoned, warped, as if its nature had twisted to become something a tuna had never been before. Its teeth were longer, sharper, and bloody. Its eyes are red and gleaming, its fins knives along its back.

Some of the seaweed trailed behind the tuna, a distinctly healthier color than the fronds that had become entangled in the decrepit flesh of the fish, knotted around its overgrown fins and stuck between its mutated teeth. The seaweed not directly touching the poisoned fish was a typical dark green, swirling almost elegantly in the surf. The rest was tainted and stained, as if it had soaked up blood, taking on a similar hue.

Further out in the ocean, nurse sharks circled, waiting for an opportunity. A creature that normally left well enough alone saw a boat above, noticed a threat; red, mutant eyes saw through the oscillating waves a vulnerable face. A target.

Violence begets violence, mistakes follow through land and sea to seek retribution, warping peaceful creatures, demanding reparations.