The summer sun bore down cruelly upon Lake Fortune, Australia. On the lake, an old man was fishing in a small tin boat. His fishing rod shook violently as he swore passionately at the fish he was struggling to reel in.

"...with a belt ya filthy mongrel! You disappoint yer Nana! I won't use salt when I cook ya. You're nothing but a...."

The man's name was Wally.

He had been fighting the fish furiously for over 30 minutes. If another fisherman observed their battle, they would be in awe at the skill and intensity of the man and the relentless fight the fish was putting up. Another thing they would observe is that Wally did not look well. His face was covered in moles, warts, and wrinkles. He had a long scruffy beard surrounded by burnt peeling skin from fishing outside without a hat or sunscreen. His worst sunburn was on the crown of his head where his otherwise wild and unkempt hair no longer grew. He wore a grubby singlet, shorts, and a pair of gumboots. Although he looked much older, Wally guessed he was around 65, not knowing for sure as he had stopped keeping track a while back. A strict diet of beer and greasy food had left him with a huge gut that stuck out from under his singlet, bloodshot eyes, and badly clogged arteries. Out of breath and sweating profusely, he was moments away from a heart attack.

None of that slowed his struggle nor put stop the endless profanities that escaped his lips however, “...mistake yer daddy made. A pile of vomit smells better than you. Babies cry when they see ya mug!!”

For safety reasons, Wally’s words must always be censored when written. The stream of filth that constantly pours from his mouth was the stuff of nightmares. So powerful was his grasp over foul language, that it surpassed natural bounds and entered the realm of the supernatural. Wally possessed supernatural swearing.

He displayed the full extent of his power against the fish. He may have been gasping for breath. And sure, there was a cigarette hanging from his mouth. English may not have been the fish’s native language. And of course, there were quite a few metres of water between them. Despite all that, his disgusting language reached the fish’s ears with perfect clarity and insulted it to its core. It was an unconventional fishing tactic Wally commonly employed. The fish grew emotional and fought harder to escape. This in turn tired it out quicker and made it more likely to make mistakes.

One is enough for most. But supernatural swearing was only the first of Wally's supernatural powers. He was an exceptionally multi-talented man.

He spat his nearly-finished cigarette out into the water, aiming for where he thought the fish might be. He had a fresh one lit in his mouth, before taking his next breath. He had been doing this every time his cigarette got short in the last 30 minutes or so while battling the fish, essentially denying himself a single breath of fresh air for the entire time.

Wally’s second supernatural talent was the power of supernatural smoking. A terrifying, reality-warping power that dictated, if Wally desired a smoke, the universe would provide. Furthermore, smoking in no way inhibited any of his direct actions. He could juggle, sing, breathe, and even sleep with the same proficiency while smoking as while not. It didn’t add anything either, Wally just liked smoking. And so smoke he did. For most of his life, Wally could be seen with a cigarette in his mouth. The only negative effect being that he always stunk of tobacco, his teeth were yellow, and he probably had lung cancer now.

And so it was due to exhaustion, not smoking, that he wheezed and gasped for air through his cigarette. He strained as the fish pulled the line and dragged him and the boat through the lake. He should have stopped struggling and let the fish go before his body gave out, but instead, he stood tall and doubled down on his efforts, fighting back against the fish.

His stubbornness wasn't supernatural, but it was damn close. He almost never gave up or changed his mind on anything. When this particular fish was hooked on his line however, he’d rather die than fold. For this was no ordinary fish, it was the ‘Golden Barramundi’. Wally's mad obsession; his white whale (not a whale, nor white though). A mysterious monster fish he had dedicated most of his life to catching. A fish that some would say, ruined his life.

It was on a fishing trip with his dad, when he was only eight, that Wally first laid eyes upon it. His father had let him have a sip of beer and young Wally felt a wave of fishing inspiration come over him. He began experimenting with his fishing line. He was trying out some fancy bait wriggling techniques he had just thought of when he hooked something. He was shocked when the Golden fish broke the surface of the lake to look directly at him, holding his line in its mouth. It winked at him and then yanked hard, pulling both Wally and his rod right into the water. His stubbornness was too strong to let go even back then. His father roared in laughter, apparently not having seen the Golden fish, only Wally’s subsequent tumble. Wally, however, did not laugh. He was so intrigued by the strangeness he had just witnessed that he just stared at the water. It was then and there that he decided that he was definitely going to catch that fish. Since then he has dedicated more than 50 years of his life to catching it, forgoing a normal life within society and becoming somewhat of a lake hermit. People thought he was crazy.

The problem wasn't that the fish was hard to find. In fact, the opposite was true. The only easy thing was getting it on the line in the first place. It would eat anything Wally put on the hook. From traditional baits such as worms and shrimps, to more exotic ones like chicken nuggets and biscuits. Wally even hooked it with a green plastic army man once. No, the only times Wally couldn’t find it was when somebody else was about. Then it was eerily absent. This lowered Wally’s credibility among people but added to his determination to catch it.

The other problem was that the Golden Barramundi was an absolute monster. It seemed to be as strong as a whale and as fast as a sailfish. It employed clever tactics to throw Wally off balance or break his rod to free itself. It even mocked him with winks and splashes. If he could catch it, he would bring it into town and show everyone that he was not crazy and that there was indeed a golden barramundi in the lake. Despite countless attempts, however, Wally had yet to succeed. He would never stop trying though. Several times a week he would go out onto the lake by himself and try again. He believed that with each attempt he was getting closer.

Truthfully, it was due to his third supernatural power that he had any chance to catch the fish at all. A power that he didn't even know he possessed. Wally’s third power was weirdly specific: When Wally was under the influence of alcohol, he gained supernatural proficiency with any tool that utilises a hook. This included things like umbrellas with a hooked handle, velcro, and of course, fishing rods. The action performed did not need to match the tool used. As long as he was trying to do something with a belly full of booze and a hooked object, he would do VERY well.

Wally had been a chronic alcoholic for years and so this power was almost always active. It actually only took a small amount in his system to activate so it even worked during hangovers the next day. He drank and avoided others so much that he just thought he was good at fishing. Just that morning he had finished a six-pack of beers and had already opened a second pack. The cans were now sitting under the seat of his tin boat. They were tantalisingly close but Wally couldn't reach them without putting himself at risk of being off balance. As time ticked on, the sun and exertion had him feeling awfully thirsty.

He pulled hard on the line to drag the fish a little closer and give him an opportunity to reel it in a little. This failed; the fish did not budge. In retaliation, it swam hard to the left then at lightning speed swapped to right in an attempt to force Wally to lose balance. Wally did not budge. They were in a stalemate.

For some time they continued like this until Wally couldn’t take it any more. It was time to take a risk. He was going to try and grab one of those beers.

He started by firing off a few of his nastiest insults, "I'd rather eat pig's leftovers than you. Read your fanfiction on Royal Road, yikes. Are the rich-looking gold scales compensating for your poor taste?!"

As the fish spasmed in indignity he crouched down and shuffled himself back towards the drinks. The fish must have sensed something was up because it too decided to make a big play. When Wally's right hand came off the line to reach back for the drinks, the fish charged the boat. It planned to release all the tension on the line and then reapply it all at once. From the angle Wally was crouched and with only one hand on the line, it was a move that was practically guaranteed to work. However, this was exactly what Wally had planned on happening, the fish had made a grave mistake. Years of battles with the golden barramundi had given Wally a precognition-like insight into when the fish was going to make its big moves like this. Wally pulled back the rod with just his left arm and spun his body around. The fish wasn't ready at all and got pulled right up next to the tin boat. Although now Wally's arm was at an awkward angle behind his back and the fish was going to have no problem pulling away and escaping. But Wally wasn't done yet, his right hand was no longer reaching for the beers, instead, it went down to his right boot where he had strapped a knife.

Wally had a fourth supernatural power. One that he was aware of and one that was just as ridiculously conditional as the third: Any knife attached to his boot could be removed, then thrown with supernatural precision by Wally. This only worked with things that were very obviously knives and very obviously boots. He currently had a steak knife tied to his gumboots with fishing line. As this power only affected accuracy, not power, it didn't allow Wally to throw harder or further than he naturally could. And since Wally was a weak old man, right up near the boat was about his limits.

Letting go of the rod entirely, he stood up straight. He raised one hand to point at his target and the other with the knife over his head ready to hurl it. The barramundi was right up near the surface where he wanted it.

Wally grinned wide, "I've got you now ya turkey-necked bludger." he muttered as he brought his hand down flinging the knife.

Time seemed to slow. Both Wally and the fish knew that the knife would not miss. It had a millisecond to make a move. Wally would expect it to move left, right, forward, or back and adjust his aim ever so slightly at the last moment. These directions would end in its death. So it went the only direction Wally may have unaccounted for. The only direction it had a chance of surviving. Straight up.

With a powerful flick of its tail, the golden barramundi burst up, out of the water. The sun shone beautifully off of its scales. From head to tail it was as large as Wally was tall. It was a truly magnificent sight. Wally wasn’t able to adjust his throw enough. The knife flew down and instead of a lethal blow, it stabbed into its tail. The fish spun from the blow as it continued upwards. Wally tripped forward onto his hands and watched the amazing sight.

The fish was sturdy. Once the fish fell back into the water it would swim away despite its wounds. "No you bloody don't!" Wally shouted.

Old Wally had one last trick up his sleeve. Still on his hands and knees, he grabbed the boat's anchor. He spun it twice over his head and then released it towards the fish. Naturally, It flew true, as the anchor was shaped like two hooks back to back, making it technically a hooked tool. As the fish reached the apex of its leap, the anchor flew up and spun once around it. The anchor hooked onto its own rope, securing it tightly. Wally pulled on the rope as hard as he could. The fish was yanked off course, down into Wally's waiting arms where he knelt. It slammed into him and they both fell back into the boat.

Wally couldn't believe it. He had caught the Golden fish! All the years of failure and struggle and now here it was, in his arms. For once, Wally was silent, as words could not express the wave of emotions that swept over him. He had never felt so alive! The left side of his body went numb and he started having a heart attack.

He lay there dying, looking into the fish's eyes and the fish looked into his. It was a serene and beautiful moment between two old rivals until the fish broke the silence.

"Dude! Wally! You have NO IDEA what an amazing thing you just pulled off! That was EPIC! Hahaha!" The fish’s eye went wide with every exaggerated word.

Wally stared silently as he struggled for breath.

"Ahh where are my manners my man. Let's start with introductions. I already know your name but you probably dunno mine." The fish pretended to clear his throat and act grand. "I am The Destiny Fish hehehe. You can just call me bro though, bro. I mean that dude! After all we've been through together, we're officially brothers now. Wanna let you know, I'm not even mad about the knife in my tail, or all those hurtful things you keep saying. If anything, I respect you more for them. You're an absolute legend Wally!"

"Destiny?" Wally managed to wheeze out weakly.

"Yeah bro that's me haha. You should see your face right now lol! Must be quite a surprise, talking fish and all. Actually dude, are you ok? You're not looking too hot, sorry if I'm being rude."

Wally gurgled

"Ahh... Oh, damn man. Hang on, I'll go get my wand and see if I can do anything for you."

Destiny Fish flopped about in the boat a bit. "Gosh, this is real awkward... but I kinda can't fly out of your boat without my wand. Could you give me a leg-up bro? Hehe I know I don't have any legs, but you know what I mean."

Wally was desperately gasping for each breath. His bloodshot eyes stared at the fish in confusion. He had no idea what was going on. The damn fish was talking to him. It was freaking him out quite honestly, and he was already freaking out over the heart attack. So he decided he wasn't going to die with it here in the boat with him and that he would use everything he had left to get it the hell away from him. He was so weak he didn't even know if he could get it out of the boat. His famous stubbornness dictated that he wouldn't stop until he succeeded.

He rolled over and started to push the fish. He struggled and groaned as the last of his life's energy was put into pushing. With some flopping from the fish to assist he got it up and over the edge, and it splashed into the water. Wally didn't have the capacity to feel relief anymore. Instead, he involuntarily fell forward face-first into the water.

Destiny saw Wally fall into the water behind him as he hurried as fast as he could with his tail injury to get his wand. He had left it near his favourite chilling spot at the bottom of the lake. He left it behind whenever Wally came around for a fishing battle so that he wouldn't have an unfair magical advantage. Destiny Fish was honourable like that. His wand was a bent, knobbly, brown stick that could be mistaken for any old regular stick. He grabbed it with his mouth and felt his magic return to him. He then turned and rushed back to where Wally was. He saw poor Wally now drowning on top of having a heart attack.

Magic flowed through his ancient fish body as he directed his powers to Wally. Although his magic was Destiny focused, he had lots of general-purpose spells as well. Quickly surrounding Wally with a bubble of breathable water, he began trying to stabilise him telekinetically. He didn't really know what he was doing. To his dismay, it did nothing. Wally was literally moments away from death. There was only one spell that Destiny Fish knew that might be able to save him. His most powerful spell. It was a risky idea, but he had to try.

“DESTINED TO MEET AGAIN!” He spoke the magic words around his wand. Millions of red strings shot out of his wand and wrapped around both his and Wally’s souls. [Destined to meet again] connects the souls of the target to that of the caster via red strings of destiny, making them… destined to meet again. The universe must then engineer their next meeting in such a way that it is significant on a destined scale. It cannot be cast again on another target until requirements are filled.

He looked up hopefully and watched as Wally died.