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It's a poker chip with a strange symbol on it that looks somewhat like a cattle brand. The package with the chip arrived along with a typed note explaining that it was actually an exclusive invitation to some sort of bloodsport. There was no return address or any fingerprints.
You aren't sure who your informant is or what they have to gain by giving you this tip. But you're grateful for it nonetheless. So far all you've gotten from the crime scenes are a few broken bits of claw, a couple of teeth, and some saliva samples that the boys at the lab have been unable to identify thus far. And let's not forget about all of the bodies.
You persistently investigate the poker chip-who made it, when they made it, when it was shipped-and finally come up with the name of the person who commissioned it: Jack Omaha, or Captain Jack as his friends call him. The name doesn't raise any red-flags in any of the criminal databases, but that doesn't mean that Omaha isn't a criminal. It just means he's a criminal who hasn't been caught yet. If he's responsible for the Tooth and Claw killings you hope to soon rectify that situation.
You aren't sure exactly where to look for Omaha and are just about to go to your usual sources for information when another letter arrives on your desk. Inside is a simple note: Tonight. 11:00. The Preserve. Bring the chip and your gun. You'll need both. Be sure to come alone.
The mention of The Preserve causes something to click in your mind. You remember reading about a rash of animal killings in various zoos across the country and wonder if this has anything to do with it.
You spend the rest of the afternoon doing some research on the Internet and discover that there is a very distinct trail of zoo mishaps that follows a very distinct pattern, going all the way from Washington state clear across country to last incident which took place in south Texas. You realize that your fair city is right in the line of fire.
You aren't really certain what the zoo killings might have to do with the Tooth and Claw murders, but you are sure that there is some sort of connection. You are gripped by that sense of nervous anticipation that usually precludes any sort of sting operation, and you can't help thinking about what the resolution of these two cases might do for your career.
As instructed you arrive at the zoo at the specified time. You have no idea what you are supposed to be looking for or where you are supposed to go. But it's clear as other people arrive that the aquarium is the destination.
Someone has already picked the lock on one of the side gates, and you're amazed at how easily people are gaining access to the zoo. You watch as couples stroll up to the gate, arm in arm, and present their chips. It's like watching the processional at the prom. You're sure this little suare isn't something The Preserve officials have organized, but to judge by the spectator's attitudes, this is just another dinner party in a long line of dinner parties.
You check to make sure you've got your service revolver and then quickly tuck it into your boot holster. You don't want to be too overt with the gun although you're sure that there are others who have brought their own weapons with them.
The burly doorman at the gate barely even gives you a second glance. All he's looking for is the chip. Once you display that you're granted access.
The aquarium isn't lit up from the outside, but the interior is aglow with fluorescent illumination. The meager lighting helps you count twenty four other people who have gathered here for some unknown purpose.
Sharks swim in cerulean waters overhead, and for a moment it seems that you are surrounded by teeth. Thankfully a man in a black gunslinger-styled overcoat draws your attention away from all those perfect killing machines that are held at bay by a few inches of tempered glass.
"May I have your attention please?" the man said. "My name is Captain Jack Omaha, and you all know why we're here. You've already placed your bets, and now you're here to see the outcome."
The group applauds, lights up cigars, and takes sips of whiskey out of hidden flasks that are quickly produced and then tucked back into coat pockets.
"Now without further ado, we're about to see two of Nature's most perfect killers go head to head. The Great White Shark and The Atlantean. This should be an entertaining, if not bloody, battle to the death so pay attention."
You aren't sure what an Atlantean is until the thing is dropped into the shark tank. It looks a bit like a merman, only with the teeth of a piranha, fins that looks like shards of broken glass, and eyes that are covered with deep yellow cataracts. It has no legs, only a massive tail that ends in another razor-sharp fin. That only aids in the creature's mobility as it begins to rip the sharks to shreds.
Although the Atlantean is greatly outnumbered it seems to be doing quite a good job of demolishing the sharks in the tank. The water is swirled with pink and reds as blood is spilled. But sharks are natural-born predators, and they are good at what they do. They inflict their fair share of damage too, ripping away two of the Atlantean's fins and taking a couple of large chunks out of its thigh and torso. The Atlantean's mouth opens and closes in an 'o' of bewilderment. It's never met something else in the water as savage and vicious as it is. The bewilderment quickly turns to anger and it launches a second, more ferocious attack on the sharks, disembowling some and even decapitating another as it rips the shark's head clean off.
The crowd groans and sighs. Then they cheer. This is what they came to see, although most of them are watching it through parted fingers.
You know that you need to do something to stop this, but you know that you are pitifully outnumbered.
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