Somewhere in the Canadian Yukon / One year, nine months ago
The hunter's grip tightened on his rifle as he carefully stepped over the fallen oak. He scanned the area and listened intently, before turning to his bodyguard with a frown. "Where's it at again?"
The bodyguard shouldered his rifle and pulled out a small tablet. "It's still showing a couple of hundred meters out. That way, sir." He pointed north.
"Let me see that." The hunter snatched the tablet and studied the GPS tracking map, Two yellow dots hung close together while a red dot showed three hundred meters away. He groaned in frustration. "I swear we've covered this entire forest. How is it we're not catching up to it yet?"
“Because it’s moving away from us, likely following the easiest terrain, sir.”
"That was a rhetorical question, you dolt. Let's get moving. I'm not going home without that trophy." The hunter picked up his pace, no longer worried about the occasional snapped branch or rustled leaves.
Several minutes passed before the bodyguard spoke up again. "I should advise you, sir, we have less than an hour before dark. Do you want me to call the helicopter?"
“Why would I want that?”
“Because it’ll become a lot more dangerous out here after dark.”
“That’s why I pay you to watch my back,” the hunter said.
“But what we’re hunting—”
“Is going to be a trophy in my cabin this time next month. Now, do your job and quit annoying me.” the hunter snapped. He was exhausted and starving, this hunt having taken much longer than he’d planned. They’d been walking this damp, evergreen forest, being eaten alive by bugs, for at least ten hours with only a few measly protein bars his bodyguard had carried in. “Where’s that damned cat?”
The other man retrieved the tablet once more, but his brow furrowed in confusion. "That can't be right." He smacked the tablet.
“What’s wrong?”
“This stupid tablet is showing all three dots at the same location. All these trees must be screwing up the GPS again.”
“Well, reboot it.” The hunter scanned the area. Everything had gone eerily silent—no birdsong, no insect buzz. A troubling sensation crept up his spine. Something wasn’t right. He did a quick three-sixty as the bodyguard quickly unslung his weapon. Nothing.
A leaf floated to the ground. Both men looked up to see a saber-tooth tiger lunging off a branch above them, razor-sharp claws extended, massive jaws open. Its two eight-inch fangs glinted in the dim light. The tiger landed on the bodyguard with a spine-tingling roar. He somehow managed to grab his rifle and squeeze off a shot before being skewered by the beast’s unnaturally long canines.
The hunter stumbled away from the snarling tiger, horrified as it tore apart his screaming bodyguard. The cat looked up from its prey, blood staining its muzzle, dripping from its mouth. The hunter threw up, then turned and ran. He made it ten meters before the tiger slammed into him. Agony erupted across his back as claws dug in, smashing him face-forward into the ground.
He screamed, hands and feet digging at the soft earth, thinking of nothing but getting away. The weight of the massive animal crushed him, cutting off his cries and preventing him from breathing. Sunlight vanished as the tiger's mouth enveloped his head and clamped down. The pain was unbearable but lasted only four seconds—the exact length of time it took to snap the hunter’s neck like a twig.
***
The helicopter hovered twenty meters above the pine trees as two snipers took aim. Below, the tiger was feeding upon its prey—something in brown camo. They fired the specially formulated tranquilizer darts that had been manufactured to take down a rhinoceros—more than enough to take down a tiger, no matter how massive this particular one was. The tiger snarled, jumped up, and began to run, only to stumble and collapse.
Once the tiger’s body went lax, four well-armed mercenaries descended from the helicopter on ropes, quickly securing the area before giving a thumbs up to the two men in suits still waiting aboard. The pair then attached metal harnesses to the rope—similar to what one would find on a zipline albeit far more high-tech—and slid down the ropes with ease. The ropes retracted as the helicopter flew away.
The two men were impeccably dressed in highly tailored suits and polished shoes, as if they'd come straight from a dinner party. The taller, older man glanced across the carnage, careful to not to give away any sign of emotion—emotion in a leader could be perceived as weakness, and weakness was something he could never abide.
“Everything’s clear, Mr. Angel. We’ll get the cat secured and call for pickup when you give the okay,” one of the mercenaries said.
“I won’t be long,” Angel replied, pulling off his leather gloves to smooth down his slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair.
He began strolling, with his younger companion following behind. The grisly scene looked like something from a horror movie; blood and gore covered the ground, limbs torn and scattered. This wasn’t just a predator looking to eat, this was pure malice. A lone boot sat by itself, several meters away from the rest of the carnage, the tibia and fibula sticking out of it like some Halloween prop. The other victim’s back had been ripped to shreds, his head caved in from where the cat’s jaws—with their one-thousand pounds of pressure—had practically ripped it free of its victim’s shoulders.
Angel picked up a finger that’d been torn off at the second knuckle. He gave it a quick glance before giving it a casual fling.
“Looks like our kitty was enjoying its meal of your customer and his security detail,” John, the smaller of the two men, said.
“He told me he was this grand hunter. Clearly, he exaggerated his exploits,” Angel said.
“At least he didn’t exaggerate the size of his pocketbook. He paid two million in advance,” John said.
“We can’t make him disappear. He’s too well known,” John said.
“I don’t want him to disappear. I want his friends to know what happened.”
John stared at his employer in surprise. “You want his friends to know that he died on a hunt you arranged?”
Angel smiled. “Yes. These people are looking for a rush—that’s why they buy my hunts. What’s more of a rush than the very real risk of being killed by such a predator like this tiger? I believe rumors of this incident will be better for business than any of my other marketing efforts to date. Therefore, the world can know he died while hunting, but I only want his friends to know exactly what he was hunting.”
“Okay, but the body’s too messed up to have anyone find it. Not even a mauling by a grizzly bear would do that.” John gestured to the nearly headless corpse.
“Then place the body somewhere the local wildlife would eradicate the evidence, save for a wallet and boots, you get my meaning,” Angel said.
“And his bodyguard?” John asked.
“I don’t care. Toss him in a ravine. Nightshade’s already been paid.”
Angel then knelt by the tiger and examined the creature which seemed to be completely unharmed. The hunter hadn’t managed to hit it with even a single shot. He stood and turned back to his associate. “We can reuse this beast again. That saves me over four million dollars from having to create a new one.”
“Or you could have your own private hunt. Enjoy the product for yourself, for a change,” John offered.
Angel shook his head. “No. We need the revenue. My joy is found in bringing joyful experiences to others.”
A mercenary, having just noticed Angel, hustled over. “Be careful, sir. Just because it’s tranqed, doesn’t mean it’s fully out.” Just then, the tiger’s paw flinched. The man jumped and let out a high-pitched eep!
John chortled and Angel sneered at the soldier. “That’s completely normal while the animal is unconscious. Change your pants and prepare the animal for transport. And then get these bodies cleaned up. I want no evidence they were ever here.”
The mercenary swallowed. “Yes, sir. We’ll get right on it.”
Angel took one more glance around the carnage before speaking to his assistant, “Better make a note to assign more bodyguards to each hunter. Four—no, two—ought to suffice. If they want more than that, they can bring their own.”
“I’ll notify Nightshade. The next hunt’s coming up in five days, but they should be able to accommodate,” John said.
“If they balk, tell them we’ll use another company.” Angel watched as the tiger was lifted to a cargo helicopter. Then he paused and held up his hand to stop John. “Have the tiger delivered to the camp. This one’s feisty. It’ll put on a good show in the arena.”
