12930/The Animal Un-Fair

The Animal Un-Fair
Date of Scene:	30 September 2022
Location:	Bristol Township
Synopsis:	They knew mixing T-Rex and shark DNA was a bad idea. But they had to do it. For SCIENCE. No, really, it was a pet sale. Of sharks. It couldn't end well.
Cast of Characters:	Conner Kent, Phoebe Beacon, Harper Row, Gabby Kinney

---

Conner Kent has posed:
A little genetic engineer never hurt anyone, right? Particularly when it is to make better pets for those who can afford the exotic and unique, and they deserve it because they belong to good families, which stand miles about the masses of peons and lowlifes. Yes, the elite of Gotham and beyond have been invited to this unique, clandestine event. And many have come, because they are curious, or bored, or just are not going to allow others to have better than they have, right? It is a game they play. Harmless, really. Sometimes slightly illegal, but they are not killing anyone or stealing anything here, so no big deal. Besides, so-and-so told them they couldn't miss this one.

And look, the Falcones and Maronis have send some representants here. Scandalous.

Montross manor, where this event takes place, used to belong to one of those old money families. Until the unfortunate demise of the last members of the family in the hands of... was it the Scarecrow? Maybe Bane? Anyway. Empty for years. Until some mysterious foreign investment firm purchased and restored it. Everyone though they would sell it, but instead, they did this.

The sun is setting and the parking space outside the manor is already pretty full, and chauffeurs and bodyguards mingle warily while the idle rich steps inside to a reception hall with good food, polite waiters from Metropolis catering services and expensive wines. There is also some security, but they look like local muscle. No one wanted by law-enforcement agencies, unless they are very well disguised.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Harmless, really, except to the animals.

    A matte black Bently Azure pulls up to the entrance, reeking of luxury with all the bells and whistles attached to it. Its plate? Fake. Nothing would come up when searched. The car itself didn't seem to exist in any databank.

    She liked it that way.

    There was a moment's stall before the dark-haired woman with her hair carefully braided into swirling patterns, colored a dark rust red steps out and makes her way to the door, she flashes her invitation, made out to one Charlize 'Chicky' Espanoza, wearing expensive clothing, expensive shoes, and walking a black hound with erect ears, tail curled elegantly over its back. She stretches her fingers, glittering with plattinum and titanium rings, and gives a bright smile to the doorguards, and states with sign language that she *never* travels without her interpreturs.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper has treated this investigation with seriousness, seriously. However, she has gone a particular route in adopting her part of the bad gal trifecta. A striking cut for the dark suit she's wearing, a shade of blue that's practically black, subtle piping around the cuffs and seams, with a white shirt beneath that forces her chin up with a high collar. Some silk slips into her laced up shoes, with bit of a heel. A pair of sunglasses with thick frames is worn, and one of those garish Ms.Business/Security earpieces plugged into an ear that sports a number of metal bands symmetrically decorating both ears. It winks, letting everyone know she's tethered to her Boss and cohort. She's not the big deal - She's the help. The candy rolling about and clicking against the inside of her mouth ~should~ dissolve soon, along with her nerves she hopes. Harper goes to flank Chicky, furrowing her brows to look stoic and omnipresent of danger to the money.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney for her part was wearing a dress. The last thing someone might expect she wears. Compared to the glitz and glamor of so many others though this one was rather simplistic. Elegant still, but simplistic. A square cut neckline, simple straps, and the black skirt flows down to her ankles. A small ruff of fabric adors the split from thigh down that shows off her legs and the strappy heels she wears. Tucked in the crook of her elbow is a cheetah-print purse-folio which unfolds to show her iPad of course. Who carries phones these days? Amatures.

The length of her hair is straightened to fall down her back in a shiny slick flow. A pair of glasses with the Chanel logo on the side are worn as well. Perhaps opposite to the 'bad boy' of Harper, she looks a bit studious. Potentially the interpreter she mentioned, or one of them. Either way she looked more business-like than the party sort if the bored expression on her face is any indication.

Conner Kent has posed:
Security is not very good, since no one even checks the name against the guest list, just giving a cursory glance at the fake invitation. Or the fact they are too young to even get any of the drinks in the reception. Who cares? It is just an overblown pet show. Well, at least that is what two of the guards are snickering about, comments caught only by Gabby's sharp ears.

Then the tall door at the end of the hall opens, and a foursome steps in. Two big men, are obviously muscle. Interesting only because they have artificial eyes, insect-like and more than a little creepy. The bulges under their cheap suits are probably some big handguns, to expert's eye. But there are half a dozen security guards in the reception hall and only god and maybe Batman know how many gangsters and bodyguard outside are armed.

The other two men are somewhat more unique. One is a middle-age oriental guy in a suit (a good one, not cheap) that bows to the guests. "Greetings, gentlemen and ladies," British accent. "On behalf of my employee, Mr. Gila, I welcome you to Montross Manor, and what I hope is merely the first of a series of events."

Now, Mr. Gila is the most interesting one. Tall and gaunt, he wears a black suit of oriental cut, over a pitch black bodysuit that leaves no skin bare. A golden, decorated mask covers his face; the hair on the top of the head is probably part of the mask and is composed of dense, black dreadlocks that fall past his shoulder.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe reaches to her temple to sweep a little braid back. In their earpieces, a robotic voice akin to one maniacal AI with a fascination for neurotoxin and cake states:
    >Stay close. I am going to get closer to get a look. Idu is on alert.

    And she begins to make her way towards the duo at the front to get a better look, navigating through the crowd with her little black hound -- Idu disguised with a quick illusion. Wouldn't do to be walking a dog that's shown up on Yap's instagram, after all, and she adjusts her glasses, the whole thing recorded as she tries to get a sense on if anything about them is magical.

    >Those guards creep me out. Bug eyes.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper licks around her upper palate, but sucks air in through her teeth when she takes a peek at the muscle with the weird eyes. The vanilla strawberry swirl coating her taste buds suddenly seems more sour than it should. "Someone tell me those are just decorative." she murmers and fidgets with her sunglasses as she stares. She starts to try and count the security for the event, and it rapidly becomes clear that of course it's heavy, and of course they're armed. It makes her want to pat herself down for slimmer party favours she's brought and hopes not to need to pop off. Harper shadows Phoebe, as part of her cover and also because she's legit concerned. Harper half-turns to scope out viable escape routes if things get hairy, scaly or prickly. "Big turn out."

Gabby Kinney has posed:
"Mmnope, those are real," Quietly replies one Penelope Veracruz, aka Gabby, who had glanced down to her iPad to swipe manicured fingertips over the screen causing it to scroll over what appeears to be an itinerary. With a world-weary sigh she idly follows along after Phoebe barely bothering to look up.

"There's an opening at that spa in Valencia for tomorrow at two. Should I book it?" It's now she glances up to blink at the direction they were going as if seeing the masked man for the first time. A little breath is sucked in with the tip of her tongue clicking against the back of her teeth. "Gotham really does have this whole... Mask thing... doesn't it." It wasn't a question. It was a judgement.

Conner Kent has posed:
Mr. Gila says nothing, although he nods to the crowd in a semi-polite way. The idle rich mostly cease their conversations to stare. Some finding the bodyguards creepy, but most finding them very original, even artful.

"Now, without more delay, allow me to present our exhibit of unique beasts. Many suitable to be faithful companions, others best kept caged behind sturdy bars." The lights in the room behind lit up dramatically, "tonight's theme is sharks. Please, follow me."

There are sharks in cages, or just on leashes. Sharks with legs. From chihuahua sized Duck/Shark hybrids with fins instead of wings, a colourful scales instead of feathers (and tiny teeth, so many teeth) to larger Frog/Sharks, maybe 40 pounds of spindly, agile-looking lizard thing that seems to be smiling, well, shark smile. The bigger are some kind of Crocodile/Shark thing that must have also dog DNA, they have big tongues and a look pretty friendly.

Well, except for those dark, dark shark eyes.

At the end of the long hallway, there is a covered cage that must have a larger animal. But for now, it is hidden. The Falcones and Maronis, however... they are obviously drawn to it, mostly ignoring the smaller landsharks.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    >I think the eyes are real.

    'Chicky' signs 'yes' to the question about booking the spa in Valencia. And to the fascination with masks. It's a thing. Not everyone can hide their face with a pair of glasses and a curley-cue on the forehead CLARK.

    And the young woman motions her cohort to follow her, and she draws the others into her wake, shoulder to shoulder with idle rich and crimelords alike as she looks over the landsharks.

    She breathes out in a surprised -- and CONCERNED -- expression.

    The dark, dark shark eyes, ink black that could lose souls in, definitely hold her attention as she slides her glasses down, and then pushes them back up.

    >We are going to need a bigger boat.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper turns back to the unveiling of pets, having momentarily lost sight of the other girls. Something goes quickly by her feet, which might have been the pupper, or perhaps an errant glass rolling past. Her eyebrows shoot up past the frames of her sunglasses and her lips form a glossy 'O'. "O-okay." She shoulders past a few of the elite to get a closer look and hopefully get a line-of-sight on Phoebe and Gabby. It makes her skin crawl to be rubbing elbows with this kind of crowd, and the way nature has been put through a wringer up there for commercial gain. Seeing all those dorito-filled smiles makes her smile in return, but it's a wince, not warmth in the expression. She'll never admit out loud to sticking super closer to the other girls out of some deep-seated fear of those soulless eyes.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Puppy Shark. Puppy. Shark. Gabby's eyes are riveted on the dog size landsharks. Those eyes didn't bother her at all. If anything it just... it was so cute. The grip of her hand on the iPad tightens as she gives a small noise in the back of her throat of apparent agreement to her prior question.

With curiosity she looks toward the larger cage. Then back toward the smaller version. "Totally want one of those," she determines with a solemn nod. Alas, she wasn't sure it would get along with Hazel Duck. Or Idu. Or... Or any other animal.

"They said it was shark themed. Tiger-shark?" She guesses as she too approaches the cage. The fact that she was near so many apparent criminals didn't bother her in the least it seemed. Poor Harper is given a reassuring smile. "Bet you five thousand it's a tiger shark thing."

Conner Kent has posed:
The idle rich flock to the room among many oohs and aahs. The creature with more common sense in the building seems to be Idu, who looks scared out of his wits yet valiantly staying close to Phoebe. Or maybe he stays close because she can toss fireballs.

It doesn't feel like magic to Phobe, and it doesn't smell to tiger to Gabby. Whatever there is in the last cage seems vaguely reptilian, but not really.

"So impatient," mutters Mr. Gila, sliding close to the Falcones. "Are you sure you don't want a shark-duck little monster, for the pool?" He adds for the Maroni, now in an obvious mocking voice. The gangsters take this kind of mocking poorly, glaring at the masked man.

At the other side of the room the oriental man is explaining the wonders of the landsharks. Do they have horse-sharks? Giraffe-sharks? Well... no, but they could build one in a year if they are really interested! Which obviously they are. Why buy from the common stock if they can have one custom made, picking color and even the number of rows of teeth?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Idu, in his black pharoah hound get up, stays close to Phoebe. Partially because it's his job to protect her, but also because she can sling fireballs.

    Doesn't stop him from whining though, drawing back against her lega, and the lady dressed up as Chicky picks up the forty-pound hound, and holds him in her arms like some sort of oversized cat. She can pick up on his obvious discomfort, and she looks over her shoulder to Gabby and Harper.

    This was all sorts of wrong.

    And she wished she had Bart with them to help with the zoology aspect as the gangsters are mocked.

    -How do they get around the breathing? Sharks need movement in the water, otherwise they drown- she signs to Gabby and Harper, though Harper's given a sign to 'check out the big cage.'

    -Hundred bucks on a great white tiger.-

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper reaches into her suit's thigh pocket to pull out a crinkly wrapped candy. She uses some willpower to keep her hand steady and turns to Gabby. Her other hand reaches to her glasses to pull them down so she can stare with her own peepers at the other woman. Her look says 'Seriously?'

Harper runs a hand lightly over her slicked back faux-hawk, and her gloves scrape along the gel she's used to keep it in place. She gives a slight nod to aknowledge the sign and starts to sidle into a better position to get her eyes on the structural integrity of that cage, along with visible locking mechanisms and non-welded joints.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney merely raises her eyebrows a bit in response to Harper's own gesture. Hopefully it got her to get her mind off things just a little bit at least. Still there was plenty going on here, and she did still want to listen to what was about to be revealed. Her attention seems fixed on the Asian man explaining the smaller versions though.

At least that's where her eyes were. She was listening to other things though, keeping her attention split. The view from the corner of her eyes is just enough to see that large cage.

"Not sure," she responds back to Phoebe. "Maybe it's brought them to be more like an amphibian? Able to do both."

Conner Kent has posed:
"They are amphibious, miss," offers the oriental man, confirming Gabby's theory. Then he adds, to another question from those interested in mad science, "no, we don't have any that can fly. Very interesting idea, I will pass on our science team!"

Flying sharks are coming. Pigeons beware.

"Big words for a two-bit smuggler, Gila," rumbles one of the Marconi's men, ignoring the curious Harper. "We didn't come for the circus. You said you had something to put Cobblepot shark tank to shame. So, we are waiting."

Gila stares for a few moments. Then... one can almost see a shark grin behind the mask. "Fine, since you ask so politely," he steps back, clicking a few numbers on a small pad. The cage is unveiled as the curtains fall down.

It is not a tiger; it is much, much larger.

The creature stands twelve feet tall and must weight close to ten tons. It stands on two powerful reptilian legs, the front paws too short, although long enough to be dangerous, ending in sharp claws. It is scaled grey above, and armoured white underneath, with a bullet-shaped head and barely a neck. Perfect blend of a T-Rex and a monstrous shark.

It looked dormant, but as the light strikes it, it stirs, beady eyes focusing on the tiny humans moving in front of it.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper tries not to hunch over and adopt a sneaky little gremlin pose. How she wishes she were higher up, on a beam or window. Nothing for it, she runs a finger over the edge of her sunglasses and peers at the main showcase. As the curtains come down and the Shark-Rex...T-Shark...is revealed in all it's fused glory, Harper's mouth opens and she exhales the breath she was holding. It sounds like she was lightly gut-punched by a teasing elbow. She raises her chin and looks up, up, and up. "Holy lizard Jebus." The crinkly candy she was mauling between her fingers is clenched in her fist. She takes a few steps backwards, hopefully not trodding on nearby toes. "No freakin way." Trying to assess whether that cage is secure, is put on the backburner so Harper can put an arm-bar on her flight or fight reflex. Harper rasps over her link. "Okay, this one definitely isn't meant for novelty alone. Trouble with a capital T."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    ... well. That looks like a Bad Idea.

    Phoebe can feel every nerve activate with the fight-or-flight instinct jarring against herself. She takes a deep breath, her dark eyes focused on this purely nightmarish creature, something summoned from when biological ancestors were still tiny, feral things scattering among the underbrush. This was a creature made of Bad Ideas, Horrible Visions, and even worse intentions.

    She presses just a little closer, and Idu is having NONE OF THIS. He wants out this minute, scrambling a little in Phoebe's arms.

    >I want one.

    

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney reaches out to place her hand on Phoebe's elbow while Harper backs away. She would have done the same for the other woman if she could but she was already behind them. "That's... Well it looks like I lost the bet," she has to admit openly while staring at the tyranosaurus shark.

"We are not getting that," she adds a bit quieter while shaking her head. "That would tear up the garden."

Conner Kent has posed:
Smart people (scarce in this setting) have come to the conclusion that Idu was right, and are slowly backing down towards the gates of the manor. But the bulk of the idle rich are in awe of the Tyrannosaurus Rex-Shark. T-R-S. Lets just call him the Tyrannoshark.

The beast in question is straightening, peering around with interest and emits a soft rumbling sound. More a purr than a roar. Which makes the people smile and relax for a second. One of the Falcone men looks at Gila, "impressive, I am sure Mr. Falcone will pay you a couple millions for this... thing."

Relaxing? Big mistake, the Tyrannoshark takes a step forward, nudging at the bars of the cage with its nose. Then turns his head to try to bite at them. Nope, wrong angle, although it licks the bars with a snake-like tongue. Very cute.

Then it steps back a second, as if to think. And jumps, turning aside to slam at the bars with his side and tail. A shark tail, by the way. Half the bars break, and the T-shark crushes forward. One of the gangsters, a big man, pulls out a gun, screaming, "it is loose, run!" A second later the big meaning steps on it, crushing the man to pulp.

"Boss, what do we do now?" Asks one of the insect-eyes bodyguards to Gila. Gila looks up at the monster, "now, this is much more fun than selling it!" The Tyrannoshark leans forward and bites at the guard, pulling it on his huge maw. A severed leg flies over the room, spraying blood everywhere. The monster also tries to stomp Gila, but the tall man slides aside with grace, avoiding it.

PANIC strikes the room. People run like crazy. Most towards the gates, but many just run in any direction, stumbling into others, stepping on the smaller sharks (one of them bites back) and paying no attention to the few guards with the cold enough blood to try to usher everyone out or pull guns on the ten tons walking shark.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper curses loudly and colourfully. She starts to crouch to reach for her shoulder holster, and the panic makes that way more challenging. Her next actions are a series of short hops, rolls and a couple of times getting buffeted and bruised. One knee catches her in the shoulder that feels like it's going to need some ice later. "Oh Shit on brick!" She rips forth her pistol and her thumb quick-flicks at the safety to allow the charge to build to something altogether threatening. She tries to scan for her companions, catching glimpses. "It's gonna go through here like a chainsaw! Move move!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    A couple million is probably going to come up short.

    The 'Chicky' with the back dog disappears in an instant as Phoebe ducks behind one of the panicking people, kicking off her shoes as Idu loses his black coloring, turning back to the red and white sight hound, barking and nipping at people to get them to MOVE out of the way, dashing quickly through the crowd as Phoebe pulls her domino and replaces the sunglasses with it.

    Action time.

    She skirts forward, her eyes drawing up to the tyrant king of the seas, and immediately tries to catch its attention by bringing up her magic shields, the interlocked squares of the eight pointed star spinning as her rose-gold magic keys up.

    >Get Them to Safety. I'll handle Jaws for the moment!

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney gives a curt nod as she slips into the crowd starting to direct people. Much as she can. The hardened criminal sort weren't likely to listen... but that doesn't stop her from pointing out, "Doors that way!" And giving a quick shove between shoulder blades to get them moving in that direction.

Conner Kent has posed:
Criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot. Fortunately for them. They also can run better than most of the rich people here. It helps. They don't need to be faster than the Tyrannoshark, just faster than lazy rich people.

Like a chainsaw, indeed. A few guards manage to shot him, but clearly small calibre bullets are not going to do much more than irritate him. They switch to running quickly. Now there is a big jam on the main doors and the T-shark stomps, stomps, stomps. And... pauses.

There are these glowing magical squares floating right there and the monster feels the need to know if they are food. Lets try!

But if the walking shark is distracted, his smaller cousins, the ducksharks and crocopuppysharks and frogsharks are not. They are wandering around, taking bites out of distracted people, fleeing into the manor, and generally avoiding the Tyrannoshark like the plague, showing they might be smarter than most humans.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper skips to the side and yells out, "You got it!" Brandishing her half-assembled Bluebird gun, she uses it to wave, coerce and outright threaten those of the elite that might be too stunned to get moving. She gives a fur-wearing dame and her chonky escort the lash of her tongue and a hard shove, in that order. "Exit! Now!" She allows her expensive shoe to help against one finely dressed posterior, and uses the momentum to reach into her jacket to pull forth another component of her bullpup weapon: Slam it home, twist it some, and tickle the trigger loose.

    The sight of Phoebe pulling out the magic card makes Harper grin a little like one of the toothy pets that were for sale. And the feeling of the electrical charge in her weapon.

    Her bravado changes to a shriek as a myriad of assorted shark-toothed ankle-biters try and sample her and she tries to get a field goal with the most aggressive of the lot to surge on by.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It's a flagrant disreguard for Batman's rules on her, but these were extranuating circumstances. This was supposed to be an investigation.

    /This was supposed to be a quick in and out/.

    Nothing ever goes to plan.

    That's it, big guy, Phoebe thinks. Chew on the shield. He can't hurt it.

    Phoebe keeps the shields up, bracing her now bare feet on the floor of spilled drinks and abandoned crudite and tapas, her eyes focused on the shark rex.

Conner Kent has posed:
The ducksharks barely manage to get a bite or two from Harper's legs before she summarily kicks them to away, some bounce off the wall, others limp off to find slower prey. Fortunately the larger landsharks prefer to leave the room with the Tyrannoshark as fast as possible. Good survival instincts there. There are more screams from the people trying to leave, too. Maybe they don't find alligator-sized walking sharks so cute now.

Meanwhile the big guy is finding Balm's shields unappetizing, and it is a problem as it annoys him. Which causes the huge walking shark to react very much like a rhino. Except it is five times the size of the average Rhino. Also, since Phoebe is probably edible, it is bashing and clawing at the shields with considerable enthusiasm.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper is going to have bad dreams from this. Normally, the thought of punting poor little quackers, or fuzzy doggos or hoppy frogs would be abhorrent. But these little monsters are nightmare fuel. Is that a tooth embedded in the heel of her shoe?! There's no time, and she's gotta assist Phoebe.

    She levels her gun at the immense monster that's trying to chow down on Phoebe's arcane manifestations, and brings the sights up to her eyes. Will these PIP rounds even phase it? She offers up a trio of the railgun stun rounds to stitch a constellation upside its thick neck. "Back off her right now, big boy!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    No, the alligator-sized walking sharks are probably not cute, and probably were never really cute, this is all rather disturbing the natural order of things. Phoebe, thankfully, has no problem, as Harper turns and delivers a cluster of scars to the sandpaper scales of The Big One, turning and delivering an award-winning kick to a duckshark, and as Harper takes a turn with The King, she goes to contend with the alligator shark (do do do do do do).

    Clutlery in this case is her weapons of choice, and she slings forks and knives at the creatures, and then delivers a sharp whistle that could call a cab from Manhattan to get their attention, bringing out two knives from below her dress.

    Where was she hiding those?

     ... garters, along her thighs.

Conner Kent has posed:
The Tyrannoshark takes the tree shoots to the neck and shudders, recoiling with a whine. The electro-bullets are strong enough to knock out a normal human, but the monster has a hundred times the mass of a large human. Still, it is not nice to get those shocks in the neck!

It fumbles around for a second, looking for the cause of the shocks. The hallways is now mostly empty but for some landsharks trying to hide in the corners (poorly) and a couple unconscious and possibly trampled humans.

And Harper with her gun. Maybe she was the guilty part; in any case, it looks like food! So, the T-shark goes for her!

By the gates of the manor there are still a group of people trying to escape. People and landsharks, all mixed up. Occasional bites happen. But when Phoebe starts stabbing the landsharks, most of them scamper away.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper lowers the barrel slightly, pointing the sizzling weapon to the floor while she peer anxiously to see the effects of the stun rounds. Oh no, they ~are~ gonna need a bigger boat. Harper curses again, and yells out a warning to Phoebe. "I think I only ticked it off! I'm gonna try something!"

    Harper's brain races to try and formulate a bit of theory on the fly. It's not a great plan, but it's necessary. Harper hauls out the clip and bangs it against the stock, a hollow metallic sound that preceeds her licking her fingernail and wedging it up within the insulated housing. Sparks fly and she winces before shoving the clip back into the weapon. It doesn't like it at all. An ugly hum and smell of dirty ozone and Harper is bringing the weapon up to bear again, but keeping her face away. "Eat it!"

    The resulting full-auto emptying of her clip is ridiculous. The flare from the discharge foolish and intense. It puts her right on her ass, and most likely at the mercy of the oncoming shark-toothed freight train.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    >Do what you need to. If any one asks I gave the order.

    Phoebe doesn't even eat fish, but she seems intent on some of the genetic oddities to eb returned to their origins in the dark, pulling a hood up and over her head to hide her identity as she sweeps through the sobbing, broken rich and criminal alike, scooping up one of the dangerous ducksharks and holding it carefully under her arm as she brings up her shield and uses it to pin an alligator shark to the wall, glaring at the people cowering from it to MOVE>

Conner Kent has posed:
The T-shark is not as much charging as lumbering on Harper, but it is probably not a good time to start tinkering with the electrogun. By the time it is ready, Harper can smell the monster breath, it is opening its bloody mouth to bite her in two.

Fortunately that means a number of the piezoelectric bullets go inside its maw, which is pretty shocking for the Tyrannoshark. It recoils back, shaking with the discharges, and then stumbles down with a loud crash.

Dead? No, still twitching, but at least it is stunned for a minute or three. They might be able to find something to bind it. Or if all else fails, Phoebe can shove a fireball down its throat. The will result into some fried fish... lizard. Problem solved. Mostly.

The cops will be here soon. It is a good neighbour. But they better round up all the other sharks. As invasive species go, landsharks take the cake.