Old Satan - The Deadliest Game
I was on a mission. This was not just another fishing trip, this was about vengeance. This was about retribution, and I would not come back defeated. There was a good chance I would not come back at all.
Old Satan, they called it. A pike supposedly a hundred years old, or more. Considered an urban legend by some, but I knew better. It had haunted my very existence for the last twenty years, but today it would all end.
You see, I had seen Old Satan eye to eye. I had watched helpless, as the dreaded beast jumped in the boat, and swallowed dad whole. “Save yourself” were his last words, although I´m pretty sure I heard a muffled “Avenge my death, son!” coming from inside the fish as it plunged back into the depths of Lake Ghastly. To this day I swear, the fish looked at me as if saying: You´re next…
Old Satan was easily a 400-pound giant then, and I dared not imagine how much it had grown over these years. All I knew was, that I couldn´t afford to underestimate my nemesis. On this day, I came prepared. Apart from the usual fishing gear, I was armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and 100 rounds of ammo. I had five hand grenades, ten sticks of dynamite, a bazooka, and a 38 Smith&Wesson for a sidearm, just in case.
My boat was a 25-footer, with a motor considered illegal for inland waters. In the worst case scenario, I would have to drag the damn beast for hours, and I needed the sufficient horse power for that. I felt secure, but by no means safe.
The day was serene. The surface of Lake Ghastly was as smooth as it had ever been. There was an eerie sensation, of being lured into a trap, but I couldn´t let fear overcome me. As I started the engine, I knew there was no going back. Today, only one of us would come back alive. Me or the fish. Except of course, that the fish would not be coming back from anything in any case, it would simply continue living even if I was dead.
For bait, I had brought a 220lb shark from a previous fishing trip. Sharks are easy, and over the years I had mastered the art of catching shark with karate. As usually not found in inland waters, a shark is a rare and irresistible treat for a pike. Knowing this, I had also brought a couple of barrels of shark blood meant to be used as a lure.
Before the main event, I did a little “normal” fishing. Before long, I had caught me an average 45-pound pike, which I had no intention of keeping. “Go”, I said looking it squarely in the eye. “I have no beef with you. Go, and tell your master I have come. He´ll know.”
And it did. I knew it understood every word, now was the time.
The hook was the biggest ever made for fishing. I had had it done in Japan, by the master Sensei Hakamuro. It was hand crafted out of finest steel, melted from the swords of a hundred heroes, forged in dragon´s fire, and hammered into perfection by 12 chosen students of ancient blacksmithery. It had taken Hakamuro more than a year, but it was a debt of honor to my father, who had saved Hakamuro´s life in the war all those years ago. I wowed not to bring shame upon him, or to my father. I also promised to invite him over for some tasty fish soup, once the ordeal was done.
Now the shark was hooked, the hook attached to special-strength diamond wire, and the wire secured tightly to a crane capable of lifting up to 10000 tons. Hook, line and sinker.
All I had to do now was wait. Or so I thought—
It didn´t attack straight away, first it decided to mock me. There was a splash, and the aforementioned 55-pound practice fish dropped in my lap, its neck twisted grotesquely backwards. A message. I knew I only had a moment to respond. If I could only reach my shotgun… but I was too late. Even if I am the fastest man alive, the speed of Old Satan astounded even me. The diamond wire yanked, damn near tipping the boat over. There came a suction sound not of this earth, and with that the wire was released. As the boat splashed back to its regular horizontal position, the hook also came back. A useless piece of metal, that apparently meant nothing to the creature. Old Satan had simply sucked the shark out of it, as you might enjoy a cocktail olive, and returned the hook unusable. This was personal alright.
Nothing had prepared me for what happened next.
Old Satan started circling around the boat, and it was then when I realized the boat simply wasn´t big enough. My God the fish was huge, I wish you´d seen it. The shotgun felt like a joke now. How in the world could I ever have dreamt of taking on this beast?
As it settled itself in front of the boat, I understood its plans. It meant to eat the boat whole, and I had no means of stopping it.
It was laughing as it bit in, I can still hear that laugh in my dreams. With only a single bite, it had swallowed the bow already. I took the 38 and fired all six straight between its eyes, but the bullets merely ricocheted off its thick skull. What was I thinking, bringing a knife to a gunfight?
With the second swallow, the boat was 2/3 in the fish. I had barely started, but the giant behemoth was almost finishing. This was not going according to plan at all, but luckily I´m good at thinking on my feet.
With only a third of the boat left to go, I knew what I had to do. Without contemplating, I opened both shark blood-barrels, and jumped. This was madness, I knew it would easily outswim me after eating the boat, but it was the only way.
The beast devoured the boat as easily as you might enjoy a marshmallow. I was left now helpless on water, with nothing but a flare gun as my aide. I could see the tail of the boat sticking out of Old Satan´s mouth, with two barrels of shark blood barely visible.
We all know just how flammable shark blood is. I had only one shot, but luckily I was an Olympian athlete, and an army marksman, so I needed only one. The flare hit the other barrel exactly where supposed to, causing a deadly chain reaction. The blood ignited like gasoline, setting fire to the grenades and the dynamite.
Old Satan had a split second of regret as it understood. Its eyes seemed to say: “No wait”, but the time to wait had gone. “See you in Hell” I said as the dreaded beast exploded. Blood, scales and fish guts flew everywhere, and with that, Lake Ghastly was free of its curse. As if thanking me, the inhabitants of the lake came to my aid, and escorted me to the shore. The gulls and the fish came and feasted themselves on the remains of their oppressor for a hundred years. I wish I had had a camera.
So, in the end there is very little evidence of Old Satan´s gory defeat, or that the fish even existed. Even the 80-pound practice fish was destroyed in the explosion. I know some of you won´t believe me, but that´s ok. I know, and that is enough for me. The debt has been settled, and I know dad is up there somewhere, smiling and saying: “You did well son”.