Sir Frederick Selous - New Orleans
For once, Sir Frederick did not look out of place in his surroundings: A bit outdated, perhaps, but there were many others like him in this strange city. Not to mention the disturbed crossdressers, circus performers, pimps and prostitutes, lawmen and racists... A melting pot of all mankind. Frederick, for all intents and purposes, was as incognito as he was capable of getting: He was, after all, deep in the hunt: The legendary Trumpet-Playing Gator lived here, and soon, would die here. He had been tracking it through the swamps for weeks, and it was finally cornered here, in the French Quarter.
His elephant gun loaded and primed, Sir Selous looked down each through street and alleyway, following the sounds of sorrowful trumpet. His trek was almost done, and he would have a rare, taxidermy brass player to show for it. Finally, down a dark street behind a beignet stand... There stood the mournful 'dile, playing his swan song on the cornet. It was almost enough to make Frederick reconsider his course of action. Almost. And so, he pulled the trigger, letting the sound of an elephant gun being fired echo through the streets of New Orleans.
