[ WP ] Every 50 years all the different coalitions of planets come together to pit their toughest predator against each other in a duel tournament . This year the Terran coalition is out to win for the first time in 54 tournaments since their entry to the intergalactic stage .

**Part 1** 
 Last tournament the earth predator development team sent a genetically altered boa constrictor with venom glands to the competition. For the first time in more than 2500 years, we made it past the first round. The 45 foot beast had made easy work of the vaguely feline candidate from Rhygel and had won a close battle with the taloned pachyderm sent by the Astari. In fact it made it to the third round, before it was incinerated by a giant fire-beetle. Then the revolution happened and the Sioux-Asiatic movement assumed control over the global parliament. The war had taken its toll and part of it had been the demise of the earth predator development team, most of its experiments had been released as weapons in an effort to maintain power by the previous administration, they had failed and no one had thought about the tournament until after the consolidation of power. Our membership in the coalition required our participation at a “ satisfactorily ” level in the tournament or we risked expulsion, which mean easy prey for the galactic raiders that regularly plundered non-coalition worlds. Earth had been scraping by for a while; last year had been the first real success. The hope of winning the prize, control over a coalition battle fleet, was always out of reach. Fifty years with a fleet meant expansion, conquest, more territory, and more money. Consequently the winners inevitably got richer and were able to devote more resources to their predator development. The Ess-Chem ’ s had one for the past 5 tournaments, and the empire had grown to include not only their local system, but a neighboring non-coalition system as well. There were rumors they were sending some sort of flying lizard to this year ’ s tournament. 
 
 
 The rules of the tournament were simple, each planet donated one creature that could only bring defenses and weapons native to its natural form every fifty years. The creatures were paired up in an elimination tournament, each match taking place in different environments until a survivor was crowned one year later. After matches creatures were allowed to heal for two weeks before fighting again. Each year the runner up from the previous year got to host the tournament, as well as manage the wagering, the winner got the aforementioned fleet. It paid to be in the finals. 
 Ten years ago the Sioux-Asiatic party came to power and found itself without a predator to send. Ten years was not long enough to develop a genetically new creature, that took at least a few generations. Some said we should just send a shark and hope for an aquatic first round. The risk was if the first round was a jungle or a desert…well we would probably be kicked out of the coalition. Once we were out, petitions took centuries and by then, raiders would have stripped our world of resources. Even if our petition was accepted, acceptance meant invitation to a tournament and performance was taken into account when voting on coalition membership. Earth had been lucky to be an early member of the coalition, before the elevation of the tournament to such importance. 
 
 
 My name is Lionel, I am a tracker and hunter for the earth predator development team, it ’ s my job to find and capture earths most dangerous predators for selective breeding. I come from a tribe of tracker-hunters, generations of men, women, and mwendas who have dedicated their lives to the predator capture life. Last night, during a rather heated debate in the global senate, a question had been asked what was earths apex predator. The debate, very different from the usual administrative proceedings, had varied from ants to orcas before the chancellor himself offered a unique perspective: 
 “ People of this congress, allow me to make an unconventional suggestion. I think the tracker-hunters are our planets apex predators. Whenever we need something dangerous captured or killed, we turn to them, what if we sent a tracker-hunter to the tournament? ” A hush came over the room, and the representatives looked to me, the expert witness on creatures dangerousness for a reaction, I was speechless. Upon closer inspection over the next few days, the attorneys found no exclusion of sentient creatures clause in the tournament rules. A message was sent to the coalition leadership asking for clarification, the response came back that the creature simply had to have its ’ own native offensive and defensive characteristics, but they were not limited to physical features. 
 
 
 As the foremost tracker-hunter, I was nominated. With two years to prepare, plates of heat dissipating self-healing kyrex armor were surgically woven into my skin. Many of my genetic traits, developed over centuries of manipulation by the tracker-hunters were slightly tweaked, my night-vision was augmented, I had webs sewn in between my toes and my lungs and torso were slightly expanded to more than quadruple my lung capacity. I could swim as fast a dolphin and hold my breath under water for forty five minutes. I couldn ’ t run as fast as a cheetah, but I could run for a week straight at twenty miles per hour. Years of genetic alteration had created almost unbreakable bones and incredibly fast healing in tracker-hunters, the downside was a misshaped appearance that was shunned by most of humanity. Tracker-hunters miles from the nearest civilization in the Australian outback and we were denied many basic human rights: voting, freedom of movement, mandatory registration upon birth. No one dared start a war with the tracker-hunters, but no one accepted them either, we were earths dangerous, necessary pariahs. 
 
 
 I didn ’ t have a special training regime, I just continued my job, hunting down a man-eating crocodile in Micronesia, doing basic anaconda population control in the Everglades, tagging great white sharks for monitoring off the coast of South Africa. Forty years of work had been my training, a thousand years of genetic direction was my foundation. 
 A month before the tournament I was taken on a world tour, presented as our champion to the people of earth. The global senate instructed me to wear something fierce, something scary, I wore a tailored suit with a Sioux-Asiatic party pin on the lapel. Part of the spectacle of the tournament is the surprise of each worlds creature ’ s appearance, so after my month long trip I was placed inside a large locked metal cell with no windows and loaded onto the tournament transport ship. Just for fun I snuck a hammer on board and would pound on the walls whenever I hear someone in the transport chamber, no growling, no yelling, just a well-times clang. 
 
 
 Pre-tournament inspections were done by teams of scientists and I passed with flying colors. I could see the surprise in their eyes when they entered a room and I sat there smiling, showing them my sharpened incisors answering all their questions and volunteering any information they needed. They were used to huge predators that would just as soon rip their head off as submit to an examination of their ears. The predator reveal was a joke, each world had a building that housed its predator and visitors would come and marvel at its ferociousness, book makers would judge it to assign odds. Just for fun I put an empty glass box on display and acted as the tour guide/host of earth ’ s exhibit. I told them our predator was a bacteria and the box had been hermetically sealed. Occasionally I would “ accidentally ” drop the box and scream for them to leave and go get themselves tested at the nearest medical facility. Only upon leaving were visitors given chips with the truth and my stats. I made quite a splash, even went on a few dates with Rhygelian females…at least I suspected they were females. 
 
 
 The tournament came soon enough, the brackets were released along with the settings. I was matched with a feline animal from some world petitioning the coalition. The setting was a desert, good thing we had not sent the shark. The feline predator was described as 600 kilos of rage and claws. It had six legs and bite that apparently could crush glaorts, whatever those were. The betting card advertised reflexes faster than a lightning bolt and a roar louder than thunder. I was not sure how the roar improved its lethality, the only deadly animal I knew that used sound was a tiny shrimp, either way, it was given 22:1 odds to beat me. I placed a wager on myself. 

