Tanked < Deluxe - FULL REVIEW >

Barn couldn’t pay. He had exactly $47.32 and a heart full of desperation. So he did the only logical thing: he got Tanked.

Barn watched Reginald perform a perfect, slow-motion backflip off the plastic arch. “Most people don’t have a shrimp with a better agent than they do.”

“And your over-reliance on sysco frozen scallops is yours,” Karma said, stepping into the light. Tanked

The ransom note was written on a napkin from a rival truck, “The Gilded Grouper,” and pinned under a salt shaker. $5,000 or the shrimp gets the big sleep. No cops. No crustacean psychics.

Karma stopped wiping. She set the glass down. She leaned forward, her face a mask of profound, professional concern. “How much?” Barn couldn’t pay

“Because you’re the only person I know who has a key to the storm drain system,” Barn whispered. “Chet keeps his backup lobster tank in the basement of The Gilded Grouper. The drain access is right outside. I need you to let me in.”

They emerged through a rusty grate into the basement of The Gilded Grouper. It was a fluorescent-lit horror show of canned goods and dust. And there, in the corner, was the tank. $5,000 or the shrimp gets the big sleep

“Freeze, shrimp-napper!” a voice squeaked.

And now he was in the hands of Chester “Chet” Marlin, owner of The Gilded Grouper, a man who served imitation crab and called it “artisanal loaf.”