The check was just about to be handed over, when both men heard a commotion coming from the town beach of Amity Island. Looking at each other in puzzlement, Martin Brody and Quint the shark hunter started heading toward the sounds of noisy confusion a few blocks away, with the police chief absently tucking away the slip of paper in his front shirt pocket. Soon, they became swept up in the crowd of townsfolk that suddenly appeared, with the population of the entire village also leaving their homes and shops to join in the mob all walking fast in the direction of the beach. A few moments later, the pair managed to push their way to the front of the crowd that had stopped short in sheer shock, emotions that were abruptly mirrored on the faces of the men who'd short time ago had been planning their expedition to find and destroy the monster that had killed several people.
An expedition that was now totally pointless.
Walking inland towards the crowd, a small, blond, very angry, very wet woman in soaked clothing that consisted a blouse, pants, and a single expensive formal shoe that made her stagger slightly in her stride, all while gripping the end of the tail partially resting on her shoulder, continued dragging along the beach a massive, multi-ton, great white shark that was at least twenty-five feet long. Though, at this moment, nobody was going to come anywhere near this creature with a tape measure, considering it was still alive and in a truly bad mood, as expressed by its flailing body and gnashing jaws that slammed together six-inch fangs sharper than any razor ever made.
The crowd stared at the woman coming nearer, whose only response to the struggles of the shark she was still holding in her intense clutch, was an increasingly grimmer face, that was copied in her gritted muttering that everyone else managed to hear in the awed silence.
"Stupid dimensional portals that dumped me a few miles in the ocean! Stupid big fish that think my Manolo Blahniks are a tasty snack! Stupid time traveling - I swear, if I have to wear big hair and dress in rayon in this dimension, I'm going to kill myself to see if three for three will really do the job!"
Glaring at the crowd, who all took a simultaneous step back, the woman stopped in her tracks, to disgustedly let go of the shark's tail, as she started wiping the palms of her hands against the front of her pants legs. Her captive promptly took advantage of this, humping its immense body along the sand to eagerly drag itself back towards the ocean, unblinking black eyes fixed on its natural element where it would seize its chance to frantically swim far, far away from that little primate which had totally humiliated the ruler of the seas.
"Oh, no, you don't!" yelled the furious woman, whirling around to dash along the entire length of the escaping shark until she came up to this animal's head, whereupon she dealt a mighty kick to this portion of the enormous fish's body. Actually lifted several inches off the ground, the shark came slamming back down on the sand, now absolutely limp, either rendered unconscious or even stone-cold dead.
After giving the shark one last evil glare, the woman now bent down to take off her remaining shoe. Straightening up with this piece of footwear in her hand, a more balanced female stomped in her bare feet towards the crowd, which speedily parted like the Red Sea several thousand years ago commanded to allow the passage of the pursued Jews. Ignoring every open-mouthed citizen, the departing woman was delayed only when a single man stepped in her path.
"Ah, ma'am," a flabbergasted Martin Brody managed to utter, all while being given a really nasty look by the halted woman, "I believe this is yours." At that, he held out the check taken from his pocket towards the still-dripping blonde, who had a wary expression suddenly appear on her features.
Suspiciously, the woman growled, "This isn't a littering ticket, is it? Well, it is, I'm gonna- TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?" After yelling that last, she stared in disbelief at the check in her hand, to then look in bewilderment at the police chief.
Martin cleared his throat, and managed to explain. "That was what the town was going to pay whoever killed that shark you, uh, brought here. Well, nobody ever said how it had to be done, so I guess you might as well as have it."
A truly charming smile was now bestowed upon the handsome man in the trim uniform, as the woman gave a happy giggle, while again staring at the money she had in her hand. "Great! This'll help me get home, for sure. I can find someone with the mojo to send me back with this!" Looking up, the woman asked Martin, "Hey, is there a bank here that I can cash it in?"
Blinking, Martin now finally accepted today's weirdness in a resigned shrug, to then point up the main street of Amity. "There's one two blocks up. Uh, thanks again. Say, could I at least know who you are?"
Turning away, a beaming woman called over her shoulder as she started down the street. "Summers. Buffy Summers."
Martin continued staring after the strangely-named woman walking away in her victorious strut, until a soft thud by him caught the police chief's attention. Looking down at the ground where Quint had fallen in his faint, as the rest of the crowd dispersed to step closer to the shark to examine it and others of the mob went back to their homes to get their knives, forks, barbecues, and tartar sauce ready, Martin absently said to the insensible fisherman, "It looks like we don't need your boat, bigger or otherwise."