▬▬▬▬ ⊰ jurassic world

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From the portside, Donald drank in the view of the still, blue ocean. Come nightfall it resembled freshly pressed glass, absent any anomaly save for the pale white moon casting its reflection over the abyss. Just proceeding midnight he happened across a rather gleeful couple who offered him a drink. They shared their concerns about the amusement park with him. The husband, a grizzled, seemingly retired navy seals officer, pressed his lips in a tight line and raved on about how he thought the idea of dinosaurs was altogether absurd whereas his wife, an altogether average looking woman with big brown doe eyes, predicted the adventure would be the proverbial spark that reignited their drab relationship. Given the circumstances Donald would usually drum up a lame excuse and vault away, but since his new acquaintances kindly offered him a decanter of sweet Cajun bourbon, he was in no position to decline. As he swilled his fill the two continued bickering. Eventually he interrupted and traipsed off on a tangent about the molecular structure of liopleurodon.

When morning crept about, Donald awoke when the announcement system on the crew ship heralded the vessel’s docking. He scrambled to collect his belongings, largely documents written in his drunken stupor during the cruise. Families from all demographics filed onto the gangplank; children were anticipating the attractions and, predominantly, the dinosaurs. Unfortunately, Donald made the rookie move of hastily booking his ticket. Mistakenly he reserved a hotel room on the main island, the generic tourist attraction and general hub of the underwater trams. Traffic was irritatingly high and there was a sufficient lack of alcohol, adult vacation services and women scantily clad enough to make him do so much as turn his head.

Upon disembarking, he was flanked by two security guards. One of them, evidently an ex-cartel member as Donald derived from his jaw tattoo, grappled him by shoulder. Donald, surprised, involuntarily jerked his arm away, but his assailant was persistent. “Donald Churches?”

Donald exhaled sharply. “Not if I owe you money. Or fucked your girlfriend. Or owe you money.” The security guards bristled, each roping his arms while escorting him well away from the crowd. He passed through some of the tourist attractions, ceremoniously being buffeted by his escorts as they encroached on either side. After a long walk, a ride in a tram and an exceptionally lengthy sojourner in a questionably new Ford, he was chaperoned into the depths of a facility that, much to his chagrin, was strangely familiar. Not nearly as familiar, however, as the woman standing in the shadows of a whirring metal console in the niches of the room. She was commiserating with a shorter fellow; he was stout, stern, and mustachioed. When he glimpsed Donald through a pane of glass he slid the door open, gave him an acknowledging nod and vanished behind a massive door.

“Sam? Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Donald freed himself from the security guards, rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders as his comrade eyed him with her strikingly light, hazel eyes. They were littered in flecks of gold, but however enticing they were, she had an insidious air about her that was the antithesis of inviting. “I don’t think the chaperons were necessary, nor was this entire show. You were never one for theatrics, why start now?” He pushed the frames of his handsome black spectacles high up onto the bridge of his nose. Much to his immediate aggravation, the woman replied with silence. “Listen. I’m really not in the mood for your ventriloquist act, Sam. What is this all about? Why, all of the sudden, are you guys hiring the Terminator and fucking … Robocop as security guards?” He could hear the hushed chuckles from a column of security surveillance personnel hiding behind their computer monitors.

“You seldom come when beckoned. The force was necessary, else I’d have had security chase you over the island.” Samosa’s voice was low, sweet and sonorous, heavily redolent of her South African heraldry. She was approaching six feet tall as quickly as she was approaching 3 decades in age. Where Donald was fair complected Samosa was swarthy; her entire face was littered in handsome, sandy freckles, from the corners of her lips to the full arch of her eyebrows. She was fully outfitted in security gear and was all too happy to tote around a six-round SPAS-12 on her back.

“Never understood why you carried around a shotgun. Awfully red-neck for a Capetowner, eh?” Donald scrutinized her with the utmost indignity as he loosed the dirt from his glasses with the hemline of his shirt. The incessant rubbing only seemed to make the glass foggier; he sighed. “What do you want. I’m here meeting someone.”

“Melissa Petty. I know. She’s just recently graduated from MIT. Impressive. I’m afraid I will have to impede on your date.”

“Christ, Sam. How do you know that—never mind. I know how you know. Question is, why are you snooping?”

“Because my employer pays me handsomely to snoop, bru. Dr. Wu has requested an audience. He has a proposition for you.” Truthfully, Donald never understood Samosa’s motives. She was ceremonious, exceptionally well disciplined and an anomaly on her own. They befriended each other in Cape Town—he was situated there doing archaeological research for his genetics thesis whereas she was partaking in something else that he loosely translated as criminal, but regardless, she, too, was enrolled in academic workings.

“A hard comfort. You’re here, that means there’s something under wraps that they’re working very hard to keep a secret. I’m not just a pretty face, Sam.”

Samosa chuckled darkly. “You had me fooled.”

“Fuck off. You’re like the fucking harbinger, Samosa; the heavy guns. They don’t call you in for no reason and I’m well aware that you’re no cheap coke-inhaling whore. You’re a high-class hussy. You don’t spread your legs for an 8-ball and a pretty prick. What’s in this for you?”

There was a lapse of silence. Samosa looked longingly at the door. “I mislike reading the synopsis before watching the movie. Dit is onbeskof om verrassings te bederf vir die toeskouers."

“Nice to know you’re still cryptic as all fuck. Just send me to meet the doctor. I’ll lay into you later.” Samosa flashed him an insidious grin and vanished, leaving Donald to throw his middle fingers up in a rude gesture as she departed. When Dr. Wu entered he mistakenly thought the gesture was directed at him, much to Donald’s embarrassment.

[ Dit is onbeskof om verrassings te bederf vir die toeskouers | It's rude to spoil surprises for guests. ]

God, Owen had thought that he was getting used to the climate on Isla Nublar, but today just had to take the piss out of everyone. It had to be close to one hundred and five where he was- too hot for any real work to be done. He had already sweated straight through both his undershirt as well as his favorite blue shirt, and the smell of it wasn't doing himself any credit. It was the humidity that was awful, too- Owen could deal with dry heat, he had plenty of times when he was in the Navy, but this was just absolutely ridiculous. It had been hot the entire week, but this was definitely the worse by far.

Fortunately, he had matters at hand to distract himself from the sweltering heat- namely his Raptors. They weren't feeling the heat in the same way that his human crew was, and thus they were just as eager and demanding for attention. Taking the time to spray him off with one of the tiny little water bottle-fans that were essentially free to staff in this weather, he sprayed himself off. Sure, it didn't help that much, but anything that offered even the possibility of relief was greatly appreciated. Owen turned from his little reprieve with the water bottle, going back to his workplace.

He took the metal stairs on the outside of the raptor enclosure two at a time, furrowing his brows as the sunlight hit the back of his neck. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the new lighting, but as he strolled along the catwalk over-looking the raptor enclosure, it became much easier to tell what was going on. Owen watched as the new kid- some mainlander, released the pig for their daily exercise. The little bugger was so fast, though he was fairly certain that his girls were just holding back when they toyed with it. He was fully aware that they were capable of running much faster than the tiny pig. He watched with no small pride as the pig charged into its tiny pen at the other side of the enclosure. He fished his clicker out of his back pocket, signalling in the order to let his Raptors know it was time for their mid-day meal.

Blue's curiosity was the first to pique, and when she charged over to Owen's shadow, the other three followed. Delta seemed to be lagging, as if distracted by something else. The handler clicked again, drawing her full attention this time. "Eyes on me, Delta. Keep it in shape." Maintaining eye contact, he fished around in the bucket of raw pig meat, before throwing down a large strip to Charlie. The raptor snapped it up greedily, but eyed the piece thrown to Echo after her. Of course, the raptor didn't lunge, but the look was in her eyes and Owen could tell. "Hey! Check yourself, Charlie." He could feel the eyes of his coworkers on him. He tossed the two remaining raw strips of pig down to Delta and Blue in that order, before turning away from the scene. They were sated now- probably off to go traipse through the central underbrush, in the one little place of privacy that they were allotted. Many precautions were made with the dinosaurs.

His attention was drawn away from his Raptor Squad to the loud noise of an incoming helicopter. They were fairly common, going in and out of the island, but this one wasn't one of the regular inGen choppers- it was a military-grade transport aerial vehicle, not exactly something that you saw every day.

In fact, this helicopter had the pleasure (though some begged to differ) of carrying Olivia Shire, along with her ticket to her paycheck. The chopper was military grade for a simple reason; they had just completed a grueling flight from Siberia, to the Polynesian Islands, and from there to Mexico City, before finally landing after two refuelings on Isla Nublar. the animal doctor's payload? A giant snake carrier, filled with two not-yet fully developed Siberian Pit Vipers. In her eyes they were beautiful, though she supposed that many would beg to differ. They had been from the same clutch, snatched from the mother by Olivia herself while her assistant had kept the larger, adult snake busy. The climate difference in the taiga-esque region of Siberia that she had been in to the tropical vibe of Isla Nublar had required a clothing change, though she was loath to be reminded that a meeting with Dr. Wu to discuss her recent trip would require business casual, and not a pair of running shorts and a tank top. She was so damn pale that she would regain that tan she had lost in Siberia rather quickly.

Trying to not jostle the snake carrier as Olivia exited the helicopter was an ordeal in and of itself, but with the assistance of two men who also grabbed her luggage to transport to one of the staff suites available on the other island. Of course, her own small satchel stayed with her at all times that she was on the ground, but other than that, she was completely liberated of all carrying except for the snake babies. She let her dark brown hair out of her shoddy bun, her now wavy strands falling down around her bust.

She had to fight her way past a sea of workers into the labs where she knew Dr. Wu was. It was funny, she had been in the labs several times, but Olivia had never looked so hungrily at the dinosaur specimens. She was... She was supposed to steal one of the completed specimens, to the Dozhd Bratva, one of the shittier Russian cartels to whom she owed a great deal of money in return for borrowing a lot of equipment in her earlier days as an animal smuggler. Leave it to her to get clean, get a job with inGen of all the companies, and then immediately get blackmailed by her old gang. Olivia nearly rolled her eyes at the thought of it. However, she pushed through a sea of frustrated workers with relative ease- most of them seemed to have keyed into the fact that she was carrying two poisonous (albeit not fully grown) snakes with her.

Olivia had just caught sight of Dr. Wu when he slid around the corner. She sped up, swiping her security badge to pursue him, now uncaring of whether she was jostling her snakes or not. They would live. Olivia had just caught up to the doctor, only to realize that they were standing in front of a rather young looking man, who appeared to either be telling them to go fuck themselves with both hands, or there was a large misunderstanding here. Olivia gritted her teeth. "I don't even know what to say- I'm embarrassed for you." This comment was directed at Donald, obviously.

Although Dr. Wu’s obsequious mien was balming, Donald was still uneasy. He smoothed over the creases in the collar of his outrageously gaudy top—it was splashed with orchids and a myriad of other colorful flowers, a trope that most middle-aged men on vacation in romantic comedy films wore. Despite his comedic sense of fashion, he was still dashing enough to earn glimpses from some of the female security responders. “Mr. Churches?” Dr. Wu extended his hand; Donald accepted, reciprocating with a firm shake. He wondered why a man would fathom wearing a wool-knit turtle neck in record-breaking heat but the thought was fleeting as he was addressed by a stranger.

“Excuse me?” His throat was dry. He was still trying to subdue the stabbing sensation behind his eyes, likely a symptom from his binge drinking the prior night. “Who are you? Listen, lady. The only person that needs to be embarrassed for me is me and my poor mother. Thanks.” Dr. Wu, again, watched on in mild bewilderment. He closed the space between them, purposely blocking Donald’s view to capture his attention.

“I would like to speak to you in private, Mr. Churches. I assure you this is a matter of the utmost importance. In addition, I am awaiting another who has been summoned.”

“Summoned? I’m sorry, doc, but you hired one of the most vicious animals on this side of the world to assault me, abduct me, then literally drag me to here—wherever here is. I hardly consider that as ‘summoning’. ‘Summoning’ is for fucking … MMOs and Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, pardon my French. Furthermore, Samosa is a monster. Are you comfortable having a mercenary of her calibre working for you?”
The doctor gave the security line a once over and smiled. “Very much so. Ms. Mamba-Zayer has an impressive repertoire; her field experience is unprecedented, as is yours, Mr. Churches, which is why I have summoned you here. I’m assembling a genetics team. A field genetics team.” He clasped Donald on his back; he flinched, glimpsing over his shoulder at the fair-skinned intruder toting two, likely poisonous, serpents.

“See, I’m worried about things like that. Random women carrying around snakes, as if dinosaurs weren’t bad enough. You guys should run with a Kill Bill theme here in the security office.” Although humored by his own jest, Dr. Wu was not nearly as tickled pink. “No? Ah, fuck it. Let’s go chat.”

“In a moment, my friend. Ms. Shire? Is that you? Oh my, how rude of me. I apologize—I didn’t recognize you. Please, if you would, follow me. Mr. Churches, this is the second I mentioned. Olivia Shire.”

Meanwhile, Samosa’s presence was requested by her employer, Vic. He requested that she and her team escort him—and oversee—the presentation at the raptor cages. During their journey through the broad roads sweeping through the valley, Samosa could make out the etchings a magnificent blue sphere through the early afternoon fog. It was miles away, several islands down the chain and she had never once been there. It was a new attraction years away from even being released to the press or acknowledge as a potential attraction. It was a new biome, a technology erected for, likely, unscrupulous use. She deigned not pay too much attention to it, but the mere shadow of it on the horizon was haunting.

She led the caravan on a slender, obsidian-black motorcycle with Vic riding in Humvee behind them. Their arrival at the raptor cage was heralded by Barry, a co-worker of Samosa’s. She swung a leg over her vehicle, greeting him cordially with a handshake. He beamed from ear to ear, flashing his almost blindingly white teeth in a friendly welcome, but his smile waned when he saw Vic waltz into view. He muttered something to her in Afrikaans and she rebuked with a low, guttural growl. Preceding their exchange she hoisted her bike gloves from her hands by the index finger, revealing a series of intricate runes on her knuckles, tracing well into the palm of her hands. She was littered in tattoos, some detailed, others merely geometric, but virtually none of them were asymmetrical. Regardless they didn’t subtract from her feminine magnetism.

The most notable tattoo was a handsomely drawn depiction of the nine circles of hell inked on the inside of her right forearm. There was an emphasis on the sixth circle, heresy, by the notably darker ink. After depositing her gear into one of the cage’s lockers she ascended into the rafters with Vic who was seen grinning from ear to ear. He invited himself to watch Owen Grady demonstrate the contributive abilities of his velociraptors. Samosa remembered working with one pack but only briefly. Vic had them put down for ripping the stomach from one of his subordinates. Truthfully, Samosa was hurt by it; she and Barry developed a bond with them. Although Barry trained them, she worked diligently to see that they were protected and grew in tandem with proper socialization.

Much to Samosa’s chagrin, she was pulled away when she noted a trio of men skulking around the raptor cage. There was nothing special about them—they were American, in their early twenties and inebriated. They staggered, slipping their cans of beer in through the cage bars, sequentially spilling the brews all over the pulpy growth inside of the cage. The smell was virtually a lure to some dinosaurs. Unfortunately for the boys, the cage they chose to deface belonged to a small group of Compsognathus. Though petite and relatively harmless, they were a threat in groups. One of the drunks thrust his hand through the cage to pet one and that was when Samosa intervened. She jerked one back by his collar and gave the second a quick buffet to his stomach with her foot. “Hey! Lady!” they shrieked, earning the attention of one of the workers participating in Owen’s demonstration.

“’The fok you think you’re doing, then?” Samosa’s snapped. The boys exchanged two uneasy looks as the third attempted to make his getaway, but Samosa’s comrades thwarted his escape.

“Ah man. I love Australians. You Australian? Why you tryn’a ruin a good time, eh? Aussie, right?”

Samosa pressed her lips in a hard line. She knelt next to one of the men, turned his head and directed his line of sight at the hungry little creatures throwing their entire weight into the cage bars. “See them?” The man nodded. “Those little bugga’s will eat clean through your knuckles. Once one half is gnawing on your fingerbones, they rest’ll knock you flat on your back and bore into your belly. Fortunately for them, seems you’re already sauced. I’m confident they won’t say no to marinated meat.” The boys all swallowed hard and Samosa concluded her rant with a frown.

“Also. I ain’t fokken Australian, yeah? I hate Aussies. I much prefer Kiwis.”

Olivia had no idea who this utter buffoon was, but the doctor seemed to be quite interested in talking to him, so that ruled out all options except for two- he was either some off-duty staff member, or some random asshole who had caused a security breach. Given his attitude, both were likely. He didn't seem to be very apologetic for having made a rather rude gesture at the both of them, however accidental it could have been. The animal specialist began to take in rather deep breaths, clutching at her snake carrier until her knuckles went white from the tightness of her grip. She would get through this without exploding in front of the doctor, she had to.

'In, and out. In, and out. In and out. In. And. Out. In. And. Out. In.And.Out. Inandout. inandout. inandoutinandoutinandout.' God, her life was absolute hell. Having to put up with the goddamn Russian mob holding a knife to her throat, whoever this asshole was. In fact, she was so preoccupied with bemoaning her own life that she completely missed the initial part of Dr. Wu's conversation with whoever this was. She was engrossed enough to have missed his name, if Dr. Wu had even said it. Truth be told, Olivia only tuned back in when the man in the tacky Hawaiian shirt mentioned her and the snakes.

All hope (not that there was much to begin with) of Olivia being able to get through the situation with a few deep breathing exercises was cut off abruptly by her blood rising into her cheeks. To anyone uneducated in her temper, Olivia would have appeared rather flustered, or perhaps flattered. Ironically, the girl calmly set down the snake carrier, and began to fiddle with the clamp holding the carrier in place. "I swear to the actual fucking god I would slam your face into this thing and see how pathetic you get when you're squealing," she murmured under her breath, sliding a glove onto her right hand, before picking up the larger of the two snakes. The pit viper was placated, of course- she wasn't going to take any actual risks around the doctor.

Hopefully this asshole wouldn't realize it though. The snake swayed low on her hand, its eyes dilating as it examined its new surroundings. Olivia approached Donald, holding eye contact with a rather irritated look in her eyes. "Please fucking tell me you're not actually here to-" Goddammit. Dr Wu's words confirmed that he was going to be at least a temporary addition to the genetics team that the doctor had been harping on about for weeks. "What the actual hell," she whined, slightly lowering her snake hand. She faced the doctor with a look of absolute incredulity, as if she was hoping that maybe he had mispoken, or that this man was not the right person. It didn't look like either of those were good possibilities, as Dr. Wu seemed to be rather serious.

Meanwhile, Owen was being confronted with a person that he disliked almost as equally, though he admittedly had more reason to do so.

"Hey, Grady!" Oh, how wonderful. Just what he needed right then.

Vic Hoskins was a plague to inGen. The man made it clear that he was more concerned about commercializing the dinosaurs even more so- taking them out of their extremely secure archipelagos environment, and dumping them into a war-zone. He could remember something rather witty an author had written- the dude who had been involved with the Isla Nublar incident back in the 90s- 'capitalism killed the cat', or something along those lines. It had been significantly wittier in writing, and it certainly came out strange to his co-workers when Owen hissed it under his breath.

Owen descended the steps of the stairs around the border of the raptor enclose with quickness, glaring as Vic approached with his crew in tow. All thoughts about the sweltering heat and his raptor squad had been shoved to the side, he wanted to know why exactly they were here, and if it was just because Vic wanted another looksy at the enclosure. It was only when the two military men actually met that Owen caught sight of the far more interesting view of Samosa hauling ass over to two hooligans who had slipped through security. "Yeah, this can wait." The raptor handler pushed past the man, watching the scenario unfold with a grin on his face.

Samosa was more than capable of handling it, which was exactly why he wasn't charging over to assist. At least, that was his alibi if she asked why he was so calmly strolling towards her instead of actually making any attempt to help with the two clearly drunk tourists. There was a liquid on the ground, though it already seemed to be evaporating in the heat. Just went to show how awful it was on the archipelagos this time of year.

By this point, most of the people around the raptor enclosure had turned to watch Samosa corral the two drunkards- it was probably the best entertainment that they were going to get all day.

"Is it like herding small cats?" Leave it to him to fill the air with the most ridiculous of rhetorical questions. He was grinning widely at this point, a certain spark in his eyes. She certainly had seemed to put the fear of lizards (the general substitute for gods on this island) into them, what with her rather threatening explanation of how the little Compsognathi would swarm and kill them. Did it in a rather timely fashion, too.

"I swear, they shouldn't have even let tourists onto this island to begin with." This particular chunk of land was mainly used for containing rather uncontainable and bestial lizards, but despite that there was a moderately popular attraction on the island, which was probably how these few drunks had gotten here- hopped on the ferry, arrived, and had promptly stumbled out of the boundaries to go and pour their beers into the shrubbery of enclosures. He'd offer to give the little dinosaurs a finger, if it wouldn't permanently give them a taste for human blood.

Because he shared such close proximity with Olivia, Dr. Wu balked having been well within an earshot of her utterance. He grimaced, but not nearly as hard as Donald did. The man was so angered by her advance that he threw his sunglasses across the security floor. One of the passing guards was kind enough to retrieve them, but when they were returned to his person, he panicked and threw them a second time. Following a full-body flinch, Donald faced Dr. Wu, stabbing at him with a gesture redolent of his dismay. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he howled. The entire line of security system administrators fixed their attention on the situation as it unfolded. “Who is this lady? Fuck, you can’t call her that. Do you guys not screen for your test teams? I mean, for fuck’s sake, you’ve let Medusa traipse into your security office toting all of her goddamn spawns.”

“Enough, Mr. Churches. And enough from you as well, Ms. Shire. We’ve come here to conduct business. Truthfully, the two of you are indebted to us given the circumstances. Now, if you’d like to discuss these sensitive matters in front of the entire security team than please, by my guest.” Donald frowned, pushing back a lock of hair. Although it was unordinarily cold in the office, he felt a bead of sweat slither down the slope of his forehead, as if it were one of Olivia’s serpents. “Given the delicate nature of the subject, I will ask that we relocate. In addition—” Dr. Wu cleared his throat as he unfastened his cuff-links. Clearly, the exchange between Donald and Olivia aggravated him. “I request that the profanity be kept to a minimum. Although we are, technically, behind closed doors, we remain sequestered within a professional environment. Eyes are everywhere, Mr. Churches and Ms. Wildes. Regardless. Follow me, please.”

He lead them into a small, encased room two levels down underneath the security atrium. The walls were blindingly white, decorated shelves decked from top to bottom with fragments of amber and egg shells. As he gestured for the two to sit, he, obsequiously, poured himself a cup of black coffee. He felt it wise not to offer the two any caffeine after their tantrums. “I’ll be curt. We’re in need of small field team to assume the role as tourists but study the attractions, in addition, we require that they collect samples and intel.” He pressed his lips in a line, fetching a dossier from the desk situated near the coffee pot. “I’ll have you both sign these. We’ll erase all debts with whichever debtors—that has already been arranged. Agree to the terms, work for us and in a few years ‘ time, you may return to your lives. However … natural you may think they are.” He smiled, although, it was unsettling with Donald—Dr Wu was a gentle and very soft-spoken man, but had a sinister air to him and it worried Donald profusely.

Like a wild ox, Samosa snorted. “Not even remotely. I like cats.” She tossed one of the miscreants towards a van that peeled in from the main road. More of her men filed from the vehicle, most ordered in on Vic’s behest, but two apprehended the drunks, escorted them into the back of the van and departed as swiftly as they materialized, leaving Samosa and Owen to observe the cage from the ground. Truthfully Samosa only knew Owen on a first name basis because she protected his coveted enclosure from wandering slackjaws who felt that the main attractions weren’t titillating enough. That, fortunately, was only a percentage of the time. The other fraction she was conscripted to thwart trespassers, specifically the one whose focus was to abduct the velociraptors. They were harmless when incapacitated and easily transported. Samosa was informed because she worked with them once upon a time, however, briefly. She enjoyed her brief stint with them but likened security more.

“Sam.” Vic cried down to her from the barrack. The bridge overhead was sturdy, but Samosa feared the small, squat little man would fall through the rebar.

“’Aye?” she responded. He circuited around the stairwell and beckoned her up. For a moment she locked gazes with Owen, as if to ask him to save her from her tormentor, but by the second she blinked Samosa was on top of the platform behind Vic who was eagerly awaiting the show.