She had this all planned out. Now that her and her packmates were free, it was time to get some sweet revenge on the man that had hurt them so much. While one went to take care of the woman, the alpha female and her other packmate set to hunt down the hunter.
She didn’t care for his name.
Sticking to the bushes and the long grass, she trilled quietly at her packmate, watching as she trotted on ahead, getting into position. After all, it was hard to tell each raptor apart from a distance. And especially in foliage that they nearly blended into. He wouldn’t notice…nor would he care. He would try to take them down one at a time…
But that wouldn’t happen today.
She stalked him from the side, easily catching his scent. And she waited. Being as quiet as possible, watching as her packmate made herself noticable, if only a little bit.
He honestly had no idea why he was doing this. He was a hunter, not a paleontologist, and he certainly didn’t belong at a lecture on paleontology. But when he had seen the name in the paper he couldn’t stop himself.
It had been almost ten years since the incident at Jurassic Park. And Muldoon’s mind and body both bore the scars. The therapy he had blown his lawsuit money on had only gone so far–no amount of hypnosis or talking it out would ever make him forget the things he had seen and experienced. Sometimes he caught himself thinking of the others that had been involved. He knew Hammond had been ousted from his position as CEO of InGen four years after the incident, around the time the company was hit for the lawsuits for wrongful death and negligent practices that unnecessarily endangered human life. Muldoon’s ex-wife had been the one to put the bug in his ear about pursuing a lawsuit of his own, and he had, though the company had chosen to settle the matters out of court and paid all parties a sum of money to shut them up and get them off its back.
Robert’s sum had added up to $12.6 million.
Most of it had gone towards therapy. None of it had really helped. He still woke up screaming in the middle of the night, his dreams occasionally occupied by bloodthirsty raptors either ripping him apart or slowly torturing him to death. The scars would seemingly hurt after this, making sleep impossible.
He hadn’t tried to contact anyone that had been involved with InGen–in fact, he’d done his best to separate himself despite the media circus that had hounded him and the other survivors first after the lawsuits and then again after that dreadful incident in San Diego. People knew his name–some even tried to ask him about the Park, and that had gotten him into trouble when he’d punched a man’s lights out for asking rather prodding questions about the scars. Muldoon wasn’t a man to hide them but he bloody well didn’t want anyone asking about them either. And the raptor claw he wore around his neck was most definitely off limits.
He was certain, however, that if he were spotted by the man giving the lecture that night, he would almost certainly ask about the raptor claw. Yet that didn’t stop him from going to the auditorium where the lecture was being held, nor from finding a seat closer to the front, where he could more easily observe the paleontologist–even if that meant making himself even more likely to be spotted. He shot a glare at a couple of people staring at him, making them quickly avert their gazes elsewhere and no doubt change their topic of conversation pretty quickly. He fiddled with the raptor claw, the only sign of nervousness he was willing to show in public.
Definitely one of the weirder things I’ve woken up to.
(Picture is not mine, but I don’t remember where I got it from. And before anyone jumps down my throat about it, I have tried using sources like TinEye and SauceNAO and things like that, and none of them have worked for me. So if you’ve something rude to say about me not sourcing properly, you can shut up and get off my blog, because I have tried. On the other hand, if you do know where it came from and can link me to the source in a mature and adult manner, I will more than welcome that. I’ll even thank you when I edit the post.)
EDIT: FOUND THE SOURCE! It’s Marty993 on deviantart.
I have been on a sort of unannounced lurking hiatus this past week. The few replies I’ve received have, of course, been put into the drafts folder. At this point in time, I have no choice but to step away from tumblr RP for the foreseeable future. If you want to see my litany of reasons why in a semi-ranting post, you can check this out. I have to decide if it will be worth it to come back and RP here, because despite all the bad stuff and negative energy in this place, this is the easiest and best RPing experience I’ve had (granted, I haven’t had many, but the ease which people can write replies and messages is far better than what I imagine it would be anywhere else). To be honest, I don’t know when I’ll be back, or if I’ll even be back at all. As of right now, all my RP blogs are on an indefinite hiatus. I won’t delete them, because I’m too much of a sentimental sap to do so. I have to decide if I want to give tumblr RP another chance, or if I’m going to become a Skype-only RPer. At this point in time, I don’t know.
I might dust off my personal blog sometime soon—I’ve collected a lot of posts in my favorites that I want to queue up over there. I will not be giving the URL of my personal blog to anyone, sorry. Right now, I need my distance from the RP side of tumblr, and the people in it. For those that have my Skype, I can usually be found there. Again, I’m not giving my Skype to everyone who asks. I might make a new Skype account or clean up the one I have—I haven’t decided yet. I will probably pop onto my RP blogs from time to time to lurk about and check up on some things, probably fave some more posts, but I won’t be replying to messages or anything like that. I still have to decide what I want to do with my drafts, and the messages in my inbox. Once I figure it out, I’ll let you know.
Thanks for your time, infinite patience, and understanding.
(Note: I don’t own the character of Pocket. She belongs to my friend and RP partner the-clever-girl.)
Muldoon first noticed her on one of his routine drives through the park.
She was lounging lazily on a rock, right next to one of the tour roads, her tail twitching idly as she soaked up the sun. Robert stopped his Jeep a good distance away, immediately concerned.
After all, the Dilophosaurs were supposed to be contained. Yet this one was quite obviously not. How she had managed to get out was anyone’s guess.
The hunter sat there for several minutes, just watching, partially hidden from the dinosaur’s view by overhanging foliage. The Dilo didn’t move, except to nip at flies that got too close to her.
As he observed her, he noticed that the crests on the top of her head were shaped oddly. A closer look showed him that the crests were cracked, as if they’d been damaged. Probably ran into something or got into a fight with another Dilo.
Slowly, Muldoon reached down for his gun and readied it, removing the bullets he usually kept in it, “in case of the worst possible scenario.” He replaced the bullets with a tranquilizer dart, wincing slightly as the gun made a little too much noise for his liking. He stood up in the Jeep, resting his elbows along the vehicle’s top frame, sighting down the barrel at the Dilophosaurus. She had raised her head, but otherwise remained unmoving. Robert’s finger rested on the trigger, ready to shoot…
…But he froze as the dinosaur looked right at him. She had to have seen him; there was no way she couldn’t have. He tensed up, fully expecting her to run off or, worse, spit her blinding venom at him. And he was well aware that the Dilos had excellent range. It would be child’s play to hit him in the face, even from this distance and angle.
To his surprise, she did neither. She stood up and stretched, momentarily reminding the hunter of the big cats he used to keep an eye on in Africa. She hopped off the rock and approached him, tail swishing through the air. She stopped short, just a few feet away from the Jeep, tilting her head and cooing curiously.
It would be too easy to peg her with the dart now.
But something stayed Robert’s hand, even though his finger remained on the trigger. He watched as the Dilophosaurus tilted her head the other way, then lowered her body slightly, in an obviously playful display. Muldoon had never seen such behavior from any of the dinosaurs in the park, much less from a carnivorous one. Though, he supposed, it could’ve been a distraction, intended to occupy his attention and lull him into letting his guard down. But after several minutes of watching her, it became clear she wasn’t going to attack. She truly wished to play with him, unaware (or simply not caring) that he still had a dart with her name on it.
When Robert didn’t respond to her playful displays, she trilled at him and walked around the Jeep, sniffing and nosing it. Finally, Muldoon set his gun aside and hopped out of the Jeep, approaching the Dilophosaurus.
She trilled happily, lowering herself to the ground again—right before launching herself at him and tackling him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. She snapped her jaws teasingly at his throat, and Muldoon pushed her face away, getting his fingers nipped in the process.
“That was not—oof!—an open invite—” But the playful Dilo didn’t seem to care, and she settled herself on top of him like she had done on the rock. Any attempts to get her to move ended in failure, and finally Muldoon gave up with a heavy sigh.
“I was not aware ‘dinosaur cushion’ was in my job description.” he huffed in irritation, a bit put out he’d fallen into the Dilo’s trap anyway. The Dilophosaurus in question trilled happily and nuzzled under his chin, her frill ruffling slightly with a soft rattle. She made her way down his neck, sniffing and nuzzling him with contented purrs. Finally, she stuck her nose into his breast pocket, seemingly content with just sitting there like that.
“I don’t have any food for you…” the game warden said, shifting a little in an effort to unbalance the carnivore perched on his chest. He was more than a little nervous at being in such a vulnerable position, and he was mentally berating himself for leaving his gun in the Jeep.
The Dilophosaur snorted, looking up at him with playful, intelligent eyes, her nose still buried in his shirt pocket. No matter which way he moved, the Dilo moved with him and remained in that same position. Only once did she snap at his face in irritation, and even then she didn’t come close to actually biting him. Robert realized that if the dinosaur had wanted him dead she would’ve done so by now. And she wasn’t going to move from her new perch until she was good and ready.
Muldoon was about ready to call for some assistance from one of the other dinosaur wranglers when he heard a voice echoing through the trees. At first he couldn’t tell who it was or what they were saying, but as they got closer it became apparent.
Someone was calling for someone else. Someone named… Pocket? Must’ve been a nickname. They were getting closer, so they would come upon him and the Dilophosaurus, or so Muldoon hoped. The Dilo raised her head, trilling softly, as if in response. Then she trilled louder, as if calling out to whoever was out there. A few minutes later, one of the park’s vets came stumbling out of the trees, his white coat a stark contrast to the khaki shorts and shirt he wore underneath it. His long, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, though some of it had come loose during his trek through the paddocks. He sported a thick, bushy moustache (and it looked like it was trying to eat his upper lip, at least in Muldoon’s honest opinion). Upon spotting Muldoon and the Dilophosaur, though, he jogged right over, looking extremely relieved.
“Oh, thank God. I thought she’d wandered off for good.” the vet said. “Come here, girl!” The Dilophosaur trilled happily and jumped off Muldoon, her claws digging in a little and making the game warden yelp. He sat up, his jaw dropping when he saw the Dilo walk right up to the vet and rub against him like a common house cat, purring happily. The vet smiled and leaned down to pet the Dilo, and she reached up, nuzzling under his chin before sniffing him, searching for a pocket to stick her nose into. She found one on his coat and burrowed into it with a contented purr.
“What… is she doing?” Muldoon asked, slowly getting to his feet and dusting himself off.
“What, this? It’s just what she does. She’ll find a pocket and stick her nose into it, and she’s perfectly happy to sit like that, for hours if it so pleases her.”
“Don’t you worry about… well…” Muldoon trailed off, gesturing to the Dilo, trying to indicate the dinosaur’s ability to spit poison.
“What, her spitting? Nah, she’s harmless. Well, as long as you don’t threaten her, that is.” The vet eyed Muldoon pointedly, but the hunter ignored the look. The stern look soon turned to an amused one.
“I see she made a cushion out of you.” the vet teased. Muldoon scowled, eyes flicking briefly to the name badge attached to the other man’s coat, just long enough to read part of his name. Charles Lee Ander— The rest was cut off by a fold in his coat.
“Well, take her back where she belongs, Charles. She has no business being out here.” Muldoon considered the situation closed and began to head back to his Jeep. He stopped short suddenly, finding the Dilophosaur standing in front of him, tilting her head at him.
“What the bloody hell do you want?” She moved forward, nudging her head under his hand, wanting to be petted. Muldoon was now thoroughly confused, and he looked over at Charles, who merely chuckled and joined him.
“Well, go on! Pet her!” She trilled at the hunter again, nipping at his fingers to get his attention. Muldoon pulled his hand back quickly, taking a half step back. This did nothing to halt her demand for attention, and she nudged her head under Muldoon’s hand again. The game warden looked up at Charles, one eyebrow raised apprehensively.
“I assure you, sir, Pocket is quite harmless.”
“…Pocket?” The other eyebrow went up, before he looked back down at the Dilo, still wanting him to pet her. Slowly, he raised his hand and petted the top of her head, making her purr and nuzzle up into his hand.
“Well… yes… it’s what I named her… you know… after the way she sticks her nose into your pockets.”
“Bloody hell… now we’re naming them?” Muldoon muttered to himself, his fingers feeling over the damaged parts of Pocket’s crests.
“Only some of them…” Charles muttered in response. Pocket rubbed up against Muldoon’s legs like she had done with Charles, and the hunter was certain that she had just ‘marked’ him as hers. He shooed her away before she could poke her nose into his crotch, herding her towards the Jeep.
“Come on, into the Jeep with you. I’m taking you back where you belong. You too.” he directed to Charles, motioning for him to hop into the Jeep. Charles had no complaints, and he climbed right into the passenger’s seat, eyeing the gun warily as he pushed it aside. Pocket jumped into the back without hesitation, trilling excitedly as Muldoon climbed into the Jeep and drove off, heading for the Dilophosaur paddock. There was silence for several minutes, save for Pocket’s happy trilling and purring. She rested her head on Muldoon’s shoulder, trying to nuzzle his cheek, only to get pushed away every time. She was a persistent one, however, and apparently she had decided that she liked the crotchety warden enough to try and win his affections.
Finally Muldoon’s curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced at Charles as they rode along the bumpy road.
“She displays rather unusual behavior for a spitter, don’t you think?” he asked, sounding casual.
“Aye, she does, compared to the others in the pack. You saw that cracking on her crests, right? Well, she got into a fight with some of the other Dilos in the pack and got smacked around quite a bit. We think the fight that damaged her crests also caused some damage here.” Charles tapped his head. “Surprisingly, despite the fact that she’s been bullied a bit, she’s rather sweet…”
“For now.” Muldoon put in. Charles cleared his throat awkwardly, but said nothing else. “How do you know it caused damage?”
“The way she runs, mainly. She’s got a little falter in her step. And she can’t smell worth a damn. She has to be almost on top of anything to smell it. That’s why she gets so close—she wants to smell. Despite that, she’s still a decent hunter, and that’s what makes the others leave her alone, for the most part.”
“You should put her out of her misery, is what you should do.” Charles turned to fix Muldoon with a dangerous glare, as if the very thought were a terrible sin.
“Don’t you bloody dare.” he growled. Muldoon turned to look at Charles, one eyebrow raised, unruffled by the glare.
“It was merely a suggestion. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Well, keep such suggestions to yourself, thank you.” Charles snapped back, looking at the jungle passing by as they approached the Dilophosaur paddock. Muldoon wisely kept his mouth shut the rest of the ride, knowing full well he’d struck a nerve. Still, he was going to have to keep an eye on this Dilo, make sure she didn’t cause any trouble, especially if she was figuring out ways to slip out around the fences. If the others observed her they would run rampant through the park and do God only knew what.
They finally arrived at the Dilophosaur paddock, and Muldoon brought the Jeep to a halt, standing up to see if any other Dilos were nearby. He didn’t see anything moving in the bushes ahead, and so he climbed out of the Jeep, whistling for Pocket to follow him. She hopped out, looking around curiously, as if she’d never seen this side of the paddock before. Muldoon reached back in for his gun.
“Stay here.” he said firmly to Charles, and he only got a grunt in response. “I shouldn’t be long.” He turned back to the paddock and opened the gate, only to look up and see Pocket sniffing at a log several feet opposite of the place where he wanted her. With a heavy sigh he walked over to her, shooing her away and herding her towards the gate.
“Go on, into the paddock with you.” She quickly turned the tables on him, though, and took the opportunity to play a little ‘game’ with him. She would go where he wanted before suddenly darting off to one side, as if doing her damndest to keep away from the gate. Muldoon was quickly losing his patience (not to mention he probably looked like a right fool in front of the veterinarian).
“Here, girl! Come here!” Muldoon looked up to see Charles standing a few feet in the gate, letting out a whistle that sounded like an imitation of a Dilo’s trill. Pocket trilled back and ran to meet him, her steps a little uneven, just as Charles had said. Once again, Muldoon found his jaw dropping.
“What’s the matter, warden? Afraid of a little Dilo?” Charles teased him, heading deeper into the paddock with Pocket on his tail.
“Hey, wait for me—!” Muldoon gave chase, not wanting Charles to be in there alone. He paused long enough to pull the gate closed before following after, wishing he had simply stayed in his office today.
(Not that I’ve been all that active here, but I figured I’d better say this here too. I’m not gonna be on for a couple of days–the former pastor at my church passed away this afternoon and I’m devastated. I’ve known him since I was five, so… this hurts a lot… I’ll try to come back in a few days, but I’m not making any promises.)