Little fun fact, by the way, I wrote this while listening to what Stewie Griffin calls, 'That Sad Walking Away Song From The Incredible Hulk'. It really set the mood for this right in for me, to be honest. Funny, no? I also notice that the relationship between two of the characters is rather uncanonical...If you wish, I can explain that. Drop me a line.
To make a long ramble pretty much the same size, thanks for clicking, and please review. Criticism is VERY appreciated.
Disclaimer: NO! For the love of god, I don't own the characters featured in this FANfiction.
Donald Gennaro sighed, pen tapping on the documents in front of him. If it hadn't been for that...That blasted man who kept dragging him off places, saying things like 'Ready to live on the wild-side?' and such, he would have been able to complete all of these papers. Then he wouldn't have been so god damn worried about whether or not his client back in the states was going to have a defense prepared by the time he got back. This 'Jurassic Park' set up wasn't in his best interest, once he really thought about it. Hammonds park was doing as much for him as alcohol was doing for Muldoon. Dinosaurs in the park...this was, as Dr. Malcom had said, a volatile place. He couldn't agree more. These were prehistoric creatures...Prehistoric, for Gods sake! They were dead, and brought back by the wonders of modern technology. It sounded like something out of a far-fetched novel, and unless proven otherwise soon, this park would never pass his inspection. The power was out, and for all they knew Grant and the others were dead. That...That 'Nerdy' guy had disappeared completely, and Gennaro just needed a moment to relax.
The lawyer sighed, tossing the pen lightly away. He couldn't work. Not now. The room he was in, a cluttered mess of cords, part of the ceiling in need of finishing, was far too hard to concentrate in. Perhaps if he went for a little walk, he could clear his mind, and come right back to work. Unlikely, with the power out and dinosaurs romping around. The fences...The fences were down, for Christ's sake! The only thing that had kept him calm until this moment was the notion of the deadline on all of his paperwork.
Jeana would have been angry with him, working at a time like this. His wife, his kids...they were always so free-spirited. His wife, who had pounds upon pounds of paperwork herself, managed to find time to have fun with the kids. It left him feeling like a failure of a father, working all the time, leaving on business trips. The kids deserved better. Better than he could offer, and certainly better than some nanny paid eight bucks an hour to watch the kids could offer.
Gennaro's wife was a sweet woman. A red-head, who had been slender when they had met, and yet, after two kids, had put on a few pounds. She was still a slim old girl, as beautiful as she had been when they had met for the first time. They had both cited love at first sight as what they had felt, even though, laying next to each other in bed, only a thin layer of air to separate them, they had both agreed that the proclaimed love at first sight didn't exist at all. That was before he had started taking the pills. Lately, everything between Jeana and himself had been going straight to Hell. He had begun working late again, as he had done when they first met, and he needed the money very badly. Now, fairly well off, he was beginning to work late nights again, leaving her with the kids, and this simply infuriated the woman. When he had agreed to go on this inspection, Jeana had been so angry with him, that he had nearly expected the cliche line of 'I'm taking the kids and going to my mothers' to come forth. God knew the woman loved her mom. But she hadn't done it. Jaw clenched, anger building, she had continued cooking breakfast early that morning when he had told her. She had remained silent for the longest time. He was almost certain that into the skillet where the eggs were being scrambled, a tear fizzled for a moment, and died away.
Getting to his feet, the chair pushed back abruptly and scraping on the yet-to-be carpetted floor, the well-built man walked to the door, opening it with a tug, and becoming unpleasantly surprised. Who should be walking by at this time, but Robert Muldoon and John Hammond, eccentric park warden and eccentric park owner. And by eccentric, Gennaro meant really, really weird. The younger of the two men seemed to have a fixation with the Velociraptors, of all creatures. Probably the only reason he could remember that dinosaurs name was because the man had mentioned it so much. Hammond was a business man, in a territory never before explored. He had grown cocky and arrogant. His own grandchildren were stuck out in this...God-forsaken park, and the man didn't seemed to be troubled by it one bit! Unfortunately for the bleary eyed lawyer, the warden and the proprieter took notice.
"Ah Mr. Gennaro! Excellent timing, excellent, excellent..."
Oh God, what did that son of a bitch want?
"Mr. Hammond, I was just about to--"
"Oh come now, dear boy, I just want to talk to you for a moment. Do you mind if we come in?"
"Actually sir--"
"No? Good!"
As quickly as the man had tried to spew out a false reason why the men couldn't come in, the old man had proved quicker with his words, and strangely for a man of his age, his body. Pushing past the broad framed Gennaro, the old man sat himself down comfortably on the admittedly high quality bed, cain placed between his legs, both hands clasped firmly over the top of the amber. Muldoon opted to stand. The rangers face, he took notice, was red, and his jaw clenched.
"I wanted to talk to you about the prospect of opening a new park."
Gennaro was flabberghasted.
"Now, I know you're thinking, it will take years and years to build and to re-create all of this...this glory! But the fact is, Donald my boy...Isle Nublar just isn't the correct location."
Location? Location?! A few days prior to this, the old man had been raving about what a great spot this was, the perfect tourist attraction. Then his entire park went to Hell--the shit officially hit the fan--and he wanted to open up a new park? People were out there in what he had created, thinking of nothing other than money, dying, and he wanted another park?
Unfortunately, the man seemed serious. Eyes flitting over to the warden, whose arms were bitterly folded about his khaki clad chest, jaw clenched firmer than ever, Gennaro kept a stoic appearance about him. He was used to dealing with scum. The scummiest of scum. He usually worked to free them from what they should be guilty of. At the very least, he could convince an old geezer that he wasn't infuriated.
"What do you think? I estimate that it will only take us about half the time to get the new park set up, and--"
"John, there are so many problems in the genetics of these creatures. You saw the information Arnold and Wu had. They aren't-"
"Children want the real thing, Donald, and I intend to give it to them. No watered down, puppy-eyed Tyrannosaur here, no sir!"
The outburst next finely surprised both of the currently arguing men.
"These creatures, are not your average game! These aren't Tigers, John, these are dinosaurs. They shouldn't be here. I don't know why I agreed to leave Kenya for this!"
That was right. Muldoon had been operating something of a...a Tiger reserve for Hammond. And when the man had been asked to come to Jurassic Park for the job, he probably had gone for the increased salary. He surely hadn't known what in hell he was bargaining for. It was clear, however, that the man dis-liked this just as much as he did. Muldoon took a step forward, his khaki garb rustling as he did so. The strong, fifty year old had his fists clenched, and if Gennaro hadn't have known the man slightly better than he would have liked to, he would have said that that was a murderous gleam in his eye.
"You can't be serious about creating another park, with the same, ruthless killing machines in it. The same thing will happen. You don't learn, John. You make the same mistake over, and over, until someone gets hurt!"
The graying mans voice had grown to a quiet roar, if there was such a thing with such a man, and Hammond appeared to be remotely undisturbed. It was as though he hadn't heard a word either of them had said. He had the foolish, naive smile of a child, on his old chapped lips.
"Robert, I thought you of all people would have known better. They aren't killing machines, they're--"
"Not meant to exist now. They died out for a reason, Mr. Hammond."
Muldoon nodded in agreement, before setting off again on his more brash remarks, in a much calmer tone of voice.
"People have already died. Before your spectators were brought here so you could flaunt around you new little toys, people were dying, John. This isn't a game."
"Oh, I know what your upset about now, Robert...That local boy that died months before--Mikel, was his name?"
"Miguel! He wasn't a fake doll. He was a person, a human life. He had a family, his wife was eight months pregnant, John you can't--"
"I can't what? Are you, trying to tell me, that I cannot have this park?"
It was now the old mans turn to lash out angrily, leaving both the lawyer and the warden temporary mutes.
"Think of all the children who will be deprived of this! The rich children, who've always dreamed about seeing dinosaurs-real, true to life dinosaurs!-up close. It'll make a fortune, boys, even if this first park has a few...bugs!"
The mans attempt to appear a jovial old man was in vain.
"Bugs? Is that what you call it, Mr. Hammond? Bugs? This is all just about money to you, isn't it?! It's never been about the children...it's been about money and your sick fantasy all this time."
"The children don't want to see these dinosaurs John, they want to see the animals they see in the books. Carnivores in the same valley peacefully with herbivores. No blood-shed, no ruthlessness! That isn't what they want! This is what you want. The children want-"
"The children want dinosaurs! I'm giving to them real, dinosaurs. This is as real as we can make them! I give them the dinosaurs, and they give me their money!"
The shouting between the men came to a screeching halt, and the tension became nervewrackingly thin. Each of them had lost their temper, and none of them were sorry about it. There was a silence, before Hammond stood, bent over that cane of his. He looked at the two men, younger than he, with a sharp, disapproving leer, as though he had been reprimanding a naughty child rather than two grown men. It was a look that he never gave to either Tim, nor Lex. The old man, careful about holding his body up straight, pushed past the both of them and out of the room, the door flung wide open and never closed.
"It was never about the children!"
Muldoon shouted, his voice rising again to reveal not only his anger, but how hurt he really seemed. Donald stepped closer to the man, trying to find something to say. Muldoon whipped around on heel, and began to exit the room as well, pointedly setting foot for the opposite direction Hammond had gone. He halted in the doorway, head lowered, and voice, Gennaro could have sworn, wavering.
"...It was never about the children."