Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc of the franchise Jurassic Park are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fic. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary:

"They should all be destroyed."
- Robert Muldoon, "Jurassic Park", 1993

Robert Muldoon gets his wish.

Notes:

I've been sitting on this story for more than 9 years and more or less forgot about it since originally I was going to post it here, but was hesitant. At that time, Jurassic Park section of FFN (there was no Jurassic World yet) had a pretty bad reputation and in most part sadly deservedly so. I mean, CP, girl/raptor "romances" (facepalm), more teenaged Mary Sues and irritating wishful-self-inserts than bugs in a meadow and so on. It wasn't a place I was comfortable with my stories calling it a home.

Not saying what I'm posting right now is award-winning stuff and that everything else on that site is bad, far from it, but at least I'm not dipping into matters of questionable morality and legality.

While usually not sympathising with hunters (my preferred method of dealing with sports hunters would be to throw them in the woods naked and set loose deers with guns and hungry tigers after them), I liked Muldoon and was pretty disappointed when he was killed, especially since he survives in the book.

Further more, I always seriously disliked raptors (their immediate popularity with due to Jurassic World surprised me) and had they not been a blindingly apparent plot tool for the destruction of the park I would've gladly seen them exterminated as too dangerous and pretty much pointless.

Looking at it critically and in coldblood, there is absolutely no reason to keep them alive, they use up more resources than they're worth and they're never going to be shown to the public anyway, so there will be no money generated off them - they are just a serious drain and highly dangerous risk. Hammond didn't want to kill them, because they were his children (he was there when they were born) and because of how expensive they were (sunk cost fallacy) even though they would never generate any profit.

After all, how could they? Who of the visitors who spent so much money to be there would be satisfied with watching vegetation move and hear some growls, but never seeing anything? They could never be moved into a place with glass walls cause they're too dangerous both for the move and for their new home as well.

This goes doubly for Jurassic World and the pack - they demonstrated too many times that they're too dangerous for exhibition (I guess they were kept so that Owen could get his jonesies from thrill of walking on the edge, if we ignore their plot purpose which was ridiculous writing to begin with).

Which is why I'm doing what would've been done if Jurassic park was real.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was one voice John Hammond disliked hearing, especially on such a beautiful morning, and it was exactly that voice that called out to him right now and ruined all his good mood.

"Mr Hammond!"

The old man cursed and tried to speed up, but hobbling can make you only so fast... Not fast enough because the younger and healthier man in his prime easily caught up with him.

"Mr Hammond, we really need to talk about..." the big game hunter began, but his boss immediately cut him off.

"No, Robert, we've already had this conversation, I'm not letting you kill the raptors!" growled the visionary, holding tightly as he still tried out outpace his chief of security, even though it was quite obviously a hopeless endeavor.

"No, sir, we didn't talk about it, you talked and I had to listen. That's not talking." the Kenyan-born Briton disagreed, overtaking the slower man and blocking his way "But that stops now. You hired me as your Chief of Security and Animal Control Expert, so I'm doing my job protecting the people and the park. If you intended to ignore my advice why did you even offer me the job in the first place?"

Hammond was forced to stop, exhaling heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to control his temper.

"Or did you hire me only to appease your investors?" Muldoon finished, with a cynical tone in his voice.

Truthfully Hammond couldn't really answer. Yes, he had hired him to appease investors by having such an experienced and well-known hunter as the Chief of Security, but he'd also hired him because if anything went wrong he was sure the experienced big game hunter would be the only one able to handle it.

"Okay, Mr Muldoon, you've got 60 seconds to convince me why we should kill off the animals that we have spent millions to bring to life!"

The man looked stunned he had actually gotten through to the stubborn, old man, but quickly gathered himself "As an investment they're bloody useless. We are keeping them in this high security prison because they are too dangerous to be anywhere else. Even if we keep them when the park's operational they will have to remain in here and what will we have to show the visitors? An enclosure, inside so heavily overgrown you can't see anything, only branches moving and some indistinct growling and screeching. They'll feel cheated because there's this supposedly highly dangerous extinct animal inside, something that will surely tickle their bone, but they can't even see it. It would be just a matter of time before accusations of a scam pop up. So, here we've got 3 monsters who cost a bloody big sum of money to create, cost a bloody big sum to feed, shelter and keep under control and require constant supervision by staff we desperately need elsewhere, but we can't market them for security reasons since they're too dangerous. They're the biggest drain on our resources after the Rex. Monetary resources as well as human, a team has to take care of them that's already stretched thin and over-burdened with responsibilities. How many of our staff do we have to lose? To top it off, Wu is continuing to produce these highly dangerous and useless exhibits, making them deadlier with every batch."

Standing before the irate hunter Hammond prayed for fortitude to be able to deal with him.

"Mr. Muldoon," he began patiently to try to calmly explain and have him see reason "we've got the most advanced security system in the world at our disposal, everything in this park can be controlled from a single computer in the control center. How can you think we don't have it under control?"

At this point Muldoon was sure that this was his penance for killing so many living beings. He could feel a headache coming on and he reached up with his hands to massage his temples.

"Sir, frankly speaking, you are depending and trusting too much on computers and programs. What if something happens and that single computer fails? I'm no computer scientist, but I've worked and lived with some bloody good experts long enough to know it takes just one typo to crash absolutely everything. What if we experience a complete system failure? There is no piece of machinery or code that is completely reliable and without risk, especially not when it comes to groundbreaking technology. The way the things stand now, if we had a complete system failure, few if any of us would survive the first two days. We would have a park full of heavily armed sociopathic serial killers on the loose. But if we remove these dangers then the worst that could happen is one of the brachiosaurus stepping on someone by mistake, since we would have a park filled with peaceful, plant-eating... vegetarians. To illustrate even more, please imagine us having visitors out in the field when these two scenarios happen... Which version would be better?"

"But zoos have been facing these problems for centuries now and they've been quite capable of keeping their dangerous animals contained and not a serious threat. We've got it under control and even if we have a system crash, which is impossible, we'll be able to keep them contained."

"And yet every now and again there's a tiger or an elephant that goes loose and has to be put down..." disagreed Muldoon "These are not some poor, abused house cats we're talking about here, Mr. Hammond. Even if they were lions I wouldn't demand this. Lions you can handle, they fall down when shot, are "slow" and predictable enough so that you can actually take aim and shoot them and, most of all, lions are not smarter than humans. If you were to pit 10 lions against one of the raptors I wouldn't bet a penny on them. What we have here are the most dangerous killing machines on the planet, not even sharks or crocs can compete and I've personally seen crocs set ambushes for joggers in Australia. Raptors, on the other hand, are extremely intelligent, they observe, they think, they plan, they coordinate and they memorise! They are constantly testing our defences, looking for weaknesses in our fences. Atop of all that they're completely ruthless, remorseless, blindingly quick, extremely difficult to wound and impossible to kill with light weaponry and are literally armed to the teeth. They're a ticking time-bomb. One day they will get out, I assure you that, more than that, I'm willing to bet my life on it and it'll be us who will be extinct then because nothing and no-one will be able to stop them! Especially not with these belly-ticklers you only allowed us to have."

The fire burning in the old man's eyes gave him the answer, the answer he'd anticipated "No."

But Muldoon had had enough "Wrong answer, Mr. Hammond."

"Wrong answer, my foot! I will not let you destroy a multi-million pound investment just for the sake of your convenience ! If you think that, you've gone mad!"

But Muldoon had had enough.

"I will destroy them with or without your approval." finally gritted out the game warden, getting into his face "At least if you give me your approval I will not go over your head to the investors and tell them what a shite job you're doing here and that you can't be trusted. I'm sure that after telling them all I know about the park's problems and all the accidents that have happened, all the casualties we've had, they'll be pretty quick in pulling the plug."

Robert was breathing heavily, his rage over the callousness of his boss fueling him as he glared down the smaller man.

The dreamer had gone deathly pale, eyes wide and lips trembling, whether from anger or fear Muldoon didn't know.

"You would really do that? Destroy all that I've... that we've worked for all these years, cost all these people their jobs?"

"I would." the hunter confirmed, pulling slowly away and collecting himself "If it meant protecting the lives of the people who work here - my friends, and the people who would visit the park, I would do that and much, much more. After all, it's my job. Better alive and unemployed than dead, eaten while still conscious enough to feel your intestines being chewed through your ripped-open belly. So, the way I see it, you've got a decision to make. Either you lose a couple of your monsters or lose your entire park."

Emotions visibly passed over John's face as he ran through the entire gamut. Rage, anger, horror, disappointment, despair, heartbreak, understanding and finally acceptance. It took a while for him to fully process the situation and realize that he was facing a man that was determined to see this through no matter the cost, no matter the obstacles. He was facing a man he'd believed to be in his corner, paid and paid well to do his job and shut up, letting Hammond go on as he wished with his dream of this park. But apparently even obedient guard dogs sometimes reach the point at which they will say "No more!" and rebel. If he'd learned anything about the other Brit in the years he'd known him, it was that he wasn't lying, if Hammond didn't give in then Muldoon would go over his head and destroy Hammond's dream forever.

At this point there was clearly nothing else left, but to give up, accept the inevitable, all in the hopes of saving his dreams, saving the park and saving the other animals from the blood-thirsty maniac.
Chapter Management

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How are you intending to do this?" sighed Hammond, looking sadly through the bars and the foliage, trying to spot the animals he had helped bring into this world. The defeat he felt was in synch with the events that would be unfolding soon.

"Well, the simplest and most effective way would be by using explosives." Muldoon explained as he took off his slouch hat and wiped away the sweat on his skull, before placing it back on "But I don't want to take the chance of compromising the structural integrity because that might help them escape. Neither can we use sarine or some other gas for the obvious reasons of wind. So, what we're gonna do is this."

Pointing up he drew his boss's eyes to the silent cow the crane was lifting over the edge of the enclosure. Seeing the surprise and confusion on the white-haired man's face he explained.

"We needed the cow dead and because of that we let them starve a few days, to make sure they'll eat the carcass. It's pumped full of the deadliest poisons I could get my hands on. If Wu knew what we had he would've simultaneously explode in rage and melt into a puddle in excitement."

"Are you sure that will be enough?"

The experienced hunter heard the sarcasm in his boss's voice, but chose to ignore it, knowing the love the man held for the vicious beasts they were finally going save the world of.

And not a bloody moment too soon. he thought.

"Would like to think so, but if I were that naive I'd have departed for the Great Hunting Grounds a long time ago. Before we take their bodies out of there I will make absolutely sure they're dead. One Jophery was more than enough."

Since he had agreed to this, Hammond couldn't do anything but nod. Muldoon's reasons were solid and if anyone knew these animals and their capabilities it was him. After all, he had hired the man for this exact reason, to oversee physical security and safety of personnel, visitors and of the park itself.

"If word of this gets out, some animal rights groups will want to eat you alive for what they'll surely see as unnecessary cruelty to animals." but he could still afford himself some schadenfreude.

Muldoon shrugged carelessly, the threat of such didn't scare him in the least "Well, until we arrange the T-rex's termination I'm sure I can get one or two of them to get thrown into her enclosure." the hunter shot back grimly "I'm curious how long the rest of them will keep up their song after seeing their friends eaten. And, sir, don't call me Shirley."

The Scotman's lips twitched at the old joke, but that was it. He really hoped the rest was a joke as well.

"Since we didn't have the hardware I'd trust to do the job," whose fault was that was pretty clear in Kenyan's voice and Hammond chafed at the accusation "certainly not to the effect that I would be willing to chance and open the gates or send someone in to make sure they're dead, I had to get creative and get some imported." he nodded at the group of his people who had entered the clearing.

"The heaviest armament we had until now were those SPAS 12 shotguns and stun-rods and we lost Jophery because they were simply not effective against the raptors' thick hide, especially when in feeding frenzy. Each of my men is now armed with a machine gun of a medium caliber."

Hammond cut his eyes at the death squad, then squinted "I don't recognise them..."

"They're Soviet-built mpmg's, the PK. The Soviet 7.62x54R is still one of the best cartridges in the world and if the regular bullet can penetrate 6mm of steel at 520 yards it will shred raptor hide at point blank! Plus, they're easy to get a hold of if you have proper connections."

"We even have one Vickers .50 caliber, you can see two men carrying the tripod assembly. I believe you are familiar with it?"

Hammond nodded mutely, his mind back to the five years of using this very piece of weaponry as a Royal Navy light anti-aircraft gunner onboard one of His Majesty's Flower-class corvettes.

"We've got enough ammunition for sustained fire of 10 minutes and even if one of these beasts survives then I've got some other things in store. Oh, are you staying, sir?"

"Yes, I intend to stay until you're done, Mr. Muldoon." said the subdued voice as Hammond's depressed gaze was directed at his hands, craddling his walking stick. His old hands were almost as gnarled as the stick itself and he was sure he'd aged 10 years in 1 day.

"Very well, sir. In that case I would ask you to please move away from the enclosure for your safety. And here, sir, put these on, they will protect your hearing, it will get pretty loud."

His employee gave Hammond what looked like large, olive-green headphones. Sending him a look the boss turned and hobbled off the platform to the bench in the tree-line.

With his heart breaking Hammond sat on the edge of the clearing, observing as the firing squad, for that's how it felt to him, got in positions. He could see no remorse or pity on the faces of the men armed to the teeth, indeed, some of them even showed satisfaction.

Only then did he remember the worker that had been killed and eaten just weeks before - the man had probably been their friend. Still, couldn't they truly grasp the wonder and the scientific achievement that they were going to just gun down like some rabid dog?!

Sighing heavily he looked down at the hearing-defenders in his hands and reluctantly settled them on his ears. Thanks to them and to the distance from the man he never heard Muldoon's command to fire. But he did hear the shooting itself.

Oh, how he heard it.

From the faster rasping of the lighter weapons to the slower and heavier rapport of the big gun on the stand, they all sprayed fire, lead and death into the space below. He could also hear his children, for that's what he'd come to think of every dinosaur in the park, screeching and growling as the leaves around them came alive.

After five minutes Muldoon gave the order to hold fire.

Another silent command and the men reluctantly, but obediently left the upper catwalks of the enclosure, replaced by three men carrying what John remembered from his WW2 service were flamethrowers. He was proven right because as soon as they took up their positions long tongues of ignited kerosene spurted out of the tubes they held in their hands and down into the wounded brush beneath.

Hammond continued to observe silently as they thoroughly incinerated his pride and joy until they expended all their fuel before evacuating the catwalk. Took a while, but the flames finally died out. Muldoon's killer-commando stood by silently as their boss retrieved a few small objects from a box at his feet and did some strange gestures with his hand, before dropping them into the concrete building. Seconds after throwing himself to the ground for safety pieces of dirt, plants and blood spurted in the air. The explosions and tremors were something Hammond did feel and hear. He repeated that several more times.

Apparently he's not worried about structural integrity anymore. thought Hammond bitterly.

That done, the man stood up and dusted off his pants and his slouch hat. A careless wave with his hand prompted another wave of gunfire for several more minutes.

Now it seemed the time had come to check his handywork as with a wide throw of hand his people had left the catwalks and formed a half circle around the loading-door of the building that was now barricaded with a mixture of concrete barriers and half-inch-thick heavy steel wire chain used in construction to make concrete walls. Weapons were held at the ready, together with the heavy .50 caliber they had moved and set up to point directly at the door.

On his word of command one of the men slapped the button and the door began to rise. As soon as it was open enough for only something as small as a house cat to get through the shooting started again and went on for another minute. They simply sprayed as many bullets into as a bigger space as possible to maximise chances of hitting a raptor if any were still alive. When nothing jumped at them or showed signs of life slowly, methodically converged on the opening portal, weapons at their shoulders before bursting inside guns blazing again.

Getting the clear Muldoon nodded with satisfaction and quickly glanced at his employer before grabbing from his assistant the elephant rifle he had brought exactly for this occasion. Operating the bolt he loaded the bullet in the chamber and joined his men. Shortly after, two heavy shots could be heard as Muldoon sent two large calibre rounds into the shredded head of every velociraptor from point-blank range just to make sure it was dead. When he came to the big one, the one who had so viciously slaughtered Jophery he emptied his entire supply of ammo and then took his machete to hack of it's ugly head.

Outside, Hammond jerked with every rapport of the heavy rifle. He must really hate them.

That done the warden personally retrieved a can of kerosene and spilled the highly flammable liquid over the bodies, making sure to soak them thoroughly. Evacuating the team he allowed one of the flamethrower equipped men to throw a tongue of fire through the door, lighting the bodies. After that the entry was closed and locked to allow everything to burn out completely without the rest of the forest catching on fire.

Sweaty and dirty from soot the hunter then dismissed all but a couple of the men to stand guard and approached his boss.

Unable and unwilling to hide his accusing look the old man repeated "You do realize you've just massacred scientific wonders, worth millions of pounds, don't you?"

The man snorted "I may have just killed you millions worth of animals, but I also saved your park and countless people's lives. Besides, that money was wasted as soon as you created those monsters. Don't worry though, you'll get those millions back in the first six months of the park's operation. As soon as I'm done with Dilophosauri and the T-Rex as well of course. The only danger I'm willing to risk the tourists with is being stepped on through their own stupidity."

It was a morbid sort of curiosity that prompted Hammond to ask "Oh, how are you going to get the T-Rex to stand still so your team of murderers can slaughter it?"

Muldoon sent him a look, but didn't take the bait "Well, we've got those two petrol powered Jeeps and I'm sure I can get my hands on a recoilless rifle or two with plenty of HEAT and armour piercing rounds... That should do the job."

"Dear God." Hammond crossed himself as he blanched "What are you intending to do after you've run out of carnivores to sate your bloodlust? Start on the Triceratops next?"

"Actually, sir, I meant to ask you for your input on that. Should I let the T-Rex deal with Nedry first or should I do it personally?" Muldoon asked with a toothy grin, partly joking, but partly wishing to be able to do just that to the hated programmer.

It was the first time that day that Hammond smiled.