Today was a momentous day in the history of Isla Astera and the rest of the free world. For Dr. Grant, it was the demo of the tour that paid customers were planned to experience; for the Ace Hunters, it was a highly urgent quest. Urgent for Mr. Hammond, but unbelievably boring to Aiden. The Ace Cadet found himself asking the same question back and forth amongst his team while they walked down the stairs from the Visitor Center, "What's the big deal?" as all they were going to do was ride cars through the island with people that don't like them, learn stuff about monsters they already knew, and most certainly not kill any monsters."We might as well be gathering Unique Mushrooms! This quest sucks!"
"Seconded," gruffed the Ace Lancer, a large blonde knight reminiscent of the Admiral, adorned in golden armor with his signature lance and shield hanging on his back, the Babel Spear.
"We could shoot some Alteroth along the way..." offered Nadia, the Ace Gunner, a dark-skinned young woman with a prominent black ponytail made of separate braid, carelessly carrying her heavy bowgun over her shoulder.
"We will do no such thing," Affirmed Ace Commander Jullian, "Our quest today is to protect the foreign scientists and the heathen philosopher; completing this urgent quest will be a boon to our entire society. Do not forget we're also guarding Mr. Hammond's grandchildren."
"I bet the kids would love to see some monster killing..." Aiden deduced.
"That is furthest from the objective of our quest," Julian reminded.
The Ace Cadet groaned like a child himself, "But I brought my monster-killing weapon!"
Nadia sighed."Aiden, ALL our weapons are monster-killing weapons."
"...which we can't do for some reason BECAUSE THIS QUEST SUCKS!" the cadet continues to complain.
Of course, as far as Alan Grant and company could tell, the hunters were bickering in their native language; though he could easily tell they were upset about something, most likely Ian's shameless blasphemy. In hindsight, the Ace Commander's frighteningly violent display seemed almost rational. Grant's eyes tensed as the eyes of Julian finally rel-locked with the unreadable eyes of Ian Malcolm. Ellie herself tensed like a tree when she saw Julian break from the team and approach Ian first. The rivals stood a meter apart; Julian was the first to speak:
"Forgive me for my threatening display, Professor Ian Malcolm," the commander said, bowing his head slightly,"as I will forgive you for your naivety and petty insult. Our ways are different from each other."
"Water under the bridge, buddy," replied Ian, unceremoniously patting Julian's shoulder; then Ian blinked. He squinted and leaned to the aside curiously."You got, uh, a little red mark on your cheek there..." he pointed out with his finger.
Julian's bruise was briefly hidden by his red flushed cheeks."Early morning sparring session. I am well, thank you for your concern..."
Two modified Ford Explorers with the Wyvern Park label stamped on them leaped up out of an underground garage beneath the visitor's center. They moved quietly, with a faint electronic HUM, and straddled a partially buried metal rail in the middle of the road. They pulled to a stop where the group is gathered. Gennaro stared slack-jawed at the common automobiles."You mean to tell me that we're going through your monster park in these?"
"Donald," Hammond raised his hand, dismissive as ever," we can't have our customers cramped up in APC's, they need fresh air and a clear view of the park."
"The route we're taking is protected by miles of enormous electric fences, which completely surround the road through the areas containing airborne wyverns," Julian explained.
"Spared no expense..." Hammond smiled and nodded.
"...so why are we here for..." Aiden grumbled, then was elbowed by the Lancer to shut up.
"Have fun," encouraged Hammond. "I'll be watching you from the control room," he chivalrously took Dr. Sattler's hand." Come along, my dear. You'll ride in the second car, I can promise you you'll have a real wonderful time."
Ian smirked, and eyed, Alan," I'm riding with Sattler," he winked, and then was off.
Alan shook his head - Ian was still trying to get a rise out of someone, and merely assumed that he and Ellie were romanticly involved; well that was never going to happen: romance leads to sex, and that leads to children. Children, he scoffed in his mind as he walked to the car and opened the passenger's seat, revealing a child.
Little Tim stared with googly eyes up at Grant."...I read your book..." the pre-adolescent muttered awkwardly.
Grant blinked...then took a deep breath and walked for the rear car. Unfortunately, the child popped out of the front car and followed him like a duckling.
"Do you really think dinosaurs turned into wyverns?" Tim asked,"because my teacher says they turned into birds, which makes a whole lot more sense to me. 'Cause when you really look at dinosaurs, they look nothing like wyverns. Wyverns' wings have multi-fingered wings like bats, and there's no evidence that dinosaurs ever-"
"Listen," Grant cut him off,"What's your name?"
"Tim."
"Listen, Tim," Grant said,"Which car are you taking?"
"Whichever one you are," Tim said matter of factly.
Grant nodded, then turned around to go for the front car, and Tim naturally followed.
"...so I read this thing on the internet that said that all wyverns are descended from a giant alien from the planet E.D.N III, which is a semi-hospitable frozen planet that the cooperation NEVEC is secretly colonizing once the earth becomes uninhabitable from pollution and nuclear war..."
As Tim went on, Alan opened the rear door of the front car, holding it open for Tim, and the boy naturally climbed back into the car; the second his did so, Alan slammed the door from the outside, cutting the boy off, and made for the rear car...until of course, he noticed the slightly older sister of Tim, Alexis, standing in his way with an equally awkward expression.
"...She said I should ride with you because it would be good for you," Lex explained, pointing to Ellie, who waved at Grant, who scowled back.
Once the mainlanders made themselves comfortable, it was the Ace Hunters' turn to enter the vehicles...which turned out to be the first great obstacle of the day. Julian and Aiden were just fine as they entered the front car, joining Grant and the kids, with their relatively small weapons; Unfortunately for the Ace Lancer and Ace Gunner, their distinctly huge weapons prevented them from fitting inside the rear car while carrying the weapons on their backs, let alone fit inside the car with the weapons at all. The Gunner and Lancer exchanged glances for a moment, then unholstered their weapons, attempting to fit them in the car first. Nadia politely asked Ellie to help her carry the heavy heavy bowgun into the trunk, Sattler's arms threatening to snap under the weight of the multi-barreled cannon, while Gennaro yelped and cried Hey! in rapid succession as the tip of Lance's Lance was pushed too close to his eyes. The car creaked and wobbled from the extra burden; the giant lance finally exploded out of the rear window, protruding from as it rests against the shattered glass. Lance threw up a positive thumbs up, indicating they were good to go.
"...like a glove..." Malcolm's delighted voice could be heard.
The primary control room of the Wyvern park was overloaded with sporadic activity and action like the overcrowded office of New York financier advisor's office during peak trade hours at the New York stock People were busily typing rapidly, filling the room with constant chittering like June bugs. Roland was barking orders at very technicians, double-checking camera maintenance and security protocols. Arnold sat at the back of the great before a massive array of interconnecting screens, enabling him to continually monitor his subordinates. Like a maestro of a great orchestra, Arnold made various hand signals and gestures to his underlings, who perfectly responded without Arnold needing to saying. The Hunter guards simply stalked along the manifold rows of the control room like silent predators, technicians shuddering as he cast their equally predatory gaze at them inspecting their computer screens meticulously and curiously. Computers, security systems, electrical fences, and similar technological advancements had only recently been introduced to the Asterian people and even the Commander was still bedazzled by Hammond's technology.
"Fences," Roland barked. "Are they green?"
"All fences are active sir" one technician responded. "Power set to 75%"
"Raise it above 100%" Roland commanded.
"Sir, with the degree of voltage, it could potentially kill the wy. . ."
"What the bloody hell did I just say?" Roland snapped, pitch lower, eyes as cold as a snake.
The tech shakily nodded, typed in some random code faster than Roland could blink. Various meters popped on his screen and a portion of the main monitor extending, indicating power to the fences had been increased.
"Do a safety check on all doors. Make sure we're connected." The techies again type random codes, looking at various meters and graphs indicating all doors and gates were currently operational, giving the primary control room access to all locking modules. The Commander looked up at one of the sub monitors, watching the vehicles leave the main hub, and trailed down the road. The Commander noticed, with slight embarrassment, the massive tip of the Ace Lancer's lance hilariously jutting out of the remains of the rear windows of the back van.
"You laugh in your minds, but let's see you laugh when they reach the Rathalos' territory. . ." the Commander spoke to no one in particular.
"The bloody fool. . ." Roland spat.
"ooohhoo, that's a nasty scratch," cracked Ray Arnold, the fortyish, African American, head chronic worrier, and obvious chain-smoker, for most of the technicians to hear him. "I'm hoping Hammond's insurance will cover that."
Theatrically, Hammond walked through a pair of gleaming, double sliding doors into the room and timely caught the remark. He was followed by the Serious Handler, wearing a striking Asterian dress. The men blushed. "Ensuring everything on this Island was almost more expensive than bringing back the dead." Roland and Arnold looked at each other for a moment, eyeing the handler, side smiling and curling their eyebrows jovially. Roland walked up to both of them, shaking Hammond's hand and giving the Handler knightly bow. "Madame" he said. The Handler nodded in kind.
"Eoi, Has'anahn" The Commander responded in his Asterian tradition. He turned to face Hammond.
"Don't worry Hammond." said The Fleet Commander "Lance will be severely reprimanded for the expense as soon as returns back to HQ. I will suffer no reproach against you to remain unpunished. . ."
"It's quite alright, commander" Hammond replied, attempting to calm the Commander's nerves. "Let's not dwell on petty dents and scratches. We're all on edge all right now. You know I don't blame people for their mistakes, yet I expect that they reasonably pay for them in a civil manner."
"Understood" the Commander.
"Arnold," Hammond asked, turning to his head tech. "Are we up to par?"
"Not exactly," Arnold said, irritably.
"What do you mean?"
"Security cameras, fences, and gates are all green. The cars are giving us some trouble. Vehicle headlights are on, but aren't responding. Those shouldn't be running off the car batteries."
"I don't like the sound of that." Roland interjected. "Sir, maybe we should delay to do a routine check on the. . ."
"For bloody sake, no!" Hammond groaned. "We've procrastinated long enough. They've already started the tour an hour late. What about street lights?"
"All security lights are active sir."
"Excellent. . . " Hammond sighed. "Those vehicles are brand new, stay of the art. Weren't they inspected prior?"
"It isn't the vehicles," Arnold said. "We're not properly connected. There complications inputting the codes and setting up connections."
"Complications?" Hammond said. His cheeks were flushed and, now, he was losing patience. "Routers were installed into each vehicle, directly linked to mainframe itself! What stupid blithering fool was assigned vehicle controls. . .?"
"Wow," answered a thick, yet nasally, penguin voice. Everyone turned and followed the direction of the provocative voice: Dennis Nedry, "I am totally unappreciated in my time."
Hammond rolled his eyes, wiping the perspiration from his brow, gazing at Dennis. He then looked at Arnold who emphatically nodded and tucked his tongue under his lower jaw. Roland's jaw tightened as grimaced at Dennis spitefully.
"Dennis, my friend" he set tightly. "This is not a game. Our lives are practically your hands, and you have butterfingers?"
Dennis just shrugged. "I don't get what's wrong with the vehicles."
"I'm not paying you to 'get it', I'm paying you to see tasks through."
"Sir, look" Dennis blinked hard and removed his glasses. "This is a big system. You know how many wires are running into this room. It's a random variable. Stuff like this happens. I've been working on it all morning."
"Well," Roland cut in. "Whatever you're doing is not working."
Dennis wasn't phased. "Hey, don't tell me how to do my job. You're the field expert, right? Did you have your guys check the vehicles first? That's why I'm here, and you're supposed to be out there. What are you doing here anyway?"
"That's not good enough Dennis. These people are supposed to represent us and our professionalism to the rest of the world. My grandchildren are on the van, God forbid anything happen to them."
"Look don't overreact. All systems, as far as I can see are green. . . With this setup, we can run the whole park from this room, with minimal staff, for up to three days."
Before he could finish his sentence, one of the monitors went black and the screen went black.
"Surveillance in 45D 47C are down sir!"
"What happened" Arnold shouted. "Dennis?!"
Dennis, cursing under his breath, hastily returned his attention to the screen typing in a string of codes. . .
"You see what I'm working with?!" Arnold gestured to the fat nerd.
"Look," Dennis said defiantly, raising his voice. "You think that kind of automation is easy? Or cheap? You know anybody who can network eight servers at once and de-bug two billion lines of code for what I bid this job. . . .
"Here he goes again. . ."Arnold muttered, removing his glasses with one hand and massaging his brow with the other.
"This is no time for a financial debate! Your financial problems are your problems."
"You're right, John. You're absolutely right. Everything's my problem. A couple of screens go out and guess who!"
"I will not be drawn in this with you, Dennis!"
"...Park goes black, the Wyvern escape, kill everybody, you guessed it!" Dennis went on.
"You think that's funny?" The Commander said loudly. He walks slowly, yet heavily over to Denis's desk, staring down at the pudgy techie. "You speak the truth. I would blame you. If we suffer lost lives because of carelessness, I will kill you, little fat man." The room went silent. The Commander was smiling vaguely, completely emotionless. He spoke of killing Dennis as if he was asking the time of day.
"...Dude! You just threatened to murder me," Dennis said blankly.
"Murder? Your American brain has skewed your thinking: in Astera, it is only justice to kill a fool," The Commander said. Staring with those wolfish eyes. Dennis inevitably backed off, yet not because of intimidation. He knew he had zero power and if the Asterians wanted to kill him, he could only imagine how they would take him apart like that ugly poisonous duck-dragon and dispose of his body. The public didn't even know this island, let alone the project existed. Inevitably, Dennis caved in. However, he did not submit because he was afraid. All he could think about was his real assignment, escaping Astera in one piece, and snagging his 1.5 million dollar check, and that was just the low estimate on what his check would say.
He visualized himself burning down Sunset Blvd in Hollywood in a shining white limo, arriving at the hottest nightclub in LA reserved for A listers only, his chaperone opening the door for him. Dennis, in his vision, walks out in a luxurious custom suite with two European models (hell, why not some Astran babes?) strutting on either side of him with It's Goin' Down by Joc quaking in the background. They waltz into the nightclub ahead of the line and spin like a roulette table amidst dancers crowns and blazing lights, hip hop and dubstep thundering louder through bass speakers. His daydream practically tuned out his self-awareness entirely. He snapped back to the present, changed his demeanor, and looked back at the commander. "Fine," he spoke. "I made a mistake." He looked past the commander at Hammond. "I get right on this, sir."
"Don't worry, Hammond." The Commander said. "Your grandchildren are safe. I've got my best Hunters with them and the field teams are standing by."
"Thank you, Commander," Hammond replied graciously. "I take it you want Malcolm to eat his words."
The Commander laughed. "True, but besides that. . .Wyverns can never and should never be underestimated...much like people."
"Very well," Hammond said. "Let's get this show on the road then."
Hammond's mood shifted, his cheeks flushed, his chest swollen with pride. He turned toward's the serious handler.
"Well," he said paternally. "Are you ready?"
She smiled and nodded. Hammond made a signal to Arnold who began rapidly typing across multiple keyboards, so quickly and smoothly, it was as if he was playing the piano. The speakers in the control began crackling. Hammond and the Serious Handler walked to two luxurious-looking chairs, a coffee table in between them and a green screen in the background. A camera crew walked in, led by Rodriguez, the survivor of Roland's first encounter with a Wyvern all those years ago, who Hammond, as a ploy to coerce him to not report anything to the news, promoted as the producer for the tour's live program that was to be broadcasted on monitors within the SUVs. The program would be held live regularly to give tourists a personal flavor.
"Hold on to your butts," Ray said rather apprehensively, as he initiated the tour program.
Rodriguez ordered the camera crew, consisting of both Asterians and off landers, with the diligence of a maestro during a live orchestra. Once the cameras had been place, the two tour guides with give heads. Rodriguez waiting until Hammond and the Serious handler were ready, the Handler having continually rehearsed her lines for the show's introduction, cued on three, and the Asterian lead camera hit the trigger. On nearby monitors, the show opened up with a gorgeous score and displayed a marvelous sweeping aerial shot of Asteria, followed by slide show illustrations of the island's brief history, and footage, concluding with the beautifully rendered title, Wyvern Park Live.
"Hello" Hammond announced before the camera. "My name is John Hammond. This here the lovely mistress is miss Seria Hahn'dier." The Handler greeted the audience in the Asterian tongue. "We will be joining you on an adventure in these ancient lands shrouded in the mists of time. We welcome you to Wyvern Park."
The automated cars carried the company through a huge set of dramatic gates, something out of King Kong, not that Ian would vocalize that joke again. They were treated to the same magnificent view of the Ancient Forest and its bustling endemic life: huge bugs, weird-looking frogs, and handfuls of herbivores that looked like straight-up dinosaurs, all on the other side, of course, of either electric fence that surrounded them.
They had yet to see any more Wyverns yet, but it seemed Hammond had insisted on having them watch his program from the screens within the cars.
"I suppose you're wondering how all this was possible," Hammond said as if he were reading a script,"Well, I'll tell you: it's all thanks to the miracle of..."
But then they saw something incredibly, almost distastefully silly: John pretended to be surprised to see an adorable hand-drawn talking cat pop into existence on his desk."Oh my, who are you?"
The cartoon cat gave Hammond a thumbs up."Howdy, Pawters! I'm Navigatin' Navirou! I'll be your go-to Palico guide through this pawsitively clawesome adventure!"
"Well, hello there, Navirou," the Seria greeted warmly,"It's so nice to have a Palico around; a hunter just isn't complete without one."
"What the hell's a Palico?" Gennaro hissed to himself before Lance shushed him.
"Well, Navirou, where'd you come from?" Hammond asked the tacky special effect.
"Fur-om your blood!" Navirou answered."Just like the Wyverns of Wyvern Park, I was made from just one drop of organic matter, which contains billions of strands of DNA, the building blocks of life!" Navirou said as he put on a white scientist's coat, and an illustration of DNA, appeared "behind" Hammond, which Navirou pointed too with a twig." A DNA strand is a blueprint for building a living thing. And sometimes animals that went extinct meow-lennia ago, like Wyverns, left their blueprints behind in just the craziest of places! Fur example:"
The screen transitioned to an entire animated sequence involving a mosquito sucking the blood out of a Yian-Kut-Ku's butt. "Fur eons, there have been pesky meow-squitos just like today. And just like today, they fed on the blood of animals, fur-rom dinosaurs all the way to Wyverns. Sometimes after sucking the blood from a Wyvern, the meow-squito would land on the branch of a tree and get stuck in the sap. After a long time, the tree sap would get hard, and become fossilized just like a dinosaur bone, purr-serving the meow-squito inside."
The screen changed to a group of cats with safety helmets using pickaxes to rapidly dig a visible hole all throughout the ground." This fossilized tree sap," Navirou continued," which we call 'amber,' waited fur who knows how long with the mosquito inside!" the cats cheered as they found said amber." Until Wyvern Park scientists came along, using sophisticated techniques, they extract the preserved blood from the mosquito," live-action footage showed close-ups of the real amber being drilled through and a syringe carefully placed inside, extracting the blood from within," And bingo: Dragon DNA! A full DNA strand contains three billion genetic codes..."
Grant had to relax himself, watching his life's work (once again, dammit) be abridged into a childish joke that not even the dumbest of kids would enjoy. His annoyed and lazy eyes wandered to the hills, which reminded him of the Verdant Hills of his dig site - he was beside himself at just how far his life had quickly strayed from the normality of that day. Just then, something on the top of a distant mountain caught his eye: it was such a strange sight, as he had expected it to be a wyvern; but his eyes said different, that way out there on the green summit stood a horse. After he blinked at something so ironically normal, he was strangely certain that horse was staring straight back at him...
When just then, Grant was frightened by the sounds of cars and horns. His eyes whipped back the tv, showing Navirou desperately evading a void full of DNA-related data flying across the screen.
"If we looked at screens like these, once a second for eight hours a day...!" Navirou struggled, jumping and splitting his legs as data flew under," it'd take two years to look at the entire DNA strand. It's that long. Since it's so old-NYA!" Navirou yelping as a passing piece of data pulled a Wy Le Coyote and smashed right into the cat like an incoming train, dragging him offscreen, followed by Navirou jumping off of another flying data chunk,"...old, it's full of holes. Now, that's where our geneticists take over..."
Alan had to admit, that was funny, but then his memory jogged and he turned back at the mountain: there was nothing there, making Grant rub his eyes like a drunk in confusion. Why would Hammond have wild horses on the island? It couldn't have belonged to some field worker, as there was no way even Hammond was reckless enough to...
"... VR displays show our geneticists the gaps in the DNA sequence!" Navirou narrated as footage of real scientists was shown," We used the complete DNA of a frog to fill in the... cold...," Navirou grunted as he carried a large row of letter representing DNA," and complete the... code!" he placed the letters into the gap of DNA, completing the strand. "Phew! And now we can make a baby Wyvern..."
A warm lamp hung over a wobbling egg; it cracked open as, it took Grant a millisecond to know, a baby Diablos crawled out and wined for its mama.
"Aww..." Navirou cooed at the baby, before it magically grew into a fully grown Diablos and released an earsplitting shriek."NYAAAAAA! THEY GROW UP SO FAST!" Navrou ran for his life, his legs turning into wheels and zooming off-screen; the charging Diablos collided with the "camera", the screen pretending to short out. It cut back to Hammond and Seria at the desk.
"My goodness!" Hammond said,"I sure hope that lad'll be alright!"
"Don't worry, John," Seria said,"any Palico worth his whiskers can handle a..." Seria actually sighed as she read the bottom of her cue-card, but Hammond's smile insisted she finish, putting her own smile back on just in time," a meownster."
The Handler squeaked with delight, clapping her hands rapidly," She said my line!"
"...and in doing so, makes her the bravest girl I've ever met..." Roland shook his head.
Nedry merely sipped his soda, watching something else on his screen, keeping his eyes on various camera feeds within Site F, above a screen showing the docks full of ships coming and going to the mainland. His right fingers tentatively rolled along the fake can of Barabasol.
"We hope you've appreciated our very first broadcast of Wyvern Park Live," beamed Seria,"Remember, have a pawsitively clawdacious day!"
Finally, the gods had mercy on her, as the live feed cut off, as her whole body lowered in releif, feeling her face in shame."I'm going to kill that woman..."
As the stream ended, it was replaced by an audio narration from David Attenborough,"You are now entering the lost world of the prehistoric past, a world inhabited by creatures long gone from the face of the earth, which you are privileged to see for the first time..."
"It's always this guy," Ian shook his head."So, Donald, just out of curiosity, what case are you here to defend Hammond for, or is that a redundant question to ask?"
Gennaro shuffled in his seat."I represent InGen, not Hammond, there's a difference. You probably guessed yesterday, but a worker was mortally wounded while transferring an animal to a new paddock. John's been pretty tight lipped about which animal did it, but my money's on the crazy purple one. His family wants to sue for 20 million; and if they know what we know, that price could get squared. The safety. That's the problem I had to answer."
"As expected," said Ian,"So when's the court date for God's lawsuit against Hammond's crimes against nature scheduled?"
"What god has Hammond offended?" Lance asked.
"I'm gonna say..." Malcolm paused, then clicked his tongue "...all of them."
Gennarro sighed."Look, the accident took place in a restricted area. It would not have been available to the public access. So how can the safety of the public be called into question?"
Ian coughed."...chaos..."
The cars moved past the fences, retaining walls covered with greenery and growth, heightening the illusion of moving through a wild jungle. As the forest density increased, the cars neared the first enclosure.
"To the right," Attenborough continued," you will see a herd of the first Wyverns on our tour, the diminutive dinosaur-like Bird Wyverns called Ioprey."
"Ioprey?" Grant perked up at this, as he quickly leaned to the right end of car, followed by the children. The name of the creature was slapped right against the fence in big colorful letters, amking Grant feel like an idiot for not noticing ealier.
The enclosure was near a riverbank, giving said animals a good opportunity to come out and drink from the river, which is what everyone expected to see.
"What are we looking for?" Gennaro asked.
"Ioprey," Answered Ellie," they look like velociraptors, red, have a big crown on their heads."
The enclosure had a lot of beautiful...plants, but no sign of any Ioprey. The tour voice continues anyway." Descendant of the Dilophosaurus, we now know that the Ioprey is actually poisonous, spitting its venom at its prey, causing an agonizing pain that causes the prey to eventually faint, allowing the carnivore to eat at its leisure. This makes Ioprey a beautiful, but deadly addition to Wyvern Park." Attenborough finished, as corny "scary" music plays over the speakers.
"There's nothing there!" protested Tim.
"Oh, this is just like the LA zoo," Lex huffed," the animals hide all the time."
The Ace Cadet tapped his chin, then clapped his hands together."Oh wait, I remember! Julian killed them for practice last week!"
The civilized occupancy of the car reeled at this information, as the Ace Commander squirmed in his seat
Aiden shook his head in satisfaction."You guys shoulda' been there, he went Demon Mode with his blades and diced'em all in like one second! Left nothing even left to carve! That's ma man!" he punched his commander's shoulder proudly, totally oblivious to the appalled expressions of Lex and Grant fixed onto the Dual Blade wielder.
But the Dual Blade weilder noticed, and wished he were in the rear seat."...right, yes, so it's a funny story..."
As he heard this conversation through the speakers, John Hammond slammed his desk in ungodly outrage."He did WHAT!?"
The Commander chuckled."Yes, I believe the quest was posted as a prank by your Dennis worker..." he recalled, feeling his beard.
Hammond's wide burning eyes locked onto the genuinely surprised Dennis Nedry.
Nedry held his hands up."Hand to God, I thought he wouldn't do it."
"Don't make me hurt you, Dennis," breathed Hammond.
Hammond wiped the sweat from his brow and Arnold chewed his tongue callously. Roland placed his hands on his hips in disdain and the Commander simply gazed on them shamefully.
"It's called sarcasm!" Dennis said, clearly annoyed. "You don't know the difference? When someone says jump off a cliff. . ."
"That's because when you post quest objectives, you mean what you say," The Commander swift interjected. "The quest description is mere conjecture; any good hunter knows that."
"Yeah," Dennis said flatly, place a hand on his desk. "Because we all know that all Asterians are perfect..."
"Thank you," The Commander said, unmoved "You would do well to learn from us. I suggest speaking straightly. You might have fewer problems. . . ."
There was some muffled laughing in the back. Dennis turned red. He guessed that when the commander was still learning how to throw a stick, he'd already built his first custom desktop computer. Dennis proudly held a master's in computational science and engineering from Harvard University, taking his professional and academic experience deathly serious as this Huntsman did his own tribal heritage. In Dennis' hands, a keyboard and mouse were musical instruments, the streams of codes scrolling down the screen like sheets of music. Computer programing was his art, his passion, yet when came to this island, the Asterians cared little. All they did was hunt, eat, and sleep. Dennis generally avoided them when he could. "You want me to speak straight you illiterate stone age. . . ."
"Those fools should have known it was a joke!" Someone shouted, almost screamed. The voice came from nowhere. Suddenly, the heavy sound footsteps from the back of the control room. The earlier dark form of Professor Wu emerged from the shadows. He wore is his typical black long merging seemingly with dark areas of the room, leaving only his head visible. The low lights of the computer monitors barely illuminated, intensifying the dimples and tight cheeks bones around his harsh demeanor, giving him the scientist a ghoulish, almost diabolic look. Wu rarely entered the control room, staying in the solace of either the station's numerous labs or his own private study, preoccupying himself with reading or perusing through his notes. However, as a scientist, he felt the urge to observe the tourists as they were escorted through the park, eager to see their reactions broadcasted over the monitors, noting every emotion and detail. Happiness, shock, fear, anger. He'd been informed about Malcolm's childish disapproval of his experiments and was personally disgusted, believing Hammond and his staff to be men and women of revolutionary science. But, Wu considered the difference between his profession and theirs. Wu, he realized, worked with life; Grant, dead fossils, and Malcolm, groundless speculations. Either way, Wu had decided to attend the filming of the first tour, though preferred to remain inconspicuous, taking a seat in the low-lit back of the control. However, when Wu saw the gory, disgusting atrocity projected on the monitor before him, discovering one of his precious creations had been brutally butchered by these savages, for fun no less, a match had been dropped in a river of liquid gas.
"Do you have any idea how much of those creatures cost, how long it took to generate it!? The incubation period required. . ." the normally cold passive professor was livid with rage.
"Calm down, Wu" The Commander said nonchalantly, already embarrassed. "I'll deal with the men later. There are plenty of beasts for them to see. In the meantime, we can breed another.
"They're not muffins!" He hissed. "You can't just 'make' another one. The genetic material is extremely fragile, the process is extremely wearing. We have to practically reconstruct the DNA almost strand by strand. . . ."
"Yes," the Commander said. "You've made your point. Wyverns are fast growers."
"These aren't real Wyverns. They don't grow like regular Wyverns. Keep your men in check!"
"I don't answer to you. . ." the Commander answered, not even looking at Wu.
"I represent INGEN. We're financed and directed by Hammond, but INGEN has every right to rescind prior agreements."
Hammond looked at the ground like an ashamed grandfather. Rodriguez had cut the camera and went into brief intermission. Only island footage of the island and Asterian music played in a loop on the feed. He was infuriated, breathing rapidly, severely wanting to resume filming. He then looked up a Wu, attempting to calm the man down.
"Wu, let's move on shall we. . ." Before the Hammond could address the enraged scientist, Wu spun around on a heel, directing his burning gaze towards Roland who attempted to ignore Wu, not moving his eyes from the main monitor in the center of the room.
"And where were YOU when this occurred?!" Wu shouted at Roland, who remained as immovable as a stump. He never liked Wu."You're the field operative. You're supposed to oversee the ALL activity outside these walls." Wu said, stabbing his finger inches from Roland's nose.
"Number one," Roland said lowly, dangerously. He'd had enough of Wu's obstinance."Get dirty your finger out of my face before jam it somewhere else. Two, I'm not a damn secretary, I had no bloody clue of this," Roland said
"It's your job to know," Wu said.
"Don't tell me what my job is! You possibly expect me to keep track of every Asterian on this island. That's what their seniors are for, and we've been scrambling for months. We'll handle this later. . ."
Wu flexed his finger upon his chin. He motioned arrogantly towards Roland who was now standing near Arnold. "That's must be a new catch phrase. 'Later', later, resolve this later, address that, deal with them, reprimand'-when we going to handle it NOW?!"
Wu's violent, passionate outbreak was alien coming from a typically cold and reserved geneticist. Roland acknowledged the man closely, noticing there was definitely something off about the veteran researcher. His eyes were abnormally red, his skin clammy, and his hair greasy. It was was apparent, Wu was under an insurmountable level of stress, yet there was something else bothering him. Roland cared little. He already had to deal with Asterians, gaining their respect and admiration, under the watchful eye of their revered Commander; he would not tolerate the chastised of a book worm who looked so gaunt, he appeared as if he didn't even know what the sun was.
"Back off Wu" He said lowly. "Sit down. We'll take control. You just stick your nose back in your books. . ."
"You never seem to have control, Roland." Wu growled, pointing a crooked finger at of one the monitors, still displayed the mutilated remnants of the monster "That much is certain!"
"You're not in control me!" Roland fired back.
Rodriguez skin flushed, as he started breathing rapidly with impatience. The film was on edge. He stomped over to the feuding duo. "Hey, could you guys shut and take this outside? We need to move with the pro. . ."
"Why are you still here?" Wu asked.
"Why are you being jack ass? You never show your face until one problem comes up. . ."
"It isn't one problem! I don't need to be criticized by a D-level wannabe artist who got his acting degree from a Happy Meal!"
"Oh, fo'give me, Mastah Wu. . ."Rodriguez responded by sarcastically folding his hands together and bowing like a B actor in a badly dubbed 80s era Kung Fu movie. Wu's jaw dropped and his eye narrowed, burning at Rodriguez's surprisingly blunt racist patronization.
The three continued bickerings until additional personel chimed it. Eventually, more scientists, both Asterians and Outside Worlders walked through the double doors and entered the fray. The ongoing arguing escalated in a near-riot between camera personnel, technicians, some hunters who doubled as office security, and others. Everyone blamed everyone for something or everything and Wu's meager sparked ignited a civil war. Pressures had mounted for months, each group having some slight disdain for the other or bias. Hammond, the pristine billionaire CEO and Philanthropist of the new world stared at the floor drooping like an ashamed grandfather who just wished his family would learn to cooperate. The Serious handler patted Hammond on the shoulder mercifully and then looked up at the main monitor. Her eyes intensified with fear. The Commander's eyes caught her demeanor and turned away from the ceaseless uproar to the main monitor. His jaw loosened.
"Everyone!" He said loudly to no avail. The thunder of the din completely drowned him out. Enough. . . .the Commander, with cat like agility lunged on one of the nearby monitors, heavy boots cracking the wooden desk.
"QUIET!" he roared, almost screamed. Everyone slowed down in shock and guards instinctively raised their weapons. It sounded like a wyvern had entered the room.
"All of you. . . .they are entering the Rathalos paddock. . . ."
Rodriguez turned sharply, making quick hand gesturing, signaling to resume filming. . .
