Isla Nublar: June 9th, 1995
It was a shitty day for flying.
The winds howled harshly against the pouring rain, tearing through the trees of the ever beautiful, ever terrible Isla Nublar, mirroring the ruthless behavior of its deadly inhabitants. The wind twisted and turned in chaotic rhythm with the roaring tides as they beat against its sandy shores. Yes, a shitty, pretty dangerous day to be flying, not to mention in the direction of said island filled with extremely deadly, extremely dangerous predators .
And yet here was Dr. Alan Grant, who had somehow found himself sitting in a helicopter over the open sea, regretting every second of his currently miserable existence.
He looked out the window to the raging storm, morbidly hoping that the heavy downpour would eventually become too much for the aircraft to handle, force the pilot to turn back, and save this trip for another day, preferably never. But as Alan spotted the awful island from the edge of the window, he knew it was too late to turn back. He found himself facing the two core things he'd silently swore never to do after the living nightmare that was Jurassic Park:
1. Never go back to that damn island
2. Never work with or on anything associated with John Hammond or any branch of his team ever again.
Well, the second was more of a stretch, given that apparently Hammond had nothing to do with their new project. At least, that's what their new business representatives, who had asked him to meet on the cursed island to discuss the approval for some grant, had assured him of. Not that it made him any less comfortable about the whole ordeal. Though, as he glanced at them in their dark, well-pressed suits from the corner of his eye as they sat across from him, it did make him wonder who they had managed to replace the old man with.
As the dreaded island came closer and closer into view, Alan kept a hard grip on his composure, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of his fellow passengers. He continued to ask himself why he had agreed to go back. He wanted to say it was because he felt that someone had to keep them in check, what with the crazy ideas that seemed to come out of their heads, which was true, but a small, dangerous part of him was always curious. That part of him, though scarred by his near-death experience at the hands of previously extinct killing-machines, had still been in awe of their frightening beauty. It now made an attempt to persuade him that going back wouldn't be the worst thing, that maybe they really had changed, and that things would be better this time around.
Soon the pilot had started their inevitable descent, preparing to land in an area of the island that Alan had found unfamiliar to him. Confused, he turned to the two men across from him.
"Where are we going?" he asks
"When starting out on this new project," one of the men answers, "we knew we needed to set up a new research facility right away, seeing as the lab from the previous one was too small and unattainable, with all the dinosaurs roaming around and everything. So, we started building one in a new location, far enough from the general area of the original to keep employees safe."
'Safe as you could be on an island of dinosaurs.' Alan thought bitterly.
It was then that the helicopter finally touched down on the roof of the new InGen building. Once they landed, Alan and the two businessmen rushed out of the rain to the safety of indoors. Once inside, the businessmen left, muttering about other matters that needed to be taken care of, leaving him to catch his breath as he awaited the arrival of the Head Director of Research and Genetics, with whom he was supposed to discuss the new project with.
Alan didn't have to wait much longer, however, as he was soon approached by who he assumed was one the scientists working in the facility. The clean white lab coat the man wore bore a name plate upon its lapel, the words "Dr. R. Monroe, Research and Genetics" presented in little thin black letters.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Grant." Says Dr. Monroe as they make their way through a blank corridor, "Though, I must say, I'm surprised that you even came at all. What with the horrific events of our last project. If anything, I would have completely understood if-"
"No, it's quite fine doctor," Alan reassures, though there was a certain edge to his voice "besides, someone's gotta keep an ear out for these sorts of things. And while we're on the topic, you mind telling me exactly what I've been asked to approve?"
"I believe it's best that you saw it for yourself, sir." Dr. Monroe responds as they enter a dark room. He then flicks on the lights to reveal a large laboratory, part of which, as Alan then noticed, had been turned into what looked like a makeshift hospital, with beds and curtains crowded into the far right side of the room, a few of which he could've sworn were occupied. But before Alan could get a good look, Dr. Monroe led him away down the aisle of work tables to a steel door on the opposite wall, with a small lock pad installed next to it. And as the doctor entered all the proper passcodes, he couldn't help a second glance at the beds. Though slightly relieved to find them seemingly vacant, he still felt the ever growing nausea at the thought of what they were needed for, silently praying that whatever the doctor and his team had in store, it wouldn't have anything to do with the tragic ideas that suddenly swarmed his head.
Alan was snapped from his thoughts by the small 'click' of the lock. He then turned back to Dr. Monroe, who seemed prepared to turn the knob, but then turned to speak to him instead.
"Dr. Grant, before we go in, I feel that I should give you a warning. This...project... is based on some of our...previous work; However, I assure you, everything is perfectly safe."
Alan only gives a slight nod, following Dr. Monroe into the small room when he sees it.
Frozen where he stands, he hopes that this is some sick joke. That Dr. Monroe would suddenly burst into laughter, walk up to the damn thing and show that it was a fake, a small poke at unhealed wounds. But he could see the rise and fall of its chest, the fidgeting of its sharp claws, its cold, unwavering eyes filled with the intelligence he knew all too well.
Alan stares at the velociraptor as it stands by the far wall, without any fences or chains to keep it from biting his head off, and it continues to stare right back.
He wants to tell off Dr. Monroe for how stupid he must be for a scientist, to have thought that bringing dinosaurs back on the table despite standing on a whole island of reasons not to. He wants to walk straight out the door and back to the helicopter and not look back. But Alan is paralyzed where he stands, the uncomfortable proximity to the age-old predator weighing him down, and his curiosity demands that he sees this through to the end, and let Monroe explain himself.
He turns to the doctor, finally breaking from his stupor, looking for reassurance.
"Go ahead," Dr. Monroe said, nodding in encouragement, "he won't bite."
"He?" Now Alan feels more puzzled than afraid, "but I thought-"
"-I know. But as you can see Dr. Grant," Dr. Monroe gestures to the velociraptor, "a lot has changed since the last time you were here."
At this, Alan's paleontologist brain finally starts working. He realizes that the velociraptor hadn't moved from its place in the corner since they'd come in, hadn't made a move towards either of them, hadn't made any attempt to escape. It went against every instinct- no- everything that Alan had known, and seen with his own eyes, for at least him or Dr. Monroe to be alive. Not that he wasn't grateful, of course.
Following in the raptor's mindset, disregarding his own reasoning, he tentatively advanced towards it, pausing once every so often to search for a reaction on the velociraptor's behalf.
Ever so slowly he closed the gap between them, only stopping when he was only within arm's reach of it. Unsure of what to do next, he turned back to where Dr. Monroe had been, only to find that the doctor had been quick to join him, as if he were approaching a large dog instead of a prehistoric bird of prey.
"H-How…" Alan attempted to ask, but there were so many questions in his head, that it was all he could say to ask all of them, "...How?!"
"That is a very long, complicated question Dr. Grant, but, to put it in short, we've found a way to suppress the velociraptor's predatory instincts, giving it a more submissive behavior." Dr. Monroe explains as he casually grabs the velociraptor's arm in his hands.
Feeling more collected, Alan gains enough courage to reach out to the raptor. He makes the attempt to place a hand on its dark scales, when suddenly it does something unexpected.
It flinches.
The velociraptor…. flinched.
From him.
Now he's seen everything.
Alan slowly pulls his hand away, strangely feeling guilty for frightening it, and steps back. Dr. Monroe, understanding that Alan had seen enough, leads him out of the cell, locking the door behind them.
"What do you need the approval for?" Alan asks.
"Mainly for research and medical supplies. We plan to eventually move this to other dinosaurs, pterodactyls, dilophosaurus …maybe even a T. rex. As for the medical supplies, well, that seems a little more obvious." Dr. Monroe replies.
Alan hesitates. "...Well, Doctor-"
Alan's response was quickly cut off by an alarm blaring outside the lab doors, a woman calling through the speakers, from what Alan can hear, was an all-call for any available doctor to report to a room number he can't make out.
"If you don't mind, Dr. Grant, there seems to be a problem down the hall. Perhaps you should stay here, think it over. I'll be back as soon as I can; And I would recommend that you stay in here. With how the floor is laid out, a lot of our interns get lost quite easily."
And with that, the doctor left, closing the door behind him as he jogs down the hall.
Alan's head is spinning. He could hardly grasp what he'd just seen in the holding cell, but the idea of an approachable T. rex? So many possibilities would be at their fingertips, the scientific world could benefit greatly from such a feat! But his mind retrieves the image of the velociraptor in the cell behind him, his eyes falling on the steel door. How hesitant, almost scared it had seemed to be in their presence. What exactly was it that they'd done to make a velociraptor scared? But what bothered him most were the medical beds. Alan couldn't imagine the lengths it must've taken to hold down the damn thing enough to sedate it this heavily. How many people were hurt, even killed, and to what end? If the beds beside him were any indication, it was already too many for his liking.
In its simplest form, an echo of Ian's words came to mind: It wasn't a matter of if they could, or all the scientific discoveries they could make, but rather if they even should to begin with.
It was then that Alan knew his answer. Nothing seemed to add up about this project, and what he could understand was too shady for his liking. He was going to tell Dr. Monroe that if they wanted someone to look past all the details of their project and approve them without a second thought, they'd sought out the wrong paleontologist. And it was then, as Alan resurfaced from his thoughts, that he had finally heard it.
Beep …Beep …Beep...Beep…..
Alan slowly turned his head back to the beds as the heart monitor continued to poke through the silence.
There was someone in here.
Oh God.
He knew it wasn't his business, that the poor soul lying in the bed behind him probably didn't want to be disturbed after whatever shit they'd been put through, but Alan still found himself slowly walking towards the bed at the very end of the row, heart racing at the gruesome pictures that filled his head. He couldn't bear all the mystery, it was eating him from the inside. All he wanted was one small truth to satisfy, if only for a little while. Unable to stop himself, he pulled back the curtain and froze, eyes widening in horror.
What lay in the bed before him was a woman no doubt, but what nightmarish ideas that he'd formed in his mind had done nothing to prepare him for what he actually saw.
No. This was so much worse.
Her skin was deathly pale, and she and the sheets beneath her soaked in buckets of sweat, but beneath it all, as surreal as it had seemed to Alan, it looked as if she had a second skin breaking out from beneath in dark, clustered splotches along her arms and face, and slightly balding from where it had appeared on her scalp. It gave off a soft, almost metallic luster under the fluorescent light, almost like..
….Almost like scales.
But what unsettled him the most were her hands, how some of her fingernails had become thick and dark, some of which were starting to grow into a sharp point.
'Claws.' His brain finally registered, 'Those are claws.'
What the hell were they doing?!
Alan began to back away, horrified by what he had seen, when he bumped into someone behind, only to see it was Dr. Monroe, his once pristine white lab coat, now stained with splotches of blood.
"Doctor!" He said with nervous laughter "I-uh- didn't see you there!"
The doctor only continued to look at him apathetically. Alan decided that it would be best that he went ahead and made his getaway.
"...Right. Look, about this whole thing...why don't you just give me a couple of days," he said hurriedly, inches from the door, "and I-I'll give you a call when I've decided. Great! I'll hear from you the-"
"You saw her."
It was a statement. It asked for nothing, and yet it called to him all the same.
So close, and yet so far, Alan felt as the words had frozen his feet where he stood.
"Don't try to deny it, Doctor. In all honesty, there's nothing to be ashamed of. As men of science, it's part of what we do. We're driven by curiosity, always desperate for answers, in search of greater possibilities." Dr. Monroe says smugly.
"And what 'greater possibilities' could've been worth whatever you did to her?" Alan asks
"Oh please Grant. You and I both know that no real velociraptor could never be tamed, at least, not for long. Their minds are too primal to feel things like mercy, compassion, or even fear, but people on the other hand, well…"
Alan couldn't speak, sickened by the doctor's own lack of compassion in this situation, only able to stare back at him in shock.
"Now, don't look at me like that. Deep down you know that if you were in my position of opportunity, you would be doing the exact same thing."
"You see doctor, that's the one thing you've got wrong" Alan finally musters, finding his ground, "Because I'm not blind to how insane and inhumane this all is. I'm sorry, Dr. Monroe, but my answer is no, I can't let this project pass."
Instead of retaliating in anger, or resigning to his decision, Alan hears a small chuckle escape Dr. Monroe's lips. It slowly grows into chaotic laughter, the doctor barely containing himself.
"...What?"
"Oh Dr. Grant," says Dr. Monroe as he collects himself, "I'm afraid you've failed to see the big picture. There is no approval form. We can obtain that from other sources. No, we just needed a reason to get you to come."
Suddenly, Alan feels strong hands grab him from behind. He struggles to escape their grip as another doctor comes into view, a clear syringe in hand.
"Let me go!" Alan shouts frantically
"I'm afraid we can't do that, Dr. Grant. Regardless of whether or not this was the initial plan, you simply know far too much for us to just 'let you go'."
And as he says this the hands behind him force out his arm, allowing the other doctor to plunge the syringe into it. Alan quickly came to quickly feel its effects, his consciousness slowly fading out to black.