RECOVERY
1 - Meeting With InGen
She could feel it starting; the illness flaring up. Her body ached and burned with a fever she knew would continue to climb. There were no meds to take and no one to help her. Pet weakly snorted and stumbled through the forest undergrowth. When she didn't think she could go on any more, she collapsed to her knees. Her throat was on fire and swallowing anything felt like drinking acid. Pet tried to get up in an effort to return to her place of safety only to find it impossible. She hurt all over and choked out a bark. The weakening hybrid fell to the soft, cool earth of the forest floor and curled up in a fetal position. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Pet knew that with it would be rain. Not caring, the hybrid laid on the ground and gave in to the unconsciousness starting to drag her under in its currents.
Buzzing from an alarm clock flashing five-thirty AM filled a quiet, dark studio apartment. Surely it wasn't time to get up, was it? He felt as though he had just laid down and grumbled in protest of the offensive object's constant blaring. Derek Muldoon rolled over, his dark brown hair a tussled mess on his head, and slammed a hand down on the nightstand. He groggily began feeling around for his alarm clock when he heard it fall to floor and roll under the futon bed.
"Damn it all to hell."
His arm limply hung off the side of the bed in debate on either retrieving the alarm clock or ignoring it in an attempt to snooze a bit longer. He eventually knew it would time out after a few seconds, which seemed to feel more like grueling minutes the more it continued to buzz. Eventually, though, everything returned to the peaceful quiet as it was previously. Derek heaved a breath and drifted back to sleep. No sooner had he fallen back asleep when the clock's alarm went off again. This time it seemed slightly louder than the time before.
"Alright, alright, already!" He pushed himself upward to sit up and reached under the futon bed to fetch the clock. "Piece of…" He switched off the alarm and tossed it on the nightstand. He scratched his head and cursed under his breath as he strode to the bathroom for a morning shower.
It was now eight AM with bright sunny skies looming overhead of the InGen headquarters in Palo Alto, California. The day seemed it couldn't get better, but the company's executives seated around a polished, cherry wood conference table felt otherwise. They exchanged nervous glances before finally gawking at a middle-aged man, sitting at the end of the table and appearing significantly out of place. Unlike the others present in the room clad in expensive suits, the unknown individual resembled something from the backwoods. He was lounged back in one of the conference table's brick red leather chairs and wearing something akin to an olive-green military uniform. Atop his head was beat to hell, black cowboy hat with a brown feather protruding from its band. A woman seated to his right wrinkled her nose in disgust at his mud-encrusted combat boots propped on the corner of the table.
He could hear them whispering to each other in confusion and peered up from beneath the rim of his hat to sneer at their staring faces. He huffed a chuckle, glanced back down and continued digging under his fingernails with his boot knife. Behind him, he could hear one of the heavy wooden double doors open to reveal InGen's interim CEO. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and wore a black suit over his slim frame to match his almost black, neatly groomed hair. Though he tried to look professional in appearance, the stress of the company being under fire for the San Diego incident was evident in his icy blue eyes.
His gaze fell on the oddball of the group and winced in disapproval to the man's lack of professional appearance. But what did he expect? After all, this man was a well-renowned hunter, and possibly poacher, recently arrived from Australia.
The CEO spoke. "Ah, Reynolds...Virgil Reynolds. I see you were able to make it after all. Good." In his striding past the game hunter, he paused to stare at the muddy combat boots resting on the table. "Mr. Reynolds, I'm sure the aborigines in your neck of the woods don't mind your lack of manners, but here...we the executives of InGen...do." Reynolds tilted his head to the side to better look at the man from beneath the brim of his hat and curled his scarred, upper lip. "Now, with that said, if you would be so kind as to remove your feet from the table?"
The game hunter lowered his head again and tucked his knife back into its scabbard in his boot. "Mr. Stevens, you are the one who asked me to come here. Had I had my way, I'd be on the island right now looking for the bitch. Not sitting around -"
"Yes, Mr. Reynolds, I'm well aware of this, but there is a reason why you were asked to attend the meeting."
Reynolds arched a brow and stated, "Enlighten me, then."
A knock at the conference room doors got Stevens' attention. He straightened his posture and pulled at the bottom of his suit coat. Not like it needed it. His appearance was already pretty shard. Stevens called out. "You may enter." Derek peered into the room and locked eyes with Stevens. The CEO outstretched his arms in a welcome. "Derek Muldoon. I was beginning to worry. Come, join us."
Derek did so and quietly shut the door behind him. "My apologies for being late."
"You're not late as we were just about to get started." Stevens smiled as welcomingly as he could.
Derek frowned when he saw there were no more available seats at the center table and decided to stand against the side wall to listen to the meeting. His eyes fell on Reynolds, who's scowling expression was studying him in return.
The game hunter laughed to himself. "A bounty hunter. Does your uncle dearest know you're here? I'm sure he wouldn't take too kindly to it, should he find out what with his little Pet being the hunted and all."
Derek rolled his chocolate colored eyes away from the older man. "What I do is of my concern; not yours and certainly not of my uncle's."
"We'll see." Virgil slid his feet off the table and sat up. He gave no mind to the chunks of dirt on the table's corner and crossed his arms. "Now tell me, Stevens, what do I need to know about my target?"
Derek cut in. "Our target."
Virgil softly chuckled. "No offense, boy, but this isn't your area of expertise. This thing hunts and kills like a predator."
"You forget she also can think and reason like a human being on the run. I've seen some pretty crazy shit in my time and know how people think when being hunted." Derek's brown eyes rested heavily on the militant dressed hunter. "Do you?"
The older hunter shook his head and scratched his chin. "I don't think this thing is running from parole."
Stevens spoke up. "Gentlemen, please, let's just-"
Derek continued, interrupting Stevens without a second thought. "Tell me, what do you know about the target? That's she's some mindless animal with a predictable hunting pattern?"
Both people studied the other, a sneer on Virgil's face. "I guess you know everything about her then, hmm?"
"I've spent some time around her to know how she thinks and will probably act in certain situations. Plus, I've heard plenty of stories from Rob telling me about her. You don't hunt her; she hunts you and should you be so fortunate enough to find her, it's too late. You've already fallen into her trap." It was Derek's turn to sneer.
Virgil leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him with elbows propped on the armrests. "I'm looking forward to it, already." His sly, half smile rested on Stevens as he drummed his calloused fingers against each other.
The interim CEO nodded in understanding and leaned against his chair at the head of the table. "Eager, I see. Excellent. Let us get this meeting underway, then. There's a lot to discuss."
The meeting concluded almost two hours later, and Derek was about to leave the boardroom until stopped by Stevens. "Mr. Muldoon, one minute of your time, please?"
Derek grumbled and released the brass door handle, watching the door close him back inside the room. "You've already gotten roughly one hundred and twenty minutes of my time, Mr. Stevens. How much more are you expecting to take, now?"
The interim CEO didn't appreciate the snide tone of voice the younger man was displaying. "I'm concerned about your involvement with this little hunt and how it relates to you."
"Should've thought about that before you called me to offer the job, sir." Derek was already more than annoyed at the other man and defensively crossed his arms over his chest. "Come to think about it, why did you bring me in on this little venture of yours? To bait the target with a face from her past?"
Stevens pressed his lips into thin grin that more bordered annoyed than sincere. "I offered you a place on this venture because you're one of the best bounty hunters in the west coast area. Virgil Reynolds is excellent in tracking and hunting animals."
"Which is why you need someone like me, who can track down a person." Derek's eyes read everything he could of Steven's expression. He knew he was being used a pawn in a carefully planned out chess game between InGen and the highly intelligent hybrid he knew as Pet. "Regardless of the fact I could compromise your little party before it even gets started.
Stevens scoffed. "It's not too late to replace you."
Derek smirked. "Yes, it is. I already know too much." He neared the interim CEO to stare him deeper in the eye. "Trust me on this, Mr. Stevens, you don't want me as your enemy. If you don't believe me then call my sperm donor of a father. Call my uncle. Call the several dozens of people I've busted and brought in since I was sixteen. They can attest to this.
"I wake up, I do my job, I get paid, I go home. That's all I care about. Anything or anyone who happens to get in my way will most likely get shot or come up missing. I've already killed four people in the past year. Why? Because they got in my way. I take my job very seriously, Mr. Stevens. So, with that, good day."
Derek left out of the conference room, leaving Stevens fuming under the collar of his expensive suit. Through the building Derel strode and out to the parking garage, getting his keys out of his jacket pocket and clicking off the alarm to his red Dodge Challenger. He knew he was being watched, for he could see the familiar black cowboy hat visible through a black truck's rear window, not far away. When Derek strode past to get into his car, the hat slightly turned as the head it was on tracked the younger man. Derek didn't care. Let people spy on him. He didn't have anything to hide or worry about and tossed his car into gear, driving off in an echo of squealing tires.
Virgil slimmed his gaze down on the younger man and reached under the seat of the truck to retrieve a loaded .45 Beretta. He didn't particularly feel comfortable with the bounty hunter tagging along, seeing how he was a possible compromise to the mission, and drove off to follow the red Challenger.
For a few blocks, chocolate brown eyes continued to watch the black truck follow him and was annoyed by it. Derek didn't really like being followed and thought of a way to shake the person. He merged onto the interstate and watched the truck do the same. Precisely what he was hoping for. He sped down the busy road and watched as the truck wove between vehicles to catch up. What was it with this guy? Derek changed lanes, buzzing past exits and waiting for the right moment to execute a plan he had been devising. Up ahead was a semi truck, Derek speeding up to it to get in front of it before the next interstate exit. He gazed back in a side view mirror to see the black truck catch up to him. Virgil was now two car lengths away, and Derek smiled to himself.
The next exit was only a half a mile away, and still, the truck was getting closer to the Challenger. Seeing the exit coming up fast, Derek checked his passenger side view mirror to make sure no vehicles would hinder his plan. A white car was back a little way and coming up the far outside lane. Derek worried it would hinder his plan. His attention shot back to the driver's side view mirror and then to the exit, now only thirty yards away. At the last second, Derek swerved over to the far right lane and quickly tapped on the breaks so as not to overshoot the exit. He barely missed the guardrail as the white car furiously honked at him, but he didn't care. His plan worked, for he didn't see the black truck behind him anymore.
Virgil saw from under the semi-truck's trailer what the reckless, younger man did and cursed out loud. Clever little prick. He had used the eighteen-wheeler as a means to block the follower from further pursuing him. Though the ragged hunter was pissed about losing his target, he had to give props on the move and proceeded to the next exit to turn off. He knew the younger man would be long gone by the time he backtracked to the exit, but it was okay. He'd get his chance to rid of him on the island. It might turn out better in the long run, anyway. There was always the excuse of him being killed by a dinosaur and who would chance going to the island to find out for themselves? Virgil smiled deviously to himself. He never lost his prey in a hunt.
