ADAPTATIONS

1 - Derek's Bunker

Sore. So sore. And cold. Pet's eye lids fluttered open to see she was in a dimly lit concrete structured room. As she became more consciously aware, she noticed she was laying on a bit of a lumpy cot. She moved ever so slowly and found her limbs weighed more than expected. Was she that drained of energy? Or was it her illness kicking in and taking a toll on her body? A prompt shiver ran down her spine and she realized it was because of a chill that had settled over her. It was the cold of the room that was weighing her down and making her sluggish. Damn being partially cold-blooded.

Pet propped herself up on an elbow and noticed she was given a clean set of clothes consisting of blue sweat pants and a white t-shirt. She was also washed up and her various scrapes and cuts bandaged. The hybrid brought a hand to her face and wiped away the crusted sleep out of her eyes. She groaned as she sat up a little bit more and tried to better study her surroundings. Roughly three feet from the end of the cot was a small bathroom with only a shower curtain as a door. Across the room and along the right adjacent wall was a closed cell bar door that looked like something from a medieval dungeon. Where was she? She soon quickly came to discover she was shackled and chained up to mounts bolted into the wall directly above the cot.

She screeched in anger and fought against her bonds. Her fighting and tugging against the chains came to a halt when she realized she wasn't alone. Not far from the cell bar door was a shadowy figure standing rigid against the wall. Pet hissed a snort and watched the mysterious form leave the room through the door and disappear.

Derek locked the door behind him and clipped the keys to a belt loop on his jeans. He proceeded down a short hallway and into a medium sized room. On the wall to his right was a rectangular fold-out table holding two small TV monitors and a computer. To the left of the room was a circular fold-out table situated next to an old wooden gun shelf. It was no surprise to find the room's only other occupant, Muldoon, passed out and his head on the table. Sitting next to his hand was a half empty fifth of Scotch and a knocked over shot glass. On the wall across from the table was a small kitchenette offering a mini stove, sink, fridge and small pantry.

Derek sighed and went to the pantry door. He quietly opened it only to slam it closed as loud as he could. The sound jolted the drunk man awake, and Muldoon grumbled, sitting up. The young man frowned. "She's awake."


A little over forty minutes later, an explosion of light momentarily blinded the hybrid and she growled out, covering her face with her clawed hands.

Derek stood there, one finger on a light switch by the door and his other hand wrapped around his favorite Remington rifle for intimidation purposes. He scoffed. "This can go one of two ways, Pet..."

The hybrid slid her hands from her face and forced her eyes to adjust to the light. She shrilled out in rage and lunged at the familiar man. The chains reached their max length and Pet was pulled harshly to the unforgiving floor.

Derek heard the air be knocked from her lungs and winced. "Looks like you're opting for choice two; the hard way." He shrugged. "I can work with that." The hybrid slowly got back to her feet and continued to twist her wrists in the shackles, hoping to slide out of them. "Don't expect that to work. I made sure they were nice and secure. In all the years of bringing people here for...interrogations... no one has gotten free. Ever." Pet wasn't listening and barked out in frustration. "And don't think you can break the chains, pick open the locks or break the wall mount, either." He laughed to himself. "You wouldn't believe the favors I had to ask and connections to pull to make that little set up happen. Oh, and just to let you know...no matter how much noise you make and how loud you make it, no one outside this bunker is going to hear you. This heap of concrete used to be a U.S. military training bunker at one point way back in the day. The walls are two feet thick, and the entire place is mostly underground. So yeah...yell, scream, bark, shriek, shrill, whatever the hell it is you do...do it. You're shit out of luck, chica."

Pet snarled. "Why are you keeping me chained up like some damned animal?"

Derek held up his bandaged forearm and pulled aside the collar of his black t-shirt to show the nonstick bandage taped over the bite mark between his shoulder and neck. "Remember this? Yeah, Uncle Rob and I aren't really wanting to chance you doing it again."

That set off the hybrid as she struggled more against her restraints. Pet loudly shrilled, the sound almost deafening in the concrete confines. Derek was to regretting telling her to be as loud as possible. He stood there, barely a foot shy from where she desperately fought without success of reaching him.

Muldoon entered the room, limping with the assistance of a cane to support him. "How long has she been awake?" He and Pet locked gazes, the furious hybrid going silent for a minute to analyze him.

Derek watched the woman's golden yellow eyes give way to normal blue-green ones. "Somewhere around forty-five to fifty minutes," he replied. Muldoon saw something emotionally painful pass over her semblance just before her eyes shifted back to a raptor's.

Pet screeched again. "Let me go!"

"Not until you start acting more human and less like a wild animal." Muldoon remarked.

The hybrid snorted. "What do you expect, after getting left behind and made to live on an island where it's kill or be killed by more than just dinosaurs? Twice, no less."

Muldoon limped closer to the flustered hybrid and stood beside his nephew. "I had no choice in that. If I did, I'd have come and gotten you off the island much sooner than now. But I was under the impression you were dead, courtesy of Terrence Mitchell and this!" Muldoon reached behind him and pulled a familiar leather collar out of his back pocket. "It wasn't until both Hammond and Roland notified me otherwise that I learned you were still alive."

Derek piped up. "I called you, too."

"To warn me of InGen's little hunting trip, not to tell me you had definite proof she was alive. At least the other two gents offered sufficient proof rather than he said, she said rumored speculation."

Pet snorted. "Just to clear things up, I attacked that little shit," her watch left Muldoon's to cut down on Derek, "because I saw him working with that piece of shit poacher, Reynolds. I didn't trust his intentions when I saw him walking around by himself and armed no less."

Derek scoffed. "Oh yeah, like I'm totally going to walk around in a jungle full of dinosaurs without any kind of self-defense." He shook his head. "If I wanted you dead I would've shot you the moment I saw you. Did I? No! As I recall, I lowered my gun to show I meant no harm!" Pet snorted again.

Muldoon flexed his grip on the curved handle of his cane and observed Pet from where he stood. While she did look more civilized in appearance since being cleaned up and her previously matted hair now brushed, she still had a wild look in her eyes. Muldoon also knew she was one to return the trust if bestowed upon her…for the most part. He just hoped now was one such time with his being present.

"Unchain her," he calmly stated.

Derek shook his head as though disapproving of the order. "I hope you know what you're doing, old man, because if she offs me I'm coming back to haunt your ass."

Derek slung his Remington across his back and unclipped the keyring off his belt loop. He flipped through the few keys there were and to a small silver one that made Pet wonder how he even missed it in the first place. She held her shackled wrists out to him expectantly and smirked. The shackles were unlocked and Derek quickly knocked onto his back immediately afterwards.

The hybrid lowered her face inches shy of the man's below her and stared him intensely in the eye. She growled in a grave voice, "Just remember what I told you back on the island." She curled her upper lip and dragged a hand's claws across the floor right next to Derek's ear. "The only reason you're still alive is because of Robert." Pet stood back up and stepped over the man without offering him any assistance up.

Muldoon watched Pet leave the confinement room. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To find something to eat," the hybrid answered back.


A steak never looked so good before. Pet sat at the circular table and could feel her mouth watering over the sight of a mostly raw New York strip laid out on a plate in front of her. To hell with using silverware. She picked up the piece of meat, perfectly browned on the outside, and bit into it. She had only been damn near drooling over it while it was thawing as well as enduring the torture of smelling it partially cook. Oh, how it tasted so good! Hunger had been paining her since before leaving the island and now since allowed out of that damn confinement room, was catching up on much-needed everything. Rest, eating, drinking glasses of water in a steady flow as well as occupying the bathroom for almost an hour to soak in a hot tub of water. That was something she had been missing while on the island; soaking in a bathtub.

It was enjoyable while it lasted, until Derek came banging on the door, demanding she get out. When Pet refused to get out that instant, she heard a gun cock with Derek insisting he'd shoot out the locks on the door and drag her out himself if need be. Of course, that was before Muldoon came back with his own threats to his nephew.

Post bath felt almost as good as the actual bath its self. Pet hadn't felt her hair and body this clean in an embarrassingly long time. When on the island, she could never really be and stay clean, seeing how she spent more time caked in mud to both provide camouflage and disguise her scent to other animals she was hunting or hunting parties sent to hunt her.

After the steak was finished off, she was lounged out in one of the fold-out chairs situated around the table and sighed in content. Across the table was Derek, busying himself with a one of many crossword puzzles.

He took a moment to look up at the hybrid wearing a smug grin. "Feel better?"

She nodded and rubbed her belly. "Give me a little while, and I'll make another steak for an afternoon snack."

The man arched a brow. "Seriously? How much more are you going to eat?"

Pet used a claw to dig at her teeth. "I have a big appetite, okay?" Derek shook his head. "I'm curious..."

"Hmm," he hummed out behind the top of his pen stuffed in his mouth.

"What's the plan from here?" The hybrid drummed her clawed fingers against the smooth top of the table. "Am I to be kept inside this shit hole for the rest of my remaining life or…?"

"Eh." Derek tossed his pen to the side and leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Hammond had a plan...a plan everyone agrees you might like." A sly smile upturned his features.

Pet slimmed her blue-green eyes down on the man. "Do tell."

Derek shook his head. "Nah ah. You'll find out in a couple of days."

"Why a couple?"

Derek shrugged. "Before Hammy stopped by to see you, Uncle Rob wanted to make sure you weren't all rabid and crazy after being on the islands for so long. It was figured a day or two would be enough to help you re-adjust from Cujo mode to somewhat civilized." Pet rolled her eyes.

It was then that the fifth of Scotch, slightly tucked behind a coffee pot, got her attention. Blue-green eyes went raptor in anger. She snorted and glared at Derek. "What is that doing here?"

Chocolate brown eyes looked over to where golden-yellow ones were aimed. "You're either talking about the coffee pot, the bag of sugar or Uncle Rob's pacifier." Pet just kept staring at him in annoyance. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You should know there's no point in fighting him and telling him no."

"Isn't it your job as a bounty hunter to know how to fight people?"

"There's people then there's Uncle Rob. If you think you can fight him and take him on then have at it. He's passed out drunk in the bunk room as we speak. " Derek checked the time on his sport wrist watch to see it was nearing five-twenty in the evening. "He's been out for a little, while, now. I give it some time later this evening if not tonight he'll wake up for another bout of binge drinking." He then retrieved his pen and returned to working on a crossword puzzle.