Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

The Mole

YOUR CALL HAS BEEN FORWARDED TO AN AUTOMATED VOICE MESSAGING SYSTEM...

"Doing okay there, buddy?"

"Hm?"

Click leisurely lifted his heavy head from the shallow void of his phone, still groggy from the drunken night before. Even through this mellowed state, he didn't need to think twice to know who had spoken. With Click's insecurities growing more in the past few days and a period of sorrow filling his innocent heart, he knew this man would fumble into his story eventually, as he always did whenever his life fell down. Click liked that kind of friendship, that treatment in knowing that there was always someone there to support him. Still, at a time like this, he didn't think it was all that necessary, especially given their strict standards and acute area of work.

"Come to save me again, Jameson?"

"That's my job, for some reason," the bearded pale man muttered, fumbling down upon the slopes of the black bench he sat upon. Bearing a plaid shirt, denim jeans, and black boots, the man seemed to come straight out of a gym, or a working day out in the forests. Click looked no different, though a bit more relaxed with a buttoned down long-sleeve shirt as he prepared to leave the facility for home. He scoffed momentarily, looking down at the phone once more before Click shut off the display.

"Still nothing?"

Click shook his head. "They're probably busy."

"They've been busy for four years now, Tom."

"Yeah..." Click exhaled turning to him. "Funny how you know my girls better than me."

"Oh, you know, I just have these... psychic abilities," Jameson said smartly, offering a toothy grin to his friend. "It's not like I see you on this bench every time you try to call."

"That's because you're very observant of me."

"True," the man shrugged. "Thankfully that doesn't make me a stalker. I'm just looking out for you, because nobody here does."

"But, don't you have an actual job?" Click questioned him.

"For what, chemistry?" Jameson smirked in amusement, padding his knee with his right wrist. "Yeah, sure, call that my side gig, Tom. I'll admit, it is fun, but it takes so much time to build DNA strands. It's a sort of waiting game -- eventually you grow bored when that darn synthesizer malfunctions every so often. My real job is tracking those dinosaurs that went haywire, and informing Wu about it. You just get all the fun stuff."

Click blinked. "You just think it's fun. It's not always the case. I just drive people insane because I'm a 'dino lover'. Truth be told I figure they're just jealous."

"So, then, what's the deal today? Besides... you know..."

The indoraptor trainer grumbled to himself, pushing his phone into his back pocket, then pushed his hands out to the forefront of his body. His brows narrowed in thought, and he pushed his intuitions forward once more for Jameson to hear.

"I screwed up..." he began. "Again. In the desert during that mission. I thought I had things planned out perfectly, but I didn't know that there'd be bigger dangers out there where I sent Seven. She could've died because of me."

"I heard about the mission. Some of the boys told me earlier. But she's not dead, right?"

"Yeah, she's okay. But Wu thinks I'm to blame because of my connection to her. It's not normal, sure, but, for the longest time, I refused to believe that it's true. Now I'm starting to doubt myself because, more often than not, he's never wrong."