Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Angry Birds

||𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎||

My suspicions never faded for a second.

It's difficult to remain calm in a place you know despises you for a 'different' reason. Whether or not they treat you right and fairly for a single day doesn't constitute for the passion that may follow in a month's time. What INGEN lusts for and what they hunger over is anymore of a reason to stay afraid, even when — for six straight days — nothing comes to seize you.

Nothing yet.

The earthen cycles went by like ordinary days: the sun would rise, the leaves would shiver, and the blue skies above would mold from it's ancient sapphire hue into a golden glimmer, then return back into the dark, swollen emptiness of the darkest night. Every so often a piece of flesh would fall from a crane for the two of us hybrids to eat, though, for most days, we'd munch in silence, thoughtless as we savored the textures of cold, tasteless meat.

It wasn't pleasant... just as my worries were.

I never realized that a predator, like myself, could drag on such strong feelings as anxiety — a word Indy prompted for me. It synced with my heartbeat's crimson pulse that put me on high alert, even at peace. For the first few days I wandered the entire rink of the massive cage, marking every crevice, every scar, and every hidden gap that managed to hide me away from the cameras. Even with Indy's word, I knew this place didn't feel right.

On the third day I investigated the one (and only) metallic door available to me that split the inside world from the out. It was hard to find; the blanket of false autumn leaves, hunter green vines, and saplings that coated it's surface made it take the form of a dead oak tree. I wasn't aware of it until the stench of dead human skin and the rustic warmth it gave off caught my interests. From then on I paced back and forth before it for days on end, growling and hissing, oftentimes cowering in the shade to watch for movement. Some hours of the day I'd go ahead and charge at the door head on, denting the frame by the strength of my bones. Still, it didn't help much -- the door didn't bulge, nor did it seem like it was ever going to.

"That thing's been locked for years," Indy told me on the sixth morning of my stay, gradually strolling over to stand beside me. "It's pointless to sit there and wait for it to open. Humans never use it anyway."

A curse word shot up in my head, one I've heard Click use often, but I buried the term away to beg a proper question.

"How else do they come to test us?"

"They haven't," she responded in slight confusion, nudging me away with her massive snout. "But, if they were to check for something, they'd use the door next to the sky windows up top of the wall. The area beneath it usually turns into a ladder, which they use to climb down. But it's too narrow to scale."

I snorted in annoyance, gazing past a blanket of orange leaves toward the little gaps of stepping stones that led up to the glass frame. As much as I wanted to deny her claim, it was obvious that this ladder was unusable. A single talon of mine couldn't fit in the tiny spaces provided and, even if I did reach the top, the door appeared too firm to budge on my own. Even from afar I could clearly see myself plummeting to the earth through a failed attempt, breaking my back in the process, or my neck if I was unlucky enough. So, I shook the vision away with a scowl of anguish, lashing my tail and began to seek another way out.

But not before a massive foot slammed into the space in front of me.

That sudden tremor forced my stomach to lurch, and I jolted backward as a slight reaction to Indy's act. My bony head rose, forcing both blue orbs of mine to stare straight into the churning storm of a single ruby eye.