Hybrids: An Indoraptor Story ✓

Whispers and Wallows [Pt. 1]

||𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 20𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎||

Screw humanity.

The world didn't burden enough of a will for them to care -- they never have cared.

Maybe Blink was right; all people wanted was another reason to look worthwhile to the eyes of Nature. Cage a hybrid, drain it of its blood, hide it all from the undying gaze of the public in hopes secrecy will fulfill their pleasures, and leave them out to rot.

Typical.

They have what they want. But they couldn't afford to risk another event like Berkley, nor did they want to lose something worth millions. So they did what any ordinary monster would do: keep them caged. Keep them hidden.

Let them suffer.

    It took a few days to realize this. Indy would hear her stomach growling, and Rexy's maw would glisten of drool, the distaste of her blood urging her for something more appealing. The next day their maws would dry -- a lack of water wrinkling their scales and burning the surface of their predatory eyes.

    And, the day after, reality struck. Hard.

The gnawing pangs of hunger returned tenfold. No longer did she pace about her cage like Rexy -- where she collapsed days earlier is where she chose to remain. Indy would whisper words and swallow whimpers, half-singing, half-crying as her mind slowly folded in on itself. Saliva tasted like a fresh river rolling down her tongue. Dried blood smelled like the plumpest fawn to hunt. Indy's stomach quaked and churned with displeasure, leaving the hybrid clenching and gasping through each painstaking tremor. She begged it to stop; it wouldn't listen. As if a monster had been trapped from the inside, clawing and punching against the inner lining of her stomach, tearing her apart like nothing else.

    Rexy watched from her end of the cage, also feeling the growing effects of starvation and thirst. She shivered and groaned, often walking about unnaturally to outweigh the agonizing squeezes of her stomach cavity. But, because the humans constantly tested on Indy, she wasn't in so much of a predicament. Not like her adversary was at the moment.

    There still was a means to worry. Rexy hoped to kill the Indominus Rex just as she had done years before -- however it happened would satisfy her and her ancestors. But as time wore on, this dream seemed more like a fantasy. And the longer she stared at the breaking hybrid, the harder that dream cemented, and the more angry she became. She'd lose her chance, and her prey altogether.

    Maybe even herself.

    A third day passed before she, too, slumped down to the ground, wincing and heaving pained breaths as her body started to fail. They were killing them, both. And, without a single human having passed by their cages, it seemed like this would be the case. Hallucinations would begin and end, half-memories, half-dreams. Half-true. Half a lie. Neither one wanted to speak of them, neither one tried to remember them. Yet they hurt just as much as the pain was now. And that was the worst part of all.

    Only Indy had a clue as to why this was happening. An air vent near the base of the wall (meant to discard any extra wisps of the drug they'd shoot into her chambers) gave her access to listen in through the walls of the facility. This to include one specific room that spoke the loudest of them all, forcing Indy to witness an argument that felt more personal than just.

    "What do you mean it didn't work?!"

    "It didn't work," the second male human said. The other let out a sigh before a loud thud echoed the night, a noise that shocked both human and dinosaur alike. A second sigh passed before the first male growled.