Thread: JUR ▲ SSIC WORLD ¹ × ¹

TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXTTEXTTEXT When morning crept about, Donald awoke when the announcement system on the crew ship heralded the vessels docking. He scrambled to collect his belongings, largely documents written in his drunken stupor during the cruise. Families from all demographics filed onto the gangplank children were anticipating the attractions and, predominantly, the dinosaurs. Unfortunately, Donald made the rookie move of hastily booking his ticket. Mistakenly he reserved a hotel room on the main island, the generic tourist attraction and general hub of the underwater trams. Traffic was irritatingly high and there was a sufficient lack of alcohol, adult vacation services and women scantily clad enough to make him do so much as turn his head. Upon disembarking, he was flanked by two security guards. One of them, evidently an ex-cartel member as Donald derived from his jaw tattoo, grappled him by shoulder. Donald, surprised, involuntarily jerked his arm away, but his assailant was persistent. Donald Churches? Donald exhaled sharply. Not if I owe you money. Or fucked your girlfriend. In no particular order. The security guards bristled, each roping his arms while escorting him well away from the crowd. He passed through some of the tourist attractions, continually being buffeted by his escorts as they encroached on either side. After a long walk, a ride in a tram and an exceptionally lengthy sojourner in a questionably new Ford, he was chaperoned into the depths of a facility that, much to his chagrin, was strangely familiar. Not nearly as familiar, however, as the woman standing in the shadows of a whirring metal console in the niches of the room. She was commiserating with a shorter fellow he was stout, stern, and mustachioed. When he glimpsed Donald through a pane of glass he slid the door open, gave him an acknowledging nod and vanished behind a massive door. Omorose? Oh, for fucks sake. Donald freed himself from the security guards, rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders as his comrade eyed him with her strikingly light, hazel eyes. They were littered in flecks of gold, but however enticing they were, she had an insidious air about her that was the antithesis of inviting. I dont think the chaperons were necessary, nor was this entire show. You were never one for theatrics. He pushed the frames of his spectacles high up onto the bridge of his nose. Much to his immediate aggravation, the woman replied with silence. Listen. Im really not in the mood for your ventriloquist act, Om. What is this all about? Why, all of the sudden, are you guys hiring the Terminator and fucking Robocop as security guards? He could hear the hushed chuckles from a column of security surveillance personnel hiding behind their computer monitors. It was a necessity. Omorose's voice was low, sweet and sonorous, heavily redolent of her South African heraldry. She was approaching six feet tall as quickly as she was approaching three decades in age. Where Donald was fair complected Omorose was swarthy her entire face was littered in handsome, sandy freckles, from the corners of her lips to the full arch of her eyebrows. She was fully outfitted in security gear and was all too happy to tote around a six-round SPAS-12 on her back. Never understood why you carried around a shotgun. Awfully red-neck for a Capetowner, eh? Donald scrutinized her with the utmost indignity as he loosed the dirt from his glasses with the hemline of his shirt. The incessant rubbing only seemed to make the glass foggier he sighed. What do you want. Im here meeting someone. Truthfully, Donald never understood Omorose's motives. She was ceremonious, exceptionally well disciplined and an anomaly on her own. They befriended each other in Cape Townhe was situated there doing archaeological research for his genetics thesis whereas she was partaking in something else that he loosely translated as criminal, but regardless, she, too, was enrolled in academic workings. Youre here, that means theres something under wraps that theyre working very hard to keep a secret. Im not just a pretty face,Om. Omorose chuckled darkly. You had me fooled. Fuck off. But seriously, Omorose, you think I'm stupid? Youre like the fucking harbinger the heavy guns. They dont call you in for no reason and Im well aware that youre no cheap whore. Youre a high-class hussy. You dont spread your legs for an 8-ball and a pretty prick. Whats in this for you? There was a lapse of silence. Omorose looked longingly at the door. Nice to know youre still cryptic as all fuck. Just send me to meet the doctor Ill lay into you later. I know he's the one who sent for me. Omorose flashed him an insidious grin and vanished, leaving Donald to throw his middle fingers up in a rude gesture as she departed. When Dr. Wu entered he mistakenly thought the gesture was directed at him, much to Donalds embarrassment. Shortly after, Omorose's employer, Vic, requested that she and her team escort himand overseethe presentation at the raptor cages. During their journey through the broad roads sweeping through the valley, Omorose could make out the etchings a magnificent blue sphere through the early afternoon fog. It was miles away, several islands down the chain and she had never once been there. It was a new attraction years away from even being released to the press or acknowledge as a potential attraction. It was a new biome, a technology erected for, likely, unscrupulous use. She deigned not pay too much attention to it, but the mere shadow of it on the horizon was haunting. She led the caravan on a slender, obsidian-black motorcycle with Vic riding in Humvee behind them. Their arrival at the raptor cage was heralded by Barry, a co-worker of Omorose's. She swung a leg over her vehicle, greeting him cordially with a handshake. He beamed from ear to ear, flashing his almost blindingly white teeth in a friendly welcome, but his smile waned when he saw Vic waltz into view. He muttered something to her in Afrikaans and she rebuked with a low, frown. So that's your new boss. My sincerest condolences. TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXT TEXTTEXTTEXT