Muddle, Not Fiddle

A Jurassic World thingy



Rating: T

Genre: Sci-Fi/Parody

Characters/Pairings: Indominus rex; [N/A]

Summary: Indominus rex is a clever girl, and there is no mistaking that. But... maybe she's not entirely as clever as you may think.

"You have attributed conditions to villainy that simply result from stupidity."

- Robert A. Heinlein

Indominus rex.

That was what the scientists of International Genetics named her: she was the Savage King, fierce and untameable. They engineered her to be the new star attraction at Jurassic World, a super predator exceeding both Velociraptor and Tyrannosaurus; she was designed to be big, brutal, and brilliant.

A natural-born killer.

And she was indeed very large, and very strong, with a multitude of abilities and adaptations that very few could have predicted. She was ferocious, tenacious, rapacious, and cunning. She could camouflage herself better than any natural terrestrial animal, modulate her body's thermal output, unhinge her jaws to swallow smaller prey whole, and solve even highly complex problems.

That last one was perhaps the most dangerous.

No doubt about it, she was intelligent, a bona fide dino-genius. Her brain was highly sophisticated for a theropod, with an IQ to match modern day corvids – and that's a damned impressive bench mark, for those of you unfamiliar with relative animal intelligence.

So, yes. Indy – Indominus rex – was a damn smart dinosaur.

But, with that said...

Maybe she was not quite as smart as some people might think.

Indy paced her cage, swinging a large and spiky head this way and that.

Nostrils flared. Huffing and snuffling.

She grunted, bobbing her head as she walked, smacking her chops and licking between irregular, serrated fangs. She could still feel a few bits of flesh sticking between her teeth from her last meal, and some compulsive part of her brain told her to lick at the mildly irritated gums.

Blink. Blink.

Indy's pupils contracted minutely as she moved her bulk into a patch of open sunlight. It felt hot on her skin. Irritating.

She moved back into the shade.

It was hot. She could "see" the heat of her surroundings, and it was considerable. The trees were cool though, somewhat, and damp. Moist.

She rubbed her flank against a rough-barked cycad, feeling a bothersome itch.

That felt good.

Back and forth, a few more times, she grated her hide on the tree trunk. Scratching the itch, rubbing off whatever it was that irritated her skin. Trying to, at least. But she felt another slight itch elsewhere, this one underneath the scales.

Absently, she raked one of her clawed forelimbs over the spot. This didn't get rid of the itch, but it felt a little better.

"Feeding time again, huh?"

She stiffened up. Cocked her head to one side. The sound was soft, barely audible.


Sniff, sniff.

Blood. Warm blood, fresh. Meat.

It was a faint scent, but she could pick it up. Underneath, there was also an oily smell, smoky and metallic. Unpleasant, industrial, like so much else about her surroundings. Like the sheer stone faces that hemmed her into this small, increasingly small and uncomfortable place. But underneath that was something salty, musky: a curiously subtle mammalian pungence.

Familiar. Strange.

Meat eaters? They stank a little like that, but not a lot.

Possibly. She didn't know. But they didn't eat her meat, either way. They were small and warm, especially next to the cooling carcasses that popped up whenever she caught their scents.

Vermin, maybe.

Whir, whir, whir. A mechanical noise. The scents grew stronger, the flow of air changed minutely.

Indy shifted her head through the foliage, scanning in the direction of this sound with the pit organs in her muzzle. She felt warm blood. Live animals, if small.

Meat. Food.

Where did it come from?

This thought, a rudimentary ponderance, struck Indy even as she began to stalk in the direction of her next snack.

She knew this pit intimately, every nook and cranny. The sheer stone faces seemed impenetrable, with no gaps or openings. Even that one spot that looked open actually wasn't, which she'd learned when trying to snatch one of those curiously elusive vermin.

She saw them up there, from time to time. Could they see her?

She didn't know for sure. But they could hear her, sometimes. Occasionally they quailed or flinched when she roared. A few didn't react much, though. Just stood there.

That annoyed her, even if she wasn't sure why.

It was odd. Vexing. Inconsistent.

Sniff, sniff.

Blood. It was close. Very close.

Indy's pace quickened. Thump, thump, thump. She felt the ground shake under her footfalls.

She heard noises in the direction of her food. High pitched, squeaky. Rapid and frantic, panicky. She saw movement, quick and sudden. Something fleeing.

Instinctively, she gave chase.

Her heart thundered in her chest, a mighty percussion. Vast strides swallowed the distance in no time at all. She saw one of those small creatures, "saw" its heat, smelled the blood on it. Blood from her food.

Acting on reflex, she swung her head down and snapped up the animal in a single, fluid motion. It was over in an instant.

Crunch. Gulp.

Screams broke out, shrill and irritating. The other vermin continued to run.

This piqued something in Indy.

They were running.


Running... where?

Where could they possibly hide from her in this small place? There was no escape for them possible, right? She knew her territory inside and out. There were no burrows for vermin of this size to vanish through

So why were they running?



For a moment, Indy teetered on the brink of epiphany, inches from transcending the shackles of mere beasthood, ever so close to a line of inquiry that could push her to contemplation of the abstract, introspection on the nature of "self", and the discovery of complex sapient thought patterns.

Then a fly landed below her eye, and she forgot what she was thinking about. She shook her head and roared irritably, snarling and swiping at the bug. Almost, she missed seeing the remaining vermin vanish into an opening in what should have been a sheer stone face.


Indy stared.

Whir, whir, whir. That familiar mechanical noise, the sound she heard before and after every appearance of food.

The opening disappeared. Closed.

Had Idominus rex possessed the facial structure and social conditioning of a human being, she might have frowned thoughtfully.


Where did her food come from?

Then another fly landed on her snout.

She snorted and irately shook her head, completely forgetting this line of inquiry.

A/N: I dunno, I. rex is obviously a very intelligent animal in the movie... but I think some people might have rather excessive estimations of that intellect, judging by how her TV Tropes character entry reads.

So I suppose you could say this fic... thingy... collection? Is a response to that. Almost a preemptive response, haha, considering that the movie was only released yesterday. I caught the second airing at my local theater, walking all the way down.

And this is a big deal for me, I should probably point out, because the last movie I went out of my way to see in theaters was the Simpsons Movie. So, yeah.

I was whistling the theme tune all the way home.




Updated: 6-12-15

TTFN and R&R!

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