Muddle, Not Fiddle
A Jurassic World thingy
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.
"Many journalists have fallen for the conspiracy theory of government. I do assure you that they would produce more accurate work if they adhered to the cock-up theory."
- Bernard Ingham
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Indy was restless. There was nothing to do. She hadn't caught any of those tiny creatures in her home in a while now, and she was bored, bored, bored.
So, like any bored youth, she channeled her nervous energy into a less than constructive outlet.
Her claws gouged the wall, digging into it. She raked razor sharp talons across stone and wood, scoring deep marks. It was a single section of wall, one close to the last opening she had spotted.
It was a compulsive, nervous habit, a sort of tactile catharsis for the cooped up hybrid, the only way to vent the growing stress from this confined living space. There was no new stimulus, no interaction, just the same thing day in and day out.
Had she possessed the logical comprehension and capacity for such advanced secondary emotions, Indy might have regretted killing and eating her sibling, if only for the fact that it meant she was alone in here. But she did not have quite that kind of awareness, and by this point Indy barely even remembered the other animal.
As it was, she simply scratched the wall up a little more, watching the claw marks climb a good measure of its height. Then, when she felt slightly less anxious, she turned and went back into the cover of the trees. She felt drowsy.
Lying down in the shade, Indy nodded off into a light sleep.
Unbeknownst to her, certain hormonal fluctuations induced by these stressful living conditions combined with her present somnolence triggered a curious adaptation within her physiology, causing her infrared output to blend into the ambient temperature of the surrounding foliage.
She had no way of knowing the trouble this would cause.
"On what kind of animal they cooked up in that lab."
Indy stirred to wakefulness, blinking away her sleep. She heard a foreign sound, squeaky sort of vocalizations.
Familiar. Something she hadn't heard so clearly in a while.
She stood slowly, languidly stretching. Taking a few moments to catch up with the rest of her body, a sleepy brain moved like molasses as she gradually woke.
She perked up, detecting a familiar scent. Oily, musky, salty. Mammalian, warm-blooded, vaguely carnivorous.
Human, not that she actually associated any such word with the creatures.
For a moment, she wondered if more food had come in. Such scent usually hung around her meals in faint traces.
But, no. This was stronger. Clearer, with no death-stink or reek of slaughtered kine to obscure it.
HISS POP CRACK SSssss.
Harsh and soft, yet distinct in how unnatural it was, a static noise reached her perception. More of those vocalizations, but strange. Broken up. Fake-seeming, and scratchy.
Curious, she moved in the direction of the noise. Trees shook with her passing.
She perceived a trio of vermin skulking by the wall she'd clawed up.
Well, now, this was something new...
Indy scratched at an itch in her back, strolling aimlessly through the forest. Her flanks were vaguely sore from bursting through that narrow opening, chasing that one vermin that managed to vanish.
She huffed, her guts churning and grumbling as they set to work on digesting her most recent meal. Two out of three wasn't bad, and she felt rather full besides. A bit sleepy. It wasn't a feast by any means, but those vermin she ate would be enough to sate her for the time being.
Scriff, scriff. She scratched irritably, even as she absentmindedly wandered in the direction of distant noise and curious smells. That itch in her back was getting more annoying. It tingled unpleasantly.
Indy had no way of knowing, of course, that this itch was from a subdermal RFID tracking implant. All she knew was that it was irritating. Especially as she followed the smells and sounds and warmth down southward, slowly meandering her way to Jurassic World's park proper in search of someplace safe to sleep off her meal.
Eventually, she crossed a boundary she was not meant to cross, a radio perimeter rather like the invisible fences used in the gyrosphere valley.
Her implant, registering this, released a shock intended to deter her.
Indy yelped, startled. Then she growled, and doubled back confusedly.
Her itch hurt. Not like scratching too hard, either. Something else entirely.
She huffed, perplexed. Stepped forward again.
ZAP, the implant sent out another electrical pulse. For a smaller or more timid animal, this would have been enough to turn it back. But while Indy certainly stepped back, confused, it was not in defeat.
She reached back and scratched, raking razor sharp talons over the afflicted spot. Stumbling forward unconsciously, she felt another shock, and her forelimb jerked, digging in.
Blood flowed from pierced flesh, warm fluid trickling over the scythe-like claws of a Therizinosaur.
Something was under her skin. Her claws tapped it.
Instinctively, Indy tore at it, the scratching reflex ingrained into countless vertebrates as a first line of defense against dermal parasites, blood suckers, and poisonous insects. She ripped out the foreign object, an entire hunk of flesh coming with it, and flung it down on the ground.
Blood trickled from her new wound, smearing against leaves.
She stepped forward, once more crossing the invisible boundary.
This time, there was no shock.
But then she heard a rumbling sound in the near distance, the mechanical growl of an internal combustion engine. Then the slightest rustling of leaves and splashing water, stealthy movement, and a sprawling mass of warmth low to the ground.
Indy hid herself in the foliage, cautious. Chromatophores in her skin adjusted to match the shade and hue of her surroundings, the confused, pained, and anxious Indominus hiding herself with just a touch of apprehension.
She felt vulnerable in her present state, and wary. She still had no idea what kind of animals might exist outside her former enclosure.
In lieu of certainty, she froze up and waited.
Curious, but cautious.
A/N: This was one of the original ideas I had for this little collection, deconstructing Indy's whole master escape. I'd intended all of this to be in the first chapter, at first, but that went its own way, and then the next two happened as well.
So here it is, in the fourth and probably penultimate installment of this thingy. Indy's great escape... nothing more than a series of coincidences?
And I do honestly think that half of the stuff from Indy's escape can be explained by general animal behavior, particularly the behavior of a young, intelligent animal raised in captivity, living a stressful life nearly devoid of social interaction or mental stimulus in too-small confines, and similar reactions to dermal or subdermal irritants.
In particular, that implant was designed to deliver shocks when she got to close to the park and other exhibits. Even a healthy animal might claw out such a thing, let alone one as psychologically messed up as poor Indy.
TTFN and R&R!
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