cerhadivision | Isla Sorna

Isla Sorna

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bluebetabitch

When you spend a long time building something with your own two hands, it becomes difficult to wrap your mind around the idea of the work being done. Owen grew up around that kind of mindset, and knows very well how it feels to be in the same grip. But he doesn't mind. That's the thing about having a family: it expands, and the world around it needs to expand with it. Little by little, the house came up around them, and they settled into it, and he's never really stopped working this little world of his over like an ever-evolving project that he loves with his whole heart.

They're settled here. Officially. No one can deny it, and even though Owen still has dreams sometimes about InGen -- or anyone -- hunting them down to rip the girls, or even the boys, out of his hands, those fears evaporate every morning. The girls get along as well as any sisters do, and even the squabbling has died down in recent months; the boys have adapted beautifully, and although Chi and Psi still exhibit behavior that looks odd alongside the girls from time to time, they no longer struggle to meet expectations that were completely alien to them for most of their lives.

And then there's Blue and Omega.

The difference in Blue between her youth on Isla Nublar, and the young womanhood that quite clearly blossomed in the Santa Lucia Mountains of central California, is not only noticeable, but striking. Always the one he could rely on over the others, Blue has managed to develop into a creature that is both an extension of his right arm and yet still a highly independent person who no longer looks to him quite so often for cues; she still values her space and her privacy, but those withdrawals from the pack just to brood and sulk have all but disappeared. And while Blue's temper will always strike fear into the hearts of her siblings -- adopted or otherwise -- she's learned to balance it with patience, a trait that would always thwart her more than any other. Until now. Owen always wanted Blue to learn that balance between animal instinct and human rationality, and he knew she'd get there in her own way sooner or later. Now, it seems she has, and it's a beautiful thing to see.

Then, as if her own transformation wasn't enough, she'd somehow managed to turn her mate into an entirely different person.

If Blue's maturation is impressive, Omega's has been nothing short of miraculous. All right... Owen is a professional behaviorist; he knows there's no such thing as miracles, only hard work and dedication. Only this time it wasn't his. It was Blue's time, effort, and uncharacteristic affection that turned a furious, hateful killing machine into something that could be now what he might have been then, before InGen had their way. Omega lives in the house now. He eats when they do. He joins the family in their gatherings, as long as Blue is with him, and although his temper is still zero to 60 when roused, these days it's much harder to set him off than it used to be, even if that wouldn't be saying much. He prefers his mate and solitude over anything else, but his violently aggressive tendencies have been all but curbed for the sake of keeping Blue happy.

For obvious reasons, Owen has kept a close eye on them both from day one, and even from the very beginning Omega has treated Blue like the center of the universe. Owen himself has salvaged his share of abused, wild animals -- it's literally part of the job -- but he knows without question that no one could have done this but her. And her success is absolutely indisputable.

Case in point: today, Omega's dislike for interacting with unfamiliar people had outweighed his desire to be with Blue as often as possible, and instead of throwing a tantrum he simply hadn't gone with her down the mountain.

For Barry, it was supplies; Echo wanted clothes; Blue was only interested in procuring necessary parts for her nearly-restored 1979 Pontiac Phoenix Firebird, a task built upon very specific requirements and one which she would never entrust to any of her siblings. The day is very nice for a sojourn into the city, considering the length of the drive: blue skies and a mild breeze, not quite so far into spring that the air is anything more than comfortably warm. Psi is helping Delta collect chili peppers and the new experimental plums. Chi fell asleep in the grass up the hill. Charlie is giving Owen a hand with replacing some worn poles along the stone steps leading down to the boys' den, when they hear the familiar sound of the Jeep rolling up the long hill that serves as their driveway.

Only, it sounds like it's coming up fast.

Owen and Charlie look at each other, and immediately drop what they're doing to meet the car just as Barry rolls up, screeching to a stop and diving out of the driver's side to rush around to the passenger door. He looks frantic. And he's helping Echo out of the car. She looks like she's about to pitch right off her feet.

"Owen!" Barry calls out urgently, eyes widening immediately as Owen rushes to them. "Owen!" He has to wrap an arm around Echo's back to keep her standing. And then, to Owen's surprise and dread, Barry yells again. "Omega!"

Owen doesn't actually know where Omega has been this whole time. But suddenly he's there next to him, clearly as alarmed at being summoned as Owen was to hear it, and Owen can practically feel the tension in the male raptor's body triple because they both realized the same thing: that Blue is not with them.

"They took her," Barry says, breathless, and the bottom falls out of Owen's stomach.

Echo tries to rouse herself, flopping a little, mumbling in groggy frustration as she tries to shake off whatever is wrong with her and help explain. But Barry keeps his hold on her and barrels right through it.

"It was InGen. They had an entire strike force, Owen, the streets are chaos now. They used non-lethals. Tranquilizers. Echo took a direct hit, but they left her behind. All of them were focused on Blue." He looks at both of them, Owen and then Omega, panicked and desperate. "They came for her."

The weather was gorgeous a minute ago. Now the entire world is ice. Owen's heart has stopped, his breath is gone. Delta and the boys come running up, but he barely notices them. Beside him is Omega, frozen; then suddenly the raptor whirls to him, eyes wide, and the fury -- the fear -- in them is apocalyptic.

Omega doesn't say a word, but Owen immediately finds his voice. "Go get her."

The male raptor is gone like a bolt of lightning. Owen turns and strides quickly to a hidden cache beneath the porch. He pulls out two assault rifles and a hell of a lot of ammo as Charlie shrieks behind him, "Why aren't we going with him?!"

"Because we're going to follow him." Owen tosses a rifle to Barry, and gestures sharply for everyone to get into the car, including the still-dizzy Echo. "After Isla Nublar, Omega found us in less than a week on nothing but Blue's scent and pure instinct. This time he knows where he's going. We'd only slow him down." The motor is still running. Almost before every door is shut, Owen jerks the Jeep into gear. His last words are almost a growl to himself. "With any luck, all we'll have to do is clean up."

The Jeep screeches in reverse, turns, and roars off down the mountain.

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There was blood on her hands when she woke. And, judging from the scent, no one's she knew. Blue gagged, stomach churning alarmingly. Her head throbbed, her vision was dangerously cloudy and unfocused, and when she tried to move, panic immediately set in when she realized she was chained! A scream rang in her ears, echoed from her own throat, and she whipped her hands up to scratch at the collar around her neck, and a length of chainlink nearly smacked her in the nose. Her wrists were also shackled!

She screamed again, this time the sound carried overtones of murderous defiance, but when she tried to rise, her knees and feet refused, tumbling her back to the cold floor once again. Rising upset her stomach again, and Blue leaned over, heaving up nothing but gagging nevertheless. Slumping back down again, she absently licked the blood from her fingernails and hands, trying to remember just what the hell had happened.

Her last coherent memory, when she focused on it, was coming out of the auto parts store with Barry and Echo, kibitzing over the prices of vehicle parts, then she'd felt a sharp pain in the back of her shoulder and the world had gone white. She recalled Barry whipping out his pistol, Echo screeching nearby, but Blue had been unable to respond, as her legs and arms had gone limp and useless.

...then she'd woken up here, in this nightmarishly familiar steel box.

A snarl rippled her throat, a myriad of scents and sounds revealing to her exactly where she was: Costa Rica, on the island of Isla...Sorna, more than likely. She'd been born and raised on these islands; she'd recognize them anywhere. The smell of damp, of trees, of wet warm earth. She jerked at the restraints out of sheer reflex, not expecting them to give but unwilling to simply lie there and take it. They refused to give, naturally, and she strained against them again, imagining she actually heard one of the links creak, but then a new set of sounds and scents caught her attention and Blue whipped around, a true growl emerging this time as the most hated visage in all of her history emerged on the other side of those steel bars, leering at her.

"Well, well, well, lookit you, little girl." Hoskins leaned his arms through the bars, smarmy smile broad. "Welcome home, baby Blue. We've been missin' you around here, yes we surely have."

The security guards behind him were forced to drop their rifles and press hands to their ears, so piercing was the shriek that bombarded them in response.

Hoskins is the only one who doesn't reel back from the sound. He winces, head lifting from the bars, but his expression is more exasperated than anything else. The screams of raptors... never less than chilling, but after a while, a guy just has to get used to it. He's heard worse.

"Relax, girl. Those chains have held wilder things than you."

There is very little scent to speak of, other than those belonging to the men in front of and surrounding her cage. But hers isn't the only one down here in this white dungeon. The surfaces are suspiciously clean, perhaps scrubbed with bleach. All of the cells have chains, all of them have heavy bars, but in hers the bars are twice as thick. The chains on her barely give her enough room to stand; any taller and she'd be choked if she tried. And the chains themselves are military grade, solid, high carbon steel, scratched to hell and retreated and scraped again; there are telltale scrapes around the bolts, as if they'd nearly been ripped off their hooks once and were then welded to the wall.

"You better relax." Hoskins leans in again, eyeing her with a look of calculating interest, among other things. "Get yourself all worked up in there and you'll only end up hurt. I want this whole experience to be painless, I really do. But you kids shouldn't have run off in the first place."

He draws back finally, gripping one of the bars and raising an eyebrow at her.

"You think InGen's just gonna let its property go?"

Blue had absolutely no intention whatsoever of bandying words with this asshole. She simply bared her teeth in a vicious snarl, coiling herself like a snake poised to strike. Beneath the fall of tangled hair, her eyes were flat, cold with hate. They zeroed in on Vic Hoskins as if he were the only edible thing left in the world, although Blue would choke herself with these chains before swallowing a single bite of that.

She had no way to reach him, and his presence was only making her queasier, so Blue deliberately took her gaze from the fat man and turned it instead to her surroundings, now that the ketamine haze had more or less faded. She noted the gouges on the chain, as if they'd been repeatedly put through a meat grinder, and she also saw the marks on the wall, four perfect scratches in long white lines.

It hit her suddenly, leaving her cold: this was Omega's cell.

Blue turned Nordic eyes back to the grinning human, her face devoid of all expression, but the fury in her gaze bespoke nothing less than his painful demise should she ever get even half of a chance. Fangs gleamed again, a promising snarl echoing in the silence.

For a moment, there's a gleam in Hoskins' eye that suggests he knows exactly what she just realized, but he says nothing else. He just lingers there for a little bit longer, raking her with that same intent gaze, before he turns away and nods to the ACU guards flanking the cell. They immediately close in around it, and Hoskins walks away, stopping only at the doorway where a technician is on his way in, wearing a white coat and gloves and an anxious expression.

"Keep her on the high end of the dose," he mutters to the tech, fixing him with a very pointed glare. "I want her in good condition. Don't let her damage herself on those chains the way he did."

After all, it's not as though they can resort to more aggressive methods of keeping her in line.

Hoskins leaves then, and the technician moves past him, only to be followed by several more. The one in front is still trembling slightly, but deliberate with ACU all around him, and approaches Blue's cage with the others behind. Stopping outside the cell, the tech withdraws a small tranquilizer pistol, and a dart unlike those utilized by ACU to retrieve unruly assets. The pistol is loaded, and then handed off to the nearest guard.

The guard steps closer to the bars, aims the pistol straight at Blue, and sends the dart right into her chest.

Edited 2017-05-15 05:40 (UTC)

Had Blue been in full possession of her faculties, that dart wouldn't have had a prayer of striking her, but as it was, she was still just groggy enough to realize too late what was happening. She saw the guard step up to the bars, aim, and only then did she begin to move, but hampered as she was by the earlier drug and the chains, recoiled with a snarled hiss when she felt the prick of the needle, sinking into her flesh.

Blue immediately jerked it out, tossing the loathsome thing aside, but she saw it was already too late; the dart was empty and it was only a few moments before she felt the effects. She fought it for as long as she possibly could, thrashing around like a demon-possessed thing, but within ten minutes, she collapsed on the cold unforgiving floor, weaker than she'd ever felt in her entire life. She lolled, chains clinking only slightly as her vision swam for the second time.

She dimly heard the lock on the cell's door detach, but it was too late; her entire world faded into blackness and she fell comatose once again.

They had to contain her before the first dose wore off, make sure that she was still in good shape (considering) before they even tried to move her anywhere else. Now, on a second, stronger dose, the technicians can transfer their unconscious hybrid specimen to the medical center.

The equipment there is designed, and tested, for patients with a tendency toward violence. Blue is laid out on an examination chair, and her wrists are chained above her head, the collar at her neck attached to a metal lock beneath the headrest. Then they strip away her clothes and slide a medical gown around her instead.

While ACU guards man the doorway with guns drawn, several of the technicians prep their equipment as two of them guide Blue's legs into stirrups and chain her ankles to the iron bars. Once they're confident that the patient is secure, they perform a series of basic physical exams, checking her blood pressure and her heart rate, making sure that neither is at dangerous levels with the tranquilizer coursing its way through her system. One of them has just taken a blood sample when the door opens, and in strides Vic Hoskins once again as if he belongs there just as much as the medical professionals all around him.

"How we doing, boys?"

The lead technician seems surprised to have the man in charge hovering so thoroughly over his work; with the male specimens, Hoskins always closely supervised, but he let the staff do their jobs. This is an elevated level of interest, to say the least. But then, he supposes there is a hell of a lot at stake.

"Just running the last few tests, but she looks good. We should be ready to go here in a little bit."

"Good," Hoskins nods, "that's good." He moves toward the head of the chair, looking the female raptor over as though searching for any sign of imperfection. "You boys keep doing what you're doing. I wouldn't miss this."

This time, it was the cold sterile smell of a laboratory that she recognized, swimming up from the haze of unconsciousness. Before her eyes even opened, Blue was testing her restraints, realizing her arms were bound above her head and her ankles were shackled as well, almost shoulder-width apart. Eyes flaring open, she tried to turn her head, but the rasp of metal on her throat held her fast.

Fury flared her nostrils, and she screamed out of sheer reflex, straining tight against her bonds, but there wasn't even an ounce of give in the restraints. Not yet. One of the techs which had been reaching over her flinched away, recoiling involuntarily. Her glare followed each of the white-coated men in turn, promising bloody vengeance.

A disgustingly familiar scent hit her nose then, and Blue jerked her eyes upwards to spy Hoskins, leering over her. She bared her teeth, hissing in unveiled rage. She finally unbent just enough to grate at him, "--I'm going to kill you, fat man. Soon."

Surprise flickers across the big man's face, but then he purses his lips in momentary irritation. He turns to the nearest tech, "How much did you give her?"

"20 ccs of MORO-709," the tech replies. "That's standard for her height and weight."

"How much did he need?"

The technician hesitates. "About 25."

Hoskins jerks his head at Blue on the table. "Then give her that."

"But -- she doesn't have a tolerance--"

"Then split the difference, or whatever you boys do," Hoskins interrupts, annoyed. "God damn, son, you want her fighting while you're doing what you've gotta do down there?"

The technician seems reluctant to argue, but clearly feels an obligation to do so. "She's already been dosed twice. And we have to administer antibiotics to counteract the birth control. If we put her all the way under again now it might--"

"Fine." Hoskins is losing patience. "I don't care what you do, but she needs to be sedated."

Nodding, the technician turns away with a mumble. "Yes, sir."

And finally, Hoskins turns his attention back to Blue. "You better get used to those chains, honey." Her threat doesn't faze him in the slightest. She's tied down every which way, after all. He leans over her chair, hands gripping the edge of the sterile cushions, looking her over again. "It didn't have to go like this -- hell, for a while there we were looking good, until Owen lost sight of the big picture."

He shakes his head. That was a damn shame.

"Me, I like to think ahead. We collected specimens from the boys a long time ago, just in case. Selective breeding is gonna give me the best damn hybrids this world has ever seen. And you and Omega are still the best candidates. Imagine something like him as fiercely dedicated to authority as something like you..." He smirks. "And, if it comes out looking like you, well... that wouldn't be the worst thing, either."

Listening, despite her intentions, Blue slowly went cold as the full implication of the fat snake's words sunk fully in. Horror stole over her like a shroud, cutting off her air and leaving her lungs empty. Horror gave way to terror, which turned into panic, which sent a surge of adrenaline coursing to her muscles.

Blue shrieked again, thrashing as hard as she possibly could in her restraints, and this time, she swore she felt just a bit of give in one of the shackles holding her wrists. She jerked harder, writhing and screaming in the raptor's piercing language, sending all of the techs scrambling in every direction.

But her flat, hateful and reptile gaze never left its intended victim: the paunchy shadow of Vic-fucking-Hoskins, still smirking back at her.

This is far from the first time Hoskins has had an angry, contained hybrid shrieking relentless murder at him, and although it does hurt his ears a little (Jesus) it stopped intimidating him a long time ago. He does pull back a bit to avoid the actual force of her fury, but he still admires her openly, admires her rage and her determination to get free.

"You see that, boys?" he murmurs, almost awed. "That is a beautiful, wild thing right there."

The technicians don't seem to agree. They spent years dealing with aggressive hybrids before, and actually lost a few of their number to the last raptor that was so infamously difficult to control. But none of them are eager to listen to those primal screams, nor suffer her thrashing while they try to follow orders. This is a delicate procedure, for one thing. Ground-breaking, for another. Working for InGen has its share of risks, but it almost means being the first to change the face of the world.

One of the braver technicians bolts quickly up, and the long tip of a needle plunges into the female hybrid's neck. When the plunger depresses, Blue's veins are flooded with the sedative that leaves her limbs heavy, her body numb, her thoughts sluggish and disjointed.

Blue fought the drug, even though she knew that an increased heart rate only acerbated its flood through her system. Some instincts she simply couldn't repress. But her thrashings gradually grew less violent, and it wasn't much longer before she slumped completely, once more flirting with unconsciousness.

She was only vaguely aware when the techs approached with evil-looking instruments, pushing up the hem of the medical gown. Pain suddenly shot through her lower abdomen, but Blue was too groggy to respond, other than a faint grimace and a low animal moan. Her teeth flashed, but she could only tense her muscles and turn her head back and forth, held under the drug's invisible grip.

The work of the technicians is efficient and professional, considering the task they've been assigned. And Hoskins supervises the whole thing from Blue's bedside. One of them tracks her vitals while another sets up an ultrasound for monitoring, and the technician in charge handles the process of in vitro fertilization. Hoskins looks as though he'd fast forward nine months into the future right now if he could.

It's a good amount of time working in focused silence, only minimal discussion passing back and forth between the technicians, when finally the one in charge straightens up in his seat and stands.

"Is that it?" Hoskins asks with impatience.

"She's implanted," the technician confirms, "but we won't know for a while if it was successful or not."

Hoskins has no doubts that it will be successful -- how could it not? -- but he still asks, "How long does it take?"

"In most cases, the waiting period is about two weeks. But that's for humans." The technician shakes his head slightly, shrugging. "We don't know enough about this aspect of the hybrid's physiology. She might feel it faster."

"Here's hoping," Hoskins says, the excitement audible in his voice no matter how even he keeps it. And he runs a slow, altogether possessive hand over Blue's hair. "Put her back in the cell. Make sure those chains are tight enough that she can't hurt herself this time. I want her as healthy as possible -- and subdued."

Blue rode waves of pain back to consciousness, biting her lips to keep from shrieking as her stomach turned over and over. She still felt groggy, heavy, and altogether sick. The scent of meat and blood greeted her nose, and she spied a haunch of...something within reach, as well as a bucket of water, but for the first time, the smell of blood made her want to retch.

She discovered shackles still binding her wrists and ankles, the medical gown still covering her, mostly. Far too weak to attempt rising, she discovered it was a moot point anyway, since there was only enough room for her to roll over each way, but not regain her full height.

Taking advantage of that small mercy, Blue rolled to one side and huddled as best as she could, fighting back the nausea and praying for death--or help--to come swiftly.

The cells are constantly monitored by cameras at every corner of the ceiling, so Blue is often alone. Her only visitors are the technicians that come to check on her, and -- much more often -- Vic Hoskins. Despite her chains, anyone who enters her cell is always accompanied by ACU guards, but otherwise they aren't posted on her side of the door.

The technicians draw blood, check her heart rate, all the typical protocols of medical evaluation. When it becomes clear that she won't eat, they start feeding her intravenously at appropriate intervals. And always, always, they keep her pumped full of enough drugs to make sure her mind and body are foggy, disoriented, and numb.

"What should we be looking for?" Hoskins asks during one of the checkups.

"Basic pregnancy symptoms," the head technician replies. "But we don't expect her to tell us if she was experiencing discomfort, obviously, and the tranquilizers already make her nauseous. The blood tests will keep us up-to-date on her process, and when we have an early positive, we'll run another ultrasound." The hybrid's docility under sedation has made the technicians braver; they push ACU back to give them room to work, and no longer shudder in the face of their boss's urgency.

But after one exam, the head technician does lead Hoskins aside with anxiousness in his eyes once again, dropping his voice to a low whisper.

"Sir... we have to anticipate that he'll come for her. Here."

Hoskins snorts. "You think I don't know that? Hell, the whole damn pack of them are gonna come looking for her. I'm counting on it." He claps a hand heavily on the technician's shoulder, nearly tripping the man. "We contained him once, we can do it again. ACU's tripled, every team has been issued MK-40 Mod T SRAWs with MORO-709 rockets in the payload, we have patrols guarding every beach -- trust me, we're ready for him. Owen Grady is one crazy son-of-a-bitch after all if he thinks I'm just gonna let an investment like that disappear into the woods."

None of this reassures the technicians very much.

But Hoskins is far bolder than they are. The big man in charge takes to lingering around Blue's cage when no one else is around, chatting idly to her about what a truly life-changing... no, world-changing thing she's doing, how the hybrid warfare will shape the future and InGen will be the only one with that kind of military force, how she's going to be the mother of the very first generation of raptor-human hybrids that are not only highly intelligent and devastatingly lethal, but steadfastly loyal as well. All the best qualities of their parents rolled into one.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," he says to her once. "It's a hell of a wait, isn't it? But I want you to know, we're gonna try this as many times as we need to, to get it right."

Then one day, he starts coming into her cell alone. Closes the door and just strolls around, close enough to touch her, near enough that she could kill him if the chains and the drugs would let her, and he looks around at the telltale marks on the inside of the cage as if reading the history in them. Inevitably, his attention returns to her.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get a little impatient, honey."

Time passed in a blur for Blue. She was only aware of light and dark, but she had no idea how many times the sun had risen and set. She still refused to eat, her only way of striking back, but that of course was resolved with the needle in her arm, she too weak to even rip it from her flesh.

She always felt sick, now. Her stomach constantly churned and twisted, making her absolutely miserable. She no longer fought against the medical techs when they appeared and Hoskins' presence only garnered a reflexive snarl, an instinctive baring of teeth. She otherwise ignored him, turning her face away whenever possible, because to even see him was a new level of misery.

Today, however, Blue heard the cell door open and close, but no white-coated men materialized out of the drug-induced haze; her nose only brought her the by-now familiar stench of Vic-fucking-Hoskins. She recoiled out of habit, chains clinking slightly, and turned her face away, staring unseeing at the plain off-white wall. He was talking, but she only heard the noise, not the words.

She didn't give a shit, whatever the fuck he said.

Her silence is expected, considering what the last few days have been like, and Hoskins actually stops by her bedside to stare down at her with his hands on his hips.

"Gotta give it to those doctors. They really took the wind out of your sails."

His gaze lingers, as if making sure that she's as drugged as she appears to be... then, it begins to slide down her body, very loosely covered by the thin gown that they change once a day. And something in his eyes sharpens, a gleam that was familiar, to both Blue and Owen, back when she still lived on the island.

"Y'know... I would've expected you to start in with 'Owen this, Owen that' sooner or later. Or even Omega. I can only imagine what's going through that boy's head right now." He snorts with amusement. "But you ain't like that, huh. Wanna fight your own battles, or die trying." A lingering, heavy pause. "I always did like that."

Then, Vic Hoskins dares to take a seat right on the edge of Blue's bed, out of reach of the chains at her wrists.

Had she been able, Hoskins would have died gurgling on his own blood the absolute second he wandered within range of her talons. But as it was, Blue could only recoil as much as possible for his proximity, feeling absolutely disgusting every time his voice hit her ears.

Her vision was still somewhat blurry, hardly the sharp crystal-clear gaze of the predator that she was, but her nose and ears told her everything necessary. He was close, and the blur in her unfocused eyes proved it. Hearing him mention Owen's name stirred her slightly, but she refused to open her mouth, even to hiss discomfort.

Then, the entire world shifted; Blue felt the cot upon which she lolled give on one side, and now she did hiss in furious agitation, the chains binding her clinking ominously. Blue lifted her head, gaze flat and evil beneath tangled black hair, and snapped her teeth as hard as she possibly could, feeling them clack together in her jaws. She tried to lunge, but the drugs and the chains kept her weak; she fell back with a breathless grunt.

But she kept trying, trying until she was absolutely exhausted. Her fingers curved into wicked talons, more than willing to rend and tear.

For once, Hoskins seems at least aware that he's pushing his luck. He flinches a little bit when she jerks herself against the chains toward him, but it doesn't send him flying out of his seat, and when she collapses again he laughes with an audible trace of relief.

"Easy, easy there," he tells her over and over as she tires herself out, in a tone that is clearly supposed to be soothing. He twitches a little any time she manages to get a fresh burst of strength that snaps her a little harder against the chains, but he knows she can't keep it up forever, and as soon as she sinks weakly against the cot, he's easing back into the minuscule space he lost. "That's it. There's a good girl."

He's quiet for a minute, staring down at her, roaming... and his fingers creep over the edge of the thin gown, toying with it.

"You're gonna rip this thing off if you're not careful." His fingers tighten on it, like he's testing the strength of it. "It's real thin... hell," his voice goes slightly hoarse, gaze flickering to her face for the briefest moment before it drops back to the hem at the bottom. "You may as well not even wear it. Not if... you're gonna twist yourself all up like that."

He tugs at it. The hem slides an inch or two up her thigh.

Despite--or perhaps thanks to--the drugs saturating her system, dulling her reflexes, Blue fell absolutely still. Almost eerily so. Glassy blue eyes were hooded, almost hidden by dark lashes, but she suppressed the involuntarily urge to again recoil. Let the fat bastard believe her beaten. --although she couldn't quite control the tic of muscle in her thigh when she felt the hem of the gown shift.

Nevertheless, Blue waited. A few fingers twitched, but she truly was exhausted; sweat had beaded on her forehead, gleamed on exposed skin. A chain clinked briefly somewhere. Hoskins' thick scent filled her nose; Blue wanted to gag, because she could also taste it, disgusting and putrid.

Finally, when she felt just the slightest touch of fingers on her thigh, obtrusively working the hem of that medical gown upwards, Blue struck. It was quick, fast, and instant; she jerked her shackled wrist as hard as she could, raking four razor-sharp talons across the back of that hand, immediately scenting blood despite the short range of movement.

She finally deigned to speak, snarling through clenched teeth and punctuated with devilish hisses and growls, "Get-the-fuck-away-from-me!!"

"Jesus--!"

Hoskins jumps back immediately, grabbing his hand and staring in trembling shock at the blood wells up from four ugly slices straight across his knuckles. It burns like seven hells, but worse is that shock of realizing that she got him just then. He knows how dangerous these animals are, god damn it, why did he get distracted--

No, hell no! He's the one in charge here, and he sure as hell didn't let it get to him when her counterpart threw his unholy tantrums. Vic Hoskins didn't come into the girl's cell to let her get away with this.

"You are god damn ungrateful, you know that?" He's got nothing to wrap his hand with, but he presses the knuckles into his shirt, soaking it with blood. Hoskins stands above Blue and glares down at her furiously. "You should be thanking me for your entire precious life. Who brought Owen onto this project? I did. Who let him set you girls up in that sweet little bungalow, give you all kinds of nice things? I did! All I asked for was a little cooperation, huh?"

Eyes flashing, Hoskins impulsively grabs the belt knife kept always at his back. He grabs a fistful of that offensive fabric and slices right into it, tearing a messy strip right out of it, leaving her thigh and half her stomach bare.

"You aren't gonna stop this from happening, honey," Hoskins sneers, and with the same kind of sudden thought, he grabs that bare thigh and jerks it, pulling her against the chains toward the edge of the cot until she's yanked taut. "I put this whole damn thing together from the beginning."

Blue didn't care the first whit about the fabric ripping; it was only fabric, after all. And near to useless at that. But she bared her teeth and snarled at the rough handling, wishing she could drive her foot right into the fat man's teeth. As it was, she tensed all the muscles she could in effort to thwart him pulling her into the bite of the chain, but it was virtually impossible, given how weak she currently was.

His ravings meant less than shit to Blue; apparently he still believed himself the Great Mind behind this entire project--their lives, goddamnit--and that was supposed to earn him instant respect and immediate gratitude. Well, Blue had no intention whatsoever of giving in to that particular brand of lunacy, no matter what happened to her physically.

Although the thick fingers digging into her bare thigh prompted another prehistoric shriek, and she thrashed as much as she could, renewed hatred fighting the lethargy sapping her strength. The steel cuffs began to cut into her ankles and wrists, slicking the metal with red, red blood, but she refused to quit. She'd never stop fighting, as long as his hand remained on her body.

Hoskins has seen what these hybrids can do if you give 'em just an inch of room to spare, and even now he knows it's a damn good thing she's been pumped full of enough drugs to stop a water buffalo in its tracks. Those chains don't give her much room to move, at that; doesn't stop him from wishing they were a little shorter right about now, but it doesn't matter.

Her screams reverberate off of the metal, making his ears and his head ache, but he ignores it. She's not gonna scare him off just by being noisy, and he's feeling a lot less forgiving after taking such a nasty swipe across the back of his hand. Honestly, he's starting to think that Owen Grady isn't the raptor whisperer everybody believes he is, including Hoskins himself; this girl has no self-control, and she just plain refuses to listen to reason.

It was the same with Omega. That boy was walking perfection when he started out, but then he just got worse and worse. And yet, Hoskins knew he wasn't working with a rational, functioning human being. These were animals, and they could be trained, but they had to understand they were inferior. Mankind calls the shots. Always.

He can't keep his grip right there on her thigh forever, but Hoskins is going full steam ahead with what's in his mind now. And it's been on his mind -- in the back of it, at least -- for a long time now. The raptor hybrids are very pretty girls, but Blue... well, she just got better and better as she grew up. What a true beauty. And the way she moved, all fluid and graceful, but with that touch of savagery that made him know she was the perfect specimen he needed. He'd admired her for a lot of different reasons. And he saw the way she looked at Owen sometimes. The girl's got a thing for authority figures, all right.

So he straddles the thin cot, shoving himself between her legs. If she was at full strength, she might be able to crush him with them, but there's no way the drugs or the chains are gonna let her do it now. And it leaves his hands momentarily free to shove the knife back into his belt, and wrap up his bloody knuckles with the strip of cloth. Her medical gown is torn to the point of being useless, and the sight of her half-naked body straining at the chains gets his motor running with the help of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Yeah, she's dangerous. But she's still just an animal.

"You're gonna give me what I want, little girl," he rasps, breathing heavily now as he works open his belt and his jeans with unsteady hands. He's already hard enough, and she doesn't need to be ready for him. "One way or the other..." And he pulls her hips toward him and fumbles between her thighs until he abruptly shoves himself inside her, thrusting forward against the tight muscles that resist him.

Exhaustion tore at her. Blue's struggles became less, and weaker, but her will was strong enough to force her flagging muscles to fight on. She thrashed her head and screeched with every indrawn breath, but the entire world came to a stop when she realized what Hoskins was actually doing.

She froze, blue eyes wide and now filled with inchoate terror when she at last realized what was happening, and Blue inhaled only to scream again, this time in pain when she felt him penetrate her! Her entire body locked, every limb stiffening in absolute rage, but the chains held her fast. Metal shrieked along with her as she tried her absolute best to turn her claws to his flesh--any part she might reach!

Her screams soon became wails and cries of indomitable defiance, but tears began to leak from behind her tightly closed eyelids. Her wrists and ankles were raw and bloody, flesh torn from her wild thrashings, but even as strong as she was, Blue couldn't fight the residual drugs competing with her anger and fear. Although she still wailed and cried, her body soon fell limp, though she shuddered with pure revulsion, keeping her teeth clenched to swallow her sobs and her face turned unseeing at the gouged white wall.

This is what it's about, he reminds himself feverishly as he thrusts into her over and over, her body incredibly hot and still so tight it's almost too hard to shove his way in. Dominance. An act of strength to overpower the weaker creature, in this case the raptor beta Blue, who never did seem to understand where she really fit into the hierarchy around here. She submits to Owen. And Owen worked for Hoskins. She's beneath him, and always has been.

He can do whatever he wants. These are his projects, his careful plans. If her body has already accepted the hybrid implantation, then excellent, he'll get exactly what he was aiming for. And if not... her offspring might have DNA skewed toward the human side, but he'll get his hybrids one way or the other. Sooner or later, maternal instinct will kick in, and she'll stop fighting so much as long as the infant is well taken care of. And why wouldn't it be?

There she goes: the fight is finally draining out of her, and it's a lot easier once she's not thrashing against the chains and his hands gripping her hips, jerking her down every time he pushes in, breathing heavily with the exertion of proving his superiority. Her tears and her cries don't matter; sooner or later, she'll get over it, accept her place in the food chain. It's almost fitting that they're surrounded by the claw marks and scraped metal of the one hybrid who never managed to learn that lesson.

He looks down at Blue, her skin flushed by her anger, her body gripping him so tight -- with eager grunts, Hoskins thrusts in hard once, twice, three times -- he groans as he reaches his climax inside her, hips jerking until he's spent. Dizzy with satisfaction and the chills of adrenaline fading away, he climbs off of her and fixes himself up, looking down at her now with smug derision.

"There's a good girl," he snorts, and before he leaves, he can't resist sneering, "You ever do that for your 'alpha'?"

Blue scarcely realized it when Hoskins climbed off of her. Her body simply hurt too much. Small tremors of pain shook her every moment or so; she simply couldn't muster enough willpower to force her muscles to respond. Her breathing was shallow and it whistled in her throat, raw from her violent screams.

Blood still seeped from her wrists and ankles, it was caked over the scarred metal, but the shackles still held her fast. Every now and again a shiver racked through her; her flesh was cold, clammy. Blue couldn't open her eyes, the nightmare would return and she'd be helpless to stop it.

She felt--nothing.

It was only hours later, after the moon had risen high above Isla Sorna and been obscured by the gathering storm clouds, did the sound of broken sobs mourn through the impenetrable steel bars.

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