Chương 2: Indominus Rex (2)

The habitat enclosure simulated the climate of a rainforest—humid and stifling. Beneath the glare of the artificial sun, she dozed in the shade of broad-leafed plants. She emerged willingly only at feeding time. For the rest of the day, she stayed hidden. It wasn't that she disliked moving. Hiding simply felt more natural, both to her body and her mind. Perhaps it was because she was still so small and weak. Even after growing accustomed to her surroundings, she remained gripped by a fear she could not explain.

It felt like a fragment of instinct hardwired deep into her flesh, something she had possessed from the moment she was born, constantly warning her to avoid danger. Fail to hide, and something would drag her out and eat her. Fail to run, and something would bite through her spine and carry her away. Fail to fight, and something else would kill her. For a creature as young and vulnerable as she was, survival seemed to depend on lying low, keeping silent, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

But why were those her instincts? Something about them felt wrong. She didn't know where these fragments came from, nor did she understand the logic behind her fear. Just as she couldn't explain why, after only two sleeps, the beginnings of an unfamiliar language—one formed from letters—had started surfacing in her mind. First came isolated words. Then short and long sentences. The more she thought about them, the more familiar they became.

From this, she concluded that her soul must once have been immersed in this language—even though she still didn't understand what "soul" or "immersed" meant. Time passed. When the heat and humidity inside the enclosure reached a certain threshold, a red light flashed on the simulator, and rain began to fall. She stared into the curtain of rain, and an image suddenly flickered through her mind. A room veiled in white steam. A chrome faucet. Water streamed from its spout and over an outstretched hand. A hand?

She looked down. A pair of gunmetal-gray claws met her eyes, sharp and terrifying. The sight irritated her. She instinctively tried to clench her fist, only for the claws to curl at once, gouging deep furrows into the hard soil with alarming ease. Those marks were rather deep… She didn't dare move again. Then a scream erupted outside the enclosure, so shrill that it broke into a wail. Her slit pupils darted toward the sound. Her gaze pierced the gaps between the leaves and pinpointed its source.

She slowed her breathing, tightened her muscles, and withdrew deeper into the shadows. Her hind legs rose slightly beneath her, ready to launch her into a sprint at any moment. The humans in white coats had been gathered around a cluster of glowing boxes. It took them far longer to react—about as long as it took her to eat two pieces of meat. To her eyes, they rose with excruciating slowness and began to run just as slowly. Some approached her enclosure, while the others rushed toward the commotion.

"What happened?"

"Second-generation Asset One bit its handler."

"It's tasted human blood? But it's a dinosaur… My God!"

"A dinosaur? Fine. Let's hope it really is one." A chestnut-haired woman had gone pale, her words carrying an ominous implication.

"I've never seen a three-week-old dinosaur bite through protective gear. No other carnivorous dinosaur could do that at the same age! Damn it, the handler was wearing a fully sealed suit. How could it have smelled human flesh?" The laboratory descended into chaos. The disorder didn't last long. Calm soon returned. At least on the surface. She gradually relaxed and stepped into the rain, letting the water wash over her body. Beneath the patter of droplets, her rigid bones and muscles finally loosened.

After enjoying her shower, she shook off the water and disappeared beneath the broad leaves again. She had no idea that some trouble would find her whether she went looking for it or not. Feeding time arrived, but no raw meat appeared. Instead, a group of white-coated humans gathered outside her "territory." At their center stood a middle-aged man with black hair and dark eyes. They surrounded him, speaking in a language she could not understand. She still couldn't make sense of their words, but she tried.

She watched their movements and expressions, hoping to extract whatever information she could. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Her instincts told her that understanding them was important—especially the dark-haired, dark-eyed man. She remembered him. He seldom appeared, but everyone obeyed him. In this place, he seemed to be the "strongest."

She couldn't tell whether it was her drive to survive or a creature's natural tendency to monitor the strongest rival near its territory, but she was constantly assessing how dangerous he might be. After observing him for long enough, she memorized not only his appearance but also the small badge on his coat and the shapes printed on it: Henry Wu. Through the glass barrier, their speech sounded rapid and blurred. Her hearing, however, was exceptionally sharp.

She managed to isolate several words that appeared repeatedly in their conversations. Silently, she compared them and committed each one to memory.

"Does it normally stay in one place? It doesn't like to run around?"

"That's correct, Dr. Wu." A researcher flipped through the recorded data.

"Compared with the other one, this asset is more docile but also more vigilant. It displays little interest in movement or exploration. It doesn't strike the glass or vocalize threats. Its usual state could best be described as 'quiet.'""Quiet?" Henry frowned.

"Can two specimens created from the same set of genes really differ this much?" The researcher nodded.

"Apparently so, Dr. Wu. This asset is better suited to captivity and human interaction. Although it was created as a backup for the first specimen, I believe its development has already surpassed that of Asset One." The other specimen had injured a human and learned the taste of human blood. Once the idea that humans were food became ingrained in its genes, the habit of hunting them would take root and remain with it for the rest of its life.

If it reproduced, its offspring would inherit the same lesson through fragments of genetic memory: Humans were food. That was why a wild animal that had eaten a human had to be put down. If it wasn't, humans would remain part of its diet. Unfortunately, Dr. Wu did not see things the way ordinary people did. To an outlaw and mad scientist like him, the hybrid dinosaurs he had created weren't wild animals. They were precious genetic assets. He didn't care whether they ate humans.

He cared only about how far they could develop.

"Your assessment is mistaken," Henry said.

"Doctor?"

"For a carnivorous dinosaur, 'quiet' and 'docile' are hardly desirable qualities. Ferocity and aggression are what it should display." Henry's tone remained perfectly even.

"From the way you describe this asset, it is practically defective. Is this laboratory trying to clone sheep? Don't forget what the company expects from us. They want a new breed of dinosaur that's bigger, scarier, and cooler." The researcher fell silent. Henry issued an order, bringing the second asset's peaceful existence to an end.

"Bring out its killer instincts. I want a killing machine, not a pet." The feeding mechanism inside the enclosure did not activate again. Instead, a hatch opened in one wall, and a live rabbit was released inside. The rabbit was small but well fed. Its white fur had been spattered with blood, and the coppery scent filled the air, stirring her appetite. It never noticed her in the shadows. It simply nibbled at the plants, oblivious to the danger drawing near.

At last, she rose from beneath the broad leaves without making a sound. She felt as if she had been torn in two. One half recoiled from blood and raw flesh; the other craved them. A fire raged inside her stomach. Saliva spilled uncontrollably from her jaws. She was hungry. The smell of fresh meat filled her nostrils, and her claws trembled with excitement. Her reason remained intact, but she had no intention of fighting her instincts.

She understood that a creature confined to a cage and dependent upon others for food had no right to choose. She had to eat whatever they gave her. She cast aside her hesitation and surrendered her body to instinct. Her hind legs drove against the ground. In an instant, she shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, swift as a gust of wind. The rabbit had no time to react. Her foot came down on its spine, sharp talons piercing its back.

Her claws sliced through flesh like sickles, spraying blood across the ground. Her savage instincts took over. She located the rabbit's neck vertebrae and sank her teeth in. The terrified animal kicked several times before falling still. The entire attack was smooth and efficient, without a single wasted movement. For a first hunt, it was nearly flawless. Lowering her head, she tore away the rabbit's skin with her teeth and devoured the softest pieces of flesh.

"Perhaps Dr. Wu was wrong…" the researcher recording the session whispered.

"Maybe this asset is the more dangerous one. It was quiet only because it wasn't hungry." Hunting became part of her daily routine. The researchers never skimped on her food. Her diet was remarkably varied: rabbits, guinea pigs, lambs, suckling pigs, pigeons—even eels. She couldn't identify any of them at first. Yet as soon as she tasted one, its name would somehow surface in her mind. She would remember its scent and shape, its vulnerable points, and its flavor.

With plenty to eat and nothing to worry about, she soon grew noticeably larger and was moved into another enclosure. There was little to occupy her during the day and far too much time to fill, so she naturally devoted her attention to observing the humans. While they studied her, she studied them in return. The difference was that she knew she was being watched. They had no idea that she was watching them.

When assessing them as potential prey, she noticed that although they were pathetically weak, they carried themselves with an absurd degree of arrogance. They wandered into her sight without the slightest caution. They even exposed their throats to her. Every movement was careless, and they treated every decision they made for her as entirely natural, as though they could never possibly be reduced to the status of "food." Sometimes she wanted to take a bite out of one of them, just to make the others wake up.

But she worried that tasting the blood of something so "intelligent" might turn her into the same kind of idiot. Wait. What was an "idiot"? She pondered the question for some time, only returning to her senses when she heard another familiar word. The humans used it constantly in their conversations, usually when referring to her. Asset. She didn't know what it meant, but she assumed it was a name, something like "Henry Wu"—a word that identified one particular individual. Yes.

Something precise, definite, and unique. Every human seemed to have one. Then she should have one too. She decided that from this day forward, her name would be Asset. It was settled. She flicked her tail twice in satisfaction and tried to imitate the humans' pronunciation. Unfortunately, her vocal system was entirely different from theirs. When she attempted to say "Asset," what emerged was a deep, throaty cry, somewhere between a growl and a howl.

The sound was so unexpected that the already quiet laboratory fell completely silent. The researchers crowded around her enclosure in fascination. Pens clicked open as they hurried to record the event.

"Has it finally developed a desire to communicate? Could it have reached the stage where it needs social contact and companionship?"

"That's the first time I've heard it vocalize. It sounded almost like a cat."

"Should we request permission to house the two assets together? They both appear lonely."

"No. The other one hatched three weeks earlier. The difference in size is substantial. What if it eats this one? Animals often eat their own kind to eliminate competition for resources. It's perfectly common in nature." They were noisy. It sounded as though they were making fun of her voice. Asset immediately lost all desire to speak.