sixwordstories | (no subject)

Courtesy isn't a priority for my employer. Neither is discretion, for that matter.

[He shrugs, and the gesture is nonchalant, but his nose wrinkles slightly in a subtle tell of distaste.]

He believes in making examples.

[And she nods, just the tiniest bit.]

It might surprise you, given my line of work, but both are key parts of my business. It might be that you're in the wrong line of work.

Subtle is the very axiom of my business in fact.

[She pauses, tilting her head a moment, having already taken the precaution of pressing the call button she had palmed earlier.]

Would you like to see?

[He smiles to himself at that, a flicker of a smirk ghosting over his features.]

Sure as hell hope not. I've been doing this since I was a kid. If I don't know what I'm doing by now, I might as well pack it up and go be a rent-a-cop.

[He considers the offer for a moment, his smile turning wry and slightly crooked. Lifting the glass to his lips, he downs it in one go.]

Why not? Nothing to lose, right? [He laughs lightly, like it's a joke they're both in on.]

[The tapping of feet comes moments after, and the soft, subtle growl. The Atrociraptor stalking into the room stands just over two meters tall, a reddish-brown tint to the skin. It stalks through the room, eyes never leaving the human beings there, growling slowly.]

This is Red. An Atrociraptor, and one I've trained since birth. The problem with Jurassic World was the willingness - the eagerness - to let Wu create horrors. The truth is, being clever produces much better results.

Loyalty, for instance.

[The moment the Atrociraptor steps into view his left eye glows with a bright yellow light, and for a split second outright surprise registers on his face. Catching himself, he lets out an appreciative hum, expression intent as his eyes scan over the approaching dinosaur; one human, one artificial.]

Trained to respond on command, not bad. Guessing the signal beacon uses some sonic frequency outside the human hearing range? She didn't set off any of my eye's threat assessment protocols either - ah, they're calibrated for human body types. Gonna have to fix that later.

So she, what, sees you as her alpha?

[A very brief smile.]

She sees me as the one who provides her meals. I was there when she was born, you see. The first being she ever saw. And I've trained her ever since. Every raptor alive today has been raised in an artificial world - chances are they'd be like wolves, organizing under a dominant pairing in the wild...but here?

[The raptor circles around her, and she casually points the controller at a disused mannequin in the corner of her space.]

I give her the orders.

[The tone on the controller changes and the raptor responds like an unwinding spring, slamming into the mannequin without a moments' hesitation.]

It's astounding how precise she - and her sisters - can be.

You don't say.

[The raptor moves so fast only his enhanced eye can follow her true motion. It takes maybe two seconds before the mannequin is dead meat - well, dead plastic. He whistles, impressed.]

Fast. Fast and accurate. Went straight for the vitals.

[The thick brows above his eyes draw together as he watches the raptor with newfound respect.]

How many others?

[She shrugs]

Currently? Four. But that's the thing about our inventory. It's the definition of a growth industry.

[Red stalks back towards them, shaking her head. And keeping a very, very close eye on the man. The sort of look that can set off one's deepest instincts. A predator measuring up its potential prey.]

[He's almost perfectly still now except for his eyes, which follow Red with unblinking focus. He's nothing's prey.]

One that won't sink from a failure of management, I see.

[He glances sidelong at her across the gap.]

Is it really you that big lizard's loyal to, though? Or is it just loyalty to a machine?

[Seemingly heedless of the raptor, he points his index finger at the painting from earlier. The one he was admiring. Subtly his digt changes shape, swelling and molding like a thing made of clay...

... until it's a perfect replica of her controller, emitting the same frequency and shining the same red targeting laser. A test to find out.]

[She almost, almost goes for a concealed gun in her desk - this is not the sort of situation she's at all sure of, and in instinct points her own controller at him as the raptor suddenly focuses on the painting, growling in rage and anger. As long as the tone stays one way, so long as it stays red...there's just agitation, gnashing. Noises.]

I wouldn't confuse an Atrociraptor in an enclosed space if you want either of us to come out alive. Confuse her enough, she will start making her own decisions on the issue, and your impressive little trick will get us both killed.

[A pause.]

And I can escalate the situation, not that either of us want that.

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late af, feel free to ignore

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