fredbassett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fredbassett) wrote2014-04-30 06:10 pm
fredbassett) wrote2014-04-30 06:10 pm
Fic, Within These Walls, Part 13 of 30, AU, 18
Title : Within These Walls, Chapter 13 of 30
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan, Nick, Connor, Jenny, Abby, Kermit, Finn
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 59,000 words in 30 chapters of approx. 1,500 – 2,500 words each
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ending up in Dartmoor prison for refusing to recant their belief in evolution is only the start of the problems facing Nick, Stephen and Connor. And Sir James Lester soon ends up with other problems on his hands than just an over-crowded prison population.
A/N : For acknowledgements, please see Part 1.
Ryan jammed his foot on the brakes and took the corner into the tall gates in a squeal of brakes and a spray of gravel. The moor was blanketed in mist and he’d nearly reduced a couple of stray sheep to roadkill on his way from the prison to Merrivale Quarry. In the front seat, Jenny Lewis kept her hands fisted around the seatbelt but had passed no comment on Ryan’s driving. The press officer was a woman who prided herself on maintaining an icy composure at all times, but Ryan knew his driving speeds had tested even her iron resolve.
As soon as the first reports had reached the prison of another incident on the moor, Lester had insisted on Jenny accompanying Ryan to deal with the police and any press that might have got wind of the latest events. On the way across the moor, she had managed to get a mobile signal for long enough to get through to Abby Maitland, the animal expert who had attended the first scene. The other woman was now on her way and would be with them within the hour.
From the back of the Range Rover, Lyle, Ditzy and Finn had offered a cheerfully rude commentary on his rallying abilities, but the banter promptly stopped as Ryan brought the vehicle to a halt next to the vans that had been used to transport the work party to the quarry.
Darren Cooper – known to the rest of the squad as Kermit – met them with evident relief. He had a streak of blood across his forehead and more smeared on his uniform, but Ryan already knew he was uninjured, so he presumed it had come from one of the casualties.
The first report had been sketchy, just the information that the group had fallen victim to another large animal attack and that they needed both back-up and medical help. An ambulance was on its way as well, but Ryan had wanted to get there as quickly as possible to assess the situation.
“Jackson’s over there!” Kermit told Ditzy. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Fucking thing damn nearly ripped his guts out. Bateson’s dead. It crushed his throat. We’ve got other minor injuries as well. There are some tracks in the mud and I’ve done what we can to preserve the scene.” He waved his hand at a man in camouflage uniform standing next to him, a rifle held across his chest. “This is Sergeant Taylor. He was on the MOD range and saw it.”
Ryan nodded and shook the man’s hand. “We can run through what you saw in a minute. Ditz, tell me if there’s anything you want us to do before the ambulance gets here. Finn, the tracks are your business. I want to know where it came from and where it’s gone to. Lyle, ride shotgun for him. If you see it, I want it dead. Ms Lewis, can you deal with the police when they turn up, please?”
“And I imagine the press won’t be far behind,” she commented with a disdainful look on her face. From what Ryan had gathered, the press weren’t exactly on her Christmas card list at the moment. She’d no doubt already heard enough Hound of the Baskervilles tales to last a lifetime and this was only going to catapult the story straight back into the headlines, no matter how hard they tried to keep a lid on events.
From what Ryan could piece together from Sergeant Taylor and Kermit, it seemed that the guys out on the MOD firing range had seen a large shape moving at a fast run through the mist. With stories of what had happened on the moor the previous week fresh in their minds, they’d decided to get in some target practice. The creature had been far too large for a dog although no one had got a clear view of it. Best estimates – even allowing for an element of exaggeration – put it at around two metres tall at the shoulder and something over three metres long, with a massive, heavily-jawed head.
“Someone must have seen something,” Ryan said in mounting frustration. “Kermit, question the prisoners. Keep back anyone who might have seen anything useful. Get the rest back to the prison as soon as possible.”
Kermit nodded and moved off in the direction of the huddle of uninjured prisoners, while Ditzy did the best he could with those who hadn’t been so lucky.
By the time the ambulance arrived, Jackson was capable of nothing more than incoherent moans and from the grim look on the paramedic’s face Ryan didn’t rate the guard’s chances very highly. Ryan didn’t like the man, but he wouldn’t have wished something like that on his worst enemy. The sight of Jackson’s guts pooled on his stomach like a bloodied mass of yellow string had caused at least two people to vomit violently and even the ambulance paramedics had looked like they’d seen pleasanter sights.
The creature appeared to have bounded down the sloping quarry face, bowled Jackson over, disembowelling him in the process, and hit the line of chained prisoners, causing immediate chaos, killing one and injuring several others. According to Ditzy, all the injuries looked like they had been inflicted by teeth rather than claws. There had been some hair left behind on Jackson’s uniform, snagged on the Velcro fasteners of his jacket cuff and around a button. Ditzy had bagged the hair and given it to him to show Abby Maitland when she arrived.
Ryan glanced in the direction of the quarry gates. He could also see Lyle and Finn at the edge of the quarry, kneeling on the ground, staring what he presumed were tracks. He’d heard them talking a while ago sounding puzzled, but had been too busy to check in with them. In addition, the police had just arrived and he could see one of the uniformed officers talking to a small woman with a shock of bleached blonde hair cut into a boyish bob, poking out from the hood of her parka. He recognised her from Stringer’s description. It looked like their animal expert had just turned up.
Abby Maitland had a firm handshake and a direct stare. “I need to see the tracks and talk to anyone who saw the attack.”
Ryan nodded. “That’s in hand, on both counts. He handed her the small plastic zip-lock bag that Ditzy had given him. “We’ve got some hair.”
She gave him an approving look and pocketed the packet. “I’ll look at that back at the zoo.”
Kermit came back over. “One of the prisoners says he got a look at the creature.”
Ryan nodded. “Keep him here, we’ll be back to talk to him as soon as Miss Maitland has looked at the tracks.” He led the way over to where Lyle and Finn were standing, staring at the ground.
“It doesn’t make any bloody sense, boss,” Finn told him as soon as they got within earshot. “Never seen tracks like these before.”
Ryan stared down at some deep marks on the wet ground. If it didn’t make any sense to Finn, then there was nothing he would be able to add. Rob Finn had grown up on Dartmoor before joining the army. He was the best man Ryan knew when it came to tracking, but he’d never professed to be a large animal expert. His expertise ran more to following sheep-worrying dogs.
Abby Maitland crouched down and studied the prints, then without saying a word, she walked off, following the trail for about ten metres before returning, looking as puzzled as Finn. In answer to Ryan’s raised eyebrows, she simply shook her head, shrugged and said, “I want to talk to any eye-witnesses.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan muttered. Abby Maitland clearly wasn’t in the least bit over-awed by men with guns, which was fortunate in the circumstances.
Ryan gestured to Kermit to bring over a blond-haired man who looked half-frozen, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his jacket and shoulders hunched. Ryan remembered him from the batch of new arrivals the previous week. The man shared a cell with Stephen Hart, whose rape Jackson had been instrumental in covering up.
If the man was surprised to find himself being quizzed by a diminutive woman half his age, he did a good job of covering it up, answering Abby’s questions concisely and accurately. The story that emerged corroborated the picture Ryan had gleaned from his discussion with Sergeant Taylor, with the additional detail that the animal had been covered with brindled fur, a mix of dark brown and a lighter, more russet colour.
“So, we’re looking for something about the size and shape of a tiger with a long muzzle, maybe more like a wolf,” Ryan said, when Abby had brought her game of 20 Questions to a close.
“With hooves,” Abby said calmly, staring at the ground.
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Told you it didn’t make sense, boss,” Finn commented.
“Hooves?” The man – Cutter, if Ryan remembered correctly – went down on his knees in the mud to examine the prints more closely. “Are you sure these were made by the same animal?”
“Unless something the same size and weight has been romping around here in the last hour without anyone noticing, yes,” Finn told him. “We followed the tracks for about 200 metres, but the mist was getting too thick and the ground is bloody boggy. It’s gone right through a section of fence, ripping the posts straight out of the ground, but it starts to get indistinct further up.”
“You need Stephen for this. He can follow anything anywhere,” Cutter told them. “I’ve seen him track a wounded animal through conditions even worse than this. If it’s out there, he can find it.” He stared down at the prints again and muttered, “Hooves. But that can’t be right. It’s impossible.”
“Killer mutant sheep?” Finn suggested.
“Mesonychids. Hoofed predators,” Cutter countered, still staring down at the ground.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryan demanded. Cutter’s words made no sense to him, but from the look on Abby Maitland’s face, they clearly meant more to her.
The woman stared up at Cutter. “That’s ridiculous.”
Cutter shrugged. “I didn’t say it made sense. But the last time I saw a set of tracks that looked anything like that, they were behind glass in a museum.”
Ryan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, doing his best to force down his irritation with the man.
“Bring Connor Temple over here,” Cutter said suddenly, in the tone of a man who was used to giving instructions and having other people jump to do his bidding. “Young lad, dark hair, looks like a drowned rat at the moment,” he added, by way of clarification. “He needs to see this. The lad’s got an encyclopaedic memory for this sort of thing.”
“And what sort of thing is that?” Ryan demanded. Regardless of the fact that he was obviously freezing cold, Cutter was looking more animated than anyone who had been out there in foul conditions and had just survived a large animal attack had any right to be.
“If I told you it was something related to whales you wouldn’t believe me, would you?”
“It’s too fucking cold for jokes,” Ryan countered.
“Bring Connor over here. Just trust me for a minute. What harm can it do?”
“We could all get even colder,” Finn said in the resigned tone of voice of someone who could see the inevitable approaching at a rate of knots.
“Do it,” Abby Maitland snapped. “I want to hear what he has to say.” She looked up at the blond-haired man and said, “You’re Professor Nick Cutter, aren’t you? I didn’t recognise you at first. I wanted to enrol on your course but I couldn’t afford the fees and then the zoo offered me a job.” She held her hand out and Cutter shook it. “I was sorry when I heard you’d been tried and convicted.”
“Not half as sorry as I was, lass,” Cutter said. “But right now you’re better off out of it. Evolutionary zoology doesn’t open many doors right now, or at least the evolutionary bit doesn’t.”
Ryan raised his arm to flag down one of the minibuses that were about to leave the quarry. “He isn’t going to thank you for keeping him out in this cold, but it’s your call,” he remarked. “Kermit, get the lad off the bus. We may as well humour the professor.”
Cutter had been right; the lad did look like a drowned rat. His greasy dark hair was plastered to his head and he was shaking with cold. They were going to have to make this quick before they ended up having to treat him for hypothermia.
“Listen to this description and tell me what you think,” Cutter said, barely suppressing the excitement in his voice. “About two metres tall, brindled fur, jaws capable of crushing flesh and bone, and teeth able to rip and tear.”
Connor looked at Cutter, his face white and pinched. “Sounds like something off a Cryptozoology website, Professor.”
“With hooves,” Cutter added, waving his hand at the mess on the ground.
Connor’s eyes widened. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“As the captain has just informed me, lad, it’s too fucking cold for jokes.”
“My guess would be Andrewsarchus,” Connor said, still staring at the prints. “Or maybe an Arctocyon, but the Andrewsarchus was probably bigger, so I’d go for one of them. I was never convinced by Spaulding trying to reclassify them. They were still under mesonychids in my database.” He gaped at Cutter like a kid who had just seen Father Christmas. “This is real, isn’t it? But how the hell has it managed to survive on Dartmoor for 36 million years?”
Cutter sighed. “Considering that Dartmoor didn’t even exist 36 million years ago, I can safely say that I have absolutely no bloody idea.” A swift grin lit his face and he added, “But that’s all bollocks, remember. After all, the earth was only created 6,000 years ago, so all of this is just nonsense.”
“We’ll just stick to the mutant killer sheep theory, shall we?” Ryan said. “It’s all right for you, Professor, but I’m the one who’s going to have to explain all this to the governor.”
“Could be worse, boss,” Finn said cheerfully. “Ms Lewis is going to have to explain it to the press.”
“Make sure that no one gets anywhere near these tracks,” Ryan ordered. “If the professor’s friend is as good as he’s making out, I want him to see these.”
But first, he had to clear the quarry and secure the scene. Reporting to the governor would have to stand in line with everything else he had to do.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan, Nick, Connor, Jenny, Abby, Kermit, Finn
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 59,000 words in 30 chapters of approx. 1,500 – 2,500 words each
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ending up in Dartmoor prison for refusing to recant their belief in evolution is only the start of the problems facing Nick, Stephen and Connor. And Sir James Lester soon ends up with other problems on his hands than just an over-crowded prison population.
A/N : For acknowledgements, please see Part 1.
Ryan jammed his foot on the brakes and took the corner into the tall gates in a squeal of brakes and a spray of gravel. The moor was blanketed in mist and he’d nearly reduced a couple of stray sheep to roadkill on his way from the prison to Merrivale Quarry. In the front seat, Jenny Lewis kept her hands fisted around the seatbelt but had passed no comment on Ryan’s driving. The press officer was a woman who prided herself on maintaining an icy composure at all times, but Ryan knew his driving speeds had tested even her iron resolve.
As soon as the first reports had reached the prison of another incident on the moor, Lester had insisted on Jenny accompanying Ryan to deal with the police and any press that might have got wind of the latest events. On the way across the moor, she had managed to get a mobile signal for long enough to get through to Abby Maitland, the animal expert who had attended the first scene. The other woman was now on her way and would be with them within the hour.
From the back of the Range Rover, Lyle, Ditzy and Finn had offered a cheerfully rude commentary on his rallying abilities, but the banter promptly stopped as Ryan brought the vehicle to a halt next to the vans that had been used to transport the work party to the quarry.
Darren Cooper – known to the rest of the squad as Kermit – met them with evident relief. He had a streak of blood across his forehead and more smeared on his uniform, but Ryan already knew he was uninjured, so he presumed it had come from one of the casualties.
The first report had been sketchy, just the information that the group had fallen victim to another large animal attack and that they needed both back-up and medical help. An ambulance was on its way as well, but Ryan had wanted to get there as quickly as possible to assess the situation.
“Jackson’s over there!” Kermit told Ditzy. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Fucking thing damn nearly ripped his guts out. Bateson’s dead. It crushed his throat. We’ve got other minor injuries as well. There are some tracks in the mud and I’ve done what we can to preserve the scene.” He waved his hand at a man in camouflage uniform standing next to him, a rifle held across his chest. “This is Sergeant Taylor. He was on the MOD range and saw it.”
Ryan nodded and shook the man’s hand. “We can run through what you saw in a minute. Ditz, tell me if there’s anything you want us to do before the ambulance gets here. Finn, the tracks are your business. I want to know where it came from and where it’s gone to. Lyle, ride shotgun for him. If you see it, I want it dead. Ms Lewis, can you deal with the police when they turn up, please?”
“And I imagine the press won’t be far behind,” she commented with a disdainful look on her face. From what Ryan had gathered, the press weren’t exactly on her Christmas card list at the moment. She’d no doubt already heard enough Hound of the Baskervilles tales to last a lifetime and this was only going to catapult the story straight back into the headlines, no matter how hard they tried to keep a lid on events.
From what Ryan could piece together from Sergeant Taylor and Kermit, it seemed that the guys out on the MOD firing range had seen a large shape moving at a fast run through the mist. With stories of what had happened on the moor the previous week fresh in their minds, they’d decided to get in some target practice. The creature had been far too large for a dog although no one had got a clear view of it. Best estimates – even allowing for an element of exaggeration – put it at around two metres tall at the shoulder and something over three metres long, with a massive, heavily-jawed head.
“Someone must have seen something,” Ryan said in mounting frustration. “Kermit, question the prisoners. Keep back anyone who might have seen anything useful. Get the rest back to the prison as soon as possible.”
Kermit nodded and moved off in the direction of the huddle of uninjured prisoners, while Ditzy did the best he could with those who hadn’t been so lucky.
By the time the ambulance arrived, Jackson was capable of nothing more than incoherent moans and from the grim look on the paramedic’s face Ryan didn’t rate the guard’s chances very highly. Ryan didn’t like the man, but he wouldn’t have wished something like that on his worst enemy. The sight of Jackson’s guts pooled on his stomach like a bloodied mass of yellow string had caused at least two people to vomit violently and even the ambulance paramedics had looked like they’d seen pleasanter sights.
The creature appeared to have bounded down the sloping quarry face, bowled Jackson over, disembowelling him in the process, and hit the line of chained prisoners, causing immediate chaos, killing one and injuring several others. According to Ditzy, all the injuries looked like they had been inflicted by teeth rather than claws. There had been some hair left behind on Jackson’s uniform, snagged on the Velcro fasteners of his jacket cuff and around a button. Ditzy had bagged the hair and given it to him to show Abby Maitland when she arrived.
Ryan glanced in the direction of the quarry gates. He could also see Lyle and Finn at the edge of the quarry, kneeling on the ground, staring what he presumed were tracks. He’d heard them talking a while ago sounding puzzled, but had been too busy to check in with them. In addition, the police had just arrived and he could see one of the uniformed officers talking to a small woman with a shock of bleached blonde hair cut into a boyish bob, poking out from the hood of her parka. He recognised her from Stringer’s description. It looked like their animal expert had just turned up.
Abby Maitland had a firm handshake and a direct stare. “I need to see the tracks and talk to anyone who saw the attack.”
Ryan nodded. “That’s in hand, on both counts. He handed her the small plastic zip-lock bag that Ditzy had given him. “We’ve got some hair.”
She gave him an approving look and pocketed the packet. “I’ll look at that back at the zoo.”
Kermit came back over. “One of the prisoners says he got a look at the creature.”
Ryan nodded. “Keep him here, we’ll be back to talk to him as soon as Miss Maitland has looked at the tracks.” He led the way over to where Lyle and Finn were standing, staring at the ground.
“It doesn’t make any bloody sense, boss,” Finn told him as soon as they got within earshot. “Never seen tracks like these before.”
Ryan stared down at some deep marks on the wet ground. If it didn’t make any sense to Finn, then there was nothing he would be able to add. Rob Finn had grown up on Dartmoor before joining the army. He was the best man Ryan knew when it came to tracking, but he’d never professed to be a large animal expert. His expertise ran more to following sheep-worrying dogs.
Abby Maitland crouched down and studied the prints, then without saying a word, she walked off, following the trail for about ten metres before returning, looking as puzzled as Finn. In answer to Ryan’s raised eyebrows, she simply shook her head, shrugged and said, “I want to talk to any eye-witnesses.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan muttered. Abby Maitland clearly wasn’t in the least bit over-awed by men with guns, which was fortunate in the circumstances.
Ryan gestured to Kermit to bring over a blond-haired man who looked half-frozen, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his jacket and shoulders hunched. Ryan remembered him from the batch of new arrivals the previous week. The man shared a cell with Stephen Hart, whose rape Jackson had been instrumental in covering up.
If the man was surprised to find himself being quizzed by a diminutive woman half his age, he did a good job of covering it up, answering Abby’s questions concisely and accurately. The story that emerged corroborated the picture Ryan had gleaned from his discussion with Sergeant Taylor, with the additional detail that the animal had been covered with brindled fur, a mix of dark brown and a lighter, more russet colour.
“So, we’re looking for something about the size and shape of a tiger with a long muzzle, maybe more like a wolf,” Ryan said, when Abby had brought her game of 20 Questions to a close.
“With hooves,” Abby said calmly, staring at the ground.
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Told you it didn’t make sense, boss,” Finn commented.
“Hooves?” The man – Cutter, if Ryan remembered correctly – went down on his knees in the mud to examine the prints more closely. “Are you sure these were made by the same animal?”
“Unless something the same size and weight has been romping around here in the last hour without anyone noticing, yes,” Finn told him. “We followed the tracks for about 200 metres, but the mist was getting too thick and the ground is bloody boggy. It’s gone right through a section of fence, ripping the posts straight out of the ground, but it starts to get indistinct further up.”
“You need Stephen for this. He can follow anything anywhere,” Cutter told them. “I’ve seen him track a wounded animal through conditions even worse than this. If it’s out there, he can find it.” He stared down at the prints again and muttered, “Hooves. But that can’t be right. It’s impossible.”
“Killer mutant sheep?” Finn suggested.
“Mesonychids. Hoofed predators,” Cutter countered, still staring down at the ground.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryan demanded. Cutter’s words made no sense to him, but from the look on Abby Maitland’s face, they clearly meant more to her.
The woman stared up at Cutter. “That’s ridiculous.”
Cutter shrugged. “I didn’t say it made sense. But the last time I saw a set of tracks that looked anything like that, they were behind glass in a museum.”
Ryan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, doing his best to force down his irritation with the man.
“Bring Connor Temple over here,” Cutter said suddenly, in the tone of a man who was used to giving instructions and having other people jump to do his bidding. “Young lad, dark hair, looks like a drowned rat at the moment,” he added, by way of clarification. “He needs to see this. The lad’s got an encyclopaedic memory for this sort of thing.”
“And what sort of thing is that?” Ryan demanded. Regardless of the fact that he was obviously freezing cold, Cutter was looking more animated than anyone who had been out there in foul conditions and had just survived a large animal attack had any right to be.
“If I told you it was something related to whales you wouldn’t believe me, would you?”
“It’s too fucking cold for jokes,” Ryan countered.
“Bring Connor over here. Just trust me for a minute. What harm can it do?”
“We could all get even colder,” Finn said in the resigned tone of voice of someone who could see the inevitable approaching at a rate of knots.
“Do it,” Abby Maitland snapped. “I want to hear what he has to say.” She looked up at the blond-haired man and said, “You’re Professor Nick Cutter, aren’t you? I didn’t recognise you at first. I wanted to enrol on your course but I couldn’t afford the fees and then the zoo offered me a job.” She held her hand out and Cutter shook it. “I was sorry when I heard you’d been tried and convicted.”
“Not half as sorry as I was, lass,” Cutter said. “But right now you’re better off out of it. Evolutionary zoology doesn’t open many doors right now, or at least the evolutionary bit doesn’t.”
Ryan raised his arm to flag down one of the minibuses that were about to leave the quarry. “He isn’t going to thank you for keeping him out in this cold, but it’s your call,” he remarked. “Kermit, get the lad off the bus. We may as well humour the professor.”
Cutter had been right; the lad did look like a drowned rat. His greasy dark hair was plastered to his head and he was shaking with cold. They were going to have to make this quick before they ended up having to treat him for hypothermia.
“Listen to this description and tell me what you think,” Cutter said, barely suppressing the excitement in his voice. “About two metres tall, brindled fur, jaws capable of crushing flesh and bone, and teeth able to rip and tear.”
Connor looked at Cutter, his face white and pinched. “Sounds like something off a Cryptozoology website, Professor.”
“With hooves,” Cutter added, waving his hand at the mess on the ground.
Connor’s eyes widened. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“As the captain has just informed me, lad, it’s too fucking cold for jokes.”
“My guess would be Andrewsarchus,” Connor said, still staring at the prints. “Or maybe an Arctocyon, but the Andrewsarchus was probably bigger, so I’d go for one of them. I was never convinced by Spaulding trying to reclassify them. They were still under mesonychids in my database.” He gaped at Cutter like a kid who had just seen Father Christmas. “This is real, isn’t it? But how the hell has it managed to survive on Dartmoor for 36 million years?”
Cutter sighed. “Considering that Dartmoor didn’t even exist 36 million years ago, I can safely say that I have absolutely no bloody idea.” A swift grin lit his face and he added, “But that’s all bollocks, remember. After all, the earth was only created 6,000 years ago, so all of this is just nonsense.”
“We’ll just stick to the mutant killer sheep theory, shall we?” Ryan said. “It’s all right for you, Professor, but I’m the one who’s going to have to explain all this to the governor.”
“Could be worse, boss,” Finn said cheerfully. “Ms Lewis is going to have to explain it to the press.”
“Make sure that no one gets anywhere near these tracks,” Ryan ordered. “If the professor’s friend is as good as he’s making out, I want him to see these.”
But first, he had to clear the quarry and secure the scene. Reporting to the governor would have to stand in line with everything else he had to do.
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I love Nick, Abby, and Connor in this but holy cow, the shit is going to royally hit the fan and poor Ryan is going to be in the thick of it.
"mutant killer sheep theory" oh, that's precious but I think it did see that movie and I gotta say, it was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Ranks right up there with the mutant killer rabbits.
Okay, sorry, moved off subject. This is wonderful and now we get to see Stephen in action. **claps hands**
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I'm so sorry Jackson got gutted!
Yay for them listening to Abby, Cutter and Connor.
Are anomalies going to help or hinder the political situation re evolution?
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Erk for Jackson. He is a jerk, but nobody deserves this.
Great chapter with a wonderfully competent Ryan and co,
Competence is sexy!
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Yay for Stephen being able to use his abilities!
*g* for Jenny and the press, and yay for Jackson being the one to be disemboweled. Yeah, I'm vindictive... Ick for the description, though!
Bravo for Abby standing up to the men. Go, girl.
“Unless something the same size and weight has been romping around here in the last hour without anyone noticing, yes,” Finn told him
LOL Finn!
Killer mutant sheep FTW!
“Young lad, dark hair, looks like a drowned rat at the moment,” he added, by way of clarification.
Another LOL - perfect description.
I don't envy Ryan making his report to Lester. And I definitely don't envy Lester!
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Love the mutant killer sheep - probably the safest option at the moment ;)
Eek over Jackson ;)
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*iz also not terribly sorry for Jackson*
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Jackson has met his comeuppance - and I'm not really as gleeful as I thought I'd be. It felt too real for rejoicing.
It's great to see Abby allowed to be play a leading role. And Connor's still got his database - although presumably it's been confiscated somewhere along the line.
Don't envy Jenny facing the press.
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