I'm so long overdue for a new chapter. I had a super hell of a time trying to figure out what to do with this chapter to help nudge things along faster. Now I just paved the way for either super fun to write chapters or more hurdles to overcome. Oh boy!

PREPARATIONS

6 – Preparations

It was cold. Damn cold and Pet hated it. There was the option to go to the nearest town's gym and run on the treadmill, but it wouldn't be the same. Running on something as mundane as a piece of stationary equipment would never come close to properly preparing her. There were no obstacles for overcoming adverse terrain on a treadmill like jumping over washouts or keeping one's footing in slick mud. It also didn't help condition the feet with thick callouses needed to lessen the sharp pains of trampling over jagged objects. While a gym did offer a warm environment where the chill out of the outside didn't freeze the bones' marrow, the outdoors was still the best training ground.

Pet whimpered at the morning's crisp forty-six-degree temperature. Muldoon's impassive grey eyes remained unblinking on her shivering form from where he sat in the Jeep's driver's seat. The hybrid knew that tone of stare and sighed, toeing off her boots. The frigid ground bit into the bottoms of her feet as soft earth squished between her toes.

Derek was bundled up in the backseat. "Can't we do this another day when it's not so damn cold outside?"

The hybrid scoffed. "Seriously? You're complaining of today being 'so damn cold' when the winter months are much colder. Besides…" Pet tossed her boots into the backseat, smirking over clattering jaws. "No one said you had to come, too." She shook her arms and legs out in her sweatshirt and pants. "Let's start easy."

Muldoon watched the hybrid stretch her legs and flex her ankles. "Ten? Fifteen?"

"Fifteen to start for the first quarter-mile, then push it twenty. Maybe twenty-five."

The Jeep was put into first gear, Pet beginning in a light jog. Her pace picked up, and before long, she was keeping up with the Jeep. Derek studied her. "How is she even able to move in this weather? I'd think she become a Pet-sickle."

Muldoon kept a close eye on the hybrid through the side-view mirror and smiled. "You'd be surprised what the mind can push the body to do."

After a little over a mile, Pet had slowed down to thirteen miles an hour. By the time they reached a mile and a half total in the distance traveled, she was about to fall out.

Derek patted her on the back. "Yeah, you got a lot of work to do."

Later that evening, she was back at it again. She wasn't about to admit defeat this early on.

Two weeks later, and after pushing herself to run two miles a day twice a day, Pet was able to keep up with the Jeep. Today it was Terrence driving. He went twenty miles an hour for the first half then slowed it down to fifteen to not overdo Pet.

During mid-run, the blue Masrani helicopter flew right over their position. Derek leaned over in the backseat to see Xavier Winston peering down on them through the back glass.

The young man huffed a laugh. "Bright and early, just like he said." The pilot flew the helicopter away from them and back in the direction of the excavation.

Muldoon sat in the front passenger seat and watched it become a speck in the distance. "At least she's going to California this time and not London."

The Jeep slowed, Pet doing the same. Derek continued. "I think it would've been good for her to go back so you, me and her could have a long talking to with Aunt Bobbi."

The older man shook his head. "What needs to be said is between us. Leave Pet out of it."

The hybrid crawled into the backseat and stretched out. "Time to head back so I can wash up." She wiggled her dirt-caked toes.

In three hours, she was cleaned up, and onboard InGen's business plane headed towards California. Muldoon and Derek were also there with their bags packed to leave out for London early the next day.

The next morning, a car was waiting downstairs for the not so eager hybrid. As soon as she got into the backseat, the driver greeted her. She was a woman about Pet's age with blond hair pulled back in a French braid. "Good morning, Ms. Hammond. My name is Leah, and I'll be your personal driver for the week."

Pet gave a timid wave and smile. "Good morning."

A small white paper bag and a bottle of chocolate milk were passed to the backseat passenger. "Courtesy of Mr. Winston, ma'am."

The bag was peeled open, and Pet's eyes exploded in delight. "Hells yes! Chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles! Mr. Winston, you're the best!"

Not a sprinkle nor drop of chocolate milk remained by the time the car pulled up to the front of the Palo Alto office. Standing on top of the stairs was the sharp-dressed InGen president looking hansom has usual. "Good morning, Ms. Veronica!" The two met in a hug, Winston escorting the hybrid inside. "I take it you received your breakfast?"

"Yes! Thank you for that, by the way!"

The rest of the morning wasn't so pleasant—one boring interview after another. Pet sighed. All she could think about was the Spinosaur in her trying to recall its weak points. She pondered ways on how to attack it to weaken it. She wasn't wholly tuning out her reason for being there, however. When someone of real promise came around, Pet was all ears and at full attention.

Winston was taking cues from the woman's interest in who was a serious candidate and who wasn't. She was completely different from her older male counterpart, who was more verbal in his opinion of others.

Tuesday, Wednesday and now, Thursday. Pet was headed downstairs to the lobby to meet the nine-o-clock by the name of Valerie Mills. From what she remembered of the individual's resume, the applicant was an Army veteran that served two tours overseas as a convoy driver.

Standing in front of the receptionist desk was who Pet presumed to be the next interviewer. Her red, short, bobbed hair complimented her slender face and bold green eyes. Her toned frame clad in torn jeans, and a black leather jacket made her look as Pet knew Derek would describe as hot. The woman arched a brow at Pet coming her way.

Pet gave a polite smile to the woman. "Valerie Mills?"

"That's me."

"Good morning. My name is Ms. Veronica, and I'll be aiding in conducting your interview this morning."

Valerie stared at the other woman, unblinkingly. "I was under the impression I was meeting Mr. Xavier Winston for my interview…not his secretary."

Pet's polite smiled turned visibly bitter. "Hence why I said aiding. He isn't the only one who will be deciding whether or not you get the job you're applying for. While he does make the final call, it will be me that recommends you for selection based on your interview this morning."

A slow nod came from the redhead. "Okay. Whatever." Pet skewered the interviewer with narrowed blue-green eyes. "Well, lead the way, Ms. Veronica." Pet didn't like the woman's attitude so far. They approached the elevator, Pet selecting the upper floor button. Valerie continued. "So, who did you have to blow to get this job?"

The hybrid's head snapped around, eyes wide and jaw agape. "Pardon me?"

Valerie huffed a laugh. "C'mon, you and I both know women don't advance in corporate rank without giving favors to the right person."

Pet was flabbergasted. "I can assure you, I did no favors to anyone to get to where I am in life." They entered the cubicle, the doors rattling shut behind them. Pet selected the third floor, Winston's office was on.

When the doors opened, a suited businesswoman waited in the hallway. She smiled at the hybrid exiting the cubicle. "Good morning, Ms. Hammond." Pet cringed but greeted the professional woman in return.

Valerie laughed to herself. "As in John Hammond?"

"Yes," Pet slightly growled in annoyance through clenched teeth.

"Ah. It all makes sense now. You were right. You didn't have to do any favors. You were simply born with a silver spoon in your mouth."

That's it. Pet couldn't take any more. She never really tolerated feeling challenged and spun around on a booted foot to glare angrily at the woman. "Despite my relation to the founder of InGen, the only thing I was born with was a target over my head. There was no entitled life or the spoils of the rich for me when growing up. I got where I am in life through hard work and blood loss, and I have the scars to prove it."

Valerie cocked a sideways grin. "Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

Pet hissed a snort at the redhead and jerked open the door to Winston's office. The action startled the man so much that he jolted upright in his padded chair. His piercing dark gaze studied the fluster faced hybrid before finally settling on the woman following her.

Winston stood up, straightened his suit coat, and extended a hand in welcome to the newcomer for professionalism's sake. "You must be Ms. Mills."

"Yes, sir," was given in quick reply.

"Xavier Winston. Good morning and welcome. You have already met Ms. Veronica."

Pet flopped down in her chair next to the office desk and swiped her clipboard off its corner. "Yes, we have met."

Winston could hear a hint of animalistic anger in the hybrid's voice and was becoming further concerned. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Mills, so we can begin."

"Val, please." The redhead sat down, green eyes locking with yellow-green ones. The sudden change in eye color alarmed her. She had been watching the other woman in her peripheral vision the whole time. There was no way she had changed out her contacts if she was wearing any, nor were any put in.

Pet had an idea what the thrown off look on the offending woman's face meant, and rolled her eyes closed. She focused her attention on the clipboard of papers in her lap and bit a smile at Winston. "Shall we begin?"

In the thirty minutes of the interview, much was learned about the feisty Army veteran. In her eight years of service, she once held a rifle marksman record for a refresher gun range course and two records for the pistol course. The only reason she wasn't still serving in the armed forces was because of a knee injury she sustained overseas. It left her unable to properly fulfill her career field duties, even after extensive knee surgeries. She was given an option; cross-train to an office job or opt for an early honorable discharge. No way was she about to become a 'desk jockey,' so she chose early separation.

Valerie left the office with Winston's secretary escorting her back downstairs. Winston studied the still on edge hybrid seated beside him. "Care to fill me in on what that was about?"

A hissed screech answered him first. "I don't like her attitude," followed second.

Winston shrugged. "I like her. She seems like what we're looking for. Right?"

Pet grumbled. "Aside from her questionable knee injury, sure. Once she's out in the field and needing to be relied upon, how will her past injury hold up? Will it shit out on her and leave her team one person short?" The last of the paperwork was signed off, and the stack removed from the clipboard. "There's no room for weakness when working with these animals, Xav. They can sense who poses a greater threat and who doesn't. Just like any predatory animal, they'll go for the weak and sickly first." The stack was stapled together and slid into a manila file folder.

"Mr. Masrani wants at least twenty capable people for his corralling team. That's not including the InGen Security division's teams."

"Keyword capable."

Winston leaned back in his seat and folded his hands over his stomach. "How would you go about proving if someone is capable or not?"

"Easy." Pet smacked the folder down on his desk for his reviewing later. "Slap a tactical vest on each person, give them a dummy rifle and pistol for simulation purposes complete with appropriately weighted practice magazines. Toss a twenty-five-pound pack on them to lug around and have them do a survival obstacle course or something. Or better yet, leave them in the jungle for a few days and tell them to make it to point B in three days or else."

Winston blinked at the woman in disbelief. "I can't tell if you're being serious or not." Pet's devious grin was answer enough. "You're serious."

"These people, no matter if ACU, wardens or rangers, need to be in top physical condition. There's a lot of shit that can go wrong out there."

The man slowly nodded in understanding, drumming his fingers across the top of his other hand. "Have you discussed something like this with Mr. Masrani?"

"No, but I can before the next interview. Robert and Simon should be done with the interviews on their side."

Winston nudged his office phone to the hybrid, her smiling in appreciation and accepting it.

The interviews were over for the day and Muldoon couldn't wait to get the bloody hell out of the building and into a pub. He was about to reach for Simon's office door handle to leave when the desk phone went off. He stopped and slowly glanced back over his shoulder to the billionaire, answering it. It better not be Buna notifying them the rescheduled three-thirty was showing up for a last-minute meeting.

Simon answered the phone, not even getting a chance to give his usual greeting when he jerked the phone from his ear. Muldoon knew that excited tone of voice anywhere. "I have an idea!" came Pet's voice.

Simon looked to the scarred game warden questionably and placed the call on the loudspeaker. "What is this idea of yours?"

"Is Robert there?"

Muldoon strode away from the door to take a stand in front of the desk. "Right here, Pet. What is it?"

"Okay, so…" the hybrid was heard giggling, slightly unnerving both men. She never giggled unless super excited about something. "Mr. Winston brought up a good point as we were discussing the latest applicant. How would you prove if someone applying for ACU, wardens, or rangers is capable of doing their job?"

Muldoon shrugged. "That's what these interviews are for."

"Yeah, sure, great. These people sound stellar in their resumes, sound promising in person about their work experiences, but what about them physically? What are their psychological breaking points when placed under pressure?"

"What are you getting at, Ms. Hammond?" Simon inquired.

"Make the selected applicants do an obstacle course. They'll not only be required to work as a team to navigate and survive the wilds while honing their tracking skills, but they'll also have to evade being hunted."

Deep concern smeared itself on Simon's face. "Hunted?"

Pet ignored the genuine concern in the man's voice, continuing. "During all this, should someone have a handicap of a sort… oh, say a past knee injury or something…if they can complete the course, then great, they're in. If not, well… there's the door. Bye."

Simon brought a hand to his tense mouth, deep in thought. His dark eyes shot upwards to Muldoon questionably. The ex-game warden nodded at what was being proposed. "It's a valid point. How can we be certain these individuals have the necessary endurance based on an interview conducted in an office's safety? Just because they get the all-clear on their physicals from a doctor doesn't mean they have what it takes."

Looks could be very deceiving. Muldoon knew this for a fact. Never once would he have imagined a particular paleontologist who spent most of his time as far from predatory danger as possible having the capability of surviving the most extreme odds twice. The fact a specific human-raptor hybrid was aiding him those two times was beside the point. Not everyone working at Jurassic World would have Pet there to guide them through dense forest foliage and fight prehistoric animals while they hauled ass to safety.

Simon exhaled a heavy breath behind his hand. He dropped it onto his chair's armrest, speaking. "I'll look into securing a location that shares an environment much like the island's, that way the candidates partaking the course know what to expect as far as temperatures and humidity."

Pet was heard clearing her throat over the phone. "Might I suggest a piece of real estate with a varying terrain ranging from tall grass fields to jungles thick with undergrowth? Not only will the candidates be required to trek through all that, but they'll also need to know how to use it as cover against predators."

Muldoon rolled his eyes. "It's called a sense of smell, Pet. Certain species of dinosaurs have an incredible range of smell."

"Yes, I know this, Rob," Pet said in a sing-song tone. "It's why I said they'll need to know how to use that terrain as cover. Smearing mud on one's person…maybe even something less desirable to better hide one's smell…then using moss, ferns, leaves, etcetera as camouflage. I did it for years and faired just fine."

"That's debatable," Muldoon grumbled.

Simon sat up in his chair and leaned against his arms, folded on top of his desk. "What, exactly, did you have in mind for the predators? You mentioned the individuals being hunted."

If only the two men could see the devilish smile crooking Pet's lips. It had Winston slightly concerned beneath arched brows. "Predator, Mr. Masrani. Me. I will be hunting them."

Muldoon rubbed a hand over his impatient face. "How is your hunting these people preparing them for surviving dinosaurs? Once educated on these animals and what to expect, they should know the warning signs of one approaching. You are a completely different topic. You know how to evade detection. There's no amount of training or preparation out there for the average person or rookie to evade you. It's a grossly unfair scenario."

Pet was laughing humorously. "My whole one person against a group of people who should be working as a team is completely fair when you think about it, regardless of my prowess. Anyway, I'll mostly be there to keep the candidates on their feet…to test their mettle when they're already hot, tired, and hungry from a long day's hike. I'll basically be mimicking what they'll likely experience when tracking some of the more elusive animals. With that, regardless of the species, no one animal is super stealthy enough to avoid detection."

Muldoon opened his mouth to speak, Pet interrupting him as though she knew what he was about to say. "And before you say Velociraptors," she tased, "hear me out. The larger dinosaurs can be heard and even felt through vibrations in the ground in their approach. Dilophosaurus, while sneaky, aren't that sneaky. Trust me, I know. They're noisy little bastards not just vocally but also in how they move through the underbrush. If anyone of them can evade me…or hell, even capture me half-ass attempting detection, then they can evade and possibly even capture a dinosaur regardless of species."

Simon was confused and trying to wrap his mind around what the hybrid was explaining. "I thought the idea of an obstacle course was to exercise the candidates' abilities to handle the job's physical and psychological demands, not make undertaking it a game."

"You call it a game; I call it career field conditioning. Military exercises are war games, Mr. Masrani. The course will be a training ground to exercise those needing to be combat-ready on a whim, like a military soldier, should an emergency arise. An example being, a rogue animal threatening the safety of other animals and persons at the park. In this case, I'll be acting as the animal needing to either be avoided or captured."

Pet wasn't sure how much more in-depth she could explain the idea. Maybe she was being too wordy or too vague. Explaining things never was her best feature. Taking on and tackling a target was where she shined the most. If only she could show the wealthy man what she meant.

Simon tapped a finger on his desk. For what felt like a lengthy amount of time, he sat there in silence, thinking. Everything the hybrid had explained filled his mind with curious thoughts on how their scenarios would be carried out. This was definitely something he hadn't thought about. It never occurred to him to test applicants before exposing them to fieldwork. Having them go to the island to help with animal corralling was his idea of testing them to see if they could meet the job demands before Jurassic World's opening. But Mr. Winston and his counterpart were right; there needed to be a way for those hired to prove themselves before expecting them to hold their own in the corralling process.

Simon checked the time on his right wrist's silver linked watch. "If either you, Ms. Hammond, or Mr. Winston could, please send me an e-mail detailing everything explained."

After being silent for as long as he had, finally, Winston spoke up. "Yes, sir, I can do that."

"It doesn't have to be immediately, but I'd prefer it to be by your day's end. That way, I can review it tomorrow morning before the first interview."

Winston nodded, smiling. "Absolutely, sir. I'll have Ms. Hammond assist me with it this afternoon."

"Good, good." Simon felt extremely fortunate to have such wonderful people assist him with achieving John Hammond's dying wish. There wasn't enough he could do to relay his appreciation to the hybrid and her closest of friends. Their knowledge was indescribably invaluable, as it was the building blocks to the park's hopeful long-term success. "I will not hold either of you up any longer. Excellent work so far! Should there be any more ideas, please do not hesitate to contact me."

"Yes, sir," answered Pet and Winston simultaneously. The call was ended, leaving both people exchanging proud of themselves grins with the other.

Pet clapped and rubbed her hands together. "Guess that means I need to get my butt downstairs to greet the next interviewer. Hopefully, he or she won't be as snippy mouthed as Ms. Mills."