So you’re Gladiator.

  Gladiator was a spectacle, no doubt. Scales as red as dried blood, more than twice the size of an Orkoraptor and triple the muscle mass. Two short but sharp horns protruded menacingly from the top of its head, as thick as Luca’s arm. But the most remarkable detail was undoubtedly the mantle of black feathers that framed its neck like an odly fashionable cloack.

  Of course, it was its mouth—filled with long, thin, razor-sharp teeth stained red, carved to tear through flesh and torn bone to pieces—that won over the audience. They ‘ohhh-ed’ over it as if were an iguana showing off its self-severing tail or something, and not a depredator threatening them.

  Him.

  ... It shouldn’t be this big, Luca thought, swallowing hard as his hand hovered over the control screen. But to be honest, none of the animals in the park should have been this massive. His knowledge of dinosaurs or genetics was limited, but he was sure there was something off about these creatures—beyond the obvious.

  The bus, on its automatic control mechanism, didn’t stop and passed dangerously close to where the Carnotaurus was emerging. Especially considering this dinosaur’s speed was much higher than the Spinosaurus’s.

  Luca glanced at the bar on the screen and saw it still wasn’t fully charged, so even if it rushed to attack the bus, there was nothing he could do but survive.

  Of course, this didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the opportunity. He pressed the band on his wrist as soon as the animal came into full view, pretending his fingers weren’t trembling. His only advantage was that his presence diminished even more when he wasn’t moving, so he stayed as still as possible.

  Halfway there, he thought, suppressing a sigh of relief. He couldn’t say he felt completely safe when the pair of orange eyes seemed to narrow, focusing around the front of the bus. Gladiator sniffed the air, tilting its head slightly from side to side, and exhaling through its nostrils. But it didn’t seem curious enough to move—yet. It even stayed behind as the bus left the clearing.

  Of course, this wasn’t appreciated by the group. They wanted to see death up close—again.

  Though his thoughts about his audience weren’t exactly pleasant, Luca said with feigned enthusiasm, "Oh, it seems our friend is still a bit sleepy. Why don’t we call him? Gladiator—!"

  The chants of “Gladiator! Gladiator! Gladiator!” in response were so loud that even the other dinosaurs must have heard them.

  As if it had received a signal, the Carnotaurus emerged from the foliage, still moving somewhat slowly, and then let out a sound like a bellow—ironically reminding Luca of some kind of bull—and charged directly toward them with terrifying speed.

  But—to Luca, it felt like time had slowed down, and his eyes darted to the screen, where the bar still wasn’t fully charged. His heart rate spiked, and he felt as if someone had injected boiling water or electricity into his veins.

  An idea flashed through his mind.

  "Gladiator!" he shouted, and the audience joined in, the noise so sudden and piercing that the predator paused for an instant—and then, of course, raised its head and bellowed, or whatever that sound was that came from its throat, which only made the ghosts cheer even louder.

  The loud noise only enraged it further, and soon it charged forward, toward the back of the bus. Before it could reach them, Luca managed to activate the shield, and it came to life just as Gladiator was about to collide with it. The impact against the energy barrier didn’t sit well with the Carnotaurus—it bellowed in pain as electricity crackled across its scaly skin, making all its feathers bristle.

  Laughter echoed in the air. The visitors clapped and cheered, and satisfaction increased even more.

  Glad to learn they simply wanted to see the world burning down.

  15 seconds of protection, Luca almost sighed. While Gladiator didn’t advance, its attention fixed on the bus, and that amount of time he felt like this round would end without mishaps.

  That was the exact moment he jinxed himself.

  They had barely advanced a mere couple seconds, the predator still within sight, but the shield flickered and disappeared.

  The only good thing about the situation was they were already on the threshold —considering Gladiator didn’t seem to have given up— and thus the distance left wasn’t much.

  Stomping the ground, the Carnotaurus made a loud, threatening noise at them—and lunged at the bus. It hit the back near the roof, denting the metal with its horns, and ironically, gave them a push at the same time. Like a shove that made the bus lurch forward, reaching the entrance sooner than expected.

  The metal door barely opened wide enough to let the bus through.

  Loosening his grip on the chair, Luca looked back over the audience, at the back window. Gladiator didn’t pursue them further, baring its impressive sharp teeth from its position before turning and disappearing back into the foliage. Its stiff tail vanishing among the leaves was the last thing he saw before the door closed.

  Luca exhaled sharply, slumping slightly in his seat.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Wow. Front-line information.

  The good thing was that this was another successful result. It seemed they wouldn’t throw him off the bus and feed him to a T-Rex… for now.

  On an unrelated note, there were still three enclosures left.

  Luca glanced outside, feeling like the bus's dim lights were now a neon sign in the darkness of night. But there was no button to turn them off—oh, wait, there was one. He was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago, but he wasn’t going to complain. He hesitated for a moment, thinking about how this was clearly something irreversible—like the windows.

  Would his Night Vision work well? Up until now, he’d only used it in brief flashes over the last few minutes. Trusting himself and the perk, Luca pressed the button. The lights turned off, plunging the bus into darkness—but this wasn’t a problem for him, even if the grayish corners looked a bit odd.

  More importantly, it seemed the others didn’t mind either.

  He almost rolled his eyes. Of course, something like this would make them happy.

  "Now we’re going to see one of the park’s oldest residents," he began, adopting his 'Chummy' voice. He never thought his odd jobs would save his skin like this, but you learn something new every day. "However, this doesn’t mean his cunning has dulled with age. Two years ago, someone made that mistake—did you know?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, leaning toward the microphone as if sharing a secret.

  The entrance to the next enclosure glowed under pale lights, a 'small' double gate in the 'impenetrable' walls.

  "Don’t tell anyone I’m sharing with you this," he continued, injecting a playful tone into his words, "but one of our researchers thought it would be a good idea to replace the beloved grandpa-dino with his son. Imagine being in that situation—relaxing on your couch, maybe watching a movie after a long day—and suddenly, a 'son' you’ve never met bursts into your home and tries to kick you out. Bites included."

  The spectral visitors responded with sounds of indignation. Setting aside how inhuman they sounded, it was as if they felt personally offended by the scenario. How cooperative of them. Had Luca grown on them or something during the trip?

  "If you visited the museum, then you’ve seen his 'son' in the exhibit," he said with a smile.

  This time, there were no manic cheers, even as the static in the air spiked. The audience leaned forward in their seats, their eyes fixed intently outside—directly at the giant looming not so far as to avoid being described as ‘beside the bus’. Only its long, narrow head was visible through the dense foliage, deep red scales marked by scars and a pair of yellow-brown eyes.

  Luca murmured softly, "it seems our friend was waiting for us." His fingers didn’t leave the SHIELD button. He knew that if he stopped the vehicle now, the satisfaction level would skyrocket—but his tiny, insignificant life mattered more to him.

  His instinct (or plain common sense) didn’t lie.

  The Giganotosaurus opened its maws wide, revealing a trap of large razor-sharp teeth, just moments after the bus casually passed by the space near it. Its 'growl'—or whatever the noise that came from its throat and through its massive jaws was called—reverberated through the enclosure like a powerful drum; sadly, Luca wasn’t far enough away to avoid the wave of foul odor the breeze carried, nor could use his hands currently covering his ears.

  Still, the instant the noise stopped, he instinctively took a photo, the bracelet on his wrist vibrating slightly as two messages appeared in the corner of his vision:

  A flicker of relief rose in his chest, but it lasted less than a blink. The predator’s noise grew angrier, as the dinosaur rose, leaning on its short arms—three fingers with curved, sharp claws at the end of them, and unlike others, they seemed functional, useful—standing tall. It rose over some trees, living up to its name, dwarfing every dinosaur Luca had seen so far.

  His contemplation of the dangerous, titanic beauty lasted only an instant—the 'audience' immediately ruined the silence with their cheers. Luca’s heart jumped to his throat, the sound of his heartbeat drowning out the visitors’ excitement. For a fraction of a second, he felt as if he’d been cursed, and it wasn’t the first time he thought there should be an option to leave that group of adrenaline-seeking ghosts in the enclosure for forever.

  Even one of its steps made the ground tremble, shaking the bus.

  Hello, Rory, Luca greeted in his mind, watching as the predator crushed a poor fern into nothing. Unlike the Carnotaurus, this dinosaur didn’t charge at them in a run. It also didn’t retreat into the foliage, moving its head as if sniffing something in the air. Then it turned its head to the side, as if hesitating to leave its current place.

  Luca glanced at the control panel and pressed his lips together. Seriously? Even with the Giganotosaurus advancing toward the bus, so closer for a titanic creature like this, the bar wasn’t fully charged. It would be best if the predator left, but he doubted it wouldn’t attack at all during this short trip through its territory. It would be better if he had the shield and could use it against Rory.

  Feeling again like he was waving a red cape in front of a bull, he said, "Looks like our friend wants to leave us. Why don’t we do something? Let's call — Rory!"

  The crowd chanted, “Rory! Rory! Rory!” The cursed glee on their voices could have wake up the dead.

  —and of course, the giant turned its head in his direction, a deep, beastly sound rumbling from its throat.

  Luca felt the urge to smile, which wasn’t exactly sane.

  The good news was that he had successfully gotten its attention.

  The bad news was that he had gotten its attention.

  And the worst news was that the shield wasn’t really fully charged when the beast started advancing toward the bus.

  Fucking great.