Ahab: What George Saw.
May. 11th, 2007 09:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFeeding time. There's goat for dinner. George, one of the mercanaries gets to watch.
Warning for somewhat graphic content. And goats.
"George, you're up! It's feeding time."
"It's three in the bloody morning, Steve." George reached out and hit 'pause' on the lab computer - he'd drawn the arse end of night shift on this job and there really wasn't much else to do but download torrents of the footy and get belatedly indignant about West Coast commentators and their unbelievably biased support of West Coast over the Bulldogs. He blinked as three lab hands dragged a goat into the room and stuck a couple of syringes worth of something into its neck.
There was a little gate in the wall, leading into a very small, very strong cage which itself had a second exit, leading into a larger panelled feeding room. The lab hands pushed the goat in through the first gate and bolted it behind shut before triggering the second, and letting the goat into the feeding room. A thick, heavy metal door a few yards over slid open in turn and George took his station next to the emergency entrance, baton, pepper spray and tranq darts ready - he'd heard that one thumping against the walls of its cage during the night. God, this is fucked.
The goat bleated a few times in distress, and then once, very loudly as the maroon-clad figure shot out of the cage. After that, any noises the goat could have made were drowned out by growls and snarls and then the wet tearing sounds of flesh rent by teeth and claw.
Warning for somewhat graphic content. And goats.
"George, you're up! It's feeding time."
"It's three in the bloody morning, Steve." George reached out and hit 'pause' on the lab computer - he'd drawn the arse end of night shift on this job and there really wasn't much else to do but download torrents of the footy and get belatedly indignant about West Coast commentators and their unbelievably biased support of West Coast over the Bulldogs. He blinked as three lab hands dragged a goat into the room and stuck a couple of syringes worth of something into its neck.
There was a little gate in the wall, leading into a very small, very strong cage which itself had a second exit, leading into a larger panelled feeding room. The lab hands pushed the goat in through the first gate and bolted it behind shut before triggering the second, and letting the goat into the feeding room. A thick, heavy metal door a few yards over slid open in turn and George took his station next to the emergency entrance, baton, pepper spray and tranq darts ready - he'd heard that one thumping against the walls of its cage during the night. God, this is fucked.
The goat bleated a few times in distress, and then once, very loudly as the maroon-clad figure shot out of the cage. After that, any noises the goat could have made were drowned out by growls and snarls and then the wet tearing sounds of flesh rent by teeth and claw.
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Date: 2007-05-12 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-13 12:28 am (UTC)Maybe we should have used a puppy? That would have been even worse. :)