Tyrant King

The skeleton of the Albertosaurus was displayed such that it loomed over the smaller dinosaur beside it. It wasn’t quite a T-Rex, as the client had desired, but Rick wasn’t sure of what difference it would make. He couldn’t see a single difference between them. Truthfully, he’d never even seen a T-Rex skeleton before today outside of movies, and he’d Curtis not never been inside the Royal Ontario Museum— The ROM— before.

Not that it made any difference to him whichever way, he was just here for scouting. It’d be a tight fit, but they’d have to disassemble the thing anyway so, again, it made no difference to him. Rick looked to either side of him, as if someone might be reading his thoughts and waiting to inform, and, seeing nothing, he left the museum of palaeontology and made a beeline for the nearest washroom.

It was empty. Perfect. He listened to his own footsteps echo off the walls as he moved to the furthest stall from the door. He went in, locked it, and pulled his phone out so he could make the call.

”Paul, It’s Rick.” He said, whispering in case someone walked in. The voice that responded was a slow baritone. “No shit,” Paul droned. “I’ve got fuckin’ caller ID. Talk to me.”

“Securities not as tight as we thought. The things behind glass though, so we’re gonna need that ‘special tool’ after all.”

“You can just say glass cutter, Rick. We ain’t bein’ recorded and we ain’t gettin’ caught, so enough of that spy talk it’s giving me a headache.”

“It’s not my fault you drank yourself into a fucking coma last night.”

“Did I say it was, you little shithead?”

“It was implied,” Rick listened for a second, just to be sure no shoe heels were clicking on the linoleum. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you got the glass cutter?”

“‘Course I do, you got a spot?”

“I’m in it as we speak.”

“It better not be a toilet again. Last time you hid out in one of those some poor fuckin’ security guard got his throat slit.”

Why the hell would Paul bring that up now? Rick listened. Still not footsteps. “If that guy didn’t want my knife in him, he shouldn’t have tried to kick me out. Simple math.” Pauls groan over the line told him he wasn’t buying it. It was loud enough to draw attention, however. “Whatever,” he said, and Rick could practically see the man pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t fuck with anyone. We’re already robbing the place for this fuckin’ brat, I don’t want them cartin’ out the death penalty on my account.”

“They won’t Paul, just wait for everyone to go home and I’ll let you in.”

“Got it.”

“Good.” Rick said, and then he hung up.

He heaved a sigh and sat down on the toilet seat, which he had not noticed was up. When he got done having a fit about his now wet ass, he put the seat down and sat, crossing his arms like a huffy child.

It was going to be a long day.

**

The phone vibrating in his pants pocket was what woke Rick up, and what he woke up to was pitch black. He hurried to take his phone out and saw that Paul was calling him, the light from the screen revealing he was still in the bathroom stall. “Fuck me.” He said, and then he answered the call.

“Rick, where the fuck are you? It’s fuckin’ midnight already.”

“Fuck, man, I’m still here,” It was fine, it wasn’t like they didn’t have a week to get this done and over with, they still had three days to go. “I’m gonna get the doors open now, Paul. Just relax.”

“Hurry the fuck up, Rick.” Dial tone.

What a prick, he thought as he stood up. The ass of his pants had dried by this point, so the only reason for him to hesitate now was to make sure the coast was clear. He listened for footsteps, voices, anything.

He heard screaming. It was close.

Rick felt his muscle stiffen up as the shrill cries started. It was clearly a man, but the wordless babble was spewed in a high enough pitch that he, however briefly, mistook it for a child, and he would not open the stall for even as that possibility was plainly shown to be wrong. He places his phone back into his pocket, and withdrew instead an old switchblade whose springs squeaked when the knife was released. It was only then that he unlocked the door.

As he crept to the door, the screams reached a crescendo that produced a piercing sensation in his inner ear. They rang as the screaming finally tapered off into wet, choking. By the time Rick was peeking out, the man had gone silent. By the time he saw why, his pants were wet again.

A man in a security guards uniform was laying on the floor beside the titanic, long necked dinosaur on display. His body laid in two pieces; an upper and lower half. Between those pieces was a glistening pile of wet gore, quickly scooped up by the thing that Rick just new had killed that man.

Its face was stained red but it was otherwise unchanged from the brown boned display he had seen earlier. The Albertosaurus reared back it’s head as if to swallow the security guards guts, only for it all to splatter onto the go round beneath it with a loud squelch. It looked down at the mess and cocked its head before trying again. Rick slinked out of the bathroom, hugging the wall as he stepped as softly as he could. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t seeing this. He would go to the front door (he’d break it down if he had too) and he would leave. Fuck the client. Fuck Paul.

The Albertosaurus turned on him.

”Fuck!”

Rick broke into a sprint, dropping his knife as he made a beeline for the exit. He hardly registered the dry knocking of bones behind him before he was hoisted off his feet in a fit of eye watering pain. He wailed as the beast shook him back and forth. He felt tearing and heard his bones cracking. He could do nothing but scream as The Albertosaurus reared it’s head back and swung the would be thief into the floor, ending his night with a single, echoing crack on the concrete.

**

What was taking him so long?

Rick was unreliable at best but this was fucking ridiculous. Paul’s hangover had long since cleared up by this point, he was ready for action, ready to heist. Besides, they had a longer operation to deal with and less than a week to get it done.

The kid wants a fucking T-Rex, so they’re gonna give him one. Well, they’re gonna give him something close anyway. If he doesn’t like it, they’ll just take the fucking cash and run. Fuck him.

“Move your ass, Rick.” He muttered, half tempted to lay on the horn. Actually, no, fuck this, he thought. Paul got out of the car, not bothering to slam the door shut as he made his way to the front door. He pulled the balaclava he had on over his face as he approached.

He was gonna get in there if it killed him.