An Unlikely Team

The air thrummed with the frantic, discordant symphony of a world gone gloriously, spectacularly wrong. Dr. Aris Thorne, a man whose natural habitat was the hushed sanctity of a museum archive, found himself very much out of his element. His tweed jacket, usually pristine, bore a suspicious smear of what he fervently hoped was mud and not, say, pterodactyl droppings. He adjusted his spectacles, the frames slightly askew, and glared at the hulking silhouette of a Stegosaurus lumbering down what used to be Elm Street.

“Utterly preposterous,” he muttered, the words barely audible over the distant roar of something undoubtedly large and carnivorous. “The Cretaceous period had a distinct ecological balance. This… this is an affront to paleontology.”

Beside him, or rather, several feet away and preening, was Rexy ‘The Roar’ Sterling. Her sequined jumpsuit, a blinding beacon of pure, unadulterated fabulousness, seemed remarkably unfazed by the reptilian pandemonium. She held a compact mirror, dabbing at a minuscule (and entirely imaginary) blemish on her perfectly sculpted cheekbone.