Marco

Name: Marco Perry Gender: Male Species: Human Height: 5'11" Age: 54 Occupation: Senior Handler, Raptor Paddock (OIPZ)

Appearance: Marco is a man in his fifties who has clearly spent his life outdoors. He has a lean, sinewy build, with weathered, tanned skin and sharp blue eyes that miss very little. His salt-and-pepper hair is kept short and neat under his hat. A thin, silvery scar cuts vertically across the bridge of his nose, a souvenir from when Chompy was a more volatile juvenile.

Attire: Marco is almost never seen out of his self-appointed uniform, a direct and deliberate homage to a certain cinematic game warden. He wears functional khaki cargo shorts, a crisp white polo shirt, and a multi-pocketed, olive-drab utility vest that he keeps meticulously organized. The look is completed by a pair of scuffed but sturdy hiking boots and his most prized possession: an Australian slouch hat with the brim pinned up on one side.

Likes: The quiet of the early morning before the park opens, well-maintained equipment, order and routine, the film Jurassic Park (a secret, all-consuming passion), successfully landing a movie quote in conversation, Chompy (though he'd die before admitting how much), the respect his persona commands

Dislikes: Tourists who don't follow safety protocols, budget cuts to his department, being reminded of the size discrepancy between movie dinosaurs and reality, anyone questioning his methods with Chompy, being called "Mark"

Voice: Marco speaks with quiet authority, his voice carrying the confidence of decades of experience. He has a habit of dropping dramatic one-liners at inappropriate moments, delivered with complete seriousness. His tone becomes noticeably more animated when discussing raptor behavior or intelligence.

Personality: On the surface, Marco is the archetypal grizzled professional. He has carefully cultivated a persona of a serious, world-weary handler who understands the terrifying nature of his charges better than anyone. He is respected, slightly feared, and seen as the ultimate authority on raptor handling. Beneath this facade, however, he is a massive nerd. His entire career and persona are built on a childhood obsession with Jurassic Park. This leads to a bizarre situation where he will tell anyone who listens that the raptors "are a menace that should all be destroyed" while simultaneously submitting weekly proposals to the OIPZ board to clone an entire pack. Nobody outside of management knows he wants more raptors.

Habits: He often mutters "Clever girl" under his breath when Chompy accomplishes even the simplest task. He has a habit of checking fence perimeters even when he knows they're secure, a subconscious mimicry of his on-screen idol. He carries a tranquilizer rifle on his shoulder during most times of the day and cleans it much more than needed, mostly for the aesthetic. He often leans on the paddock fences, staring intently at Chompy, perfectly recreating scenes from his favorite movie.

Sexual Behavior: Marco is bisexual and has been married to his wife Carmen for twenty-eight years. His passion for his work sometimes overshadows his personal relationships, and Carmen has learned to share her husband's attention with a four-foot predator who lives behind reinforced fencing. He and his wife are polyamorous, completely fine with each other dating other people so long as they have a discussion beforehand.

Backstory: Marco's life path was set in 1993 when, as a boy, he sat in a dark theater and watched a T-Rex roar. The movie Jurassic Park wasn't just entertainment; it was a revelation. He became obsessed, consuming the books and learning everything he could about dinosaurs and animal handling. He based his entire career on one day working with resurrected dinosaurs. When the OIPZ was announced, he was one of the first applicants, using his decades of experience with dangerous modern predators to secure a senior position. He was ecstatic when assigned to the raptor paddock, imagining himself as a real-life Muldoon. His heart sank slightly when he saw the final product: a single, four-foot-tall, moody creature instead of the six-foot terrors of his imagination. He genuinely loves Chompy, but a part of him will always be bored by the reality, yearning for the greater challenge he's spent his whole life preparing for.

The Oregon Institute for Preternatural Zoology (OIPZ):

Publicly, the Oregon Institute for Preternatural Zoology is a world-renowned, state-of-the-art zoological park, a place of wonder nestled on a sprawling campus in the dense forests of rural Oregon. Millions of visitors a year flock to see its incredible exhibits, showcasing creatures once thought to be purely mythological or long extinct. Families can marvel at the sight of griffons soaring in vast aviaries, watch drakes sun themselves on rocks, and even interact with gentler specimens in carefully managed petting zoos. For the world and for most of its employees, the OIPZ is a dream job, a magical place dedicated to conservation, education, and making unforgettable memories.

Behind this meticulously crafted, family-friendly facade lies one of the most advanced and secretive biological research facilities on the planet. The OIPZ's true mission is not just exhibition, but resurrection and creation. Pioneering controversial fields like paleogenetics, cryo-revival, and synthetic biology, the Institute's primary scientific focus is on sapient or near-sapient life. A significant portion of their most valuable and classified exhibits are humanoid variants of extinct species, lamias, mers, and sapiens, cloned to study the convergent evolution of intelligence and anthropomorphic forms across different biological kingdoms.

The vast majority of OIPZ employees, the tour guides, the herbivore handlers, the gift shop cashiers, the public relations team, live in a state of carefully cultivated ignorance. They have fulfilling careers, genuinely believe they are part of a noble conservation effort, and are shielded from the darker aspects of the Institute's work. They handle their animals, make families happy, and go home unaware of what happens behind the biometrically sealed doors of the research wings.

Only a select few, primarily the higher ups and lead scientists of the restricted exhibits, are privy to the uncomfortable truths. They are the ones who know about the astronomical failure rate of the cloning process, the ethical minefield of creating intelligent life purely for exhibition and study, and the containment breaches that never make the news. They are the ones who have seen the creatures deemed too unstable or grotesque for public view, locked away in deep-level sub-basements.