Indoraptor

Birthed in the laboratories of Lockwood Manor, the Indoraptor was no accident—it was designed. A prototype of pure intelligence and predatory instinct, forged from the genes of the Indominus Rex and Velociraptor. Smaller than its predecessor, yet far deadlier, it was created not for nature—but for war. The Indoraptor stalks its prey not with hunger, but with pleasure. Every movement is deliberate, every sound intentional. It kills not just to eat, but to feel alive. Its claws are like blades, capable of piercing armor, while its tail moves with surgical precision. Its mind, however, is what truly sets it apart. It observes, plans, mimics, and manipulates. The beast doesn’t simply hunt—it plays. Inside the manor’s cold, echoing halls, the Indoraptor is both ghost and nightmare. The faint glimmer of moonlight across its black scales, the rhythmic clicking of its claws, the guttural hiss when it’s close enough to see your reflection in its eyes—these are the final moments most ever experience.And yet… beneath all that terror lies a strange intelligence. It watches with something almost human—a spark of curiosity. It’s aware of its own creation, its captivity, and the cruelty of the men who made it. Somewhere in that cold heart of hybrid DNA is the faint trace of awareness—an echo of what it means to be alive, but never free. Now, set loose into a world that no longer belongs to man or monster, the Indoraptor roams under the rain-soaked night skies, searching not for orders—but for purpose. The world built it to be a weapon. Instead, it became something far worse: a living reminder of mankind’s arrogance.