The rubble falls away around the skeletal beast. Its skull is cracked, part of its tail has disconnected from its body but is still attached by the metal wires, and somehow—maybe it’s the rubble filling its eye sockets—but it looks mad. I take a few steps back, and the T-Rex follows me, limping as it drags its severed foot by a metal cable. I grip my mace and wait for an opening where I can break one of its knee joints and bring it down. I rush to try but quickly have to throw myself to the ground as its jaws snap shut where I was just a moment ago.
Rolling out of the way before it can do something else, I try a different approach. I pull my revolver and shoot at its knee. The first shot chips part of the bone; the second flies low and punches a hole through its lower leg but does hardly anything to slow it down. I dodge a swipe from the disconnected tail that now swings around like a whip and take another shot at its knee—and miss. I make my way back to the middle of the exhibit and try to find something—anything—I can use to take down this thing.
Looking around, I find a model moon buggy, a display with a space suit. It’s not until I remember something and look up—there above me hangs the replica of the Saturn V rocket. I circle around the T-Rex until I am standing on the rubble of the collapsed walkway and climb up the fallen debris, making my way onto the walkway. The T-Rex doesn’t like this and hobbles over to it, but not fast enough to catch up. I stand on the second floor where I fought the lizardman mage.
After a quick rest to steel my nerves, I get onto the railing and make the mistake of looking down at the T-Rex, which is waiting for me to slip and fall. With a deep breath, I crouch down and—with a sudden surge of energy—jump from the railing and grab onto one of the cables holding up the replica rocket. I pull myself up and take out the stick of dynamite. “Glad Monty ain’t here—he would never let me do this.”
I wedge the stick of dynamite between the cable mount and the replica and light the fuse. Without taking a second longer, I run to the other end of the rocket and jump off, landing back on the second-floor walkway, twisting my ankle in the process. Still, the pain can wait as I take shelter behind a moon rock display and cover my ears.
After a couple of seconds, the dynamite blows. I feel my teeth shaking in my skull. However, not a second later, there are two more crashes. The first I hoped for—as the replica, still connected to the back two cables, swings like a pendulum and hits the T-Rex. The second I didn’t exactly plan for—as the back two cables get pulled out of the wall and the entire replica rocket crashes to the ground.
I hobble out from behind the display case and look out over what remains of the railing, as a large part of it got crushed when the cables whipped around violently after being pulled from the wall. The T-Rex is pinned beneath the rocket and the wall, but even if it wasn’t pinned down, I doubt it would be much trouble—as I need to look at two places to see all of its body. The hit smashed its skeletal body in two; its lower half lies motionless a bit away while its top half struggles to move beneath the bent frame of the replica.
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I go to the maintenance hallway and take the stairs down. As my ankle is beginning to swell, I grip my mace tight and make my way to the skull of the T-Rex. With a mighty effort—and me activating Powered Strike—I crush the skull beneath the head of my mace. After the skull is thoroughly smashed, I finally get the message:
