Everybody's building empires

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ℝ𝕆𝕊𝕀𝕋𝔸 pressed her forehead lightly against the cool glass of the plane window, her breath fogging the surface as she gazed down at the emerald expanse below. The island stretched out beneath them—a patchwork of dense jungle, winding rivers, and cascading waterfalls, all draped in a thick veil of mist. It was as if nature itself was trying to smother the scars left behind by human ambition.

The remnants of the park appeared through gaps in the foliage: crumbling structures overtaken by vines, glass domes shattered and skeletal, monorail tracks hanging like broken ribs from the spine of a once-proud beast.

Her eyes flicked toward Owen, who was similarly lost in thought as he stared out the window. When their gazes met, no words were exchanged, but the weight of shared memories passed between them like an unspoken promise.

They both turned back to the view as the faint, guttural rumble of the volcano reached their ears—a distant growl from the belly of a restless giant.

A pit settled deep in Rosita's stomach, an uneasy knot twisting tighter with each passing second. Blue. The thought of him, out there somewhere, alone amidst the chaos, tugged painfully at her chest.
The plane's descent broke her thoughts, the gentle jolt of the wheels meeting the earth pulling her back to the present.

They'd landed—not at some quiet jungle clearing or familiar outpost, but on what looked like a fortified military-style base. Razor wire crowned the fences, and uniformed men moved with mechanical precision, rifles slung over their shoulders.

Rosita's brow furrowed. "Well, this is... inviting," she muttered under her breath, unbuckling her seatbelt and stretching her arms over her head.

Claire was the first to disembark, descending the steps with a mix of authority and caution. Rosita followed closely behind Owen, her boots hitting the ground with a satisfying thud.

A voice called out, sharp and confident, slicing through the humid air. "Claire."

A man stepped forward, flanked by four others with military-grade rifles resting in their hands. He wore sunglasses and a smirk that felt a little too at home on his face. Claire extended her hand as she approached him. "Ken Wheatley. Welcome back," he introduced himself, shaking her hand with a firm grip.

Claire's eyes flicked to the men behind him, her expression tight. "Quite an operation you've got going on here."
Wheatley grinned, showing teeth. "Mr. Lockwood takes his humanitarian efforts very seriously. Where's the, uh... raptor wranglers?"

Owen and Rosita stepped forward, Owen leading as always. "Animal behaviorist. Owen Grady," he said, extending his hand.

Rosita followed, offering her own hand with a faint, amused smile. "Rosita Malcolm." Wheatley shook her hand, his head tilting slightly as if trying to size her up. "The raptor girl?" Rosita smirked, her tone light but edged with something sharp. "Depends on who you ask. Sometimes it's 'walking liability.'"

Wheatley chuckled, stepping back slightly. "Hey, Owen and Rosita. Ken Wheatley."

Owen's smile was slow, crooked, and sharp as a blade. "And you are... Great White Hunter?"

Wheatley laughed and removed his sunglasses, his grin widening. "I guess. I'm the expedition facilitator."

Before Owen could respond, Franklin stumbled out of the plane, his arms flailing as he tugged off his jacket. "Oh, God! It's hot!"

Rosita let out a snort of laughter but quickly sobered as her eyes drifted past the base to the distant volcano, smoke curling lazily from its peak. The distant sound of its grumbling core echoed faintly across the island.
"It's about to get a whole lot hotter," Rosita murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Owen caught the tension in her posture and stepped closer, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. She didn't look at him, her gaze still anchored on the horizon.

The air around them felt heavy, thick with anticipation and the faint scent of ash carried on the wind. Somewhere out there, in the vast and unforgiving wilderness, Blue was waiting—or surviving—or... Rosita refused to finish that thought.
𓆌

Rosita sat quietly in the vehicle, the distant shouts of soldiers blending with the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of leaves outside. She was sandwiched between Owen and Zia, their shoulders brushing occasionally as the truck bounced along the uneven path. Across from them, Franklin was dousing himself in bug spray, a cloud of chemical mist hanging around him like a protective barrier. "Need some bug spray? Bug spray?" he offered, holding the canister out toward the soldiers sitting beside him. They ignored him, and Franklin shrugged before turning to Owen. "The T-Rex would be dead by now, right?"

Zia answered without missing a beat. "No. It's impossible to know the maximum lifespan of a clone in a completely different environment. Take a caveman that would've lived 20 years, feed him prime meals, give him health care—he's gonna live five times as long."

Franklin blinked, processing her words, before hesitating. "So... she'd be dead by now. Right?"

Rosita couldn't help but smile at the exchange, her amusement flickering briefly before the sound of grinding metal pulled her attention. The gates ahead creaked open, their towering forms groaning under their weight, revealing the path that led into the heart of the park. The truck rumbled forward, and Rosita's breath caught as they entered what had once been Jurassic World. Nature had reclaimed the ruins. Vines wrapped themselves tightly around the skeletons of old buildings, and thick foliage swallowed paths that had once been bustling with tourists. Waterfalls cascaded in the distance, their sound a soothing contrast to the tension in the vehicle.

Owen and Claire exchanged a glance, the weight of shared memories hanging heavily between them. Wheatley's voice broke the silence. "Bad memories?" he asked, his tone casual but curious.

Owen leaned back slightly, his voice softer than usual. "Some were good."

Claire turned her head to look at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before her expression softened.

Rosita, meanwhile, kept her gaze fixed out the window. The sight brought a flood of emotions—nostalgia, wonder, and the ache of what had been lost. She barely noticed the truck slowing until Franklin's panicked voice cut through the stillness. "What was that?"

A low, rhythmic thudding reached their ears, growing louder with each passing moment. The ground seemed to tremble beneath them.

"Was it a T-Rex?" Franklin whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

Before anyone could answer, Zia's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I have to see this."

She didn't wait for permission, pushing the door open and stepping out into the thick air. Wheatley leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Hey. Miss? Miss! This area is not secured." Rosita exchanged a glance with Owen before following Zia. One by one, the others clambered out, their boots crunching against the earth.

And then they saw it.

Emerging from the trees, its massive form towering above them, was a Brachiosaurus. Its long neck stretched gracefully toward the canopy, plucking leaves from the highest branches with ease. Its deep, resonant calls echoed through the clearing, a sound both ancient and profound.

Rosita's breath hitched. She walked up to Zia, placing her hands gently on the younger woman's shoulders as they both stared in awe.

Zia's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with emotion. "Look at that. Never thought I'd see one in real life."

Rosita smiled, her gaze never leaving the creature. "Now you have. She's beautiful." The Brachiosaurus tilted its head slightly, chewing methodically before moving on, its massive form disappearing into the dense forest. For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with reverence, as if the group collectively understood they'd just witnessed something extraordinary.

Finally, Rosita broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. "Come on."

Reluctantly, the group returned to the vehicle. As they settled back into their seats, the rumble of the engine filled the space once more, carrying them deeper into the island. 

The truck rolled to a halt near a makeshift control station perched precariously close to the volcano, its restless rumbling a constant reminder of the ticking clock. The doors creaked open, and Wheatley was the first to step out, his boots crunching on the gravel. "Okay, let's go," he barked, waving the others to follow. Rosita climbed out, her boots landing with a soft thud as she took in their surroundings. The air was thick, a mix of ash and humidity clinging to her skin. Her eyes darted toward the looming volcano, its dark plumes spiralling into the sky like an ominous warning.

Franklin busied himself near an electrical box, fumbling with wires as he muttered anxiously. Owen stepped beside Rosita, his gaze also locked on the volcano.

"I don't like this," Rosita said quietly, her voice carrying a rare edge of unease. "Me neither," Owen replied, his tone grim.

With a shared nod, they headed inside the building.

The interior was dimly lit, the air stale and filled with the hum of dormant machinery. Zia glanced at the control panels, her voice cutting through the silence. "Are we sure these biometric chips are still transmitting? Battery would be dead by now." Claire, standing nearby, responded with certainty. "The dinosaur is the battery."

Franklin approached a laptop, plugging in a hard drive and powering it on. "Hand," he said, motioning to Claire. Claire stepped forward, pressing her palm against a scanner. As the system whirred to life, she started to ask, "How much longer till—"

The room lit up as the power surged through the equipment. Rosita raised an eyebrow, muttering under her breath, "Let there be light."

Franklin grinned triumphantly. "I'm in."

A map of the park flickered onto the monitors, revealing a grid filled with moving dots. "There's a large concentration on the east dock," Franklin said, pointing. "That's our boat," Wheatley chimed in, his tone smug. "We've already captured a bunch of 'em." Claire frowned, crossing her arms. "Without the tracking system?"

Wheatley shrugged. "The big herbivores are easy to find. Can you isolate that raptor?"

Franklin hesitated. "I need a species code."

"D-nine," Claire replied.

Franklin typed quickly, the system scanning until a single dot lit up on the map. "Blue. There he is," he said, leaning back.

Rosita's eyes softened for a moment as she stared at the monitor. "Blue," she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of relief and concern. Owen adjusted his backpack, determination etched on his face. "We're gonna need to borrow your truck." Zia pulled her own pack on, stepping forward with a firm resolve. "I'm coming with you. We don't know what kind of condition he might be in."

As she started to walk toward the door, Wheatley's voice stopped her. "Miss, things could get hairy out there."

Zia turned sharply, pulling a tranquilizer bullet from his belt, and holding it up for emphasis. Her tone was firm and cutting. "These are powerful sedatives. One too many, and he could have respiratory failure. Also, I'm not as soft and witless as your comment implies." Sliding the bullet back into its place, she walked off, leaving Wheatley blinking in surprise.

Rosita chuckled, shaking her head. "I like her."

As she and Owen turned to follow Zia, Wheatley moved to block her path. His mouth opened to speak, but Rosita's expression turned icy. She stepped closer, her voice low and venomous.

"Get in my way, and I'll kill you."

The threat hung in the air, sharp and tangible. Her dark eyes locked on his, unflinching. It wasn't a boast or a bluff—it was a promise. Without another glace, she walked off.

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By: SilverMist707

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