Tuvya looked out across the ferry slip as his limo came to a stop outside. The ferry had already arrived, it wasn't the one most visitors to the park were familiar with, the one that had been on hundreds of commercials, and was loaded with crowd pleasing amenities. Instead they were taking the utility ferry, it had been used to transport vehicles and heavy machinery to the island during the Park's operation. Still emblazoned with Jurassic World silver & blue and a logo on either side it had now been loaded with the vehicles and supplies Masrani was providing. Three ATVs, two UTVs, a G-Class, and a Unimog all loaded down with various camping and survival supplies. There was still more than enough space for the vehicle one of the team had been reported to be bringing.

He grabbed one of the limo's stocked cigars before climbing out of the the vehicle. It was allegedly winter, but the way the sun was beating down on him as he scanned around the area was unconvincing. Once he was satisfied he rapped his fist against the limo's roof and it slowly set off away from the slip. He was clearly the first to arrive, the only other living being there was the ferry captain who he could just make out through the window of the ship's bridge. He politely waved to the man with his free hand and got as much in reply.

Tuvya allowed a slight smile to cross his lips at the exchange as he brought the cigar to his mouth and pulled his lighter from his pants pocket. Tuvya had never been a smoker per se, but during his time in the Sayeret Matkal he had picked up a habit of having a cigar before and after every mission at the recommendation of his former CO. It had been awhile since he embarked on a genuinely life-threatening mission, but this promised to be just that, so he decided it was time to revive the tradition, hopefully one last time. Tuvya let out a slight cough as he took his first puff from the cigar, but after that first misstep memory took over and the cigar began to burn down puff by puff without a hitch as he walked to the edge of the water and looked out over the sea. It was a nice day, a nice cigar, and a nice view. There were worse ways to start a mission he thought to himself as he waited for the rest of the team to arrive.

They had switched planes in San Jose. A representative from the American embassy joined them on the short hop to the coast. The US Marshall that accompanied Meryl from the early flight out of Miami chatted casually with the diplomat, mostly politics, some sports and future plans. Meryl glanced quietly from the window as the coast drew nearer and the small plane landed. A car was waiting at the end of the airstrip along with a Jeep marked up for the Costa Rican military. The representative greeted the waiting men and said a few words in Spanish. They glanced at Meryl, handcuffed, and laughed.

The Jeep led the way through a winding coastal town. The roads were narrow and lined with sun-bleached apartments and small vendor stands that the locals walked around on the street. A couple times the military officers in the Jeep had to shout and wave people out of the way and the Jeep coughed a puff of black smoke each time the driver accelerated and shifted gears. With her hands bound behind her, Meryl shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat and looked over at the Marshall flatly. He shrugged and gave a mildly sympathetic grin.

A limousine passed them going the opposite direction as they turned into the dockyards and Meryl could see the waiting freighter emblazoned with the iconic logo of the dinosaur skeleton between the dirty masts of fishing boats and salt-scarred shipping containers. She felt a low tightening in her gut and gulped in a small breath of air. The Jeep turned crisply in front of the ship where a solitary man was standing, smoking a cigar as equipment and supplies were being loaded into the ship.

Meryl could hear the introductions as the American diplomat was the first to get out followed by the driver who went around to the trunk and then the Marshall. The men in the escort Jeep merely looked on. For a moment, she sat alone, listening. She thought she heard the man’s name. It was something foreign, but she couldn’t quite make it out from inside the car. It sounded middle-eastern, but she wasn’t sure. A question was posed to the Marshall as he started to open her door. “I wouldn’t even give her a calculator until you got to that island.” He replied matter-of-factly.

The door opened in a blast of humid sea air and morning light that caused her to squint and look down as he helped her out of the car. The coastal breeze immediately blew her hair over her face and around her mouth. She calmly looked at the man as her eyes still worked to adjust to the light and puffed away a mouthful of hair locks. She decided it was at least comical to appear grimly undignified in front of these official types. The Marshall handed over the handcuff keys and she grinned a little at the introductions.

“This is Meryl,” the representative said plainly as if he were handing over a delinquent child to her parent. “You may or may not have had time to review her file, but she is now under your employ. Washington has already completed the necessary transfers via your lobbyist and the acting boardmembers.”

The notes were extensive, to say the least; The heavy binder was full to nearly bursting with data sheets, observation reports and even full anatomical reports on each and every species that had been bred in Jurassic Park, and the later Jurassic World. No detail was deemed to small in the reports, and that was just the way Claude O'Malley liked it. They had been one of his first requests when he'd agreed to the job, and he'd even insisted on contacting Roland Tembo about the White hunter's experience dealing with the animals in the wild on Isla Sorna. Luckily, from what Masarni had told him, it seemed they had been had at least the common sense to not breed many predatory species. That was some small comfort, going into an alien enviorment full of animals that should have been dead for millions of years.

Almost immediately Claude had decided that he didn't care much for his Costa Rican escorts. These military men had little patience, and they practically drove through the locals to get to the docks as quickly as possible. He did get on well with the Masrani represenative, though; Tall, wirey and pushing 60, Mr. Calhoun was polite and professional, and provided everything that Claude had needed to acquaint himself with his quarry. The man had once been InGen's CLO, hired by Masrani for his experience in dealing with the old company's Japanese investors, and had been instrumental in securing the funds to get Jurassic World on track, and for helping to quell the outrage of its' detractors who still remembered the destruction caused in Los Angeles by InGen's attempt to restart their project in 1999.

"We can't thank you enough for this, Mr. O'Malley" Calhoun said, shifting papers from his own thick stack as he tried to make himself more comfortable in the jeep. "Your payment's just been confirmed. All that's left is to tend to this...nasty business."

Claude nodded shortly, looking out the window at the dock. Already a few people were gathered, men loading supplies onto a ferry while another smoked beside his limo; Middle-Eastern, late thirties, carrying himself like a soldier. Another jeep was there as well, and a young White woman stepped out, surrounded by law-enforment. As they pulled to a stop beside the other jeep, he noticed Calhoun's face melt into a scowl when he saw the blonde, and as they stepped out he glared at the woman the entire time. It wasn't his business, though, and unless it was going to affect the mission, he wouldn't ask.

"Meryl." Calhoun said with barely concealed contempt. "How's Dodgson these days?" The was no doubt as to who he meant. Lewis Dodgson was well known in the genetic engineering circles as one of the most ambitious, and reckless, men in the field, and he was currently in hiding from the FBI. During his employment with Biosyn he'd been implicated in extensive corporate espionage against InGen in the late 80s and early 90s, and then against Masrani when they'd first started the Jurassic Park project back up. The lawyer continued his cold glare for a long moment before he nodded over to Claude.

"This is Mr. Claude O'Malley, he'll be your field guide for this mission. If he tells you to do something in the wild, I'd advise you follow his orders to the letter."

The drab-painted jeep had been waiting for her at the airport, the matching field trailer attached to the back. Knowing that if the equipment survived the job on Isla Nublar it would belong to her was little comfort to someone who had just spent 18 hours in the air after a three week expedition into the blistering Outback.

"Least I didna get too used to hot showers and cold A/C then, aye? This thing's a beaut. Better not cark it when I'm trying to outrun a pack a rapto's." The valet who was waiting by the Jeep clearly didn't speak Australian. Rubbing her hands through her short-cropped black hair, the tattooed Biologist opened the driver's side door and hopped in. Everything was crisp and new. She almost felt bad, her clothes and her hiking bag well-worn and grubby by comparison. Almost.

It took her longer to get down to the docks than she might have preferred, not because she found it difficult to drive through crowded streets where feral chickens scurried out of the way of her new tires, but because she needed time to make a private call. Sara Harding's voice sounded tinny and distorted over the satellite phone.

"...I hope you know what you're doing, Max. This project has killed more people than I like to think about."

Maxine turned a tight corner and was cut off by a farm truck and spent a few minutes trading honks and middle fingers with the other driver before continuing.

"I've had a gander at the notes you sent me. Cheers for that, but the way. I'm pretty sure I can handle treating these animals if it comes to it. Masrani sent me all the lab's info on every disease and injury they ever worked on. Loads of proper case studies and diagrams. Wu was a ratbag sure enough but he knew his work."

Stuffed in Maxine's bag was a copy of the manifest of species currently roaming the new park, photos, pharmacology information based on drugs they'd tried to treat the animals with, medical references ranges for all the basic laboratory analysis, detailed dietary and behavioural information, but in a moment of second-guessing her decision she'd phoned the one person she could think of who could give her some perspective on the whole fiasco. Looking back, Max wasn't sure she'd ever gotten off the phone with the behaviourist since she'd first been held up by Masrani reps on the tarmac in Oz. She'd only met the older woman briefly years ago but their shared concern had brought them together quickly. Sara had sent her a packet of info overnight that included a brochure and other information from the original park and a personal log from Sara's experience with Masrani's predecessor.

"It's not the animals you have to worry about...as much..." Sara argued, and half-way around the planet Maxine could hear real worry in her voice, "it's those people. You can't trust them. Don't. They'll get you killed in order to protect their corporate interests. All they care about is what money they can make."

She'd seen the personnel files on those who were supposed to be joining them. Most of them were little more than a photo and a name. Max reached down to run a finger along the short barrel of the revolver holstered under her khakis. She'd put it on as soon as her luggage cleared customs.

"Well...I'm not here for their secrets. I'm here for the animals and that's that. They didn't ask to be dragged sixty-five million years through time and cramped on a tiny island."

There was a moment of silence and the docks finally came into view. The company's ferry was easy to spot, even without the workers waving her down to the loading ramp.

"I'm here."

"Good luck, Max. Be careful."

"I will. We'll share a pair 'o stubbies when I'm done here."

Max shoved the phone into her back and with a bunch of salty bitching through the open window of her new Jeep, managed to get the thing situated on the ferry. Parked too close to the railing to open the door, she simply hoisted herself out of the window and stomped along the roof until she could hop down. She was wearing a black tank top that revealed full sleeves of tattoos down her arms and khaki cargo pants that were worn where they settled around her scuffed hiking boots. She was tall but athletic, the faint crinkle of laugh lines in her face those of someone who'd spent a lot of time in the bush.

Elena bypassed the airport's customs to the curious and mildly amused [and interested] gazes of several officials, the Masrani representative and U.S. Air Marshall hustling her to a waiting vehicle outside. They didn't really want her to be seen, considering what she was wearing, and the suspiciously shaped bundles thrown over her shoulder with her backpack. She did, in fact, look decidedly military, or more likely paramilitary, and her stance and posture told anyone who glanced that she was very excited.

Driving to the small port where they’d launch from, to start their mission, she turned to the US Air Marshall, who was on orders from both the US Government to clear her and ensure she didn’t encounter any trouble, armed as she was.

“Thanks Billy! It’s amazing what you spooks can do, getting all my stuff brought on a public flight without any problem at all. Ten out of ten, I’d say! Definitely would fly again. You’re not joining us on the island, are you? A shame, it’s gonna be great!”

She beamed at Air Marshall Travis Billard, causing the slightly younger, very definitely less experienced Marshal to actually blush. Nonetheless, he was exceedingly aware of the weapons that she casually carried, if hidden underneath a jacket, and her status as a former Marine. Crazy bastards, he thought. She wanted to travel to an island filled with man-eaters.

Pulling through crowds of the natives, the small airport-loaned van stopped to let her out on the curbside. The Masrani rep followed her out, the driver and the Marshall staying in the vehicle. They were going to be taking the Masrani back to the airport; the guy was just escorting her. Unlike the rest of them, this one was clearly uneasy at her presence, and was maybe fifty years old. Nonetheless, she kept pace with the rapidly-walking representative and stared curiously at everything. The smaller utility ferry, the loads of supplies, the few other people already assembled. She recognized the mission’s Masrani representative immediately, and began striding over to him. Her escort happily broke off and went to return home.

Stopping in front of the man- Tuvya, she recalled- and a couple of others, she stiffened, her face sobering.

“Hired Security Specialist Elena Berezina, reporting for the last dinosaur tour!” she said, voice serious and clear, devoid of emotion or accent. After a moment, she couldn’t resist smirking slightly, and adding, “I’m your resident mercenary!”

And, being the forward and outward person she was, she jutted out her hand, silently demanding to shake everyone’s hands, going around to all of them. She stared curiously at Meryl’s handcuffs, but said nothing. It didn’t matter to her, not really. She’d withhold judgement, and besides, she might have to place her life in any one of these people- better not to hold a grudge against anyone here.

“I’ve served with the Marines as a Navy Corpsman for just short a decade. We get attacked, I’m your girl!”

She grinned at them all, and shifted slightly underneath the weight of her gear. She couldn’t wait to get back in the field.

“So where should I put my stuff?”

Tuvya had watched as the team members showed up one by one at the ferry slip. He took a mental note of each as they arrived, he had spent the last two day studying their dossiers, it certainly wasn't the team he would have picked, but if it had been there'd be no need for him. He'd only gotten about halfway through his cigar by the time the last one arrived so he put it out against the railing and stuffed it into the breast pocket of his button up shirt as the latest arrival approached him with an outstretched hand which he shook in turn, introducing himself before heading towards the stairs to the ferry's bridge. He had just reached the base of the stairs when he heard her question regarding where to put "her stuff".

He spoke loudly bordering on a shout to ensure he was audible throughout the entirety of the ship. "Wherever you'd like Ms. Berezina! Make yourself at home. That goes for all of you!"

He climbed up to the top of the stairs before continuing. "I'm Tuvya Dahan, I'm here to make sure that none of you get any ideas about going off-script, our goals on Isla Nublar are very clear."

He paused for a moment considering whether or not to continue it was obvious. "In case you need those goals reiterated or weren't clear on them, I am gonna go over them one last time before we set off. First, to search for and aid any survivors we might encounter. Now, to be honest, odds aren't good that we'll find anything but bodies so be prepared for that." He looked at Ms. Dejarnette as he finished that sentence, of everyone there she was the least likely to have seen death before.

"Second, we're gonna be deactivating the security measures that keep the specimens contained, we should be the last humans to step foot on the island so keeping them confined to certain areas is just asking for some overzealous animal rights activists to get themselves killed trying to "Free" them. Our third objective goes hand in hand with that and is why we have the lovely Ms. Loring here" He gestured towards the veterinarian. "As I said this is the last time humans should set foot on Isla Nublar, so it's the last chance they'll get at veterinary care. We don't want to find that the entire island is a lifeless husk six months down the road and then have a bunch of lawsuits on our hands about how we caused the second extinction of the dinosaurs."

He took a deep breath "Our fourth objective is really damn simple, but possibly the most dangerous. As you might know, Jurassic World was home to a particularly dangerous aquatic specimen, a 'Mosasaurus' it is contained in a saltwater lagoon connected to the ocean by subterranean tunnels. Naturally those have been barred off because a Mosasaurus in the wild could cause unfathomable ecological devastation. We need to make sure the confinements are sufficient to hold the Mosasaurus for it's lifespan and if they're not, we need to make them so, and failing that, as a measure of last resort it would fall to us to exterminate the specimen."

"Finally we're going there to DESTROY all research and embryonic specimens remaining on the island, and you're being paid plenty enough for that. If I catch you trying to copy any files or smuggle any research or specimens off the island, then you won't be leaving the island." He paused to let that set in before deciding to continue with something a bit more lighthearted. "With that said, I don't think Starbucks or Pandora are coming back for their stuff, so once we're done with everything else if you see anything you like, feel free to take it. Cappuccino machines, jewelry, clothes, booze, whatever you can carry is yours. Consider it your souvenirs from the very last visit to Jurassic World."

He smirked and rapped his fist against the bridge's window a few times before showing his hand with all five fingers extended to the captain through the glass. "We set off in five, so if you have any mainland related business to attend, you better do it now!"

The ferry approached the island to a scene that had not been seen in many years. Emptiness, the jetties of the ferry landing were completely abandoned save for a lone dimorphodon that sat perched at the edge and watched for several minutes as the ship approached before departing as it drew close, flying off towards the center of the island. From here it looked like any other small tropical island, and on this clear winter day it was actually kind of beautiful. Without hundreds of people at it's shores the only real indication of the park was the 'Welcome to Isla Nublar' banners that hung above the jetty.

Tuvya borrowed a pair of binoculars from the ship's captain as they came close to the landing. From the stairway next to the bridge he scanned across the jetty and onto what of the island he could see through the thick tropical forest. He was looking for any sign of survivors but was met with nothing, not a single sign of a living human. He noted an abrupt movement of the foliage near the waters edge that he only caught a glance of but dismissed it as likely wildlife, assuming any survivor on the island would be eager to get the attention of any passing ship.

The ferry passed by without incident and approached it's destination, hidden from the ferry landing by a copse of trees about a half a mile north stood the utility dock. As it came into view it's unremarkable features were revealed, a single roomed guard post and a utility shed set atop a large concrete platform the terminated at a dirt road that led onto the island proper. In addition a white and blue crane truck with the Jurassic World logo one the door and a similarly decorated forklift sat parked near the edge of the platform.

As the ship drew closer Tuvya stepped into the ship's bridge and grabbed the PA microphone, clearing his throat before pressing the button on the side and speaking. "If you look to the northeast you can see our destination, when we arrive we'll be disembarking the vehicles onto the utility platform. Once they're on the island the ferry will depart and we'll be stuck on the island until we're done. From there we'll cut across the golf course to get to 'Main Street' stopping at the clubhouse to search for any survivors in between."

He paused before continuing, "Main street might still be overrun with less than friendly dinosaurs, so be prepared for that, I'd defer to Mr. O'Malley on how to handle that eventuality. If you have any questions, now is the last time to ask."

He hung up the microphone and exited the bridge, continuing downstairs to the ferry's main deck. Where he leaned against the grill of the Unimog and reached for the cigar in his breast pocket before thinking better of it. Instead he just stared at the utility platform as the ferry closed in on it's destination.

The handcuffs were removed not long after she boarded. A pair of Costa Rican shiphands escorted her on to the ship and she was careful to abide by the old sailing maxim to step onboard with her right foot first for good luck. They seemed to appreciate the consideration and kindly tossed her bags in the back of the veterinarian’s Jeep and set on about their business with hardly a word. Meryl rubbed her wrists from the grazing of metal cuffs. Now that she was free to look around she began to take stock of the others from behind her sunglasses the Marshall was kind enough to hand back over with a less-than-comforting smile and a wave.

She immediately did not care for their apparent overseer. With the death of Simon Masrani, it had apparently only taken a few days for this whole operation to turn into another InGen fiasco. She found it amusing how they thought not just a liason or guide was needed, but an actual supervisor of sorts who had already threatened them all with consequences for going, “off-script”. What a tool. She thought and shook her head with a tiny grimace. It occurred to her that his true purpose was most likely to keep her in line and perhaps the vet as well. However, she had noticed Ms. Loring was packing her own sizeable sidearm and did not seem the type to take orders very well from corporate stooges. Same for the other man, O’Malley.

Unlike the others, Meryl had been given scant little information about the mission. When Tuvya outlined the apparent “plan” she tried hard not to laugh out loud, but only managed a faintly controlled guffaw. It was classic InGen: Full of threats and not really in control of anything. She had spied on their inter-workings for years. They were a truly typical corporate operation in that respect, but unlike other businesses, when things went south, people didn’t just lose their employment or pensions, they instead tended to die quickly and in fantastical ways. She paid little attention to his grandstanding and anticipated that his existence would last about as long as it would take for him to realize he was the fall-guy when the whole thing went to pot. The redhead seemed to be a willing order-taker for him. Shame. She thought. Redheads were bad for sailing as well.

As the island approached, she sat down Indian-style in front of the Jeep’s great bumper. With the eastern sunrise behind them and the Jeep loaded at the very stern of the ferry she had the rising sun to her back and comfortable shade allowing her to watch everyone else as she took a quick glance over her equipment pack provided by Masrani deciding what she would carry and what would have to ride. She furrowed her brow a little. The offerings were not the worst setup, but not the best either. It did seem at least as though they actually might have wanted her to succeed which she would have appreciated if she trusted them in the least.

Tromping over the bonnet of the jeep and bouncing down to the deck of the ferry with ease, Max moved to meet the others. It almost seemed a little ridiculous to have a military representative with them and she shook her head slightly at the sight of Elena's excessive baggage. Damn yank would have no idea how to handle inhuman insurgents. Max almost spoke up when Elena claimed she was on "the last dinosaur tour". Maybe they didn't know that feral populations of genetically recreated dinos had already been established on the mainland. And maybe they were dumb enough to think that this little party would actually be "the last". At any rate, she was just a veterinarian and it wasn't her job to correct them.

She missed it when the redhead attempted to shake her hand, or perhaps she was simply too busy eyeing Meryl's silver bracelets. But it wasn't a frown of contempt she displayed for the anti-outdoorsy young woman, but a slight grin. Whatever Meryl had done, if Masrani was willing to spring her from prison for this little escapade she must be good at her job.

After that, Tuvya started throwing his weight around as leader of their little pack so Max leaned back against the tail-end of her Jeep and crossed her arms over her bust. The full-sleeve tattoos down her arms almost made the limbs blend into each other with a semi-abstract impression of scales.

It seemed to Max that the others weren't expecting to run into any survivors but the veterinarian wasn't so sure. One thing she'd learned from so many field missions into the bush was that life was fairly tenacious, even human life. If indigeneous tribes could survive undiscovered in the bush for centuries alongside the predators of the modern world Max was sure a few people could have survived the relatively small number of days since the Jurassic World incident.

"We dunny seem to have a doctor with us but I did a tour with a RAF medical unit so if we come across anyone who's right crook or hurt I have a lot of the right equipment in here to deal with it." She slapped the metal side of the med-trailer.

When Tuvya indicated her, Max nodded with a bright grin and fluttered her eyelashes. "I am lovely. But in all seriousness, this isn't going to be like most surveying expeditions. These animals won't be available for any follow-up. Anything we find that is too injured to be fixed in one go will have to be euthed. Better that than letting it suffer." Something about the way she said it suggested the pretty vet would hold to the same standards when dealing with people.

She didn't comment about the Mosasaur. It should be easy enough for her to judge the viability of the containment system when she saw it. If it was anything like American cetecean enclosures it would probably fail long before the creature died of old age. She would also have to determine if the huge animal would be able to feed itself in such an environment. If not, they might as well kill it. If she agreed whole-heartedly with Tuvya on any particular point, it was on this one. The Mosasaur should not be allowed to roam wild in the world's ocean.

But that didn't stop her from smirking a little at his threats. Her intentions were her own. The two main objectives here were to look for survivors and assess the animals roaming loose on the island. She would be directly involved in both of those tasks with the others largely present to help make sure she could do her job. Typical.

The ride was not long and gave Max plenty of opportunity to check on her gear, making sure that the batteries and solar cell systems that would power her equipment in the trailer were all functioning. The supplies were wonderful but she ran her hands over virgin surgical packs and priceless medications with a her lips pressed in a thin line. The amount of money being thrown around here was criminal. What she wouldn't have given for access to this kind of gear while working with endangered croccodilians.

When they were getting closer and she could hear Tuvya over the grainy PA, she came out and spotted Meryl sitting in front of her Jeep. It appeared that the girl's stuff was already in the back seat too. Might as well make the invitation a formal one.

"G'Day. You don't seem too chuffed to be on this bodgy old tour. Can't blame you. Never got along with standover types like that Tuvya, myself. You're the techy type, yeah? Maybe you should ride with me until we find some research to destroy. I'll need someone to take the wheel if I have to drop a dino through the window."

She offered Meryl her bronzed and somewhat weathered hand to pull the girl to her feet and then glanced over the railing to see what Tuvya was talking about. She had a map of the park open across the dashboard in the vehicle and slid into the driver's seat to compare.

Claude had been nearly silent throughout the trip, his nose still buried in the hefty binder, turning his attention away just long enough to provide cursory introductions. When they finally reached Isla Nublar, the guide swung his rifle around to take point, eyes and ears open for any sign of movement.

"Keep behind me, and leave anything with a strong smell behind." Was all he'd said as he started to search along with the Israeli. He wasn't exactly impressed with the threats the man had made, but he had no intention of offending him. After all, he had been paid a large sum, and he was a man of his word. So he searched silently, rifle held at the ready.

People always expected obvious signs of animal attacks. Blood everywhere, unidentifiable scraps of meat, or severed limbs. The truth was animals rarely left much behind, and you would be lucky to find the plastic tip of a shoelace or a button from a shirt. He could only imagine dinosaurs would leave even less. Unless they stumbled on fresh kills or living people, chances were they'd never find any signs of the missing people.

Which was why the broken watch on the ground gave him hope.

"Here." He said loud enough for Tuvya to hear him. He reached down and picked uo the watch, turning it over in his hand. Silver rolex, sized for an adult. "We may have a survivor close by. If they're smart, they've held up on main street. Easily defensible, lots of heavy objects to use as weapons, and lots of noise to frighten the animals off." He stood then, pocketing the watch and gesturing for the others to follow.

"There's no way they wouldn't notice the ferry, either. They'll probably try to get our attention."

Elena gave the man a smile, straightening again in a makeshift salute. She refused, however, to even consider giving him a literal salute, with her hand, as she would any commanding officer. Those were reserved to those she respected or those who were her literal superior; this man was just a representative, and a civilian at that.

Without another thought or word directed at the rest of them, she found a vehicle that didn’t appear to have anyone’s stuff thrown into it, and claimed it for herself. She noted the vehicle’s supplies, though- best to know where extras are if she loses any of her stuff. That taken care of, she threw off her overcoat, stowing it with her pack, and began a check over her weapons, all of which were already slung at her hip (minus her rifle, which had its own sheath with the pack).

She took off the sheaths that kept her machete’s and tactical axe’s blades dry and protected. After pulling each out and inspecting them, carefully, she practiced a few swings and then returned them to their slots. Next, she checked her knives, going over them for the same reason for her longer weapons. Satisfied they were ready, they were returned.

Next, she drew her handgun. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t actually loaded; none of her magazines were, besides one, at the moment. That would be asking for trouble. She slipped the current magazine out, and replaced one of her current magazines in her chest rig with it. The one she now held had ammunition- checking over the nasty, controversial ammunition gave her a brief chill. She had used the ammunition before, and she had to admit that it was maybe some of the nastiest ammunition she’d seen outside of military-grade 12.7mm+ weaponry. The eight ‘petals’ of the slug looked menacing enough, even without the knowledge of what it’ll do to a man. She slid the magazine smoothly into the handgrip, but didn’t load a round into its chamber. Safety on, no round in the chamber; safe. She returned it to its holster, and clipped the securing strap back around the top of handgrip, another precaution to keep it from being accidentally ejected.

Next, her rifle. By this time, anyone watching from the coast would have to use binoculars to make her out, so she didn’t feel quite as apprehensive about drawing the weapon around civilians. She’d had the aim to be a designated marksman; let’s hope that it paid off. Drawing the bolt-action rifle from its sheath, she checked it over like all the others. The weapon would do much more than the handgun; it had greater power, range, accuracy. For a moment, she felt a brief pang of loss at the fact that she had to use this thing, rather than her M4. She could’ve bought a semi-auto rifle instead of the bolty, but she had already spent a pretty penny on the rest of the gear; either it’d be downed by the bolty, or she’d use her sidearm.

She attached its sling, and threw it over her shoulder, muzzle pointing into the air. Satisfied that it’d sit correctly, she adjusted the straps slightly, and left it.

Now, she began loading all her handgun magazines with the G2 RIP ammunition. With 7 rounds per magazine, and making sure that the gun had one already chambered, she was officially 'locked and loaded.' She retrieved her rifle's small magazines out of her pack, and began sliding those into their respective slots alongside her M1911's magazines. Satisfied that everything was loaded and ready, besides being on safe, she turned to her other tasks at hand.

Content with her weapons during her weapons check, she did a cursory check of every item on her person at that moment, from her shemagh scarf to tactical vest to combat boots. Now fully satisfied with her gear, she waited leaned against the hull of the ferry, and hung out slightly over the water, watching the waves twinkle in the sunlight.

It took some time of slicing through the water before the ferry finally arrived at their destination, traveling on its best course at its top speed. The utility docks- those that the public never saw, because of how utilitarian and not-utopian it appeared- were just as overrun as what the video cameras of the tourist streets showed, before their feeds were cut. She had been watching the attacks live, there for a little while, when the news of Jurassic World’s downfall reached her. Trash scattered everywhere, alien feces here and there, small flashes of movement out of the corner of your eyes, and shifting in the jungle beyond the docks left no doubt that the dominant species here weren’t human.

Elena unslung and set down her rifle for a brief moment, as she retrieved her pack. Slinging it over her shoulders, she let it settle before she did the same with her rifle. Satisfied with her gear, she approached the rest of the team at the front of the ferry, where its ramp was lowering down to bridge the gap from port to ferry.

Drawing her M1911, she flanked the team to their left. Her sharp eyes scanned the distant jungle, the clear skies, and the utility buildings alike for any contacts, hostile or friendly. Right off the bat, their guide or hunter- she did preliminary reading on their team back home, so she knew who was who- started babbling about there being a survivor nearby. Glancing at the man, she saw that he held a broken watch in his head. Elena remained quietly skeptical; glancing around found at least three more similar watches on the ground, a variety of clothing and shoes, and other junk tourists or workers might’ve left. There’d undoubtedly be more in the more populated sections of the island; finding an item like that wasn’t anything special.

She kept her peace, however, and stayed at the ready. As a hired guard and medic, her job was to keep their people alive; her description never mentioned a leadership role, and it appeared the hunter-guide and the representative filled in the role of field commanders. Instead, she’d just issue warnings.

“No one wander off on your own. Stay in pairs, at least, and keep an eye out for both dangers and your fellows. If someone’s missing, report it immediately, and if you’ve got a problem, don’t hesitate to tell me. We want to return home with all our people alive, and then some- let’s not lose anyone. Eyes sharp everyone, and remember to look up.”

A thrill ran threw her. The shaking that had plagued her hands ever since she had returned from active duty had ceased an hour before her plane touched down; now, she felt more stable and focused than ever. She was going to see a dinosaur! And maybe kill it, too...

"If you see an animal, call it out! Rough height, length, legs, let us know what we're dealing with if we can't immediately look for ourselves. There's a big difference between a tiny compy and a big Utahraptor." She may not be an expert, but she knew some dinos- especially the raptors.