Isla Fornar. I finally made it. InGen's so called site C. Most people would avoid this island like the plague, but not me. No, not me. I'm an extremist. I can't walk away from danger and I'll even seek it out. When I was 19 I started making a living purely by eating what I killed. After 2 years, I heard about these Dinosaur Islands, as they were described. It was perfect. This life was difficult, but I was doing very well, but shit, this? THIS? I couldn't help myself.

Oh I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Leon. Just Leon. I'm about 6'1 and a little over 180 pounds. I may lack muscle in my arms, but don't underestimate me. I've got a mean right hook. Besides, the real muscle is in my legs. If I had proper endurance conditioning, I'd be able to run a mile in about 5 minutes, but I don't have that kind of conditioning, so I have to settle for a quarter mile sprint at about 1:16 seconds.

I got a job for a few years, saved up enough money to buy lots of ammo for my guns, went to flight school, became a pilot, and bought an old crop duster. Using all this, I flew myself to the island. What would the government do? Try to save me by shooting me down?

Now… I hadn't accounted for the fact that there wasn't a landing strip… oops.

Good thing I planned ahead and brought a parachute. I'm not exactly the best pilot.

Well I grabbed my gear, turned the plane on its head, and jumped.

A mere 10 minutes later, my chute was off, my guns were loaded, my knife was sharpened, and I was ready to begin my greatest challenge yet.

Now you could argue that others had it more difficult as they never had guns, but I'd argue against that. Yes I have guns and I came in prepared, but these weapons are not exactly designed for this kind of game, and I don't intend to return like the others. Rescue will never come so I'm stuck here unless some idiot comes here of their own will like me.

I had standard equipment for a hunter. A .50 Caliber Black Powder Wolf Muzzleloading Rifle, designed for game like Deer, Elk, and maybe, MAYBE, Moose. I carried a .45 caliber Magazine Fed Handgun, powerful, but not exactly accurate. Finally I brought Ol' Bazzu. A Semi Auto Shotgun over 100 years old. Passed down from father to son, but seeing as I'm an only child and I never planned to get married or have kids, that ends with me. This gun held 3 shots and kicked like a mule. The name Ol' Bazzu comes from the fact it sounds like a Bazooka when fired, but even that kind of power would likely bounce off of more heavily armored dinosaurs. None of this was designed to take down a dinosaur of any size. I would have to be exceptionally accurate to survive, but over the years of hunting wild game, I was a damn good shot, but I was far from the best.

I went through my checklist.

Step 1: Find water.

This map says there's a mountain spring up there by the Command Center.

Step 2: Find shelter.

The Command Center would be a good place to start.

Step 3: Find food.

Most any animal that lives on this island.

Step 4: Make a fire if it gets cold or if you need rescue.

Well I don't intend to get rescued and I'm close to the fucking Equator so I'll be fine without that.

Ok I'm good. Here I go. Into the unknown. Into the jungle. Into the past.