This story is a collaboration between my boyfriend and I and it is based on a book that was put into circulation by Weta Workshops called "The World Of Kong". This is our version of how the information in that book was gathered and we hope you enjoy it.

August 1935

The sky was heavy with grey, angry clouds and rain pattered gently on the thatched roof over her head. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. She breathed deep of the moisture-laden air, savoring every moment of it. She looked up from the letter she had been reading and re-reading for the last couple of hours. The multitude of stamps spoke of its long journey from Washington D.C. to Berlin to Moscow to Delhi then to Pontianak where it eventually found its way into her hands via couriers. The paper was thick and slightly warped due to the humidity. It began formally and without nonsense. Actually the entire letter reeked of formality and politics.

Dr. Turner,

You have been selected to join a company of scientists on an exceptionally important field study. You are the fifth on a list of experts that have been chosen to study life on an island trapped in time. Joining you will be a host of other experts, and the leader of the expedition, renowned wilderness guide: Mr. Elliot Abner. Enclosed within this letter is an itinerary, enough funds to travel to where you will meet your fellow scientists in Kanyakumari. From there, the good ship Legendary will take you to your final destination. It is recommended that you bring along your own trade tools and firearms, as they will not be provided for you. Good luck and good hunting.

Yours in Science,

Jethro Petrussino,

Chairman of the International Science Committee

When she looked into the envelope there was indeed enough local currency to get her at the very least to Karachi, India. Sighing heavily she refolded the letter and picked up the itinerary she was supposed to be following. They were expected to leave on the boat in a week and a half and it would take her at least that long to get to Kanyakumari. So she had to make a decision now. She knew exactly what island they intended to send her to and it was not as though she wouldn't kill to get on that island, it was the fact that they expected her to simply do as she was told. She was not especially good at following orders and the only way she gave respect was if someone had earned it. She had met Jethro Petrussino in person and he had certainly not earned her respect. On the other hand, she would be getting paid to travel to an island she had been petitioning to study for years. Travel and meals would be compensated generously. And she'd get to study them.

Taking another deep breath of the moist, mountain air, she began gathering her things and stuffing them into her small canvas knapsack and leather duffel bag. She made sure her father's old M1911 pistol was tucked safely into its holster on her hip and slung her own Remington Model 8 across her back. She broke down her small thatch shelter and then, taking a last look around the clearing that had been her home for the last four or so months, she began hiking back down the barely-visible path towards Pontianak.

One week and two days later:

Elliot Abner paced over the boards on the deck of the S.S. Legendary. He stopped each time one would squeak under his boots and made a mental note of where that board was, what was possibly making it squeak, and how he could best avoid it squeaking in the future. Small, noisy things like that set off the hunter inside him and, with no good reason, he felt they should be avoided. The Indian sun beat down on him as he waited for everyone to arrive. Finishing his pacing around the deck he went to check over the list of the people he was going to be babysitting on this little field trip. He knew his men were here; Johann Forst and Benji Keegan, the medic and cook, had checked in with him yesterday and immediately found the nearest pub. They had been there 'round the clock unless they were sleeping in the bunks. Abner rolled his eyes thinking about who in their bloody mind recruited an Irishman to be the cook. Cosimo Laguardia had checked in early this morning, and both Edward Tobin and Marik Wyrick had arrived around lunchtime. He knew he could count on mercenaries to be punctual.

Now the sun had reached its peak and was beginning its descent. The hottest part of the day was upon them and Abner resigned himself to the only slightly cooler below deck where the all the bunks were located. Lounging on one of the hammock-like bunks he read over the small biographies of the company he would be leading. While he didn't especially like scientists (bunch of stuffy, stuck-up, know-it-alls were the words he had used) he rather liked the look of a few of them. Henry Bayer was one of them, the paley-oh-something or another. Grew up in an army family, studied at Brown, and received his doctorate from Arizona State Teacher's College. Army family would mean at least he would have a little discipline. The other one he liked the look of was Boris Roubinskia, a former member of the Russian Army and recently dubbed bird-scientist. A former army member was someone he could definitely rely on. The others did not look as promising though, he thought with a grumble.

He was halfway through reading about one named Remy Leroux and his fluffy life in the French countryside, studying bugs, when the boards above his head squeaked and he heard voices on the main deck. So he hauled himself out of the bunk and climbed the steps up to the topside of the old steamer. Two men stood on the deck with about two suitcases each. He huffed quietly and went to greet them. The first introduced himself as Dr. Darrin Wilson from California. He was a tall man with a small mustache and a small belly pushing against the cloth of his white shirt. Wilson was a botanist, a plant-person Abner filed away in his mind. The other man introduced himself as Dr. Boris Roubinskia. Abner was impressed with the man who still seemed to have kept all of the muscle from his army days, just as Abner had hoped. He was also tall, maybe taller than Abner himself, and he possessed a strong jawline that looked like it had spent too many winters clenched in frigid temperatures. Abner sympathized for he had led expeditions though the Alps and once into the South American Mountains.

"Jolly good to meet you Doctors." He stated simply. "Bunks are down the stairs, first landing you come to. Make yourselves comfortable, t'won't be shoving off for another day or so." The two men thanked him and made their way below deck. He turned back to the port side of the Legendary and stared at the ocean. After so many expeditions to so many locations, Elliot Abner could tell from the start how an expedition would end. By now he knew the patterns and behaviors of doctors well enough that he could almost predict what they were going to say down to the word order. Now he had a feeling in his gut, a nauseous feeling, which was unsettling in its own right for he had not been physically sick since his secondary school days. He hoped that it wasn't a sign of events to come. He may not have liked scientists but he hated losing patrons even more.

The next morning found an addition to their company waiting on the docks with at least five immaculate suitcases. Skinny, clean-shaven, and white as potato mash, Abner's guess was correct as he shook hands with Dr. Remy Leroux, the entomologist of the company. The boy looked like he hadn't been outside in his life. He nodded quickly when spoken to and responded hurriedly in second-rate English.

"Alright, Lad, take the bag that has your clothes in it and the boys will take your other bags below to cargo. Make yourself comfortable." More harried nodding and he picked one bag and held it tight to his chest as he picked his way carefully up the gangplank. He seemed to shake with every swell that came under the boat. Abner rolled his eyes and scoffed at the boy. Why was he even reviewed for this company? It didn't make sense.

A few hours later there was another visitor. Dr. Henry Bayer gave Abner a strong handshake and carried his one suitcase, satchel and trench gun to the bunkroom himself. The paleontologist reminded him of a partner he used to have, Tommy, who had helped him fight off hyenas on the plains of Africa many years ago. Bayer looked like someone he could trust and who could handle his own. Good, Abner thought to himself, he needed men who could handle themselves in tough terrain, and from what he heard of their destination, there would be some very tough terrain.

The sun was climbing higher in the sky and Abner decided to review the company list one last time. They should have just about everyone. He went down the list and checked off everyone who had come aboard. There was only one name left and seeing it, Abner did a double take, read it, re-read it, and grumbled loudly. Across the deck Wyrick, Tobin, and Bayer were conversing and looked over at him.

"What's wrong boss? We lose someone?" Tobin asked, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Abner shook his head.

"No, worse." He said gravely as he looked up. "There's a woman in our company." Tobin and Wyrick looked at each other and laughed. Bayer looked a bit confused.

"What's wrong with a woman coming along?" Abner fixed him with a serious stare.

"What's wrong, Doctor, is that women can't take care of themselves. I have seen too many women on safari loose their heads at the first sign of danger and very often they pay with their lives." Feeling a bit humorous he added. "And they lug about fifteen suitcases with them wherever they go. So be prepared boys." Wyrick and Tobin laughed again and there was a hint of a smile on Bayer's face. Abner allowed himself a small chuckle at his own joke and returned to reviewing the limited biography of the woman, who was late anyhow, he reminded himself. He had just gotten to the section about her childhood in Oklahoma, which abruptly cut off after she turned sixteen, when a voice cut through the hot, humid air of the Indian Port.

"I don't think you'll have to worry yourself about my bags, Mr. Abner." Came a voice from a few feet to his left. A leather hat covered long russet hair that was plaited behind one ear. Green eyes peered out from beneath the brim of the hat and fixed Abner with a hard stare. Her clothes were stained with mud and grime as was her face and she carried a pistol, a rifle, and a knife. Other than that she carried two small beat-up looking leather bags and herself. Abner took all of this in with a keen eye and summed his thoughts into one sentence.

"You look like 'ell." He said bluntly. She raised an eyebrow but made no effort to defend her appearance. "Where've you been Love?" She didn't seem too surprised at his frankness, but she stood there another moment, appraising him as he had done to her, before answering.

"Borneo." She replied, her voice flat. "I tend to look this way after four months in the field."

"Dr. Leah Turner then is it?"

"It is."

"Where're all yer bags, Love?"

"You may call me Leah or Dr. Turner and you are looking at all my bags, Mr. Abner." She said tightening her grip on that Remington of hers.

"All right, Dr. Turner. Bunks are down the stairs, first landing, dinner is soon if you want to powder your nose." She scoffed at him, rolling her green eyes back.

"Do I look like I have any powder to put on my nose?" she turned away grumbling something obscene in Afrikaans under breath. He couldn't be certain but he thought he heard something about what he should do were his manhood long enough. He harrumphed quietly. Abner noticed the planks of the deck didn't squeak under her feet as they had his. He'd have to keep an eye on that one.

He checked Leah Turner off the list and went to tell the first mate that they could finally shove off when he and the crew were ready. A plank under his foot squeaked loudly and he flinched. 'How the 'ell did she manage to get up the gangplank and around the deck without a sound?' he thought to himself as he ascended the steps to the helm. That would bug him for days he just knew it.

Leah dug her plate and small tin cup out of her bag when she heard the call for dinner. She made her way up the steps to the galley. She passed a mirror on her way and saw just how dirt-streaked her face was. After two plane rides and a very long cab ride she had had no time to wash her face or clothes. She sighed and unrolled one of her sleeves. Picking a spot that seemed less-dirt-covered; she gave it a good lick and scrubbed furiously at her forehead and cheeks. When she finished her face was still dirty so she gave up and trudged the rest of her way to the galley. The rest of her peers were congregated around two long tables. One of the crew served her rice and red beans and bread and another poured water into her cup.

"Terima kasih." She spoke in Malay. The crewmember looked at her with a strange gaze before patting his chest with an open hand and said.

"India." She nodded and apologized in Hindi.

"Dhan 'yavāda." She thanked again. He smiled and nodded to her.

"Āpakā svāgata hai." He responded. She smiled and went to find a seat. Her fellow scientists were seated at the farthest table while the men she guessed would be "escorting" them were seated at the nearest. She walked around to where a gangly, clean-shaven man in glasses was speaking in small English, responding to questions from a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head. The first man looked up and waved at her.

"Profezzor Turner! Over 'ere!" She wandered over and sat down beside the man. "Profezzor Remy Leroux, and zis eez Docteur Boriz Roobi…Roubinz…" he looked to the bigger man for help in pronouncing his name.

"Roubinskia. A pleasure to meet you Doktor Turner." She shook both their hands and inquired as to their professions.

"Ah! Well I am ze leeding authoritee of insectz et incect-like arthropods." She made a surprised noise and asked him why he enjoyed working with insects.

"Pourquoi aimez-vous les insects?" As soon as she uttered the first syllable in flawless French, Leroux's eyes lit up and he responded excitedly.

"Je les ai aimés depuis que je suis un garcon!" She smiled and nodded. She liked people who got excited about their professions. Her mother had always told her that the difference between a job and a career was one's feelings toward what they claimed to love.

"Ah," she responded. "Je vois." Then she turned to Roubinskia who smirked and spoke in rough, gravelly Russian.

"Vy govorite na russkom, tak , doktor?" She smirked as well, accepting the challenge he had put forth. Russian wasn't her best but she could manage.

"Khuzhe, chem frantsuzskiy, no luchshe, chem kitayskaya." Roubinskia's eyebrows rose a few centimeters on his forehead but he smiled.

"Nu, yaornitolog . Vy znayete, chto mne delat'?" She paused and thought. She didn't know the compound he had used. She struggled for a moment before relenting with a huff.

"Izvinite, ya ne ponimayu." She did not understand him. He smiled good-naturedly and spoke in excellent English.

"I am an Ornithologist." This struck her as odd. Before her was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled, and presumably very strong Russian man and his area of expertise was birds? 'Well this might be an interesting trip after all.' She thought taking sip of water Beside her, Leroux coughed and sputtered. Apparently he had tasted his coffee.

"Eugh! Zis coffee iz terrible!"

"Just clench your teeth to filter out the grinds, it won't be too bad after that." She offered. Leroux tried it and still coughed. She guessed he was used to more sugar and cream in his coffee.

"I have read some of your papers, Doktor Turner." Roubinskia said drawing her thought away from the last time she had tasted cream or sugar in her coffee. "I thought your hypothesis concerning the familial and social practices of canopy-dwelling primates was a little, erm, smeshnoy."

"Ridiculous? What's so ridiculous about the concept that tree-dwelling primates have just as much of a social and familial network as say chimpanzees or gorillas?" She was used to this, defending her research. However, she remembered the particular work that was being referenced, and she thought that the hype from her almost seven year-old dissertation would have died down by now.

"I just can't see primates that are not closely related to humans exhibiting human-like behavior." Roubinskia replied. Leah fixed him with the same stare she had used when conferencing with the Dissertation Review Board.

"All primates are related to humans."

"I am not trying to devalue your work, Doktor. I simply can't see tree-dwelling primates exhibiting human-like behavior." Roubinskia stated calmly with his hands held shoulder-width apart, palms out in a show of good intent. Leah swallowed the bite of beans and rice she had taken and rolled up the right sleeve of her once-white shirt. She held out her forearm for Roubinskia and Leroux to examine. Running the length of her forearm from her wrist to elbow was a puckered, white, jagged scar. Beside her, Leroux sucked in a breath.

"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed.

"This was given to me by a baboon because I had stepped accidently into the territory where she was nursing her young." She stated. Roubinskia nodded, following her story. "When I was eight, my family took a trip to New York City and while we were watching fireworks, a strange man took my little sister by the hand, thinking she was his daughter, and tried to take her. My mother punched that man in the face so hard it shattered his nose. So now tell me, Doctor Roubinskia, was that a baboon displaying human-like behavior, or a human displaying baboon-like behavior?" He stared at her for a moment and she hadn't realized that the rest of their table was listening intently to their conversation until now. Finally Roubinskia smiled and threw his head back, letting out a hearty bellowing laugh.

"I see your point, Doktor Turner. Maybe that would have made your point better if that had been in your dissertation."

"Unfortunately I only had the run in with an angry baboon a few years after I became accredited." She said, smiling as well.

I'd like to hear that story." Said a man coming to sit across from her, beside Roubinskia. He was smaller than Roubinskia but more muscular than Leroux, he wore glasses that hid warm, brown eyes. His face was friendly and he sported a small mustache and five o' clock shadow. He held out his hand to her and she shook it.

"Henry Bayer, paleontologist from Arizona Teacher's College." She nodded.

"Leah Turner, behavioral ecologist, International Science Committee. I work for the Behavior and Interpretation division." He smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

"So, about that baboon attack. I was lead to believe that a bite from one of those beasts is deadly." Leah chewed on her piece of bread and attempted to respond when a strong, almost annoyed voice echoed through the mess.

"They are." A tall man walked through the door. Having seen him earlier Leah grumbled. Elliot Abner walked over to the table and sat beside Bayer. He had a face full of stubble and she assumed a plan to grow a full beard. His dark blue eyes studied her face as he took a sip of something from a silver flask with the image of a roaring lion embossed on the side. "Took a chap and his family out into the Serengeti plains once, the wife was attacked by two of the beasts. She died before we even got to her." Leah rolled her eyes.

"Of course she died, a housewife in the Serengeti? She was dead the moment she stepped out her door." Abner acquiesced to that but fixed her with his doubtful stare again.

"So how did you manage it, Turner? Unless it wasn't a baboon at all and you just got on the wrong side of the natives." Leah was getting tired of his derisive, South African accent that seemed to mock her even when he wasn't speaking. It was high time for the famous Elliot Abner to be shut up by a woman. She reached into her shirt and pulled out a thick, sinew cord that held a long, slender, yellow, tipless tooth. She held it up for all to see, especially Abner.

"When I woke up in the hospital in Nairobi all I remembered was sketching and taking notes on a family unit in the Serengeti and then being run down by a screeching mass of fur. That felt like being hit in the face with a truck. Next thing I know I throw her off me and I start running like I had the Devil himself on my heels, all the while trying to tie my belt around my arm to stop the bleeding. I got about halfway to my camp before I collapsed and blacked out. Apparently my assistant found me and drove me over the border to Nairobi. I woke up about a week later with this still sticking out of my arm. They didn't want to take it out because it was keeping my blood clotted. Eventually though, they did get it out while I was unconscious, they had to break off the tip and leave it in my arm to keep my artery plugged. My assistant gave it to me as a gift." She concluded to a silently rapt audience. Abner still looked as though he doubted the story but seemed to give up trying to prove her wrong after seeing the tooth.

"But what about ze baboon?" Leroux asked, nearly quivering in his seat beside her. "Deed you keel eet? If it attacked you zen eet must 'ave been rabid." Leah shook her head.

"She wasn't rabid, I was just too close to her family. Had I shot her, I would have left her children without their mother and they would have died too."

"So vhy do you keep zat 'orrid looking tooth?" he aksed. She smiled as she looked at the tooth, the very tooth that had punctured the artery in her arm and then plugged it back up.

"It reminds me that what I study is alive and defensive and that I could die anytime they want." She replied.

"And you're okay with that?" Bayer spoke up for the first time since Abner had sauntered into the room. She looked at him, slipping the tooth back under her shirt.

"Dr. Bayer, if half the rumors about this island we're headed to are true, you will understand exactly what I'm saying the second we get there. And yes, I am very okay with being killed doing what I love." Bayer grinned and took another sip of his coffee.

"Well, I intend to die on an exotic island with a drink in my hand and a lady with questionable morals in my bed." Came Abner's obnoxious voice from beside Bayer. Leah rolled her eyes. The man was getting more insufferable by the minute. His comment sent a wave of chuckles and agreeing noises through the other company members. Bayer, though remained straight-faced for which she was grateful. Abner had turned around and was conversing with one of the mercenaries, that's what Leah would call them since there was no better word for them. She let out a noise that was something along the lines of a grumble, a snort, and a sigh. She just knew that he would grind on her every last nerve.

'Very well Mr. Abner, if that is how you want to play this, I'll humor you.' She thought to herself as she finished off her plate of beans.

She declined an offer to join Roubinskia, Leroux, Bayer, and Dr. Wilson, the botanist, for a smoke on the main deck, and instead made her way to the bunkroom intending to review some articles she had been given at the post office in Pontianak. Crawling into one of the hammock-like bunks she picked up one of the articles, entitled Brains or Brawn; A Study of Aggression in African Gorillas, and made it though the first two sentences before her eyelids drooped and the rocking of the Legendary lulled her into a restful sleep.