(A/N: Since no one else has actually posted anything about Prehistoric Park, save one genius who put Alan Grant in the park itself, I've decided to go and make an extended version everyone can read, as well as a few extra chapters. Before I start, I must warn you that there will be some changes. Fortunately, the only big one will be some added staff members, security specifically. Anyway, I will also be adding some details to fill in a few of the holes my dad picked up when we watched this. He's a real over-observer though, so there won't be too many things.)

Prehistoric Park

Prologue: Birth of a Dream

Oxford University, Oxford, Great Britain

October 16, 4:06 pm

Nigel Marvin squared his shoulders as he peered around the curtain at the stage he would soon have to walk across. There was someone else there already, dressed in a fancy suit and asking who knows what from the university. Of course, he would most likely be turned down. The university hardly ever gave any of its money for a project unless it was an idea so outrageous and out of the ordinary that it couldn't be ignored, which was what Nigel was hoping to accomplish. He turned to his only constant companions, his film crew, consisting of Lee Roodic, his new but brave replacement cameraman, and Bill Daniels, the dedicated soundman.

Lee smoothed a hand over his goatee, muttering "Almost show time, Nigel."

Nigel couldn't speak, only nodded. His mouth was too dry to bring out a reply. Bill grinned and rolled his eyes as he slapped his bosses shoulder, saying "Lighten up. With the demonstration, there's no way they'll turn you down."

Nigel smiled a little and nodded as well, asking "Where's the pack?"

His reply was Lee holding up a squarish backpack with two sleeves, one on either side. Tucked into these sleeves were two silver cylinders, which would hopefully help Nigel win over the board of directors to fund his proposition. Of course, he'd be pouring in his own funds, how could he not, but the large majority of cash would come from a big, rich donor. And that was the reason he was here.

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back, revealing a shortish, haggard looking woman with a notepad. She viewed it through squinted eyes before saying "Mr. Marvin? You're up."

She took a look at him, frowned and muttered "This won't take long."

Nigel ignored her. Okay, so he hadn't put on an expensive suit, but as a man of the field, he felt that it was only right to present his ideas wearing the clothes he was most comfortable in: field clothes, such as khaki shorts, hiking boots and a vest.

Lee grinned and handed Nigel the bag, saying "Knock 'em dead, Nigel."

Bill grinned as well, but only gave Nigel's shoulder a squeeze. Nigel nodded before taking the bag, turning to the curtain, taking a deep breath, and stepping through onto the stage. There was indeed a large crowd assembled, and only a few stopped talking when he made his way across the stage to the podium. However, as he set the pack down and prepared to present his proposal, one of the directors cleared his throat, and the hall fell still.

Nigel suddenly found the silence unnerving, but licked his lips, took a breath, and spoke, clearly thank God, into the microphone "Ladies and gentlemen of Oxford, my name is Nigel Marvin. I am, indeed, a field man, and I have been all over the world and have seen many different animals. However, I cannot help but notice something."

The murmur seemed to drift back a little. Obviously, others before him had cast their claims in a similar manner, and weren't really focusing on him. Feeling slightly annoyed, Nigel turned off the microphone, stepped away from the podium and continued, in the loud voice he was used to, "There is something missing from our world. I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, what is that?" Several answers came back at him, but Nigel forged on. "It is the amazing and numerous animals that once spanned the globe, but that time has left behind." Once more, the hall fell silent. He had their attention now. "But…" he paused for dramatic effect. "What if we could bring them back? What if extinction didn't have to be forever?"

There was a small chortling from one of the directors, a particularly chubby fellow who looked a little like Winston Churchill. "Hold on, Mr. Marvin. Are you telling us you intend to create your own version of Jurassic Park? Clone animals from mosquitoes and bones? Because if you are-"

"I'm not." Nigel declared, shutting the man up almost instantly. "Believe me when I say it, but the plan I have for you isn't going to cost much more than a city's standard electricity bill. No genetics. No cloning. But lots of creatures, and not just dinosaurs."

And THAT certainly got everyone's attention. Fatty Winston cocked his head, then brought up another question, and this one was actually a good one.

"Well, then, what the devil are you talking about?"

Nigel grinned and responded with "Wormholes. Controlled wormholes."

The murmur kicked up once more, but it seemed everyone was genuinely curious now. Nigel beckoned off stage and Lee and Bill came in, carrying two flowerpots filled with dirt. While they set them up and left, Nigel turned to the audience and said "We have a man in Scotland to thank for this. Actually, a lot of men. Unfortunately, they're all dead. This technology was discovered in the late eighties, right around the time Michael Crichton first wrote Jurassic Park. So, of course, fearing criticism because of this concept, the scientists kept working in secret, devoting the rest of their lives to perfecting this technology. They sent it to a vault, and you want to know who it was made it? My grandfather. He left these-" and here Nigel pulled the two cylinders out of his backpack and held them up before continuing "To me in his will. Said I'd think of something to do with them. Ladies and gentlemen, what you see here before you in my hands are the only two wormhole generators in existence."

He moved over to the flowerpots, sticking one in each and activating them, causing blue lights to turn on. He turned back to the audience, saying "I will now demonstrate the power of these wormhole generators, or, as my grandfather fondly called them, the Time Portal. I have already set the coordinates and time destinations, and now I will go back and show you just how this works."

And with that, he pulled out a small remote, not much large than a car clicker, and pressed on of two buttons. The Time Portal activated in a whoosh and a flash of blue light, revealing a vivid blue circle. It certainly looked like a wormhole, and behind the blueness, you could see a savannah, with several animals populating it. Nigel rubbed his hands and jogged through eagerly. Minutes passed. Ten minutes. Twenty.

Then, suddenly, from the portal burst an animal so peculiar that everyone's doubts about the wormhole being real were dropped. The animal was the size of a pony, and looked like a cross between a horse, an okapi, and a zebra. But it was none of these. It peered around at the audience, who were stone-silent, before giving a braying call and turning towards the side of the stage. Immediately, Lee and Bill surged forward and, while Lee grabbed the creature around the neck, Bill slipped through the Time Portal. After a minute or two, the soundman came back, holding a walkie-talkie and grinning, saying "He'll be through in a minute."

And indeed he was. Nigel finally staggered out of the Portal, out of breath. It seemed he'd been running.

"There…you have it, ladies…and gentlemen." Nigel exclaimed, pointing the creature his cameraman still held as he tried to catch his breath. "That…is a quagga. It went extinct in 1883, last one died in captivity, but here you are! A living, breathing quagga! I had to go back-whoops!"

The quagga had kicked, almost unsettling Lee, so Bill had to help the cameraman hold it down.

"There we go. Anyway, I had to go back to a time when quagga were plentiful. However, that's such a short space of time, as it only took a hundred years for the quagga to be hunted to extinction, so I went back to Africa, took a guess at around the Revolutionary War, when they were first classified, and there they were, whole herds of 'em! This one's only a colt, only a juvenile, but I guess he wandered through while I was poking around, trying to catch one, so we'll just slip this little fella back through before his mum gets worried."

And so, the little quagga was set, actually shoved, through the Time Portal, and with that, Nigel deactivated it for Lee and Bill to collect the cylinders and flowerpots before the man himself turned to the assembled audience and asked "Any questions?"

Fatty Winston raised his hand slowly, and when Nigel sighed and pointed at him, he said "Would you prefer cash, or credit?"