The sun rose on the horizon, faintly blocked by the silhouette of a massive island that lay in the east. The mountain appeared very forbidding, It's mountains jetted out of the ocean like a clawed hand tearing out of the sea starving as the hand of prehistoric Titans of an old myth. It was, Dr. Ian Malcolm, had to admit, beautiful, and all its natural shining gleaming Glory nature at its finest. Still, there was something eerie and unsettling about that island. Perhaps, it was the fact that he was encased within a rumbling helicopter thousands of feet above the surface of the ocean, from which if they fell, it would be to their doom, or maybe it was just the awkwardness of being around new company. At least, he noted, he was surrounded by intellectuals.

True, they all came from various professions, academia, and educational backgrounds, and held differing ideologies, but they were still specialists in their own personal vocations. Mathematician Ian Malcome personally anticipated matching wits with them at a dinner table, discussing politics. He wanted to pair his randomized mathematical theories regarding "chaos theory" against Gennaro's legal experience, or Dr. Grant's understanding of history as well as psychological development of myths, or Ellie's understanding of ancient cultures and the natural world. He thought about doing it now, but the view was too spectacular to be tarnished by the interruption of small talk, and, like any specialist, and wanted to observe his competition first.

The chaos theorist sat back arrogantly in his seat, the sunrise reflecting on his expensive shades and glimmering European designer jacket. The party was now enveloped in crimson twilight, the sky altering in shifting colors of purples and yellows. He was chewing on a piece of gum finally he figured he might as well break the ice, and keep things simple for now. "So, you to dig up dinosaurs?" Ian asked blankly, almost sarcastically.

Dr. Sattler giggled at Malcolm's blunt statement. "Well, yes and no," Dr. Grant replied. "I specialize in a new branch of paleontology that some have accused of being cryptozoology, so we try to anyway. We specialize in Wyverns."

Gennaro's head snapped up away from his smartphone. He'd been addictively texting and scrolling since they entered the helicopter. You'd think he was playing Fruit Ninja."What the hell is that?" Gennaro cut in with a thick, shameless New York accent. Gennaro, the lawyer, was a large, muscular, rotund Italian man who represented Hammond's investor. He was about the only person who seemed to be out of place. The attorney was pragmatic and straightforward. The only subjects he usually would bring up during conversations were sports, business news, or restaurants. Long story short, if it didn't make him good money or had no relevance to his profession, he didn't want to hear it or discuss it. But Alan Grant's mention of the ancient Draconian creature parked his curiosity.

"It's complicated." Dr. Grant replied. "A Wyvern is basically a subspecies or descendant of dinosaurs, or at least that's the closest thing we can compare them to. From what we can tell, they seem to have outlasted the dinosaurs by a very large time span and were able to adapt to extremely hostile climates. They're basically the creatures that inspired the concept of dragons or basilisks in Medieval or Classical Orient artwork, and they've only recently gone extinct."

"Ok, so you're talking about a dragon?"

Ellie corrected Gennaro. "No. They're like dragons, but very distinct. The names got confused over the years but you understand."

"Uh-huh," Gennaro said, smilingly. "Right, and I guess they breathe fire too?"

"Well, actually that's possible, yes." Grant nodded, and Gennaro stopped laughing. He thought that Dr. Grant was joking but noted the genuineness, completely oblivious to Gennaro's sarcasm. He had dealt with critics for many years by his peers, professionals of paleontology, usually bringing payloads of historic and analytical substance Grant would have to timely sift through. He was not remotely intimidated by this extra from The Godfather.

"You're serious?" Gennaro's brow constricted.

"The research suggests it." Dr. Grant said cooly.

"But how the hell could they breathe fire!?"

Randomly, Ian Malcolm started cackling obnoxiously and for a moment, Dr. Grant did not know if he was laughing at him, at Gennaro, or at both of them. It hit Grant's spine. Ian Malcolm shrugged. "Well, how can an electric eel generate electricity, right?"

"Yeah-yes." Dr. Grant said, retaining his professionalism. "The arrangement of the fossils suggests that the creatures may have been able to take the naturally occurring gas produced in the intestines, possibly stored in a set of organs we know little about, and learn to redirect it through its breath. Gas is gas, and all it would take is a spark like an electric eel." Grant pulled an electric lighter he used to carry around his pocket, though he wasn't much of a smoker. "Think of a gas smoke or water heater. Same principle." Dr. Grant concluded.

Gennaro decided to pacify him. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, nodded, and simply said interesting. "But why would it do that? Why would it breathe fire?" Gennaro asked redundantly.

"A defense mechanism," Dr. Grant said. "At the time the Wyverns were alive, you had herbivores bigger than sauropods, and we can deduce they were monstrously territorial. There was also a lot of competition with rival predators who were equally deadly."

"A bit excessive don't you think?"

"Not really. That idea doesn't sound that eccentric" Malcolm said. "You have snakes that are so venomous, they can drop an elephant hundreds of times their size with one bite; and yet, that same venom could be harvested, broken down, and used to cure all sorts of diseases."

"And what was your field of expertise again Dr. Malcolm?" Gennaro asked. "You said you were a mathematician?"

"No, no. Chao-tician, chaotician."

"So you study conflict?"

"You could say that, yes, or at least the mathematics behind it anyway. It's a math-based theory of random occurrences within the universe, kind of like statistics."

"You mean playing the odds?" Gennaro said.

Dr Ian Malcolm waved his hand, "You can say that" he replied.

"It sounds mysterious," Dr. Sattler said flirtatiously.

Dr. Ian Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. "Dr. Sattler, you've never heard of chaos theory? Not at any of your equations? Strange, randomized attractors?"Ellie simply nodded and Dr. Malcolm glanced at her intently. "Dr. Sattler, I refuse to believe that you were unfamiliar with any concept of attraction." Kelly blushed. Dr. Grant flushed in what appeared to be a bit of jealousy.

Gennaro rolled his eyes. "Kids", he said, jadedly.

Mr. Hammond didn't say anything. He just sat down in a sage-like manner and watched the three debate back and forth, apparently greatly amused by it. This was a rare opportunity to see great intellectual minds paired together in one small space. Finally, Mr. Hammond broke the silence as they neared the island and the fog cleared. "There it is...", he said.

The island was far larger than Ian, Gennaro, Dr. Sattler, and Dr. Grant had realized. Now they stared into the face of massive jagged rocks coated with dense green foliage. As the helicopter plummeted into the massive fjord, it seemed as though this immense island was now swallowing them like a fly. The helicopter soared through the chasm like a bird aloft in the wind until gradually they came closer to a waterfall. At the base of the waterfall sat a huge landing pad manned by various workers in simple zoo-related attire, jumpsuits with orange vests. Manning the dock. There were other people that looked very strange, wearing peculiar uniforms, and clothing.

When they landed at the pad, they were quickly escorted from the still roaring helicopter to a row of thickly armored H1s. Upon some of them were the 50 caliber Browning machine guns and that greatly disturbed them.

"What the hell are those for? Is there a civil war going on?" Gennaro muttered.

Dr. Ian Malcolm was within earshot and replied. "Oh dear, Don't tell America."

They went ahead on a thick muddy dirt road, the driver moving kind of quickly. Again he noticed the discrepancy in the workforce. The man behind the turret was wearing what look like scraps of armor and a fur coat, and his face was characterized by tattoos and piercings. He manned the Browning with iron-clad diligence, staring into the surrounding Ancient Forest with an almost predatory demeanor. Even Dr. Ian Malcolm, though he attempted to hide it, seemed unnerved and his happy-go-lucky charm started to fade.

The more they drove through the dense jungle, the more alien the landscape appeared. There was something... odd about the landscape, the way the mountains jutted in irregular angles, and the plants looked unusual as well. Dr. Sattler, being a veteran paleobiologist, noted this and talked it over with Dr. Grant. "The ecosystem is completely abnormal," she muttered.

"I was thinking the same thing," Dr. Grant replied. It's as if they stepped into a portal through another world. Dr. Grant turned around and stared back at Hammond, who ominously sat in his seat, gazing at his Park with a strange sense of paternity. None of this felt right. Dr. Gennaro, no longer the arrogant hardball East coaster, cleared his throat and decided to make conversation for distraction's sake. His brow was moist with perspiration as he stared unnervingly into the dark forests and cliffs surrounding then. He tried to hide his disdain, resting his chin upon his clenched fist as the dark clouds billowed overhead as they were stalking the caravan. Years as an attorney, he learned, through his experience in various depositions and trials, to keep a stern poker face on. However, he was completely out of his element. He breathed in the humid air, coughed, and distracted himself by addressing various legal issues with Hammond.

"John, all right, so first of all, who are these people?" He indicated some of the tribesmen who manned the guns and drove the vehicles.

Hammond cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, they are the locals. InGen has decided to employ them because they are native to these lands and are very familiar with the elements of our project."

"I'm assuming they're all covered by OSHA guidelines."

"Gennaro my dear friend. I'm a professional. I keep things professional. You don't need to ask."

"Right...", gennaro responded. "What about security and the safety protocols for the animals.? Are the 50-mile electric fences put in place?"

". . . And the concrete modes, and the motion sensor fields. All is well, dear boy, please relax and try to enjoy yourself." Hammond rolled as if carelessly responding to his nagging wife.

"Let's get something straight, John, this is not a weekend excursion," Gennaro replied irritably. This was business. Gennaro did not care for Hammond's dismissiveness. "This is a serious investigation of your project's stability. Your investors, who I represent, are deeply concerned. In 48 hours from now, if they're not convinced, I'm not convinced. They'll shut you down, John."

Hammond smirked in total, undeniable certainty. "Gennaro, believe me, in 48 hours, I'll be accepting your apologies, and you'll be buying me a drink at that." Gennaro shrugged. He didn't care either way. He was still being paid by the hour and by the end of the day he anticipated a fat check for his wasted time. He just wanted to finish this so they could go back to America and take care of more pressing matters.

The caravan road in eerie silence for some time, until they eventually emerged from the narrow roads, out of the forest and two a large grassy field sparsely dotted with trees and bushes. Dr. Grant felt somewhat relieved. He hated tight spaces and was glad to be out of that dense choking forest. Even Ellie, whose passion for Flora had nearly driven her to the forefront of paleobotany, was glad for the fresh air and open scenery.

Suddenly, the normally solemn John Hammond sat up from his seat and commanded the driver to stop the vehicle. They slowed to a halt, and the driver cut off the engine. There was silence, broken by the occasional calling of nearby birds, the buzzing of insects, and some other strange noises that were vaguely recognizable. They sat there for a few minutes. John Hammond sat back with a smile on his face while the tourists were looking around as if eager to wait for a movie to begin.

Eventually, Gennaro grew impatient. "What are we waiting for?" Gennaro asked Hammond sharply.

"It's right here," John Hammond said.

Gennaro controlled his breathing and spoke slowly, trying to control his anger. He'd had enough. They were dealing with near billions. "...Mr. Hammond, I'm not trying to kill your mood or anything and this really is fun; but seriously, what am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Listen" Hammond quietly responded.

"Well, it's relaxing," Malcolm said. "Hey, John, do you mind if I step out real quick and have a quick smoke?" Malcolm said again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." Hammond teasingly shook his head.

Gennaro shrugged, trying to maintain professionalism and busying himself again by scrolling through his smartphone, cursing under his breath. Ellie continued reviewing a strange-looking guide provided her prior to landing on the island and she was truly confused. "Allan," she said, "this can't be right. Many of these plants have been extinct for thousands, if not millions, of years... She was tuned out. Allan could not hear her, nor even his own breath.

Allan, for many years, had been accused of being insane, and what he was beginning to see before his eyes quite possibly confirmed those old accusations. He was staring, petrified, at a line of boulders. The crags ended in a massive jagged rocky spine. But there was something different about the rocks, something alien; and although he tried to deny it, he needed to accept that what he saw was real.

There was a deep rumble in the air, like a twisted combination of thunder and breathing. For a moment, Grant wondered if it was the wind. But then, he was as struck with shock as what he saw was real. Around the rocks, around the pebbles and dirt, the arrangement of sediment was almost like scales, and the way the rocks buckled slowly, up and down, it was as if it was breathing.

"Yes," John calmly said, "there he is."

Gennaro looked back at the stones and most of the color on his face dissipated. Allan reached around and grabbed Ellie's distracted head, forcing her to turn in his direction and before she could recoil, and she saw what he saw, and was struck with deathly silence. The ground shook violently. Flocks of birds begin flying away, as the tiny mountain slowly tore from the ground dirt, pebbles, and dust falling off of its thick hide. At the base of the mountain rose a massive, monstrous, twin-horned, flat rocky head; as the thing began to shift its bulk and bring itself to full height. The monster bellowed and everyone in the caravan covered their ears against a sound that nearly blew their eardrums and muted everything else.

"It's...", Dr. Grant breathed, "it's a Wyvern?"

"My dear guests," John Hammond said gleefully, "I would like to introduce you to our dear friend Basarios."

The massive beast slowly turned around, and motioned towards the Intruders on its territory, the gunners grabbed the Browning turrets, shouted something in an alien language to each other, and aimed at the beast. John Hammond barked back at them in their same language, apparently ordering them to stand down. They eased slightly, but they still stared at the beast as if anticipating, even daring it to charge. Judging by the monster's immense size, Dr. Grant doubted the 50 caliber machine guns would reap any grievous wound on it, let alone pierce its dense hide. If that thing decided to charge and stomp them into oblivion, that would be their fate. They were at the creature's mercy. The beast stared momentarily and then turned and the other direction making it towards a nearby pond to drink some water, clearly disinterested, and quench its thirst.

Dr. Grant slowly walked out of the vehicle onto the ground and Dr. Sattler followed him. Alan stumbled like a drunkard as he took in the impossible. He pointed a trembling finger at the monster, slowly turned to an equally shocked Ellie, like a scared child talking to his mother, and muttered again "it's, it's a Wyvern".

Meanwhile, Gennaro and Malcolm sat back in the H1s, both of them were completely petrified. Gennaro's Brooklyn-hardened demeanor completely evaporated, his jaw hanging, his chest now hyperventilating. Ian Malcolm lost his slick Rockstar beatnik composure. He took off his shades his eyes almost bulging as he stared at the rock dragon, and whispered quietly to himself "you did it, you crazy son of a bitch, you did it..."

Hammond heard vaguely Ian Malcolm's statement and started laughing like a grandfather laughing at his children as he watched them walk around the zoo, shocked by the enormity of the animals.

Suddenly, the great Wyvern turned, observing the caravan. The beast opened its great ma, lined by razor shop teeth that look like stalagmites in a cabin, and bellowed another thunderous roar. The beast read up on its right foot, apparently in intimidation, and dropped on his left foot, shaking the Earth with a natural ferocity. The tribesmen who manned the turrets and sat behind the wheels of the H1s began barking in some strange language that sounded like a cross between Japanese and some native American dialect. They aimed the turrets at the beast. John Hammond angrily raised a left hand indicating for them to hold their fire, responding to them in their own language with surprising articulation. "Don't worry everyone, we're on his territory. He's just trying to remind us, just move back slowly." Thankfully, as if responding to Mr. Hammond's words, the beast relented and walked away towards a great lake to drink some water. Dr. Grant turned, seeing the bold CEO approach him and Sattler, cane in hand like a wizard.

Dr. Grant stared at Hammond, finally pushing himself to break away from the stone monster. Dr. Grant appeared unable to speak as if he had been paralyzed in the throat. Finally, Dr. Grant was able to speak. "How fast are they?" It was the only question he was able to mutter at the time.

"It depends," Hammond replied. "We have several. Which one are you talking about? We clocked the Rathalos at 330mph."

"The Rathalos?" Ellie wheezed completely bewildered.

"Yes," Hammond said. "The fire-breather."

"Fire...?" Grant choked.

"Yes, it's a veritable fire-breathing dragon."

"Fireballs?"

"Yes, Allan, We have a Rathalos, and it shoots fireballs from its mouth." Mr. Hammond nodded gleefully.

Hammond's last statement was all Dr. Grant could stomach. He began rippling almost like a belly dancer and caught himself against the ground on his hands and knees. Almost totally losing consciousness. "I'm not here. . ."

"What? Mr. Hammond asked shockingly.

"I'm back at the trailer in the Verdant Hills, and you did spike my champagne."

Hammond began roaring in laughter. Even Ellie, despite her shock, started laughing. They both pulled Grant to his feet and Hammond started patting Grant on the back, talking to him like a reassuring Grandparent, and walked away from them for a moment, a few meters forward, beholding his own creation. "No, Dr. Grant this is quite real, as real as both you and I. My dear Dr. Grant, and Dr. Sattler: Welcome to Wyvern Park!"

Dr. Grant, in tears, turned in the direction that Hammond walked. Past the forest, the view before him opened up into a vast luscious Green Valley, adjacent to where the Basarios was drinking at. But there were other creatures that surrounded the great beast like seagulls swimming around a whale. Blessed beasts that looked like glorified Ankylosaurus foraged around the dense vegetation and at the foot of the lake. Great flying reptiles, like pteranodons and pterodactyls, swarmed the air in great flocks.

Allan could not speak, tongue cemented to the roof of his mouth. All of Allan's life, from childhood until his professional career, he had been relentlessly mocked regarding his theories of wyverns, dragons, and other mythological creatures having been real, despite his reach and archaeological discoveries. But now, it seemed as if he had entered into some fantastical wonderland. "Hammond," Dr. Grant moaned, trying to regain his composure, "how did you do this?"

"I'll show you," Hammond said like a benevolent god. "But first. . ." he held a finger in the air. He walked past the couple back towards the H1 he had shared with Gennaro. "Gennaro, my good old boy," he said mockingly. "Now, about that drink."