Beep... beep...
Mills stared at the monitors on his desk. The GPS coordinates of the two vessels were slowly inching away from Isla Nublar.
His brow was furrowed, but he allowed himself a asured sigh of relief.
"Mr. Mills, a client is waiting for you," Iris's voice ca through the intercom, causing Mills to lean back and exhale.
"I'm on my way."
He replied shortly, standing up to don his blazer, smoothing it out to ensure he looked the part of a professional executive.
…
In the grand hall of the Lockwood Estate, a man of modest stature dressed in a sharp suit stood before a Concavenator taxidermy mount. He was looking down at his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen.
"Mr. Eversoll, a pleasure to finally et you in person. How have you been?"
The crisp click of leather soles echoed against the wooden floor as Mills strode toward the waiting Gunnar Eversoll, leading with practiced pleasantries.
"Where are the dinosaurs, exactly?"
Eversoll, however, had little interest in wasting ti on empty corporate small talk. He cut straight to the point.
"The dinosaurs... are currently in transit," Mills replied, his expression stiffening. He answered vaguely, unaware that his evasiveness was instantly grating on the man who had been waiting for hours.
"Oh. So you expect to auction off these stuffed specins instead?"
"There is no need for concern. They will be here shortly."
Seeing Eversoll's tone turn sharp, Mills was forced to offer a quick guarantee, but the auctioneer was not so easily mollified.
"I don't like doing business with amateurs. I'll notify the buyers imdiately; the eting is canceled."
Eversoll had no patience for Mills' shifting variables. He turned to walk away, reaching for his phone to instruct his subordinates to scrap the event.
"They arrive tomorrow. I won't let your buyers down," Mills said, his words coming out in a high-speed pitch to pull Eversoll back. "Believe , whether they want them for agriculture, industry, or sport, we can accommodate them."
Mills spoke with frantic conviction, trying to salvage the deal.
"We have dozens of species, each with unique biodical value. I estimate each animal could fetch four million."
His lack of vision caused Eversoll to pause, turning back with a look of sheer disbelief.
"Four million is pocket change for the people in our circle. You are wasting my ti."
"And a hundred million? Is a hundred million pocket change to you as well?"
Mills' remark actually elicited a dry chuckle from Eversoll. The leap from four million to a hundred million was so vast it seed absurd that a few words could bridge it.
"That's yesterday's news. I want to talk to you about the future."
Perhaps it was Mills' sheer persistence that caused a flicker of hesitation in Eversoll. The auctioneer finally decided to give him a chance.
"I'll give you ten minutes."
Mills felt a wave of relief wash over him, though he kept his face a mask of neutral professionalism. He gestured toward the elevator with a polite "This way," and led the man forward.
"The auction of the Nublar assets is primarily to raise capital for the future enterprise being developed here... think of it as seed funding."
"We're just testing the waters with this. There are far more ambitious goals ahead."
As they walked, Mills didn't miss a beat in laying out his vision. Anyone could see how critical these ten minutes were to him.
"Yes, I imagine there are even greater margins to be found," Eversoll conceded, his interest piqued.
Mills pressed the advantage. "We're going to restart all the original facilities, upgrade the tech... and we've already been recruiting a team of the world's top geneticists for a project that has been years in the making."
What project?
Aside from the two n, another figure in the hall was intensely interested in their conversation.
Maisie was crouched behind the pedestal of a fossilized hominid, her head peeking out just enough to watch Mills and Eversoll.
Ding~
The elevator doors opened, and the two n stepped inside. Mills was still talking a mile a minute as the doors slid shut, leaving Maisie more curious than ever.
Was it a girl's sixth sense? Ever since she had seen the subtle, shifty expressions on Mills' face during his phone call with Wheatley, Maisie had instinctively felt that sothing was wrong.
"Their potential for developnt is far beyond anything you can imagine."
With Mills' final words, the elevator engaged and began its slow descent into the sub-levels.
…
Inside the dim cargo hold of the ship, a rcenary walked the aisles, his flashlight beam sweeping over one container after another.
The dinosaurs were sedated and deathly quiet. It was precisely this silence that made the atmosphere feel skin-crawling.
Thud.
Suddenly, a container shuddered with the sound of an impact. The guard's heart hamred against his ribs; he snapped his flashlight toward the source.
Nothing. It was likely just a dinosaur shifting in its sleep.
The beam lingered on the steel box for a mont. Satisfied there was no breach, the guard turned away and continued his patrol.
"Phew..."
Owen and Franklin exhaled in unison. Ceratosaurus Two had just tilted its head to find a more comfortable sleeping position, a simple movent that nearly sent their hearts out of their chests.
Whirrr…
Claire gently pried open the container door from the outside. Though it made a faint noise, it wasn't enough to alert the patrol.
The three locked eyes and reached a silent consensus. Owen and Franklin slipped out of the container like shadows, moving without a sound.
Keeping in a tight line, they moved between the parked vehicles, heading toward the dical tent where they had seen Charlie being loaded.
Zia would likely be there too.
…
A massive wave crashed against the hull, causing the colossal vessel to shudder. On the deck walkway, a patrolling rcenary gripped the railing to steady himself and couldn't help but sneeze.
Drip...
Rainwater landed on his head with a faint patter.
"Raining? Just my luck..."
The guard wiped the moisture from his forehead. Once the ship steadied, he resud his patrol.
Maybe I should find a spot out of the rain to slack off for a bit...
Clack!
Shortly after the guard passed, a clawed hand hooked itself over the ship's gunwale.
…
"It's okay, it's okay. Just hang on a little longer."
Inside the tent, Zia was trying to soothe the restrained Charlie. Both her hands were stained a deep, visceral crimson. No matter how much the ship rocked, she refused to stop her efforts to stanch the bleeding.
"Aorrk..."
Charlie let out a weak sound, her breathing shallow and fast.
Suddenly, the tent flap was thrown open. Owen and the others hurried inside.
"Holy sh—! I thought you were ghosts!"
Zia, exhausted and high-strung, nearly scread, thinking she was hallucinating. Fortunately, Owen's quick shushing gesture brought her back to reality.
Turning his focus to Charlie, who was lying on the makeshift operating table, Owen found himself montarily speechless. He stepped forward slowly to begin comforting the raptor.
Feeling the weight of the situation montarily lift, Zia turned to Owen and asked urgently:
"Who the hell are these people?"
———————
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