Stephanie was exceedingly grateful that the ferry to Isla Nublar left directly from Santa Juanmaría Airport. Mostly because it meant she didn't have any access to her luggage in the short layover she had between the transfer in transportation. Had she been reunited with her suitcase, the temptation to change might have been too strong to resist. The heat in Central America was unbearable, and she was just about willing to kill for her favorite pair of cut offs and a tank top. But that would be unprofessional. If she was going to meet the head of the Masrani Corporation, the least she could do was look like the right woman for the job. This way, if she came to her senses and decided to decline employment, they could feel that much worse about themselves as a company.

She was already probably pushing it, she mused as she sat fanning herself inside the enclosed deck of the ferry. Her work blouse was nice, as were her dress pants, but they didn't exactly make up for the combat boots and leather jacket. She refused to get caught on an island of dinosaurs, where the difference between flats and heels was congruent with the difference between life and death. And as for the jacket...well, her parents had said it, hadn't they? She was a Malcom, and she was just too damn stubborn to take it off. Still, she watched the tourists around her with a twinge of jealousy—the men in ridiculously vibrant Hawaiian shirts, and girls in short sundresses. Not the most practical if it came down to running for their lives, but they probably felt a lot better than she did on the crowded boat.

The speakers around the ship blared to life, bringing a swell of music, and then the smooth, capitalist voice of the captain. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now approaching the famous Isla Nulbar, home to Jurassic World. We'll be getting our first look at the island any second now, so head out to the bow now, you'll be sure to get an amazing view. Parents, keep an eye on your children, and children, please keep an eye on your parents. Our Plesiosaurus Ferry will be docking in about twenty minutes."

Stephanie decided not to move from her seat at the bar while the crowds pushed for the doors. If they'd just made the announcement, the island was probably still a speck in the distance. It would be a while before there was anything worth seeing. She'd wait for the crowds to die down, everyone to stand outside until the sun beat them down and they gave in. Her finger pulled absentmindedly on the wrapper of her water bottle, and she looked down at the page of her father's book again.

"The island was beautiful, of course, as so many deadly things are. The lush green trees and colossal rock erupted from the mass of blue water, and every one of us felt relieved to see something that wasn't ocean after such a long time in the helicopter. An immediate form of Stockholm Syndrome—to be relieved in the presence of your captor in order to escape the monotony of your previous life. But the new captor would be so much worse than anything we could imagine. Death and teeth sat poised and ready, hidden under the beautiful canopy of trees and flowers that hadn't graced the plant for over sixty-five million years."

When Stephanie finally edged her way to the railing of the boat, she felt the rare thrill of seeing words on a page come to life. The island was just as her father had described it, unchanged by more than ten years of free-roaming dinosaurs, and barely altered in the last eight years of human development. From the ferry, the only thing she could see that was different was the boardwalk that had been erected along the coast of the island. It stretched out like some massive, prehistoric snake, curving around the inlets and jetties, teeming with bright colors of store fronts and tourists that only began to come into focus after another several minutes of watching. And when the ferry finally rounded the corner to the docks, she got her first in-person look at Jurassic World.

It honestly wasn't all that different from the picture on the brochure. There were about four times as many people, but he concept art for parks always made it seem like it wouldn't be that crowded. Brightly colored banners with dinosaur silhouettes waved against painfully blue skies, and an escalator lead from the end of the pathway towards the monorail. That would snake around over the park to the resort, presumably, and then make stops around the various attractions. She could just see the tip of the discovery lab over the tops of the trees, the same general shape the last one had been—to preserve "authenticity." She thought about the final showdown between the tyrannosaurus rex and the velociraptors that her father had written about, the one that had both scarred Dr. Sattler and Dr. Grant, and allowed them to escape. Suddenly, she felt the need to duck back inside the ferry.

Once the boat had docked, she was able to distract herself by battling her impulse to collect her luggage. Her suitcase was presumably stowed under the ship, and her bag had been similarly confiscated to save space on the public deck of the ship. The instructions the Masrani Corporation had sent her had been very clear—all she had to do was exit the vessel and meet the employee that had been sent to collect her. All of her belongings would be collected by staff and sent to her room to meet her whenever she retired for the day. It was all very boarding school, and she was having trouble swallowing the anxiety that her things might not have made the connection. But she'd been assured that the Jurassic staff was composed of only the most competent employees available. She would be well taken care of.

She lowered her dark sunglasses before she stepped out onto the gangplank, but still winced as the sun beat down on her. The stragglers of the crowd jostled her as they rushed down the plank, trying to catch up to their families or escape the fate of being caught behind slower pedestrians. She paused again, peering out over the crowd and trying to distinguish what direction she was even supposed to be headed in. Her hands wrung the strap of her purse, until her eyes finally landed on a small tablet whose screen was glaring in the sun. It tipped again, and a jumble of letters that resembled her name flashed over the screen. The woman holding the sign seemed to be looking for her in turn, and if her neat business suit was anything to go by, she was definitely one of the park employees. Her disturbingly neat red hair was aflame in the sunshine, making her easy to keep track up as Stephanie pushed her way through the mass of people milling around on the dock.

"Ms. Engel?" the woman asked as she approached, picking Stephanie right out of the crowd and marching toward her. She held out a hand, shaking her hand firmly with a thousand watt smile. "Hi, I'm Claire Dearing, Jurassic World's Park Operation Director and Manager. We're so glad you could make it."

"Uh, wow. Hi," Stephanie said tentatively, pushing her glasses onto her head even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She glanced down at Claire's flawless nails, and then the stilettos on her feet. She immediately released her hand, and curled her own uneven nails under her palms. "Sorry, I just...I wasn't expecting to be picked up by someone so, er...important."

Claire blinked for a moment, and Stephanie was sure that her next smile was just a little more genuine. "Well, Mr. Masrani wants to make sure that you're very well taken care of. He's very excited to finally be meeting you. There's a lunch organized in the board room at two o'clock, and I need to stop by the control room to check the progress on paddock seven's new security installation. That should only take a few minutes, if Lowery actually managed to issue the right protocols this time..." Stephanie knew she wasn't even being spoken to any more, but she waited patiently until the woman across from her was able to rearrange her thoughts into the correct order. "I'm sorry, we're on a bit of a tight schedule. Shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, Ms. Dearing strode off, much faster than Stephanie would have thought possible considering the height of her heels. She scurried for a moment to catch up, then lengthened her stride so she didn't have to struggle so much. "So, do you retrieve all the new employees off the boat, or just the ones who have parents who were almost eaten by your animals?"

The woman laughed lightly and shot her a tight smile. "No, I'm...not often asked to welcome guests. The odd celebrity, occasionally, but even our investors are usually brought to the control hub by our specialized assistants."

"Well, sorry I'm no Brad Pitt."

"We're happy to have you," Claire assured her shortly, pulling out her phone and beginning to tap away. "You've been highly recommended by your peers in the field, and your background makes you an ideal candidate for the job."

Stephanie pursed her lips at the careless phrase—her background—as if it had been her trapped on an island full of dinosaurs instead of her father and sister. But she held her tongue. She knew that coming to the island would mean facing truckloads of the kinds of people her father had been avoiding for the past twenty years, those who didn't understand what he'd gone through and wanted to capitalize on his experiences without a thought for his wellbeing. But as thoughtless and annoying as those people could be, she couldn't let them die from their mistakes. So she smiled.

"It's good to meet someone I'll be working with."

"We won't exactly be working together..."

"Well, of course, not really. Still, if I'm engineering the operations and you're...managing them, there's bound to be some overlap."

That made the other woman pause for a moment, and she looked up from her phone with the slightest bit of uncertainty. She swept it under another professional smile, but not before Stephanie had time to raise an eyebrow. "Actually, the...position Mr. Masrani is looking to fill isn't explicitly affiliated with the park. You won't be engineering display paddocks or attractions of any kind. More...security paddocks. If you accept the position, of course."

Her cell phone rang in her hand before she could explain any further. She excused herself with a slender finger and rushed into the call, still leading the way toward a company car that had the park's iconic tyrannosaurus silhouette painted onto the doors. Stephanie followed, trying her best to keep her nerves out of her walk. She had a feeling that Ms. Dearing wouldn't have told her any more than she had even if the phone hadn't gone off—either because she knew it was sensitive information, or because it was such sensitive information that she didn't actually know it. That made Stephanie uneasy. She'd only been on the island for maybe five minutes and there were already secrets being kept from her. But with the alternative being getting back onto the boat without her luggage and waiting an hour for the next departure, she didn't have much of a choice but to climb into the car and accompany Claire to the control hub.

The drive through the park was a lot less eventful than she was prepared for. Claire spent most of the time on her phone, arguing with some workers over the previously mentioned installments for paddock seven. Stephanie was left to stare out the window, but there wasn't much to see but thick foliage. They were taking back roads up to the control center, steering clear of any attractions that might have caught her attention. She'd almost given up hope of seeing anything, until they pulled out onto the side of a hill and the trees parted to give her a peak at the valley below.

She knew that it was going to be gorgeous. It had to be, for the amount of money the company had spent on it. But even in the stories she'd heard from her father, from Sarah, from Dr. Grant—the valley always seemed to be the part of the park that put people at ease. Just for a moment, even the smartest realists had to put a hold on their cynicism, and consider the fact that an amusement park full of dinosaurs might not be the worst idea after all. The sun beat down on the tall grass, reflected off the ripples in giant, clear lakes, and warmed the backs of the brachiosauruses as they lumbered along the edge of the tree line. She could see a flock of gallimimus racing around the other end of the field, jumping over fallen trees and darting around the huge, barely moving forms of triceratops napping in the afternoon. Against her will, her breath caught in her chest. It was held back by the growing sense of wonder, the awe she knew John Hammond had been trying to get everyone to feel. How could her parents want her to stay away from a sight like this? How could she have wanted to deprive others of this experience?

Just as the smile began stretching over her face, the sun glinted off something else racing across the field. It was essentially a giant hamster ball, rolling through the grass with two specks of passengers inside. The Gyrospheres, she remembered from the brochure, allowing patrons to get up close and personal with the creatures of the valley. She watched the pod approach a triceratops, coming dangerously close to running over its tail. The creature lifted its head, jaw opening in what Stephanie could only assume was a cry of protest, but didn't get up to chase the sphere away. She was probably used to being bombarded by tourists. That was her life.

Stephanie crossed her arms as the branch of a tree whipped the valley out of sight, and they receded back into the shadows of the jungle canopy. It wasn't just unsafe for the tourists. It was unfair to the animals the park had created.

Claire finally pulled their car off the road and through the doors of a large parking garage, every space filled with a clone vehicle identical to theirs. The blue and silver Jurassic World logo stared at her from all directions, plastered on both sides of every car, the same exact tyrannosaurus silhouette that had been used when her father first came to the island. She wondered briefly why they hadn't bothered changing it. After all the bad press and controversial discussions about Hammond's park, she would have thought the new park would be intent of differentiating themselves from its predecessor. Apparently, hiring a graphic designer for a new logo was not one of the precautions they were taking.

The two walked down the length of the garage, pausing for only a moment as Claire flashed her security badge at the scanner on the wall. The heavy looking doors in front of them slid apart with ease, and Stephanie was a bit surprised to find a normal office hall behind them. Besides the frames pictures of dinosaurs on the walls, and the occasional mention of a scientific name she could heard thrown around in conversations they passed, the place was completely ordinary. People were dressed in normal business clothes, popping in and out of poorly lit offices, coffee in hand as they discussed sales reps and filming new advertisements for television spots. Maybe it was because the park had always been such a sore subject for her family, something taboo, but some part of her had expected it to be a little more...sinister wasn't exactly the word, but glamorous wasn't quite it either. Perhaps dramatic.

She was also somewhat surprised to find that no one was sparing her a second glance. She felt both relieved and disappointed in a peculiar way. Some quiet, maybe vain part of her had wondered whether or not Masrani had been broadcasting that he'd finally hired the daughter of Ian Malcom, famous survivor of Jurassic Park and the man responsible for revealing Hammond's creations to the world. Stephanie had been worried she would be bombarded by excited employees who wanted to hear about her father's story. She was glad to escape the attention, obviously, but there was still that inexplicable grain of sadness that always accompanies situations where people are reminded they are not quite as important as they think they are.

"I'm sorry about glamour-less entrance," Claire apologized as Stephanie followed her into an elevator. "Mr. Masrani originally wanted you to enter with the rest of the patrons, experience the park and the discovery center before he got to meet you. Unfortunately, he has a very important meeting with one of his subcompanies later this afternoon, so we had to adjust the time table."

"Oh, that's fine," Stephanie said, glancing through the glass wall at her back as the elevator shot upwards."

"He should be meeting you in about twenty minutes. I'll try and keep this meeting short, but ACU is notoriously stubborn. That's—..."

"Asset Containment Unit, yeah," she replied. Her voice was noticeably stiffer as she glanced at the other woman, then to the elevator doors. "And that's good. They should be. They're the only ones standing between these things and the patrons."

"And several layers of highly sophisticated security technology, fences and concrete, Miss Engel."

"I'm just saying. Didn't stop them last time."

Claire's lips pressed into a thin smile, and quickly dropped the subject. Stephanie was new, a low man on the totem poll, but she was also a fairly respected low man on the totem poll apparently. She imagined Mr. Masrani wouldn't be too pleased with her or his other employees if she began her this-is-a-terrible-idea crusade barely twenty minutes after her arrival.

"Miss Engel, welcome to the control room."

Ah. Now this is more like it.

The control room certain had the flare that the lower levels of the building were missing. This was the dark room with high tech blue screens that lit all of the employees with an eerie cyan glow. This was the room that belonged at the head of the most controversial amusement park in modern existence, with workers that looked like they never saw the sun and needed to wipe their memories at the end of work every day so they couldn't leak the company's secrets. This is where all the drama was.

"Mr. Cruthers," Claire called, striding confidently to the center of the room. It was the equivalent of a captain at the wheel of her ship, in complete and total control over the chaos around her. "Please tell me that ACU is here for our consultation and that the installation is going smoothly."

The man to her left looked up, fixing his glasses and slouching back in his seat as he twirled to face her. "ACU is here for your consultation and the installation is going smoothly...mostly..."

"What did you do?"

"I may have...made a slight...error..."

"Of course. And how much is your 'slight error' going to set us back?"

"...Like...a week...?"

"Lowery!"

"I know! I'm sorry! I suck! I am the King of Suckage. But in my defense it was a super tiny thing, and I already got yelled at by ACU and they're fixing it so...we're cool."

"He's right," the woman sitting on Claire's other side said sympathetically. "It was a pretty brutal lecture."

Claire rolled her eyes, with the air that this was something that had happened several times before. "Lowery, I mean it. The next time something like this happens…"

"Absolutely. You're right. Off with his head. Who are you?"

Stephanie pulled her eyes away from the large screen on the opposite wall, which was currently showing a breakdown of the approximate number of park goers occupying each attraction. It was a lot of people.

"This is Stephanie Engel," Claire offered, gesturing to her with that professional smile once more. "One of the top engineers in her field. Miss Engel, this is Vivian Krill and Lowery Cruthers, senior employees in charge of communications and incident control."

She was about to give her obligatory "nice to meet you" when Lowery nearly dropped his soda. "Woah, wait. Hold on. What? You're Stephanie Engel?"

"Uh, yeah. That's me."

"Stephanie Engel like the daughter of Ian Malcom?" She pursed her lips and tipped her head in consent, and Lowery's jaw promptly dropped. "Oh my God that's—that's awesome. That's incredible. I—I'm almost done with your dad's book. Everyone gets a copy when we get hired—well, I mean I guess you wont since you live with the guy, but we're all like mandated by law to read it."

"They are not mandated by anything," Claire sighed, pulling out her phone again. "It's a complimentary gift for all employees."

"Well, yeah that's what they tell you. But there's a bonus if you read the book, so it's pretty plain workplace discrimination. We've all read it."

"Wow. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or…really creeped out."

Lowery grinned, snatching the book off his desk and flashing the familiar picture of her father at her. "I just got to the part where he talks about the parent T-Rexes and that whole thing in the trailer. I mean, that is just—that's insane. That's epic."

"Not if you ask my sister."

The sentence rang through the air like a gunshot. Each pair of eyes that watched her had widened, and suddenly darted away. Lowery opened and closed his mouth for several seconds before quickly shoving the book back onto his desk, hiding it under several handfuls of important-looking documents.

"Yeah, no that's—you're so right—terrible, I just…sorry…"

"Well, I have a meeting to get to," Claire said, her voice just slightly too bright. "Stephanie, I am so sorry—both on behalf of Mr. Cruthers, and for the confusion. This meeting is bound to run long, so I'll my assistant to come escort you to the boardroom. Vivian, do you know where Zara—…?"

"Already waiting for you in the Sommer Room."

"Great. Miss Engel, I will no doubt see you later, and Vivian, please try and keep Cruthers from talking." She stalked off after giving Lowery a sharp but still somewhat amused look, leaving Stephanie to the care of her employees.

"So," Vivian began with a kind smile, "are you here for like a trip, or are you joining the team?"

"Or are you here to shut us down?" Lowery asked. "I know I'm not great at it, but I really like my job."

"I'm not here to shut it down. I think this whole thing is ridiculous, don't get me wrong, but I'm not sure if it can be shut down. Not until things go horribly wrong. People are stubborn that way."

Lowery gave her an odd look. "You're not gonna like, start working here so you can sabotage us from the inside, right? Infiltrate the base and tip the scales to get the disaster over with and close the park?"

"I'm not willing to sacrifice people to get rid of the park," Stephanie said, giving him a steely look. "I think that eventually, yeah, someone's going to die and for a couple months the world will remember that this was a terrible idea. But I'm here because I'm trying to make sure it doesn't happen any time soon."

"I think that's really great that you want to protect people," Vivian said firmly, before Lowery could open his mouth again. "Do you know where you're working yet?"

"No, not really. Dearing said it wouldn't be park affiliated, but I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

"Fringe project," Lowery said knowingly, though Stephanie doubted he knew anything at all. "Yo, maybe you're here to build a robot dinosaur. Robosaurus Rex. They've been talking about getting a new attraction."

"We suggested pygmy dinos," Vivian said. "Wouldn't that be so cute? And so much easier to take care of."

"Which reminds me!" There was a rustle as Lowery began rummaging through his bag, pulling out several handfuls of junk before reaching the plastic package he was looking for. He ripped it open with his teeth, and several small figurines fell into his hand. It wasn't until he started arranging them on his desk that Stephanie realized they were brightly colored plastic dinosaurs, the kind she'd played with when she was maybe four. "Welcome to the team, little dudes."

"Lowery, you know Claire's not gonna like that."

"Claire's not gonna be happy until the Neimongosaurus is speaking English and attending board meetings. She can handle these guys. Besides, they brighten the place up. It's always so doom and gloom in here. Look how happy they are!" He held one of the toys up to Vivian's face, pushing it at Stephanie when he didn't get a reaction. "See? Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

Lowery pouted at her, turning back to his mini-diorama. "You're grumpy."

"And you're a child."

"Miss Engel?" A very petite woman was striding toward the group, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. "I'm Zara, Ms. Dearing's personal assistant. I'm meant to take you to the boardroom for your meeting."

"Right. Well, Vivian, Lowery, nice meeting you."

"You too! Good luck!"

"Yeah, don't get eaten by Robotic-omimus."

Stephanie cocked an eyebrow, and Lowery hid his face before he caught her smirk. Then she turned on the heel of her boot and followed the assistant from the room.

It was a quiet walk down a very long hall. Much like Claire, Zara seemed to be absorbed in her phone. It didn't hinder her ability to dodge other people in the hallway, or turn when she needed to, which Stephanie quietly thought was rather impressive. She remembered for a moment that she was supposed to have called her parents when her plane landed, and when she got off the ferry. The thought was quickly chased out of her head when they arrived at the double doors of the board room. She noted dryly that the space over the door frame was decorated with another engraving of a tyrannosaurus skeleton, just like the one that had been placed over the doors of the original discovery center. Cute.

"Mr. Masrani's helicopter is due to land in about ten minutes time. He'll be with you promptly. Please make yourself comfortable, and don't hesitate to call should you need anything." Zara handed her a pristine business card, and was halfway down the hall before Stephanie had finished reading it.

The room inside was nothing out of the ordinary. A long table, high-backed chairs, a few tropical ferns to distract people in meetings that dragged on for hours. Stephanie wandered over to the opposite wall, a solid barrier of glass between her and the outside world. She could still see a peek of the blue ocean water over the trees, which rustled in the breeze. She'd be the first to admit that it was beautiful. If she was going to bite the bullet, it wasn't a bad last sight to see.

It was closer to twenty minutes before the boardroom doors opened again, thrown open by a tall Indian man in a bright green button down. "Ah, Stephanie! I apologize for the delay. I'll have to get my own pilot license one of these days. These so-called professionals are far too slow for my liking."

"It's not a problem. Mr. Masrani, I presume?"

"Oh, Simon, please. I feel as though I know you better than that. It's a pleasure, Miss Engel." He shook her hand enthusiastically, hardly looking away from her when he called back to the man who had followed him into the room. "Andrew, go tell Monsieur Sauveterre that we are ready for lunch. We'll be eating out on the balcony. I hope you don't mind. This room is always so stuffy. Too many businessmen. Better to enjoy the beautiful sun."

Stephanie held her groan in with a polite smile. There was nothing she wanted less than to go outside at that moment. The boardroom may have been stiff and formal, but at least it was air conditioned. Nevertheless, she followed Mr. Masrani out to the balcony, where a small table had been set up for them. She took the seat across from him, completely motionless as he leaned forward on his elbows to scrutinize her.

"So, Miss Engel. Tell me about yourself."

She poured a glass of water, something she was thankful had already been provided in a pitcher. Only after several sips and seconds did she match his gaze again. "I'm not really someone who likes to beat around the bush."

He watched her for a moment before chuckling and leaning back in his chair. "Straight to business then. I appreciate that."

"I know you've had people researching me before this. You probably know more about me than I could cover over lunch anyway. So what would you really like to know, Mr. Masrani?"

"Simon," he repeated, with a somewhat scolding look. "Nothing that would surprise you. I'd like to know why you're here."

"I'm here to design an extra layer of security between the park patrons and your frankly lethal attractions. That is the job description, isn't it?"

"But why now? Last time my company offered you a position, you declined. Quite energetically, if I remember correctly."

"Simon, I'm very sorry about..."

"No, no. There's no need to apologize," he said, waving her off as he poured his own drink. "You're a spirited girl. It's part of the reason I wanted to hire you in the first place. And while Mr. Withers might not have appreciated your right hook at the time, it made him very popular in his office when the staff found out."

Stephanie pressed her lips into a tight smile. "He was persistent. And I had already declined several times."

"Which is why it is so curious to me that you are here now. What's changed your mind?"

Stephanie's gaze dropped to the tablecloth. Her fingers idly traced a pattern on the side of her glass, which was already dripping with sweat in the hot afternoon sun. Masrani didn't rush her, but he watched her closely as her nails tapped on the table. It was impossible to tell whether she was nervous or simply lost in thought.

"The petting zoo," she said finally.

Masrani laughed. "The zoo? I assure you, Miss Engel, you'd get a much better experience just buying a ticket." He expected her to smile for some reason, but she didn't.

"No, not to see it. There was an incident a while back. One of the triceratops infants managed to escape its paddock. I don't know how anyone missed it, but it managed to make it all the way to the nearest concession area. Knocked over a few picnic tables, snapped at a few kids, but no one got seriously hurt. Just a couple of bruises and sprains."

"Yes. Yes, I remember that. But that must have been several years ago, by now."

"I know it doesn't sound like it makes much sense," she allowed, shaking her head at the table's centerpiece of greens. "But it's been...eating at me, I guess. When they covered it on the news—it was like it was nothing. It was a fluff piece about the smart baby dinosaur, as if a lemur had broken out of the city zoo. That's how harmless they wanted it to seem, or worse, that's how harmless they thought it was. Either way, that was went I started to realize that it didn't really matter if the park was a bad idea or not. It was already there, it's already here, and when there was a security breach people hardly batted an eye. So I started thinking, what if it wasn't a baby next time? What if it wasn't a herbivore? What if it killed someone? And... I don't know. I guess I started wondering what I'd feel like when that finally happened, and I'd refused to try and help because I didn't want the park to exist in the first place. All the what-ifs would kill me. So, I guess I'm here cause I'm being more realistic. The public isn't going to come to its senses and shut the park down because of potential danger. And I'm not comfortable letting the idiots run into the jaws of death without at least trying to put a barrier between them...literally..."

"That's very noble," Mr. Masrani said after a long pause.

Stephanie snorted slurping her water with a much less somber air. "No, it's not. Noble would be me taking the job because I want people to live their dream before the park has to close. I just don't want to live with the guilt."

"Loosely compassionate, then." He winked, and was instantly distracted by the arrival of several men carrying their food. "Ah, lunch! At last. Thank you, gentlemen. What is it, Miss Engel?"

Stephanie was smirking down at her plate, which had a delicious looking slice of salmon atop a pile of greens and vegetables. "Sorry. I guess I was expecting soup in a bowl that looked like a Dryptosaurus egg. Stegosaurus ribs, something like that."

The man laughed heartily, grabbing a roll from the basket and wagging a finger at her. "That's clever! I love it. Specialty editions to our resort dining menu. Perhaps I should have you working in hospitality instead of engineering."

"You still haven't mentioned what exactly I will be building. Miss Dearing mentioned that it wasn't technically park affiliated. I'm not entirely certain what else that would leave."

A brief look amid apprehension crossed over his face, but she did not comment. She simply raised an eyebrow as he cleared his throat and laughed again. "Of course, that's what this luncheon is meant to be about. But if you don't mind, I'd like to eat a bit first. I have yet another stock meeting this evening, and while I can certainly direct someone to fill in the details of your employment, I'm afraid I can't do the same for my stomach. Shall we?"

Technically it'd been a question. But the excessive attention Masrani was directing toward his meal said otherwise. Still, Stephanie decided not to raise the red flag. She simply tucked iron her back pocket to remember later in their conversation.

She endured several minutes of small talk, everything she'd been hoping to skip at the beginning of the meal. Yes, she grew up with her mother. When she was young they had a dog named Rex. She played soccer and sang in choir and joined mathletes. She'd been accepted to university with a hefty scholarship, despite having plenty of money. She studied for degrees in structural and later mechanical engineering. She'd begun working with an architecture professor who'd gotten her a job, and then...

"Yes, yes," Masrani interrupted, waving her story away. "I'm well aware of your outstanding resume. I'm not interested in hearing about the other buildings you've designed and so on. Tell me about your paleontology degree."

"My minor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "It doesn't amount to much in the field. Mostly I just applied for it because I could. It was just a bunch of classes I took so I could keep up with talk around the dinner table. Every time I visited Dad I was either listening to his stories or talking to Sarah, even visiting Aubrey and Tim. And even if I was at home, my mother's good friends with Dr. Sattler. Everyone in my life was talking about discoveries, about the park. I wanted to understand them."

Mr. Masrani leaned forward, brandishing a finger again. "See, now that is why I want to hire you, Miss Engel."

"Because I'm a legacy child?" she asked dryly.

"Curiosity! A desire to understand—something that's far rarer in our world than you might think."

"You realize I meant understand conversations, right? I'm not revving to get inside a dino brain. In fact, I'm not planning on being anywhere near one."

"Ah, but caution doesn't negate curiosity."

There was something in his tone that pricked at her, something that was pretending to be wise experience. Stephanie narrowed her eyes. "I still have the same conditions I did when we last spoke, Mr. Masrani. I'm not prepared to accept long term accommodation on Isla Nublar. I won't be any closer to these creatures than I have to be."

"Of course, of course, Miss Engel. I'm fully prepared to provide for housing wherever you see fit. I didn't intend to suggest otherwise."

"And what exactly did you intend to suggest?"

"Merely that you have a very interesting mind. Exactly the kind I'm looking for. I appreciate your caution. Need it, even. That's the problem with creating a park meant to instill wonder in its guests, you see. It's all too easy for the staff to get caught up as well. Businessmen are focused on what the public wants, scientists focused on the possibilities they could create, and everyone amazed that this park is a reality. There need to be people who see these animals as a threat, unquestionably. I need people who think the worst of them, to ensure that the worst of them never comes to light."

"That might be the most sensible thing you've said all afternoon, Simon."

"I'm not unreasonable, Miss Engel. I prefer to think the best of people, and the best of my creatures. But that doesn't mean your point of view doesn't have its merits and advantages. Preparing for the worst is the best way to keep the park open."

"Except you don't want me to work for the park," Stephanie said coolly, and pushed the remnants of her food away. "So what exactly are you asking me to do?"

Masrani rested his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. "One of my companies is developing a research program to...observe some of the animals. They'll be studied from birth, and they'll need their paddocks to be redeveloped as they grow, to accommodate their size and the researchers needs and security. Most of the employees are to be picked by the team they're forming, but I've insisted on personally choosing key personnel. I want to make sure this project is done right."

"Okay. Is this a behavioral study of several species, historical consideration of one? I hate to tell you, but I doubt your animals are pure enough for their behavior to hold much ground in the scientific community. Jurassic World's altered so much in the name of capitalism that I doubt they can be considered real."

"Which is why it's imperative we do our own research. We cannot rely on the studies of bones and guesswork when the creatures we have here are so alive and unique. We must learn about them for ourselves."

"What is it you're planning on learning?"

"Oh simple things, simple. Monitoring their social behaviors, assessing their intelligence, gauging the possibility of emotional response and so on. I want to make sure that we take care of them in optimal conditions."

"Yes, but learn about—...?"

"Of course, the facility won't be open to the public, mind you. No, the paddock will be removed from the park for security. Also, of course, for ideal testing conditions. If we're to observe the animals in their natural environment, we can't have our tourists knocking on the glass. Testing responses to stimuli is much further down the line, I imagine, not for several years at the very—..."

"Mr. Masrani." Stephanie's voice was hard as she stared at the man across from her, her gaze as strong as her stomach was unsteady. "What sort of creatures are you looking to study?"

The man reluctantly closed his mouth. It was only after several seconds that he responded, in a would-be-casual tone, "Velociraptors, Miss Engel."

Stephanie blinked.

"Miss Engel, I know that—..."

"No." Stephanie pushed her chair away from the table, rising to her feet. "No, absolutely not."

"Stephanie, please..."

"You people don't learn, do you? You know how to contain them a little more, fine. Maybe no one's died yet, but you don't understand why you can't do this in the first place! You know how many times I've heard horror stories about this park? About raptors? And you're trying to domesticate them. You don't get it."

"You're right. We don't understand them. But we're trying to. We know these creatures are intelligent, that they have a social order. We simply want to assess how far that..."

"No. No, these animals, these things are not anything. They cannot be anything because right now, they don't exist. You don't have them here. You're not trying to understand something that's already part of your world. You're having people design a ferocious, killing monster because you want a new play toy."

If Masrani was offended, he didn't voice it. He sat quietly at the table, not even watching as Stephanie paced the balcony. Clearly this had been the cause of his hesitation. He'd been prepared for her outburst, her outrage. It only made her more upset. He'd known how much she would oppose, but he'd still go through with it. He'd still asked her to help.

"This is a nightmare," she laughed, hands clasped under her chin. "This is—This is hell. You can't do this."

"Not to sound terribly cliche, Miss Engel, but we already have." She glared at him, and he pushed himself from his chair, wandering over to her with a respectively cautious pace. "You told me you came to this park to help, yes?"

"To stop ignorant tourists from being eaten, not breed raptors."

"So if that person who dies is a scientist, with a spouse, little ones at home. That is alright with you?" She didn't reply. Masrani walked past her with a knowing look, and leaned his elbows on the balcony, looking out over the trees. "The way I see it, Miss Engel, your position hasn't changed. This program will continue, with or without your assistance. InGen begins its meetings in just a few weeks."

"InGen?" She snorted and leaned on the wall next to him. "Typical."

"I'm aware of your family's history with the company," he granted with a small nod. "It's part of the reason I wanted you for the position. Someone needs to ensure that whatever it is they are doing, it is done right. By the book, and with appropriate safety precautions. I believe if there is someone inventive enough to keep these creatures contained, it's you Miss Engel."

"You don't trust them," Stephanie observed, casting him a sideward look.

"I trust them as much as any man trusts his employees. InGen is one of many companies, and it's not always easy to maintain control. The man they're putting in charge—I don't know him personally. He's ex-military. Good with guns, commands, but most likely not animals. I doubt he understands the severity of the situation."

"Do you?"

The man turned to look at her once more, standing tall and straightening his shirt cuffs. "I have another meeting I need to attend. It's a shame to waste so much time inside arguing about legal proceedings on a beautiful day like this."

"Especially when the alternative is being outside and arguing with me."

Masrani chuckled. "I hope you'll consider the position, Stephanie. And if not, try to enjoy the park for a while. See if you can't find the joy that's kept us in operation all these years."

Stephanie chose not to respond, simply pursing her lips. She followed him back inside, abandoning the food to be collected by some unfortunate employee later on. The air conditioning inside was an instant and incredible relief. Her temper ebbed just the slightest without the sun beating down on her leather jacket. It wasn't enough to make her reconsider working with raptors for a living, but it was something.

"Mr. Masrani, Miss Engel, I trust lunch went well." Claire had suddenly appeared in the boardroom, professional smile ablaze as she waited by the door to the hall.

"Miss Dearing. Incredibly on time, as always," Masrani greeted with a nod.

"Well your next meeting is in about..."

"Oh no, there's no need to walk me to my meeting, Claire. I'm sure I can find my way to my own conference room. Why don't you take the afternoon off? Show Miss Engel around the park, see the sights, the sun."

"Oh." Claire's face went paler than Stephanie originally believed it could. "That's—That's a very kind offer, Mr. Masrani, but..."

"Nonsense! No one knows this park better than you. Enjoy yourselves. Miss Engel, you know where to reach me, should you change your mind."

The billionaire was gone before either woman could voice a complaint, concern, or goodbye. Alone in the boardroom, Stephanie could see the subtle way Claire rolled her shoulders so they stopped shaking, and how her hands briefly clenched at her sides. Nevertheless, her smile was the epitome of grace when she looked over, and there was even a light laugh. "Well, what a nice surprise! Um... It's probably best for us to migrate through the park from the shore towards the resort. Some of the feeding shows might have to wait for another day, though of course I could pull some strings if Vivian prints me a schedule. I can have a car..."

"Claire, it's okay. I'm sure you have about two hundred very important jobs to take care of. You don't need to add tour guide to the list."

"Oh! Oh no, no, it's no problem at all. I'll just ask Zara to reschedule some of my business calls and..."

"Claire," Stephanie said firmly, making the redhead pause. "I don't need you to give me a tour of the park. I do not want a tour of the park. Right now, all I want is to go to my hotel room, order some room service, and crash. If that's alright with you."

She hesitated, two sides of the professional coin spinning in the air—keep the guests happy or follow the direct order of her superior? After a few seconds nearly short-circuiting, she conceded. "Of course. Would you like me to escort you or...?"

"I can walk. Honestly, Claire. I can take care of myself. You have an important job. I understand."

The woman smiled, a genuine expression this time rather than the billboard grin from before. "Well...thank you, Stephanie. And of course, if you do need anything, you can contact me personally and I'll be sure to make the arrangements. The hotel staff should be leaving a folder of relevant paperwork and information in your room, but if you have any trouble finding it, this is my card." Much like Zara had earlier, Claire pulled the stiff square of paper out of thin air and handed it to Stephanie. "I hope you'll accept Mr. Masrani's offer. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Captain," Stephanie dismissed with a small salute.

"Good afternoon, Miss Engel," Claire said with a smirk, and then excused herself back into the hall.

Stephanie let out a small breath of relief. Finally alone again. She could feel the pressure sliding from her shoulders, and she allowed herself to drop the poor air of professionalism she'd been struggling to maintain. She knew her words were bound to get her in trouble eventually, but for the moment, her comments seemed to be appreciated. Masrani had as told her that was snark about the dinosaurs was why he'd hired her. If she chose to accept the position, of course.

She could feel the opposing arguments preparing for battle on either side of her brain, the future migraine already forming in the middle. She quickly did her best to brush it away. It was going to be a long night of debating pros and deathly cons in her room. The fight was not allowed to begin until she'd read up on her options and felt properly informed. And probably had a very stiff drink.

One of the security guards loaned her his security pass for half a second to send the elevator down to the main floor, which connected to the public level. Stephanie somehow managed to be surprised at the number of people she saw when she exited and rounded the corner. For a few minutes, caught up in debates of morality and business, she'd forgotten that Jurassic World was actually an amusement park mobbed with people. At the moment, she was in the heart of the show laboratory. Children pressed their faces against the glass, looking at warming beds filled with eggs and gawking at the goggle-wearing scientists taking notes on them. It looked exactly like her father had described.

Normally, Stephanie might have paused to peer through the glass, to really get a look at the company she was dealing with. But she was too angry. She was furious with these strangers for creating more killing machines for the sake of doing so. The raptor eggs were probably on display at that very moment. She couldn't stand it. So she pushed her way through the crowd, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary, and headed outside through the main hall of the discovery center.

The sunshine was just as relentless as it had been on the ferry, the heat even worse. Thankfully though, a sea breeze had picked up, making the humid air just bearable. She stuck to her plan to walk to the resort for a total of ten minutes. When she tripped over her third child and was bumped in the shoulder by a tourist in a hurry for the seventh time, she gave up. She was too tired for this. So she headed to the nearest monorail station, and made it to the hotel in about twenty minutes.

Apparently, the staff of the Hilton had been informed she was coming. The receptionist merely handed her a key card with another commercial smile, informing her that she'd already been logged into the system and could head up to her suite. Her bags and information packets would be waiting for her, and if she had any questions she shouldn't hesitate to phone down to the front desk. Apparently, the list of numbers for her to call needed to be longer than it already was.

The room was admittedly incredible. It was obviously part of the bribe for her to take the job. Stephanie could only imagine just how many celebrities had stayed in the same room, completely comfortable in the luxurious space. It was essentially its own small apartment. A living space with sleek couches and a television that must have been wider than the span of her entire body, a kitchen that would most likely make a decent set for any home cooking show, a full bathroom, a wall-to-wall window that looked out over the park, a walk in closet. She wondered briefly if they were letting her keep this room as accommodation when she returned to the island for meetings, or if this was just the hook. She had to assume it was the latter. She'd be kicked out by a visit from Johnny Depp eventually.

Stephanie walked into the bedroom, nearly fainting in relief when she saw her luggage waiting for her. She could have kissed her suitcase. Instead, she tore it apart, shedding the awkwardly mismatched work clothes for a large T-shirt. The leather jacket was hung ceremoniously on a hanger, the only article she had the attention span to take care of at the moment. Then she pulled her hair up into a knot on her head, slipped on her glasses, and turned her attention to the three or four thick folders that were sitting on the end of her bed. She dive bombed onto the mattress, humming in appreciation as she momentarily laid still on the soft sheets. It was several minutes before she found the will to move again, and she had to drag her body to an upright position, her back propped up against the pillows and the headboard.

She pulled the small box toward her first and dumped the contents onto the blanket: a temporary ID badge, her special park pass, a map of the park, a complimentary Jurassic World lanyard, and so on. Nothing that could immediately distract her from work anyway. And so she grabbed the first folder of papers, flipped to the first page, and began to read. The packet covered all of the research the park staff had completed before the death of the previous inhabiting raptors. As many family memories as the words brought up, she had to admit that it was interesting. However, the research slowly bled into legal paperwork for the new project—the terms and conditions and justifications against moral objections and compromises and emergency procedures and so on. It was dry stuff, but she read it carefully, scouring for loopholes or faults that might allow InGen a little too much leeway.

Stephanie read until her eyes felt like they might bleed. The summer sun was still above the horizon, but it had already marred the blue sky with smears of purple and orange. She squinted down at the next sentence and tried her best to concentrate. She understood the words "in the event of" and a little farther down "loss of life," but the words between were starting to become too muddled to comprehend. After trying for several more minutes, she groaned, shoving the folder away from her and collapsing sideways on the bed.

It was already seven o'clock. Stephanie pulled the hotel-focused folder toward her, grabbing the phone on the bedside table and plugging in a number from the directory.

"Jurassic Room Service! This is Marlene speaking. How can I help you today?"

"Hi, my name is Stephanie Engel, I'm in the Spinosaurus Special Suite? I was hoping I could..."

"Oh! Hi, Miss Engel! Your dinner should already be on its way up."

"Sorry...?"

"Mr. Masrani put in the order the afternoon with instructions to send it up to you around seven. If it's not there in five minutes, you can certainly ring down again."

"I...okay...?"

"Great! And remember to have a Tyranno-terrific day!"

Stephanie stared at the phone in her hand, but hardly had time to ponder the overly-cheery farewell before there was a knock on the door. She huffed, rolling out of bed and marching to the front door. It opened a little more violently than she intended, and the poor boy on the other side jumped in surprise.

"Uh—r-room service? Oh, um...I can come back...?"

Stephanie glanced down at her oversized t-shirt and shrugged, dragging the tray into her room. "Eh, I'm sure you've seen worse. Or you will. Just stay for a sec though? If this is a goddamn lobster, I'm sending you right back downstairs."

Thankfully, the platter did not contain a lobster. It did, however, have a very large, very delicious looking grilled cheese, with bacon peeking out under the toast. A toothpick with a T-Rex head held it together, and under a separate lid was a bowl of tomato soup—the container painted to look like a dinosaur egg. A small card was propped up in a special holder, which she quickly snatched up.

"To more creative ideas in the future. Simon Masrani."

Stephanie wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or flip the trolley. "You're a smooth son of a bitch, Simon. I will give you that. Very smooth."

"Uh, there's also a bottle and some ice on the bottom?" the boy added. "I think it's like whiskey or something."

She pounced on the bottom rack, ripping away the decorative cloth to pull out the shiny amber bottle. Stephanie let out a low whistle. "Pappy Van Winkle. Well. Spare no expense."

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, I'm good. Just hold on a sec." She jogged out of the room, fishing her wallet out of her purse and pulling a few bills from it. It was going to be a considerate tip since she'd scared him, until she caught him eying her legs when she walked back out of her room. She held up the money, and narrowed her eyes before cutting the pile in half. "Don't gawk. It's rude. I'll leave the cart outside. Thanks, kid."

He left grumpy at best, though with a twinge of sheepishness that made her heart swell. She didn't want to think she could be bribed, but between the room, the food, the alcohol, and the power trip of shutting someone down, she was feeling pretty good. It helped that the food was to die for—not literally of course—and the whiskey, while a little high end for her taste, went down smooth.

She poured another glass when she'd finished her food and sat on her couch with the remaining folders. These were the ones that probably should have gone first. They covered the park's history, a brief report of incidents in the past, and of course, the specific responsibilities and benefits that would come with her job. Attend monthly meetings at InGen headquarters on the mainland of Puerto Rico, with supplemental meetings at the research location scheduled on an as needed basis. Thoroughly read and file update reports on "the assets," as the contract called them, and remain up to date on park developments. Design, repeatedly where necessary, both habitat and study conscious paddocks for the creatures, taking into account the most recent knowledge of their size, behavior, and intelligence, and any other precautions that appeared immediately vital. Maintain positive relations with developer and supply companies involved in the construction process and, when deemed necessary, be present for builds and development of paddocks. Employment focus may change when the assets' accelerated growth rate tapered, and requests for assistance on other projects may be issued. Regardless of her age or employment history, she was to be regarded as a senior employee and to be included in any discussions of research focus, structural issues, staff employment and relocation. A design team would only be organized on her own terms, and would be involved to the extent that she was comfortable. Jurassic World and the Masrani Corporation would cover expenses for all travel arrangements, housing accommodations both during meeting periods and for general living, and any dining or entertainment she took part in while in residence at Isla Nublar.

She swirled the remaining liquid in her glass, staring down at the blank space over her typeface name. The job was much more dangerous than she'd anticipated. With a park affiliated job, she probably could have spent all her time holed up in an apartment Masrani was paying for. Research had her reporting regularly to check on the researchers' progress, to see "the assets" first hand to consider while she designed their ever changing environment. And then there were "the assets" themselves. She'd been prepared to work for hulking herbivores, maybe a few of the carnivores. Hell, even with the rumors that Jurassic World's T-Rex was the same one featured in the early chapters of her father's book, she was willing to work with it. At least she knew how to potentially outsmart a T-Rex—don't fucking move. But raptors...that she hadn't been prepared for, might never be prepared for. Staying one step ahead of them would be tricky, let alone trying to train them. They were incredibly intelligent, probably more so than she knew.

But that was the point, she supposed. To find out just how smart the raptors were. It was essentially pointless and recklessly stupid. Anything they discovered couldn't be applied to real raptors, as they'd been so different, and with no Jurassic Park raptors currently in existence, the project didn't so much provide useful answers as create lethal problems. But did she disagree with the research program anymore than she disagreed with the park as a whole? Because Masrani had been right before. As far as she could explain, her goal hadn't changed. There was a project in motion that wouldn't be stopped by common sense. She had the power to try and protect the people involved in that project from needless harm. They were people that were probably more reckless than the average park goer, choosing to spend an extended amount of time around these animals instead of a casual visit. But then again, how different was she?

Stephanie downed the rest of her whiskey, her eyes scrunching up at the bite of the alcohol. Before she opened her eyes, she grabbed her pen and scrawled her signature. She was going to make sure she got a very nice apartment.

A/N: Yay! So Stephanie finally knows her place at the park. You guys could probably see this coming cause you know about Owen, but still a nice surprise for Stephanie. Hope I captured a little bit of Ian in her "play toy" speech. Thank you all so much for your reviews. I'm really happy you guys enjoyed the first chapter, and thank you eternally to anyone who said anything about Ian. I was so nervous writing his voice, but he's so much fun to write. They're definitely be a few other points in the story where he crops up, cause I'm too damn excited to write him. Any way, thank you again, and I hop you enjoyed chapter 2!

-Brittney