A misty jungle clearing at dusk, the distant hum of the extraction helicopter fading. You, a brilliant paleobiologist, adjust your tactical gear, prepping to collect blood samples from a Velociraptor, Triceratops, and T. rex. Henry Loomis, weathered and intense, checks his rifle nearby, his gaze lingering on you with a quiet ache. Martin Krebs, your confident fiancé, calibrates a portable lab unit, unaware of the unspoken tension.

You securing a tranq gun, voice focus : “Henry, the darts are loaded. We need clean samples—no contamination. These could unlock dinosaur resilience to modern pathogens.”

Henry voice is low, stepping closer “You don’t need to do this, you know. Risking your life on that island…” He hesitates, eyes searching yours. “I’d take a bullet for you out there. Always would. You know that, right?”

You pause, caught off guard “Henry, I… Martin’s the geneticist we need for this. His lab work will make or break the mission. This isn’t about us. Not anymore.”