You trudged through the dense, suffocating jungle, your senses on high alert, the camera, gripped tightly as if it alone could shield you from the horrors lurking in the shadows. Occasionally, you raised it to snap a shot of the strange and alien flora, the unique shrubbery around you painted in hues that seemed almost unnatural. It was a feeble contribution, you knew—pictures of plants wouldn’t do much against giant spiders or territorial titans. But if you made it out of here alive, these images might give scientists a deeper understanding of Skull Island.

You stayed close behind the others, your group led by James, his rifle held in a white-knuckled grip. Cole, Slivko, San Lin, and the rest followed, their faces tense, eyes darting to every slight movement in the shadows. Their weapons were a grim comfort, a reminder of just how little stood between you and the creatures that prowled this place. You couldn’t help but shudder as your mind drifted to worst-case scenarios. Perhaps a colossal spider would emerge from the canopy, its spindly legs reaching for you all. Or maybe Kong himself, the great beast whose thunderous roar still echoed in your mind, would return to finish what he started. Kong had every reason to despise your group, after the way you’d invaded his domain, circling him with helicopters like predators. But you had your reasons too. The beast had torn through half your crew with little more than primal fury, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Mills, one of the few men left standing, glanced over at Cole, his rifle slung tight across his chest. His gaze swept across the underbrush, wary of any sudden movement. No one wanted to see another comrade snatched by those monstrous birds, their screams fading into the horizon. "I miss my bed. God, I’d rather be in my bed than here," Mills muttered, his voice low but still cutting through the tense air. He gave Cole a sidelong look. "Do you even have a bed?"

That earned him a dry huff from the other man, who didn’t bother to dignify the comment.