Chapter Text
There’s an ominous rumbling. The thick jungle foliage and dark night obscure everything from view. Something rustles through the leaves. A sense of foreboding fills the air.
The workers are as careful as humanly possible. It isn’t enough. The creature in the cage looks up and snarls. Olivia looks foreman Nathaniel Buttons in the eye as she drags an unlucky worker into her enclosure. The worker will not survive, Buttons knows, though he may wish he’d died more quickly.
***
The lawyer Nigel Badminton could not look more out of place, in his three-piece suit in the middle of nowhere. He stands precariously on the wooden raft as it’s pulled across the river to the mine, out of his element and trying very hard to look confident.
“Wanna bet he falls in?” A worker whispers to another, to hushed giggling.
Nigel frowns at them. “I heard that Hammond didn’t even bother to show up. If that’s true, what’s the point of my even being here?” Everything about his demeanor shows that he considers it beneath him to be doing such a menial task among such riff-raff. He was exactly the sort of person to use the word “riff raff'' unironically.
“He sends his apologies.”
“We’re facing a twenty million dollar lawsuit by the family of that worker, and you’re telling me he can’t even be bothered to see me?” Nigel says with poor grace.
“He had to leave early, it’s his daughter’s first art showing since her divorce, and he wanted to be supportive.”
Nigel snorts with derision. “Oh, that mess, Stede Bonnet leaving his family and his good-paying job at his father’s company to go look at rocks. What an idiot.”
The miners, whose job’s could also be described as “looking at rocks”, do not help Nigel as he tries to get off the raft, and promptly falls spluttering into the river.
He gets up, trying his best to look dignified in his dripping wet suit. “And Hammond’s an idiot too, if he won’t take this seriously. That unpleasant business with the death has the investors worried about “safety” and such drivel. I had to promise to conduct a very thorough on site inspection.
Badminton pauses, and a donkey brays in the distance as if mocking him.
“Hammond hates inspections, they slow everything down.”
“It’ll slow him down even more if we lose funding.” Nigel glowers. “And more importantly take money away from me.”
A miner runs up, interrupting the conversation as if Nigel isn’t even there, to the man’s immense displeasure.
“Boss, boss, we found another mosquito!”
They follow him into the mine to look, and Nigel bangs his head on the low ceiling, to snickers from the observing workers.
Nigel ignores them, manual workers beneath his notice, and continues as if uninterrupted. “If two experts... sign off on the island, the insurance guys will back off. I've already got Edward Teach, but they think he's too trendy. They want Izzy Hands.” He says Izzy’s name with a sneer.
“Hands?” The foreman asks. “They’ll never get him out here.”
“Why not?” Badminton demands.
“He’s a workaholic, won’t leave his current dig for anything.” He holds the amber up to the light.
The amber encased mosquito glimmers ominously, an unregarded warning among many others.
***
A deadly looking velociraptor claw is unearthed, the desert dust brushed off of it. The team works to excavate the rest of the skeleton. Picks and tools scratch at the earth, revealing tooth and bone until the shape of the raptor is clear. Izzy admires the find with a sense of pride and awe.
“Dr. Hands! Dr. Bonnet! We’re ready to run another scan."
Izzy rolls his eyes. These new fangled machines take the joy and excitement out of archeology. Anything worth doing is worth working hard for, in his mind. A computer just telling you where the fossils are? It feels like it undercuts all the skills he’s worked so hard to build, all the challenging finds of his past.
“I hate computers” Izzy mutters as he brushes some of the everpresent dirt off his black jeans. The black shows the dirt more, Stede keeps reminding him, but he’ll die before he wears khaki.
“The feeling’s mutual.” Stede agrees, wrinkling his nose adorably in the direction of the device in question.
Izzy fights the fond smile trying to form on his face. Stede can be wonderfully bitchy sometimes.
The pair join the technician and look at the buried skeleton revealed on the computer screen.
“This new program's incredible. A few more years’ development and we won't even have to dig anymore.”
“Yeah, fuck you too,” Izzy grumbles.
“Israel, be nice,” Stede chides, even though Izzy knows he feels the same.
“Velociraptor?”
“Yes, good shape too. It’s five, six feet high, I’m guessing nine feet long.”
A worker lounging to the side, a particularly lazy fellow who’s been getting on Izzy’s nerves with his lack of work effort these past few months, peers at the screen. “That doesn’t look very scary, more like a giant chicken than anything.”
People laugh, and Izzy whips around to face the man. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Stede grinning, the bastard, knowing one of Izzy’s infamous tirades is coming. That just eggs Izzy on.
“Chicken?” Izzy splutters. “That there is a velociraptor!”
“Uh-huh?” the guy says, clearly unimpressed.
Izzy grins, baring his teeth in an unhinged smile.
“Oh boy. Here we go…” Stede says under his breath.
“Okay, fucker. Try to imagine yourself in the Cretaceous period, if you even know what that is. You get your first look at this "six foot chicken” as you enter a clearing. He moves like a bird, lightly, bobbing his head -- and you keep still 'cause you think that maybe his visual acuity is based on movement, like a T-Rex, he'll lose you if you don't move -- but no, not Velociraptor.” Izzy’s smile grows.
“You stare at him, and he just stares right back. And that's when the attack comes not from the front, but from the side,” Izzy waves his arms, imitating the swishing slash of claws “from the other two raptors, you didn't even know were there. Because Velociraptor's a pack hunter. She used coordinated attack patterns, and she is out in force today. And she slashes at you with this.” Izzy pulls out the raptor claw he found, the man's eyes grow large with shock. He takes a hurried step back, but Izzy follows, eyes locked on his prey.
“Six-inch, retractable claw. Like a razor, on the middle toe. She doesn't bother to bite your jugular like a lion, say, no, no. She slashes at you here!” Izzy pretends to slash the man across the stomach with the claw, careful not to damage the artifact, but hard enough to leave a mark. “or here.” Izzy tears a piece of the man’s shirt.
“Oh Israel,” Stede grumbles, exasperated, disapproving, and incredibly fond.
“Or maybe across the belly, spilling your intestines. The point is, you are alive, when they start to eat you.” Izzy’s eyes gleam, like the imagined raptor’s “So ya know, try to show a little respect, fuckface.”
The worker turns away, slightly glassy eyed with nerves.
Stede grabs Izzy’s elbow, pulling him away and squeezing his arm lightly, though in affection or admonishment Izzy can’t tell.
“You could have just knifed the guy if you wanted to scare him, darling,” Stede murmurs, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Yeah, well,” Izzy mutters, blushing and turning away from the sunshine of his face.
Stede bumps their shoulders together as they continue up the hill. “I already have two children, I don’t need you acting like a third.” He teases.
Izzy makes a face. “Kids. They’re noisy and confusing.”
“Come now, I hope that one day I can introduce you to mine and you’ll get along. I hope that I…”
Stede doesn’t finish that sentence, but Izzy knows. Stede hopes he can get along with his own children, that he can mend things. “You’re not a bad dad, Stede. You’re showing them. That it’s ok to be themselves, and all that shit.” He mutters gruffly. He still feels out of his depth with this emotional vulnerability stuff, but he cares damn it.
And it seems to work, because Stede pulls him into a tight embrace.
Izzy wheezes. “Stede you’ll strangle me!”
“I love you so much, you infuriating man.” Stede kisses the top of his head, and Izzy pretends to try and push him away, laughing.
A helicopter interrupts the conversation, whipping sand all around the dig site and drowning out all other sounds.
“Fucks sake,” Izzy grumbles. “Cover the site!” He yells to the dig crew.
“Cover up the dig!” Stede yells as well. The crew scramble to do so, shouting and running around.
“Shut down the helicopter, shut it down!” Stede yells above the noise.
“Cut the machine!!” Izzy shouts. All their hard work, and some idiot was going to undo it all, maybe even damage the fossils.
The helicopter lands, but does not power down, blades still sending wind and dust in all directions. “Fucking hell. JUST CUT IT WILL YA? CUT THE ENGINES! SHUT. IT. DOWN!”
The pilot finally does so, pointing towards Izzy and Stede’s shared trailer. “The fuck?” Izzy spots the trailer door closing behind some stranger. What now? Izzy takes off running.
***
Izzy punches some clothes hanging to dry out of his way and barrels through the trailer door.
The space inside is small, but lavishly (and in Izzy’s opinion, impractically) decorated.
Someone is rummaging through their mini-fridge.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?!” Izzy strides at him.
The guy, an older gentleman who looks vaguely familiar, jumps up with a slightly guilty expression.
“Why, you should be happy I’m here! Today’s something to celebrate!"
Oh, great. Posh accent, superior airs. Stede is the only rich twat he feels like putting up with, thank you very much. Even that took a long time. In the beginning he could barely tolerate Stede, much less care for him as he does now. He doesn’t need more idiots like that patronizing him, thank you very much.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Izzy growls. “What are you doing in our home?” The trailer is their home away from home, technically, but as they’re out on a dig for months at a time, it makes little difference. Izzy's used to moving around a lot, so home is wherever Stede is, now.
Just then, Stede bursts into the tiny trailer. “Dad?” He asks, disbelieving.
Izzy’s fists ball. He’s heard enough about Stede’s father, and the things Stede doesn’t say speak even louder.
“You fucking jerk-”
“Step-dad” Stede yelps quickly, wide eyes following Izzy’s raised fist. “Well. Ex-step-dad?”
Izzy deflates. “Right.” He mutters.
The intruder doesn’t seem too upset by Izzy’s near attack, or general rudeness.
“John Hammond, and I’m delighted to finally meet you in person, Dr. Hands.”
Hammond. The guy who, together with Stede’s ludicrous wealth, was helping fund the dig. Damn it. Izzy inhales sharply. “Did I say jerk?” He asks weakly The man is a jerk, but… Even if Izzy trusts Stede he knows better than to trust his entire future and economic well being to one man. Except he’s apparently been funded by a connection of Stede’s, so much for that “independence”.
Hammond waves him off with a chuckle. “Not to worry! And sorry about the dramatic entrance, Stede my boy! We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
Izzy rolls his eyes at the strange joviality. Only a rich person would be so entitled.
“Now, I’ll get right to the point,” Hammond said, then did not get right to the point. “ I own an island. Off the coast of Costa Rica. I've leased it from the government, and spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve. Really spectacular, spared no expense! Makes the one I've got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo-”
Own an Island, fucking hell Izzy thought. Even if Stede was trying to get away from all this artificial, wealthy nonsense he kept getting dragged back into it, with Izzy dragged along by association.
“- and there's no doubt, our attractions will drive kids out of their minds.”
“And what are those?” Izzy cuts in, trying to get to the point of all this.
“Small versions of adults, darling.” Stede jokes. Izzy shoots him an unimpressed look.
“And not just kids, everyone, We’re going to open next year, that is if the lawyers don’t kill me first! I don’t care for lawyers. Especially Nigel.”
Stede winces and Izzy shoots him a questioning look.
“I went to school with Nigel and his twin. They were, uh… rather unkind. Perhaps part of why it took me so long to come out of the closet, even though.” Stede glances at John Hammond awkwardly “Mary guessed quite a while ago.” Izzy makes a mental note to stab these Badmintons if he ever encounters them.
John smiles sympathetically. “No hard feelings, and it all worked out for the best. I’m so glad my daughter found her prince charming in Doug. And I’m glad you found…” He looks at Izzy, and clearly tries and fails to apply the term “prince charming” to him. “Glad you found this intriguing specimen.”
Stede looks affronted, and Izzy snorts, cracking a rare smile. It’s a fair descriptor, people have said far worse about him.
“Anyway, Nigel Badminton has been a particular pebble in my shoe, represents my investors. Says they insist on outside opinions.”
“What kind of opinions?” Stede asks with narrowed eyes. It’s clear he’s still bothered by “intriguing specimen”, and Izzy squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring way.
“Well your kind, not to put too fine a point on it. I mean, let's face it, in your particular fields, you're the top minds -- and if I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, well give it your endorsement, maybe pan a wee testimony, I could get back on schedule, ah, schedule!”
He still hasn’t told them what the fucking park or its mysterious “attractions” are, that he needs a paleontologist and paleobotanist involved.
“Why would they care what we think?” Stede asks at the same time Izzy asks “What kind of fucking ‘park’ is this?”
“It's right up your alley. I tell you what, why don't you come down, just the pair of you for the weekend? I'd love to have the opinion of a paleobotanist as well! I've got a jet standing by at Choteau.”
Izzy is very uncomfortable, partially because of the very clear reminder of Stede's social class compared to his. “I'm sorry, this isn't possible. We just dug up a new skeleton… work is… ”
“I could compensate you by fully funding your dig for a further three years.”
That makes Izzy pause, but does nothing to deter Stede. “The timing is… This is a very unusual time-”
“I’m inviting Louis and Alma to visit, and I’m sure they’d love to see their dad and his…” He glances at Izzy, as if trying to do some mental calculations. “Dr. Hands.”
Stede pauses for another moment, but Izzy knows he misses his kids. “Where’s the plane?” He asks, with no clue what he’s just signed them up for, but willing to brave it for Stede. Fucking hell.