With Night Vision and perfect Echolocation 

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𝕋ℍ𝔼 enclosure was bathed in the soft warm glow of the sun, its light spilling across the tall grass and casting long shadows that danced like memories on the earth. Blue sat perched on the edge of a large rock, his sharp gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The faint hum of the electric fence buzzed in the background, a constant reminder of their captivity, but his mind was elsewhere—far beyond these walls, far beyond even himself.

Delta and Echo lounged nearby, their human forms as wild and untamed as the spirits that resided within them. Delta was sprawled on the grass, idly tossing a pebble in the air, while Echo braided strands of long, golden grass with meticulous focus. Charlie, ever the playful one, sat cross-legged on the ground, absently doodling patterns into the dirt with a stick.

Blue's silence had not gone unnoticed.

"Look at him," Delta murmured with a smirk, tossing the pebble toward Echo, who caught it without glancing up. "He's got that look again."

Echo chuckled softly, his lips curving into a teasing grin. "You mean the one where he's trying to look all broody and mysterious, but really, he's just thinking about her?"

Blue's head snapped toward them, his sharp features suddenly alive with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. "I'm not," he said firmly, his voice low and even, though the faintest hint of a blush betrayed him.

"Not thinking about her?" Charlie chimed in, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands. "Come on, Blue. We can smell it on you. You get all... weird when she's around."

Delta snorted, rolling onto her side. "Weird is putting it lightly. More like pathetic. You practically wag your tail when she talks to you."

Blue shot her a warning glare, his lips curving into a slight snarl. "I don't wag anything," he growled, but the heat rising to his cheeks told another story.

Charlie laughed, falling onto his back in the grass. "Oh, this is rich! Big, tough Blue—leader of the pack—has a soft spot for a human." He rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows.

Blue turned away, his jaw tightening as he tried to drown out their laughter. His gaze drifted back to the horizon, though his mind betrayed him, pulling him back to the one face he couldn't escape. Rosita.

Her name was a whisper in the wind, a song that played endlessly in his thoughts. He remembered the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way her eyes held no fear, only trust. She had a way of looking at him like she saw him—not just a predator, not just an experiment, but something more. Something worth saving.

"You're smiling," Echo said, his tone singsong and triumphant.

"I am not," Blue shot back, his voice sharp, but when he reached up to rub the back of his neck, his hand paused. He could feel it—a small, unbidden smile had crept onto his face. He quickly wiped it away, but it was too late. His siblings erupted into laughter.

"Admit it, Blue," Delta said, sitting up and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You like her."

"I don't," Blue insisted, though the protest sounded hollow even to his own ears. He could feel their teasing gazes boring into him, but he refused to meet them. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the rock, his eyes narrowing as if to ward off any further taunts.

Echo tilted his head, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "You don't have to pretend, you know. It's okay to care about someone. Even humans."

Blue didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked up at the sky, watching as the clouds roll by.

𓆌

The dense jungle blurred into a swirl of green as the Jeep bounced along the uneven dirt path. Trees and plants whipped by their leaves slapping against the windows as Rosita sat in the backseat, her rifle resting across her lap. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife as Owen drove, his knuckles tight on the wheel, while Claire sat rigid in the passenger seat, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline.

Finally, they came to a stop. The remains of one of the Gyrospheres—those hamster ball contraptions—lay crumpled in the middle of a small clearing. Its glass shell was shattered, its frame twisted as if it had been caught in the jaws of something massive. Rosita let out a low whistle as she hopped out of the car, rifle in hand. "Well, that's not how the brochure said this ride would end."

Owen shot her a look but didn't say anything, already moving toward the wreck. Rosita followed closely, her eyes scanning the ground. Every shadow, every broken twig seemed to hold a threat.

"Careful," Owen muttered, crouching next to the ruined Gyrosphere. Something had caught his eye—a tooth, long and jagged, embedded in the metal frame. He pried it loose and held it up to the fading light. "Damn."

Claire, meanwhile, had spotted something else. "No, no, no," she muttered, her voice trembling as she dropped to her knees. A phone, smashed and muddy, lay a few feet away. She picked it up with shaking hands, her face pale with panic. "This was theirs."

Rosita, crouched a few steps away, spoke up, her voice steady and surprisingly casual. "Hey. They made it out." She pointed to the mud where small footprints led away from the wreck. "See? Tracks. They're okay."

Claire exhaled sharply, relief washing over her. "Oh, thank God."

Owen gave Rosita a quick nod of approval before turning back to the tracks. "Let's follow them."

They moved through the jungle, the foliage growing thicker with every step. The tracks led them to the edge of a cliff overlooking a roaring waterfall. Claire's eyes widened as she looked down at the turbulent water below. "Oh, my God. They jumped."

Rosita peered over the edge, her expression impressed. "Brave kids." She let out a low laugh. "Or crazy. Probably both."

"ZACH! GRAY!" Claire's shout echoed through the jungle, her voice frantic.

Owen spun toward her, wincing. "Hey! Shhh!" He put a hand up, gesturing for her to lower her voice. "You want to bring every predator within a mile down on us? Keep it down."

Claire glared at him, crossing her arms. "I am not one of your damn animals."

Owen sighed, lowering his rifle slightly. His tone softened, though the frustration was still evident. "Listen to me. Those kids are still alive. But you, Rosita, and I won't be if you keep screaming like that."

Claire's face tightened, but she nodded reluctantly. Then, as if she'd just thought of the most logical idea in the world, she turned to him and asked, "So... you can pick up their scent, right? Track their footprints?"

Rosita stopped mid-step and blinked at Claire, her lips twitching with barely contained laughter. "Did she just say, 'pick up their scent'? Like we're bloodhounds or something?" she muttered under her breath.

Owen shot her a warning glance before addressing Claire, his tone flat. "I was with the Navy, not the Navajo."

Claire huffed, exasperated. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

Owen gestured between himself and Rosita. "You get back to safety. We'll find them."

"No," Claire shot back, shaking her head. "We'll find them. Together."

Owen's patience was clearly wearing thin. "You'll last two minutes in there. Less, in those ridiculous shoes."

Claire's eyes narrowed. Without saying a word, she unclipped her belt, shrugged off her blazer, and unbuttoned her shirt to reveal a purple tank top. With a determined flourish, she tied the ends of her shirt at her waist, rolled up her sleeves, and planted her hands on her hips.

Rosita, watching this unfold, couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. "Oh, now this I've gotta see."

Owen, caught off guard, raised a brow. "What... what is that supposed to mean?"

Claire straightened, glaring at him. "It means I'm ready to go."

Owen shook his head, still stunned. "Alright," he said finally. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm in charge out here. You do exactly what I say, when I say it."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Excuse me?"

Before she could say more, Owen cut her off. "Relax. It's just like taking a stroll through the woods."

Rosita, smirking, stepped between them and started walking. "Yeah. You know. Like 65 million years ago." She slung her rifle over her shoulder, the grin never leaving her face as she led the way.

Claire and Owen exchanged a glance before following, Owen muttering something under his breath about "city folks" while Rosita chuckled quietly to herself.

The Valley stretched before them, its golden grasses swaying lazily in the blazing sunlight. Sweat trickled down Rosita's brow as the heat pressed against her like an oppressive weight. She tugged at her button-up shirt, finally shrugging it off and tying it around her waist, leaving her in a tank top that clung to her skin. Her rifle hung heavy in her hands, a comfort, and a burden all at once. Owen walked beside her, his gaze sharp and scanning the horizon, while Claire trailed slightly behind, her determination masking the uncertainty in her steps.

A sudden, distant engine revving broke through the stillness, sending a jolt of adrenaline through them. Rosita's fingers tightened around her weapon as Owen gestured for them to follow the sound. The three broke into a run, weaving through the tall grasses until they stumbled upon an old, decrepit building—a relic of Jurassic Park's glory days. The faded sign above the doorway read "Jurassic Park Gift Shop."

"Stay close," Owen murmured, his voice barely audible over their laboured breathing. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning every shadow. Near the garage, a dusty vehicle sat parked, its paint chipped and dulled by time. Owen crouched beside it, picking up a discarded shirt.

"This one of theirs?" he asked, holding it up to Claire.

Claire nodded quickly, her eyes darting around. "That road," she said, pointing to the overgrown trail ahead. "It leads back to the park."

Owen checked the vehicle for keys, frustration flickering across his face when he found none. He began rifling through a nearby shelf, looking for anything useful. "How the hell did they even get this thing started?" he muttered.

Rosita remained silent, her eyes fixed on the distance, scanning for movement. A flicker of unease crept through her—an instinct born from past horrors that never left her.

Before Owen could pop the hood, the ground beneath them trembled with a low, rhythmic thud. The sound grew louder, closer, each impact rattling her ribcage. Claire froze, her breath hitching, as Owen straightened, his rifle in hand.

They barely had time to hide. All three crouched low behind the vehicle, Owen signalling frantically for silence as the Indominus rex emerged from the trees. Its massive form was a grotesque blend of scales and scars, its yellow eyes scanning the area with predatory precision. Snarls rumbled deep in its throat as it sniffed the air, stepping closer, its sharp talons scratching against the concrete.

Rosita clenched her rifle tightly, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady herself, but memories came unbidden—fire, screams, the cold press of metal against her skin as chaos raged around her. Her grip trembled, but she forced herself to stay still.

The Indominus pressed its snout against the vehicle, growling in frustration as it tried to move the car, which held firm. The creature growled once more before retreating slightly, its head lifting as it sniffed the air again. The sound of bones cracking echoed across the clearing, grotesque and unnatural, as if something alive was breaking and reshaping itself.

Owen's eyes darted toward Rosita, his expression urging calm, but she wasn't looking at him. Her focus was ahead, where a figure emerged from the shadows.

A woman stepped forward, her long silver hair glinting in the sunlight. Her movements were predatory, her sharp claws flexing at her sides, teeth bared in a sinister grin. Her eyes, slitted like a cat's, glowed with an eerie familiarity that sent chills down Rosita's spine.

Rosita's breath caught. It was the Indominus—but in some horrifying hybrid form, a twisted reflection of humanity.

The woman turned her gaze toward them, sniffing the air as her grin widened. She began to move, her intent clear, as her sharp claws scraped the side of the car. Rosita's hands moved on instinct, bringing the rifle up. She aimed beneath the collarbone—an area she knew might break through the creature's armoured hide.

The shot rang out, echoing across the Valley. The woman staggered back, letting out an animalistic, guttural cry of pain. Blood darkened her pale skin as she clutched the wound, her face twisting in rage.

"Run!" Owen hissed, but Rosita and Claire didn't wait. They bolted through the building, Rosita's heart pounding as she pushed herself forward. Owen called after them, but his voice was drowned by the roar behind them. The woman began to shift again, her form snapping and contorting back into the massive beast as the three disappeared into the labyrinth of hallways.

They didn't look back. The snarls and footsteps behind them faded as the Indominus was distracted by the distant roar of helicopter blades slicing through the air.

Claire fumbled with her phone as they jogged through the valley. "Lowery," she panted. "We found her. South of Gyrosphere Valley, between the old park and the Aviary."

Lowery's voice crackled through the line. "Wait, are you following the dinosaur?"

"Yes," Claire snapped, her voice sharp. "Get ACU out here. Real guns this time."

"ACU is airborne," Lowery replied. "They took the helicopter."

The group skidded to a stop. Rosita wiped sweat from her brow, her body still vibrating with adrenaline. Claire looked up, her expression twisting in disbelief. "Who's flying it?"

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By: SilverMist707