Jurassic Park: Best Laid Plans

BY : tcr
Category: G through L > Jurassic Park
Dragon prints: 3099
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I own no part of the Jurassic Park Franchise. All canon characters are the properties of their respective owners. See chapter 1 for full disclaimer.

Full Disclaimer: I own no part of the Jurassic Park Franchise.  All canon characters are the properties of their respective owners.  Jurassic Park film franchise the property of Universal Studios.  Jurassic Park novels are the property of Michael Crichton.  I make no money off this fanfic.

All original characters are the property of the author.


A/N: While the vast majority of the setting, idea, and dinosaurs are taken from the movie series, some elements of the novels and the JP Game (specifically the character of Jessica Harding and her experiences at the park during the game) are also present.  This also takes place in the canonical established time between JP3 and Jurassic World, where Masrani Global has begun the recapturing process for what would become Jurassic World in only a few years from this timeline.



Chapter 1: Just Another Day

San Diego, California
October 13, 2001

And here, a month after the declaration of the War on Terror, the men and women of the 37th Marines embark on the USS Custer, destined for Afghanistan,” the CNN reporter on the television behind the bar announced.  The screen showed rerun footage of the previous day, First Lieutenant Isabelle Gutierrez giving a slight nod as they and the rest of the Marines from Fort Pershing proudly walked by the camera.

Aurora Sharon dropped her eyes down at the glass in her hand.  She should have been there with her people, her Marines, leading them into the fires of Hell and back, not sitting at the bar with her third glass of Whiskey. 

Isabelle was a good officer, but she had a Hell of a lot to learn about combat; Aurora had been there, had seen the carnage and wreckage that formed in combat.  Her side still ached from the shrapnel she’d needed to have removed.  She resisted the urge to rub the area.

“Well, hello, there, good looking!” a man slid into the stool beside her, hungrily eyeing her without a thought in his small, testosterone flooded brain.

Aurora glanced at the Whiskey in her glass, staring at the liquid for a moment, hoping that if she ignored the guy long enough, he’d get the hint and leave.  No such luck.  Apparently, his Neanderthal brain stopped working at ‘Me man, you woman; we must fuck’.  She rolled her eyes and looked at him as she ran a hand through the stubble of blonde hair on her right side.  She could feel the longer hair on her left side brush against her fingers.

“I’m going to be blunt, not interested, in any way, shape, or form, now go over there and spend quality time with Palmela Handerson.”  She returned to her Whiskey.  She raised the glass to her lips.

“Fucking dyke,” the man scoffed and walked off, back to his friends on the other side of the bar.

His words brought up memories she preferred to have remained lost.  She stared into the mirror behind the bar, seeing herself still in uniform, still wearing the two silver bars of a Captain in the United States Marine Corps, only to have that melt away.  Standing in front of General George C. Rembrant, commander of Fort Pershing, being subjected to scrutiny before having the nuke fall on her.

Her discharge had been six months ago and she’d done nothing but drown in alcohol since, washing away the pain that had accompanied that.  She glanced up at the mirror across from her and stared at herself.  Her reflection seemed to judge her, eyes filled with shame as she thought about what she had done to herself, but she wasn’t about to change.

She motioned for the bartender to bring her some more whiskey.

He stepped over and looked her square in the eye.  “I think you had enough, Rora,” he said.

“Just pour some more, Paul,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He relented with a sigh as he did every night for the last three months and poured her another glass.  “You know, you have to get over this.”  He put the bottle down.  “What’s it been, three months of this?  Far be it for me to tell you how to do that, but you’re just going to kill yourself with the amount you’re drinking.  And all for a government that didn’t see your potential?”  He shook his head.  “They weren’t worth it, nor you.”

She sighed.  Another lecture, though she accepted that he was just concerned for her safety.  After all, he was one of her only friends now.  It wasn’t like anyone from her old unit wanted anything to do with her now, or so it seemed.  She knew it was possible they had tried to reach other, but days had stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, and she barely remembered what happened the night before.

And she sure as Hell wasn’t trying to make friends.  Paul had been an accident, in all manners of speaking.  He’d been friendly enough as the bartender and had struck up the conversation, every night she had come in, and she’d found herself opening up to him little by little until he knew more about her than most of the people she’d grown up with.

She drank back the Whiskey without a second thought.  She placed it back on the bar and ran her hand through her hair again.  Short stubble tickled her fingertips.  She sighed again.

Two men slid into the stools on both sides of her and she saw a third step up beside her.  She glanced across each of them, noticing that the one on her right was the same man she’d told off only minutes before.  She pursed her lips and pinched the bridge of her nose.  She knew where this was going.

“So, I hear my good buddy there’s not worth your time,” the one on her left said.  “That really hurt his feelings, didn’t it, Rob?”

“I’m just so hurt,” Rob mocked.

“Well, if you weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d have more than your hand tonight,” she shot back.

“Feisty, aren’t you?  I could use some of that spunk,” Rob put on an attempt at Hannibal Lector from SIlence of the Lambs.

Aurora rolled her eyes with an exhausted sigh leaving her lips.  She was in no mood to deal with idiots and losers tonight.  She looked at Paul.

“Gentlemen, I’d recommend you think about this,” he said, glancing between the four people.  He stopped on Aurora; she could take care of herself.  He disappeared around the back of the bar and she knew he was ready to call the cops at the first sign of a fight.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’d love to come with us,” the guy behind her muttered.  “We’d show you the best time you’d ever have.”

“I doubt that,” Aurora muttered.  “Like I told your friend, go have fun with Palmela Handerson or whatever else you’ve named your hand.  I’m not interested.”

“Three sexy guys and you’re not interested?”

“Sounds more like you guys are interested in yourselves more than me,” Aurora shot back.  She felt a hand clamp on her shoulder.

She grabbed the hand, pulling the man forward and slamming him against the bar.  Letting him slide away from her, she twisted in the stool as Rob moved to restrain her.  She pulled him over her stool, throwing him to the ground as the third one grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her backwards before she slid out of it.  He stared at it stupidly before she grabbed the back of his head and brought it down to impact her knee.

He dropped to the ground with blood trailing down the front of his face from the broken nose.  The one who had been behind her rose from where he’d fallen against the bar, sneering at her as her blue eyes glared at him.  Movement came at her from the side and she pulled him in front of her as the third man struck out.  Rob’s face stopped the other man’s fist and he dropped like a sack of potatoes as the other man lashed out again.

Aurora grabbed his arm and twisted, yanking him forward as she brought it up against his back.  She turned him around and rammed him against the bar.  He tried to slam the back of his head into her face.  She dodged it with a quick movement to the left, then brutally smashed his face against the wood.  He let out a moan before slinking back down against it.

She caught sight of an attack from behind in the mirror.

The second guy lashed out at her as she twisted to avoid the fist.  Her hands shot up.  She turned sharply and dragged his arm over her shoulder before brutally cracking it over her shoulder to a wet, resounding snap and a sharp, pained scream from the man.  She let go as he dropped to the ground.

She leaned over the counter, pulling a bottle of whiskey from under the bar, opening it and sitting back in the stool.  She pursed her lips and rubbed her eyes.  It was going to be another long night, she knew, especially with the cops likely involved.  She glanced at Paul, who nodded, knowing her query without a word uttered.

He shook his head.  “Scared my customers off, left a mess, and now you’re drinking from the bottle.  What am I to do with you?”  She offered a sheepish grin and shrugged.  He scoffed.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The sounds of cars pulling up and doors slamming closed came in front outside.  “Here’s to another fun filled night in a San Diego drunk tank,” Aurora muttered, bringing the bottle to her lips as alternating blue and red lights flooded the bar through the windows.

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