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Since Jurassic World isn't getting its own category right now, I'll post at Jurassic Park...

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Author's Note: Those who know my past works and have read some of them, know how my mind grabs a little tidbit and goes on a wild run.

Watching the Superbowl Trailer of Jurassic World had that effect (Chris Pratt + raptors = mind blown!).

There is next to nothing known about the movie, about Owen and the raptors (aside from their names, which someone found out through a toy and a cereal box), but it didn't stop my mind from going into overdrive and writing this.

It also finally broke my writer's block.

This is an AU! Definitely! AU, AU, AU!

All speculation, no fact, and a product of a hyperactive mind coming out of hibernation! The movie's coming out in four months, so total and utter fiction here.

You have been warned.

Still reading? Okay, here goes…

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Isla Nublar.

A large, isolated preserve 120 miles off the coast of Costa Rica.

Leased to John Hammond's company InGen decades ago and the planned home to the very first Jurassic Park.

That had failed spectacularly.

Several times.

Now, twenty-two years later and with millions of dollars at his disposal, Simon Masrani, CEO and owner of Masrani Global, had rebuilt Hammond's dream.

Jurassic World.

It wasn't just a tourist attraction. No, the goal had been to combine a biological preserve, a safari, a zoo, and a theme park. It was a luxury resort with hotels, restaurants, nightlife and a golf course. It was a research station where scientist from all over the world came to, studying dinosaurs from all eras.

A futuristic vision. A money machine.

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"So, who got eaten?"

He chuckled at the remark. "It never gets old. Good morning, Professor Grant."

Professor Alan Grant, world-renowned paleontologist, a man who filled university halls across the globe when he held a lecture, smiled.

"Alan. As often as I have to tell you, you'd think it should stick one day."

"One day," Owen agreed. "And everything's fine. Just another day."

"Working with velociraptors?"

"In a way. I'm still studying the same group."

Grant looked at him, face serious. "You can't still be thinking about actually training them."


"Triceratopes, stegosaurs, yes to almost all kinds of herbivores, but not predators."

"It can be done."

"Because someone trained a mosasaur to play dolphin for a bunch of tourists? Because you can get a t-rex to eat a goat every two hours? You can't compare a raptor to them, Owen."

"Why not?"

Grant sighed. "Where do I even start?"

It was an old argument, one that had been on-going ever since Owen Grady had had the nerve to write to the famous professor and ask for his opinion.

And ever since they had been in contact.

"I'm not talking about stepping into an enclosure full of grown raptors, an established pack, and challenge the alpha for her rank and power."

"You just want to raise baby raptors."



Owen didn't even react any more. It was so normal for Alan to try and get him to reconsider the idea.

Grant shook his head. "Owen, think about it."

"Constantly. Dr. Wu is, too. I'm in line for two eggs."


"I'll be fine."

"Famous last words," Alan only said, a resigned tone to his voice.

"I'll call you with updates, send you videos."

Grant had direct access to most of the camera feeds, using them as research of his own, but he hadn't set a foot in the park ever since opening. Masrani Global had invited him and Dr. Delger, even Dr. Malcolm, but aside from Malcolm, no one had come.

"Good luck," he now only said. "I know you'll need it."

Owen shook his head. "It has nothing to do with luck, Professor. Nothing at all."

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"You have a talent. It's there, runs in our family. We've always been good with animals."

"I like dogs."

His grandma had smiled. "Yes. And they like you, too. You're a natural leader. You have this knack."

"Like grampa?"

"Yes, like your grandfather. And his grandfather. It sometimes skips generations."

"So Mommy doesn't have it?"

"No, Owen. Not like you or her dad."

"I'm special!"

She had ruffled his hair. "Yes. Yes, you certainly are."

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Working with raptors.

Training raptors.

Running with raptors.

Raising them like they were nothing but harmless little dogs. Not vicious, cold killers with sharp instincts and a deadly focus on their prey.

Owen Grady had been called all kinds of things, from crazy to suicidal to a pioneer in his field. He didn't care what the staff whispered about him behind his back. He knew he was good. He could do things others wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole while wearing body armor and aiming grenade launchers at the raptor.

There were park wranglers who worked with the herbivores. Not quite gentle giants, but a lot less vicious than a predator. No one was foolish enough to attempt to train a t-rex to do more than to show up throughout feeding shows and munch on her goat. Her caretaker – Laurel didn't want to be called a trainer; that implied she could actually get the rex to do something she wanted – had managed her well so far, but there was no big progress. No one was stupid enough to try and pet her, or be around her when she was hungry. If she got sick, there was no way to treat her.

But Owen had always been fascinated by the velociraptors. Their behavior, their pack mentality, their intelligence.

Some called him the raptor whisperer. It had made him laugh and shake his head. They would watch him from the viewing areas as he worked with the freshly hatched babies, quickly growing into adolescents, and they would murmur to themselves, fascinated and terrified in one.

Some called him an insane s.o.b., someone who would end up as raptor chow and wouldn't really know what had hit him. There were rumors floating around that he had already lost body parts to his charges. Owen could only shake his head and wriggle his fingers at the watchers.

All still there. All toes accounted for. And aside from a few scarred scratches, which was to be expected, he was fine.

And some, actually just a few, watched him with respect and interest, wanted to know about his progress, and they read his papers.

But almost everyone at the park had declared that he wouldn't last a week.

By now it were five years.

Maybe he was bat-shit crazy, he mused as he buttoned up his shirt. Maybe he had to be insane to raise four velociraptors and train them like they were nothing but scaly, over-sized pitbulls.

But people didn't know everything about him. For all their pretense that Owen was nothing but an overpaid park warden, an animal wrangler who happened to have some sensational moments with a pack of raptors, most people had no clue as to what he could do, what he was capable of and how invested he was in this project.

They knew nothing at all.

Owen Grady liked it that way.

The knife went into the sheath on his belt, at his back. Another on an ankle. His gun was loaded but secured.

Raptor Squad, they joked. Grady and his vicious little gang. There had been a manip of the four raptors in leather jackets pinned to his office door one morning, 'Grady Gang' written underneath. It had made him laugh out loud. They actually looked pretty cool in them.

He checked his messages.

Nothing new. Park schedule, staff meetings for the different areas, a heads-up that the Cretaceous Cruise would be short five boats today because of necessary overhauls, and the Aviary would be closing an hour before the park itself. He had a meeting with Dr. Marcus, one of the park vets, and he wanted to drop by the meat kitchens to stock up on supplies for the pack.

Slipping into his jacket, Owen stepped out into the fresh morning sun, listening to the sound of the waking jungle of Isla Nublar.

The forecast was medium temperatures today, with the occasional rain shower, which was normal this time of the year. The tourists might not like it, but that was nature.

Time to get to work.

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"I bet I could talk to a dinosaur!"

At six, Owen Grady had been completely absorbed by dinosaurs. He loved them. He collected them.

"Let's stay with dogs," his grandfather, an accomplished vet, told him with a smile.

"Can I be like you, grampa?"

"You most certainly can."

There was no name for what they did. They were just good with animals.


Owen just accepted it.

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Riding through the theme park while there had yet to be any visitors was almost like a vacation itself. He wasn't the only one. Cars, ATVs and motorbikes were everywhere, delivering or picking up goods and people.

Owen had little contact to the daily mass of tourists, since he didn't run any shows, handled the petting zoo dinosaurs or gave lectures. He worked behind the scenes and he liked it that way.

At six in the morning there were the cleaning crews, pushing garbage cans, sweeping the main street, repairing small damages. A few employees from the shops were already setting up, making sure they had all their merchandize and supplies. The Jurassic Traders shops were prominently displaying rain gear. Today's forecast promised good sales in that area.

Owen parked his bike. He grabbed a cup of coffee from an urn set up for the park employees by one of the restaurants, nodding at the young man behind the counter who was stocking the display case with bagels and muffins.


"Hey, Mr. Grady. Double chocolate chip?" Harry held up a huge muffin.

He chuckled. "No, thanks. Trying to stop the sweet tooth."

"Good luck on that. You don't know what you're missin'. It's just fresh out of the oven."

"Not falling for it."

It got him a laugh. Grady raised his coffee cup in a good-bye and walked. Dr. Marcus was at the mosasaur show area. Right now, with no tourists around, it was just a silent, massive piece of concrete. He nodded at a group of keepers who were on ATVs and pulling a load of fresh food for the triceratopes. He waved and got a wave back.

"Hey, Owen!" Nancy, head of the mosa show and also the main trainer, waved at him as he walked into the lagoon's stadium.

He took the steps up to her two at a time. Nancy Hisada was having her own breakfast that looked suspiciously like an egg, cheese and bacon croissant. She gave him an easy smile.

"Heard the expected figures of today? Close to maximum capacity. Long weekend plus cruise ships and specials."

Owen nodded. He had gotten several mails already, informing every employee of the park of ticket sales of today, ferry capacities, hotel occupation numbers, and so on. There were several companies spending a long weekend at the Hilton and one huge anniversary-reunion-birthday party at the botanical gardens.

It meant close to thirty thousand people throughout the next fourteen hours.

"How are the girls?" Nancy wanted to know.

"Eager for a run."

"Marathon across the island?"

"They need about twenty minutes to cross the island. Won't even breathe hard."

She was about the only person who was genuinely interested in his work with the velociraptors. Working with a mosasaur wasn't exactly a walk in the park. She had raised the mosa from the day she had hatched, but Nancy would never dare swim with her charge.

A huge back broke the water, a fin flapping down on the surface and creating a spray that almost reached up to them.

"Ah, there she is. Good morning, beautiful," Nancy called.

A maw huge enough to swallow her in one opened, showing rows of sharp teeth, then the mosa disappeared beneath the surface.

"Looking for treats. She knows the first show's just a few hours away."

The mosasaur, like the t-rex, had been trained to show up every two hours for the feeding time show. It was always packed and people loved it. The splash zone was immense and everyone was crying with surprise and delight when the mosasaur hit the surface of the lake, creating a miniature wave.

"Doc's in the back?" Owen now wanted to know.

"Yeah, he arrived a few minutes ago to prep the sharks with the supplements."

"Okay. That's why I'm here. See you, Nance."

She gave him a warm smile. "Don't be a stranger, Grady."