The sequel can't really live up to that, I think. But hey, give it a shot anyway. I had fun playing with Owen (who wouldn't!) and the pack. I doubt this will hit another 100k, but hey…
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Isla Nublar. Twenty-two square miles of jungles, grass land, mountains and cliffs.
Jurassic World. A lifelong dream of John Hammond and the reality that had finally come true.
Twelve years ago.
Running successfully, and continuously open, except for a year after The Incident.
Masrani Global had successfully kept the truth behind the chaos hidden, swept under a big rug, and millions had been paid in reparation, to buy silence and repay for lives lost.
No one but a few people knew about the indominus rex. Even less knew what had really occurred.
Now, close to two years later, the theme park was running smoothly, just as successfully as before, and visitors came in strong numbers.
Like before.
As if the deaths and the destruction had never happened.
They had, though. People had died. Visitors, security troopers, keepers and trainers. So many deaths and so little to lessen the impact on family and friends.
Dinosaurs had died, too. Among them the i-rex, the hybrid creature no tourist had ever seen.
It had been a huge monetary loss for Masrani Global. Twenty-six million down the drain. But Simon Masrani had come back out of this catastrophe, blaming extremist animal rights activists, a gas attack, and whatever else his lawyers had been able to cook up.
The loss had been terrible.
And now, today, everything was like before.
With a few changes.
A new attraction had been added.
While dinosaurs had become normal in the past ten years, they were still a sight to behold, still not common enough to not draw the masses, and they were fascinating young and old, world-wide.
People still went into zoos to see giraffes, tigers, lions, elephants, even horses, cows and pigs. And those had been around for a lot longer than Jurassic World.
So people flocked.
The park made money.
Masrani had finalized a new attraction, a safe, family-friendly but still thrilling new enclosure. It was actually an extension of the wide plains where the apatosaurs roamed, and it had been constructed especially for them.
A Walkway Among the Giants.
It had taken nearly six months to build the walkways that snaked along tree tops, spanned the river and a lake, and wound down toward the grasslands where the Gyrospheres awaited. The apatosaurs moved freely within the moderate jungle, picking leaves, looking at the excited tourists, almost indifferent to their shouts and cameras clicking.
A special system, not unlike what had been used for the Gyrospheres, kept the animals from actually touching the gawking masses. It was an invisible barrier, a window without glass. It also kept the apatosaurs from accidentally tearing down a walkway. They could only ever enter in a specific way. The animals had been quick to learn that.
Reggie Faulkes, head keeper of the apatosaurs, triceratopes and stegosaurs, had worked with his biggest animals tirelessly to get them accustomed to the new attraction, to the people suddenly on eye-level, and to remain calm and at ease. Becky, the lead female, had been essential in that. Where she went, the others did, too. If she declared an area safe, they trusted her and followed.
VIP pass holders who had booked this special option on top were entitled to an exclusive platform where no barriers existed, and under the watchful eyes of the keepers, they could feed and pet the massive creatures. Anyone who was out of line, misbehaved or teased the animals was immediately banned.
Animal welfare first.
Waiting lines were forming every day, just an hour after opening, and VIP pass upgrades were sold out quickly.
Claire Dearing was very happy with the numbers coming in.
There were mandatory classes for every new employee at Jurassic World, whether they were simply paper pushers or actual keepers. One was the safety drill.
What to do in case of an emergency. What to do should the park need to be evacuated; again. The last was never said, but many thought it.
Then there were additional drills concerning the herbivores and extra, very much mandatory trainings, for the predators. The senior trainers had refreshers, but no one working with the live animals could get even close to the paddocks without this certification.
That went for interns and visiting scientists, too.
A third segment had been added concerning the restricted area: no one went there without the express permission of Owen Grady and Dan Carter.
Both of them.
No exceptions. At all.
Much to Owen's protest, formal and informal, both times very vocally, interns could now apply for the raptor enclosure. He hadn't been thrilled to hear that his area was part of a tour students were given, too.
"Live with it," had been Claire's simple advice.
"Live with what? A horde of nineteen or twenty-year-olds thinking this is an amusement park? A petting zoo?"
"Everyone applying for an internship or a student work place at Jurassic World is carefully checked. The ones selected to come here have passed all requirements."
"Oh, don't give me the press release, Claire!" he snapped, glaring at her. "I know how it works and it's all fine for applicants as long as they stay out of the paddocks. They can shadow whatever trainer or worker they want, but the raptors are a whole different ballgame!"
She folded her hands, studying him neutrally. Shields up, as Owen usually teased her.
"We had interns with predators before."
"You know, I don't give a flying hoot where you put them, but not with me! I'm running an experiment, right? No one can apply for an assistant's position, nor do I fall under Carter's jurisdiction in most matters. I'm outside the whole World area, Claire! For a reason!"
As the Chief Raptor Behavior Analyst he had duties to the park and to Masrani Global, some of them concerning interns, and sometimes the odd group of scientists, though he had successfully warded off most of them. He had had only ever one intern, Peter Kozinski, aspiring vet technician, and that had been an almost-failure. Sure, the guy had come out okay, with all limbs attached, but with a good scare.
"You received Mr. Masrani's email. You talked to him on the phone in person, Owen," she reminded him patiently, corporate voice and corporate expression in place.
Simon Masrani saw it as a learning experience. Especially for those students he believed had a bright future with the park of Masrani Global. Only select few could even apply and only one out one hundred got the green light.
Still too many for Owen's liking.
He wasn't part of the theme park. Yes, officially he was running a science experiment and yes, he submitted reports, but that didn't mean he wanted people traipsing around and maybe getting themselves eaten.
Not to mention the whole alpha-pack relationship. That was something he didn't want to either explain or prying eyes to watch.
Maybe two years ago. Heck, maybe five years ago. But now? What connected him to the pack was not common knowledge. What he did couldn't be copied. If strangers walked around and watched him work, they might get the idea that the raptors were tame.
They weren't.
Never would be.
"They won't last," he promised darkly.
"Give it a shot."
He growled something under his breath and stormed out of the office, scaring one of the assistants.
This was such a horrendously stupid idea…
"Six months, Owen," Masrani told him when they talked again, this time in person. "I only ask for six months. After that, we reevaluate the program."
"You mean: cancel."
"I mean reevaluate. This is a unique opportunity, Owen."
"For what?"
"Learn."
He blew out a breath. "You better select them very, very carefully."
"I have staff who know how to pick the most promising."
Owen refrained from commenting on that. He knew that promising didn't always mean capable or competent. Just because you went to an elite school and had the best grades didn't mean you were suited for a job like his. Or to even watch someone like himself do what he did on a regular basis.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, okay?"
Masrani only smiled benignly. He had flown to Isla Nublar just to talk to Owen. Others would be tickled, maybe even feel important because the busy CEO of Masrani Global, a billionaire who had the money to run a place like Jurassic World just because John Hammond had asked him to before he had died, wanted to talk to him.
Owen wasn't impressed. There was little that truly impressed him when it came to the world of politics, finance and powerplays on a corporate level. He liked Masrani. They had an understanding.
And Simon understood a lot.
Especially about talented people, the preternaturals.
"Are those happy winners talented?" Owen asked neutrally.
"You and I know that no preternatural goes around announcing what they are, what they can do. We believe there are some in the groups, but most aren't. Not all talented are looking into getting a place where they can work with animals. Like dinosaurs." Masrani smiled a little. "So, yes, there might be one or two."
Owen shook his head and let his gaze wander. Masrani's office was actually a penthouse, sprawling across the top floor of the main control building. The windows looked seamless, hardly a smudge on them, and shades lowered automatically the moment the sun's glare was registered as bothersome.
Soft colors in shades of chocolate brown, vanilla cream and light blue decorated the walls and floor. The huge desk was made lighter through the glass top, the elegant metal legs, and the absence of anything but a slender laptop. There was hardly a personal touch, which figured. Masrani never really lived here. It was a hotel room of sorts.
"Owen," Simon spoke up, bringing him back to the here and now. "Interns are part and parcel of running any kind of business. I am looking for employees all the time. We will always need handlers, trainers and scientists in the labs. We need technicians, we need engineers."
"They have no place in the raptor enclosure," Owen muttered. He suddenly frowned and turned back toe the billionaire. "Or are you trying to open a new attraction?"
"Velociraptors?" Masrani shook his head. "No. I have told you before, I believe we can never display raptors, despite the demand of the public. The i-rex was a catastrophe. I take full responsibility. It went out of hand."
There was a tight line around the other man's mouth, his eyes darkening with memories Owen shared. He wondered if Masrani had had nightmares, had needed psychological help. Just the sight of the i-rex had been enough to induce those.
"Six months, Owen," he repeated. "No more. Then we evaluate that test phase."
Six months.
Too damn long, Owen decided. And still nothing he could fight any longer.
A new training segment was added within a week: anyone qualifying for the raptor enclosure on paper had to go through a rigorous half-day special, hosted by Owen Grady himself.
The first time Owen confronted a hopeful group of five bright-eyed students from all over the world, one dropped out, feeling sick just watching recordings. One was making eyes at him, flirting the whole time.
She didn't last the first day the group was out at the paddock. She didn't faint or scream, but she grew rather pale at the sight of the pack, then edged away from the cage and wasn't seen for the rest of the day. Delta had taken an interest in her, eyes never leaving the young woman.
"Delta," Owen warned as she stalked the woman, making clicking sounds.
Delta shot him an almost innocent look.
"What?" he demanded.
She refused to even acknowledge him, just padding along the fence, like she was checking for an exit to get to the girl.
Veronika, Owen recalled. Veronika Johann.
"Mr. Grady?" she asked, voice weak, sounding like she would throw up soon. "May I leave?"
The other three who had edged away from the fence, were looking at her with either concern, confusion or even pity.
"Yeah, sure." Owen looked at one of the troopers who had come along as security. "Max? Can you get the lady back to the hotel?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Grady."
Delta snorted, head cocked, watching. Owen just shot her a look, but she still refused to say anything.
Owen found out later that she was a potentially talented preternatural, but facing the sharp minds of the raptor pack had made her feel so ill, she had actively applied for the petting zoo for the rest of the visit.
"Trices aren't puppies," Owen pointed out in a meeting over the first group of hopefuls.
"I know," Claire replied with a faint smile creasing her lips. "She feels she isn't cut out to be a trainer. She would rather handle the kids."
He rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight."
Claire's expression was fond. "I heard of the other one."
"He threw up all over the place when the pack started to tear into their lunch."
"Their live lunch. You fed them a pig. You had to start out extreme, didn't you?"
Owen shot her an annoyed look. "They want to be trainers, keepers, maybe even work in your labs and raise the next generation. They need to be able to withstand blood and gore. Like the rex, the raptors need live food once in a while."
"Right in the beginning of an internship?"
"You selected them for the raptor paddock, Claire. I take it the ones who didn't make it are even worse?"
She shook her head. "I didn't select them, Owen. Masrani Global has a system…"
"Screw that," he muttered.
"But apparently it is a little faulty. They were selected by their grades and the papers they submitted."
"Not important. Working hands-on with live animals… they don't care if you have straight As in whatever you study or whatever you breeze through for extra credit! Half of those kids look at the animals with apprehension, trepidation and fear. The animals can feel it! Hell, I had to give them an introductory course in animal science! What do they teach them before they get here?"
"I'll talk with Mr. Masrani."
"You do that. The pack had way too much fun this time. If anything at all, those students make great entertainment for them."
Claire chuckled.
Owen looked around the office, then at Claire. "Lunch?"
"Let me check my schedule."
"Claire…"
"I have a park to run."
"You have lunch hours as well."
"I know."
"So finally take one. Let your assistant handle things for a change."
"She does already."
"That's what she's paid for. One hour. Sunrio has quesadilla specials today."
Claire sighed, sounding put upon, but he expression said otherwise. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're vying for a date, Mr. Grady."
"Who says I'm not, Ms. Dearing? I hate eating alone."
She smiled. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell for them to pick up where they had left off after the one, very much failed date. They were so much better friends than lovers, and Owen was in a relationship already. With a pack of raptors.
No one could compete against that.
No one wanted to.
Except maybe a student or two who thought it was dangerously romantic.
"One o'clock?" Owen asked, putting on the hopeful puppy look, voice a little wheedling.
"Only if you stop looking like a heartbroken teenager."
He grinned. "Deal."
The quesadillas were delicious. The company was delightful.
And Claire Dearing enjoyed her extended lunch hour.
tbc...