[ Owen has no idea when InGen became staffed with idiots, but it had to have happened between Masrani's acquisition of the genetics company and the moment someone had some sort of fever dream to put together a cocktail of all the scariest shit the prehistoric world had to offer. So when an InGen representative had tracked him down, told him they needed his help, he couldn't have hung up any faster.
Until the second time. And then the third.
The fourth time, the representative managed to get out the word "raptor," and while that gave Owen pause, he still hung up, all the same.
After that, Owen did something very, very stupid. It involved chartering a boat. It involved slinging a gun over his shoulder, holstering a pistol to his hip. It involved dark clothes and sneaking onto a private island in the dead of night. His good judgment always did lapse when it came to his raptors.
He's not entirely sure what he plans to do here, honestly. Owen is usually a practical man, usually knows the right course of action to take given the odds. But this time, all he has is a vague sense that he has to do something.Military applications, they had kept saying. As if Blue were a weapon they could simply aim and shoot. As if the raptor would listen to any blowhard high on his own machismo. A lot of men would get hurt in her capture, which a sadistic part of him thinks they deserve; but Blue could get hurt in her recapture, as well, and that he can't really abide.
When he finds their main camp, he stays well out of sight, using the foliage to conceal himself. The place is abuzz with activity, with puzzled, excited chattering about breakthroughs and hybrids and scientific miracles. There's a patrol circling around one tent in particular, though it's routine and lazy, more for appearances than actual guarding. It's easy enough for Owen to time the blind spot in their trek, to wrench out one of the stakes and roll beneath the loosened flap, and all of it in near silence.
The area inside of the tent is spacious and lit brightly; there are only a few cages here, though most of them empty. No Blue, and that comes as a relief.
Definitely something else, though, and Owen stops in his tracks when he finds it. ]
no subject
Until the second time. And then the third.
The fourth time, the representative managed to get out the word "raptor," and while that gave Owen pause, he still hung up, all the same.
After that, Owen did something very, very stupid. It involved chartering a boat. It involved slinging a gun over his shoulder, holstering a pistol to his hip. It involved dark clothes and sneaking onto a private island in the dead of night. His good judgment always did lapse when it came to his raptors.
He's not entirely sure what he plans to do here, honestly. Owen is usually a practical man, usually knows the right course of action to take given the odds. But this time, all he has is a vague sense that he has to do something. Military applications, they had kept saying. As if Blue were a weapon they could simply aim and shoot. As if the raptor would listen to any blowhard high on his own machismo. A lot of men would get hurt in her capture, which a sadistic part of him thinks they deserve; but Blue could get hurt in her recapture, as well, and that he can't really abide.
When he finds their main camp, he stays well out of sight, using the foliage to conceal himself. The place is abuzz with activity, with puzzled, excited chattering about breakthroughs and hybrids and scientific miracles. There's a patrol circling around one tent in particular, though it's routine and lazy, more for appearances than actual guarding. It's easy enough for Owen to time the blind spot in their trek, to wrench out one of the stakes and roll beneath the loosened flap, and all of it in near silence.
The area inside of the tent is spacious and lit brightly; there are only a few cages here, though most of them empty. No Blue, and that comes as a relief.
Definitely something else, though, and Owen stops in his tracks when he finds it. ]
... What the hell?