[ The tragedy at Jurassic World flooded headlines the morning after everything took place. Thanks to social media and Isla Nublar's sturdy comm towers, news got out quickly; representatives were contacted for comment even as Pteranodons and Dimorphodons still rained down from the sky, stealing people away or clawing them to shreds. The pictures were gruesome. The live tweets were bleek and outraged. Jurassic World's logo was plastered on every news outlet around the world, along with Simon Masrani's face, and they would be for weeks to come.
Victims still seeking answers in wake of tragedy.
Eyewitness: 'It was chaos. Everyone was screaming.'
Who's to blame for 'Jurassic' disaster?
Owen's lucky enough to be a low man on the totem pole. Aside from brief fact-finding interviews conducted by Masrani Global and InGen for his involvement in the hunt for the Indominus Rex, he was mostly left alone. He was only a handler, after all, who happened to step up when things went to shit; that his Velociraptors turned on him and the InGen soldiers didn't seem to faze his interviewers. "You're a hero," one of the corporate shills told Owen as the interview drew to a close. It was obvious that they were looking for heroes. For acts of daring and selflessness performed by park employees to spin the tragedy into something positive. An unfortunate disaster, but look at these normal people, doing extraordinary things for their fellow man.
He felt dirty. Disgusting. The shower he took after that was a long one, and he nearly used all of the hot water scrubbing the feeling of slime away. But luckily, they didn't use his story in the newsreels. Too violent, probably. Too easy to see the gaping holes where they would leave out the moment he lost control of his raptors. They would never want to mention how in trying to save the park, Owen guided a platoon of men into the waiting jaws of his own dinosaurs, and how they died screaming.
Yeah. Probably not the sound bites they want going out over the waves.
Claire, though, had no such luck, and she became their posterchild and spokeswoman all at once. The grainy security camera footage of her standing before the infamous Tyrannosaurus Rex, flare in hand, had been leaked -- probably by Masrani Global's doing, if Owen had to guess. Not only was Claire busy fielding questions and rehashing the mistakes leading up to the disaster, but she also had to contend with being put up on a pedastal. Look at this brave woman, who saved her guests, who did everything she could to protect her nephews. Wasn't she courageous? Isn't she beautiful?
If nothing else, Owen is at least glad they aren't using her as a scapegoat. He's been in that position before, and he knows exactly how unpleasant it can be.
The two of them haven't seen each other much since their bosses ramped up their response to the media circus, which means the topic of them has yet to be fully discussed; they happen to cross paths as they're both leaving separate interviews at Masrani's HQ in San Diego -- more info-gathering, for Owen; a debriefing, for Claire -- and decide to grab lunch together to catch up. Easier said than done, however, when they're greeted by a crowd of reporters at the front doorstep. Claire seems to ignore them well enough, and Owen follows her lead, carefully shouldering past men and women to clear a path. They're nearly in the clear when one persistent man stands in front of them, a digital recorder jammed in Claire's face.
"Ms. Dearing," he said. "Footage of you guiding the T-Rex out of its paddock has surfaced recently. Do you have any comment on your irresponsibility for unleashing not one, but two dangerous creatures on Isla Nublar? Or do you have anything you'd like to say in response to accusations that this video was manufactured by Masrani Global?"
Owen's not sure how Claire feels about the bullshit the guy just vomited out of his mouth -- she always did have one hell of a poker face -- but Owen, at least, steps between the two of them, annoyance seeping from every pore. "You want to get out of our way, sir."
The reporter continues to hound the two of them as Owen guides Claire away. "Ms. Dearing. Do you have any comment on naysayers stating your position as the park's lead asset manager was earned by sleeping with Simon Masrani? Any comment on rumors stating that the creature known as the Indominus Rex never existed, owing to the fact that the creature has never been seen, and that stories regarding its accidental release were invented to conceal your incompetence in maintaining the park's security? Any comment on--"
At around that point, Owen surprises the reporter by punching him, and he felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. He shakes out his hand, moving to guide Claire away again, when the reporter surprises him by jumping back to his feet and driving his fist into Owen's gut.
Things got a little out of hand, after that.
One broken nose (the reporter's), one bleeding nose (Owen's), two black eyes (one for each, though the reporter's was worse), a split lip (Owen's), a torn shirt (the reporter's), twenty bruised knuckles, and two citations for causing a public disturbance later, Owen finds himself at the wrong end of icy silence from Claire. She's brought them back to her apartment (which, by the way, is really nice, though Owen finds it difficult to compliment her digs in the face of her quiet rage) with hardly a word, and he's directed to sit at the kitchen counter.
Dirty, disheveled, and with a wadded-up napkin up his nose is not how he imagined himself in Claire Dearing's home. At length, he swallows his apprehension and finally breaks the silence. ]
Alright, go ahead. Tell me how pissed you are at me.
no subject
Victims still seeking answers in wake of tragedy.
Eyewitness: 'It was chaos. Everyone was screaming.'
Who's to blame for 'Jurassic' disaster?
Owen's lucky enough to be a low man on the totem pole. Aside from brief fact-finding interviews conducted by Masrani Global and InGen for his involvement in the hunt for the Indominus Rex, he was mostly left alone. He was only a handler, after all, who happened to step up when things went to shit; that his Velociraptors turned on him and the InGen soldiers didn't seem to faze his interviewers. "You're a hero," one of the corporate shills told Owen as the interview drew to a close. It was obvious that they were looking for heroes. For acts of daring and selflessness performed by park employees to spin the tragedy into something positive. An unfortunate disaster, but look at these normal people, doing extraordinary things for their fellow man.
He felt dirty. Disgusting. The shower he took after that was a long one, and he nearly used all of the hot water scrubbing the feeling of slime away. But luckily, they didn't use his story in the newsreels. Too violent, probably. Too easy to see the gaping holes where they would leave out the moment he lost control of his raptors. They would never want to mention how in trying to save the park, Owen guided a platoon of men into the waiting jaws of his own dinosaurs, and how they died screaming.
Yeah. Probably not the sound bites they want going out over the waves.
Claire, though, had no such luck, and she became their posterchild and spokeswoman all at once. The grainy security camera footage of her standing before the infamous Tyrannosaurus Rex, flare in hand, had been leaked -- probably by Masrani Global's doing, if Owen had to guess. Not only was Claire busy fielding questions and rehashing the mistakes leading up to the disaster, but she also had to contend with being put up on a pedastal. Look at this brave woman, who saved her guests, who did everything she could to protect her nephews. Wasn't she courageous? Isn't she beautiful?
If nothing else, Owen is at least glad they aren't using her as a scapegoat. He's been in that position before, and he knows exactly how unpleasant it can be.
The two of them haven't seen each other much since their bosses ramped up their response to the media circus, which means the topic of them has yet to be fully discussed; they happen to cross paths as they're both leaving separate interviews at Masrani's HQ in San Diego -- more info-gathering, for Owen; a debriefing, for Claire -- and decide to grab lunch together to catch up. Easier said than done, however, when they're greeted by a crowd of reporters at the front doorstep. Claire seems to ignore them well enough, and Owen follows her lead, carefully shouldering past men and women to clear a path. They're nearly in the clear when one persistent man stands in front of them, a digital recorder jammed in Claire's face.
"Ms. Dearing," he said. "Footage of you guiding the T-Rex out of its paddock has surfaced recently. Do you have any comment on your irresponsibility for unleashing not one, but two dangerous creatures on Isla Nublar? Or do you have anything you'd like to say in response to accusations that this video was manufactured by Masrani Global?"
Owen's not sure how Claire feels about the bullshit the guy just vomited out of his mouth -- she always did have one hell of a poker face -- but Owen, at least, steps between the two of them, annoyance seeping from every pore. "You want to get out of our way, sir."
The reporter continues to hound the two of them as Owen guides Claire away. "Ms. Dearing. Do you have any comment on naysayers stating your position as the park's lead asset manager was earned by sleeping with Simon Masrani? Any comment on rumors stating that the creature known as the Indominus Rex never existed, owing to the fact that the creature has never been seen, and that stories regarding its accidental release were invented to conceal your incompetence in maintaining the park's security? Any comment on--"
At around that point, Owen surprises the reporter by punching him, and he felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles. He shakes out his hand, moving to guide Claire away again, when the reporter surprises him by jumping back to his feet and driving his fist into Owen's gut.
Things got a little out of hand, after that.
One broken nose (the reporter's), one bleeding nose (Owen's), two black eyes (one for each, though the reporter's was worse), a split lip (Owen's), a torn shirt (the reporter's), twenty bruised knuckles, and two citations for causing a public disturbance later, Owen finds himself at the wrong end of icy silence from Claire. She's brought them back to her apartment (which, by the way, is really nice, though Owen finds it difficult to compliment her digs in the face of her quiet rage) with hardly a word, and he's directed to sit at the kitchen counter.
Dirty, disheveled, and with a wadded-up napkin up his nose is not how he imagined himself in Claire Dearing's home. At length, he swallows his apprehension and finally breaks the silence. ]
Alright, go ahead. Tell me how pissed you are at me.