Fractured Luck // Owen Grady

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Just to be safe: Lauren is my OC and I own her. Jurassic World/Park goes to whoever owns it all.
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After

My entire life story was a series of ironic events. It started with my first zoo visit, when I vowed to never work at a zoo, due to the way they held animals in captivity without consent.

It continued when I realized I couldn't bring myself to ignore the unknown way they treated animals when the park was closed.

That caused me to go to college for a degree in marine biology to ensure the health and happiness of all marine animals I could work with.

When I was four, a park that recreated dinosaurs genetically and displayed them to the public was opened. I vowed to never work there, in fear that a repeat of Jurassic Park would occur.

If you haven't heard of Jurassic Park, it's the first try at recreating dinosaurs and presenting them to the public.

In the test run, a group of people were sent to the park, and the ones who survived were scarred for the rest of their lives.

Why, you ask? Because carnivorous dinosaurs escaped their captivity and aimed to eat the humans.

So, the next dumb question about my life story is why would somebody ever want to work there, if there's a high probability the same exact thing may happen?

The answer to that question lies in the next section of my life story, just as I was ending my third year of working as the head of the marine animals at a zoo in southern Florida.

Somehow-and to this day, I still don't know exactly how they found me- Jurassic World contacted me.

At the time, Jurassic World proudly showed off their single carnivorous dinosaur, the T-Rex, and a dozen herbivorous dinosaurs to the world.

It was due time for another attraction, as they did every year, and their goal was to have myself train and work with the new dinosaur.

The attraction of the year was supposed to be a marine dinosaur called the Mosasaur.

Archaeologists discovered that a skeleton of a Mosasaur measured in at sixty feet long, meaning the recreated dinosaur would the biggest marine animal to ever live in a tank.

Thrilling news, of course, especially in the marine world.

While the woman on the phone expected me to be amazed by the news, my reaction was just the opposite. I spurted out questions concerning the care of the animal, such as how large her tank would be, if she had freedom to roam and not get bored while stuck in the space.

To answer my questions, Jurassic World paid for my entire trip to visit Isla Nublar to see the Mosasaur hatch myself.

I had to make a decision of whether or not I wanted to work there by the end of the trip.

And the moment I laid eyes on the Mosasaur crawling from her egg, my heart swelled with love.

Despite my hatred for that park and its success, I felt a need to ensure her safety and care. My overwhelming desire to aid marine animals stuck in captivity kicked in instantly, and I found myself agreeing to the job.

From the moment the Mosasaur took her first steps, my hands were invading her space. I was the first (and only) person that little nose touched, and funny enough, the first her baby teeth nicked. Being the closest thing to her, the Mosasaur --who I'd nicknamed Mo-- imprinted on me.

Every week, her size improved. She started being able to swim in a bathtub, those four little flippers of hers rowing, similar to paddles on a boat.

Within four weeks, she outgrew the bath tub and was moved into a fourteen thousand gallon pool and from there, into the tank she would live in for the rest of her life: a three million gallon tank.

During her time in the pool, I had joined her swimming for a few hours.

A few times in the tank I swam alongside her without incidents.

The final time I swam with her, the cable holding a dead shark snapped, and Mo panicked, sinking her teeth into my left arm.

In all our years together, that was her single aggressive act towards me. I hadn't feared, knowing she wouldn't kill me. I was practically her mother.

Our bond lived on, though our time swimming together deceased when she grew to her expected size of sixty feet and weighed in at nearly fifteen tons.

At that time, the officials of Jurassic Park prohibited me from swimming with her anymore.

For five years I've lived at Isla Nublar and worked with Mo. For eight years I'd lucked out with head positions of marine animals at my previous job and at Jurassic World.

Luck-- that was it. Since I graduated college, a streak of luck followed closely behind me. I guess one day it had to run out.

That day started a little like this..