[color=82ca9d][i]Owen Grady[/i][/color]

Since the incident on Isla Nublar, that once more demanded a whole theme park to be shut down publically, Owen Grady had been attempting his best at regaining a somewhat civil life. Working and living with prehistoric killers for the past five years really had gotten to his nerves, considering what he presumed had happened to his [i]family[/i] at the final show-down at [i]Jurassic World[/i], and since then he had had a truly hard time with getting a proper job, a somewhat good apartment, and generally a decent, new life. It had been hell, if he was to be brutally honest, and nightmares of his experiences on the dinosaur island haunted his mind on a nightly base.

That all, the whole futile attempt of escaping the whole horror had been for nothing, though, the blond thought as he finally stepped off the ferry. A low breath of air was accompanying the small group of people on their once again first re-entering of the famous, deadly island. The sun was long gone, hiding behind a thick blanket of dark clouds, and the former Velociraptor trainer was sure, that soon enough rain would completely soak them. But not now. He swallowed drily, turning around once more to observe the group of humans getting off the boat. The letters "InGen" were boldly written across the long side of said ferry, though Owen knew better than to stare at something as stupid as that. For god's sake, if this wasn't for his beloved [i]family[/i], he would have never agreed to this utterly idiotic trip. They would probably all die on here, he supposed, and the fact that he didn't exactly freak out about that thought was already bitter enough. 

His fingers all but [i]clutched [/i]at the small sniper rifle, it's belt dangling loosely at his side, as the bags of proviant and shelters were loaded off of the vehicle as well, and he himself just stood there. Waiting. Not even [i]daring [/i]to think about helping them. After all, InGen had been the one asking him to join the mission, and he definitely wasn't paid enough to further help them into their inevitable deaths; no matter how young and innocent some of the others appeared. A cruel world this was, he was sure, however no one could do anything about it. No one but he himself, eventually, [i]definitely[/i], trying to stop this bloody madness.

A deep breath was now sucked into his lungs, though; the scent of salty, rough waves filling his nostrils, before he released the air again. He already [i]loathed [/i]this whole ordeal...