At first, Omega remains unresponsive, as if he either hadn't heard her or intended to act like it. But then his eyes open slowly, and he tilts his head without lifting it, just enough to look toward her. Then he nods, without speaking. If it won't cause his mate any suffering to have him beside her, then that's where he'll be.
The boat roars its way back across the waves, straight toward Isla Sorna. If Owen never sees this island again in his life, it'll be too fucking soon, but right now he can't reach it fast enough. Barry and the other raptors are still there; he left them behind to sweep up, and to give the island itself a once-over, such as it is. Now he suspects he knows what the boys were so anxious about earlier.
With any luck, they haven't killed him yet.
Owen's boots hit the sand practically before the boat even stops moving. Barry is still maintaining a sentinel post on the beach, but Owen doesn't linger to explain the situation other than a few bitten words that give the other man enough information to stay back. He wishes he had the fucking Jeep, but at least he can still follow the raptors' deliberate trail through the woods, and Owen barely remembers the actual effort of getting from the beach to the deeper jungle, but finally he calls, and the girls answer him.
They rush to him, and surround him with anxious questions and muffled tears about their sister, but for once in his life Owen doesn't have it in him to stop and making them feel better. He makes the girls direct him to the boys. The boys are not far off, and they lead him down the hill.
Tied to a tree, just like Omega said, is Vic Hoskins.
Owen notes humorlessly that the man has seen better days. His eyes are crusted, his skin a ghastly pallor even worse than Blue's, with mottled spots on his cheeks and dry, cracked lips. Both the bones in his right shin have... exploded, looks like, his foot is hanging on by skin alone and the splintered bone is jutting out of nothing but red, fleshy pulp. A horrible smell wafts past Owen's nose when he draws closer. But none of it makes his stomach turn nearly as much as the man himself.
Chi and Psi prowl like wolves under the shadows of the trees. Submission to their elder brother has kept them from finishing the job he started in his absence, but they've been tormenting their former jailer all the while, just waiting for the chance to rip him to pieces. But Owen sends them both away with a sharp word, and Hoskins's eyes peel open, watery and bloodshot.
His mouth moves, but Owen doesn't hear anything at first. It takes the man a couple tries to get it out. "...Owen."
Owen tightens his jaw against the bile that rises up just from hearing that son of a bitch's voice. But he needs him to talk. He's gonna get some goddamn answers, and he steps closer until he's standing over Hoskins, eyes narrowing, expression hard as stone.
"If you want any help at all, you're gonna tell me exactly what you did to Blue."
Hoskins coughs, making a disgusting sound in the back of his throat. For a second, Owen is honestly afraid that the fucker is about to keel over dead before telling him anything. But then Hoskins looks up at him again, and -- good lord, is his lip trembling? The bastard looks like he's about to cry.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this, Owen," Hoskins pleads with him in a voice raspy and shot. "You know that, you... you know what we, what we... were trying..."
"You were trying to breed better hybrids," Owen snarls, "using those boys and my girls." His fingers flex on the strap of his rifle, still slung across his back. "Is that what you were trying now?"
Hoskins nods weakly. "We... we were taking good care of her, Owen, I swear, but... you... you know how she is. Stubborn... always fighting, we had... had to quiet her down."
"So you overdosed her on tranquilizers?"
"Didn't want... didn't want her fighting like... he did." Hoskins coughs, hacks, and makes a choked sound of pain before his head falls back against the tree. "She could've hurt herself, Owen... I didn't want that, ever..."
Owen considers stepping on that dead leg. "What did you give her?"
Hoskins wheezes. "...MORO-709."
Jesus. That's the tranquilizer they use on the actual dinosaurs. Owen is appalled. "How much?"
"...22 ccs," Hoskins answers after a brief pause, during which he was either thinking or briefly unconscious. "But Omega... used to get 25. We didn't give her that much, Owen."
"Yeah, that's great," Owen growls. "What did you do, dose her every goddamn day?"
Hoskins's silence answers that question well enough. Owen realizes he's gripping the strap so tight that his hands are shaking, and his chest feels cold and tight. He slowly crouches down, even though it puts him closer to the man he hates more than anything else on the planet, and he's so disgusted by the sight of him that it might make him retch on the spot. The question he has to ask out loud to this absolute scum of a human nearly does the trick.
"How were you trying to impregnate her?"
Hoskins answers a little more quickly this time. "We... we saved specimens from the boys. All of 'em. I wanted... you know I wanted to see her and Omega together, Owen. You know that... you know there wouldn't be a hybrid better than that..."
Owen has had just about as much as he can stand. But there is one more thing. "And is that the only thing you tried?"
That's when Hoskins goes quiet, and Owen can tell just by the look on his face that it's not because the man is confused by the question. Hoskins is already dying out here in the jungle, in too much pain to hide the way his eyes go wider, his mouth opens and shuts, he shrinks back just a little -- because he's been caught, hasn't he, the repulsive motherfucker knows his little secret is out.
"Okay." Owen straightens up and swings his rifle down from his shoulder.
Hoskins's expression falls apart. "No, Owen--"
But Owen doesn't bat an eyelash -- just puts the first bullet right in his lap.
Hoskins screams, long and raw and high-pitched; his crotch is an exploded mess, blood pouring out between his legs, staining the grass and the leaves beneath him. He screams, as Owen cocks the rifle again, and then the next gunshot leaves everything silent.
Owen collects his shell casings from the ground, swings his rifle back over his shoulder, and heads up the hill to rejoin his raptors.
no subject
The boat roars its way back across the waves, straight toward Isla Sorna. If Owen never sees this island again in his life, it'll be too fucking soon, but right now he can't reach it fast enough. Barry and the other raptors are still there; he left them behind to sweep up, and to give the island itself a once-over, such as it is. Now he suspects he knows what the boys were so anxious about earlier.
With any luck, they haven't killed him yet.
Owen's boots hit the sand practically before the boat even stops moving. Barry is still maintaining a sentinel post on the beach, but Owen doesn't linger to explain the situation other than a few bitten words that give the other man enough information to stay back. He wishes he had the fucking Jeep, but at least he can still follow the raptors' deliberate trail through the woods, and Owen barely remembers the actual effort of getting from the beach to the deeper jungle, but finally he calls, and the girls answer him.
They rush to him, and surround him with anxious questions and muffled tears about their sister, but for once in his life Owen doesn't have it in him to stop and making them feel better. He makes the girls direct him to the boys. The boys are not far off, and they lead him down the hill.
Tied to a tree, just like Omega said, is Vic Hoskins.
Owen notes humorlessly that the man has seen better days. His eyes are crusted, his skin a ghastly pallor even worse than Blue's, with mottled spots on his cheeks and dry, cracked lips. Both the bones in his right shin have... exploded, looks like, his foot is hanging on by skin alone and the splintered bone is jutting out of nothing but red, fleshy pulp. A horrible smell wafts past Owen's nose when he draws closer. But none of it makes his stomach turn nearly as much as the man himself.
Chi and Psi prowl like wolves under the shadows of the trees. Submission to their elder brother has kept them from finishing the job he started in his absence, but they've been tormenting their former jailer all the while, just waiting for the chance to rip him to pieces. But Owen sends them both away with a sharp word, and Hoskins's eyes peel open, watery and bloodshot.
His mouth moves, but Owen doesn't hear anything at first. It takes the man a couple tries to get it out. "...Owen."
Owen tightens his jaw against the bile that rises up just from hearing that son of a bitch's voice. But he needs him to talk. He's gonna get some goddamn answers, and he steps closer until he's standing over Hoskins, eyes narrowing, expression hard as stone.
"If you want any help at all, you're gonna tell me exactly what you did to Blue."
Hoskins coughs, making a disgusting sound in the back of his throat. For a second, Owen is honestly afraid that the fucker is about to keel over dead before telling him anything. But then Hoskins looks up at him again, and -- good lord, is his lip trembling? The bastard looks like he's about to cry.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this, Owen," Hoskins pleads with him in a voice raspy and shot. "You know that, you... you know what we, what we... were trying..."
"You were trying to breed better hybrids," Owen snarls, "using those boys and my girls." His fingers flex on the strap of his rifle, still slung across his back. "Is that what you were trying now?"
Hoskins nods weakly. "We... we were taking good care of her, Owen, I swear, but... you... you know how she is. Stubborn... always fighting, we had... had to quiet her down."
"So you overdosed her on tranquilizers?"
"Didn't want... didn't want her fighting like... he did." Hoskins coughs, hacks, and makes a choked sound of pain before his head falls back against the tree. "She could've hurt herself, Owen... I didn't want that, ever..."
Owen considers stepping on that dead leg. "What did you give her?"
Hoskins wheezes. "...MORO-709."
Jesus. That's the tranquilizer they use on the actual dinosaurs. Owen is appalled. "How much?"
"...22 ccs," Hoskins answers after a brief pause, during which he was either thinking or briefly unconscious. "But Omega... used to get 25. We didn't give her that much, Owen."
"Yeah, that's great," Owen growls. "What did you do, dose her every goddamn day?"
Hoskins's silence answers that question well enough. Owen realizes he's gripping the strap so tight that his hands are shaking, and his chest feels cold and tight. He slowly crouches down, even though it puts him closer to the man he hates more than anything else on the planet, and he's so disgusted by the sight of him that it might make him retch on the spot. The question he has to ask out loud to this absolute scum of a human nearly does the trick.
"How were you trying to impregnate her?"
Hoskins answers a little more quickly this time. "We... we saved specimens from the boys. All of 'em. I wanted... you know I wanted to see her and Omega together, Owen. You know that... you know there wouldn't be a hybrid better than that..."
Owen has had just about as much as he can stand. But there is one more thing. "And is that the only thing you tried?"
That's when Hoskins goes quiet, and Owen can tell just by the look on his face that it's not because the man is confused by the question. Hoskins is already dying out here in the jungle, in too much pain to hide the way his eyes go wider, his mouth opens and shuts, he shrinks back just a little -- because he's been caught, hasn't he, the repulsive motherfucker knows his little secret is out.
"Okay." Owen straightens up and swings his rifle down from his shoulder.
Hoskins's expression falls apart. "No, Owen--"
But Owen doesn't bat an eyelash -- just puts the first bullet right in his lap.
Hoskins screams, long and raw and high-pitched; his crotch is an exploded mess, blood pouring out between his legs, staining the grass and the leaves beneath him. He screams, as Owen cocks the rifle again, and then the next gunshot leaves everything silent.
Owen collects his shell casings from the ground, swings his rifle back over his shoulder, and heads up the hill to rejoin his raptors.
"Let's go."