It becomes more evident that the fans are capable of more consistency (and insane dino violence) then Hollywood-paid screenwriters! There was so much to explore in JWD... I love the cast/dinos/locations so much and they deserved a better story... ok, that was the short version of my rant. The rest, I have put into the chapters below. Enjoy and don't shy from writing your own. (You can't do the franchise any worse harm.)

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2019

Owen felt bad. Maisie had wanted to come in, pick out the clothes herself. She technically had, eyeballing the website with Claire before he'd driven into town. But, she knew the rules. Plus, he was picking up her knife today and he knew all would be forgiven when she unwrapped it Christmas morning.

"Didn't think it'd get here in time." the store-owner Merle chuckled from over the oak counter. Owen played down his excitement as Merle rang the box up with the other items. "Patience always gets rewarded."

"Tell that to my wife." Merle laughed through his bushy mountaineer mustache. "You and Claire visiting family for the holidays?"

"Who isn't." Owen lightly dodged the question, his wallet out. "The roads just better stay clear."

"They were when I got in."

Both men turned to a see a lanky young man in an over-sized jacket and over-eager smile. There wasn't a chance to read the rest of him as he leaned on the counter beside Owen. "Name's Grady, right? Rainn Delacourt."

Owen's face stayed polite, moving Maisie's outfit under Claire's new coat as he shook Delacourt's hand. "InGen or Biosyn?"

Delacourt's smile turned even more slick under wet-blue eyes. "Glad I can get right to the point. I am, however, more of an independent contractor type. And... you'd be the man to help my cilents get what they want."

I'm sure. Owen took his receipt, thanking Merle. He managed the clothes into a bag, but Delacourt caught up the box with Maisie's knife. "Look, facts are these. InGen's dead in the ground, Biosyn's got a public image to uphold-" he snorted. "Point is, you might be finding yourself in a financial strain-"

"Rehabilitation pays more then you think." Owen stopped him. That was his business; Claire's connections with the DPG gave him and others the platform they needed in this new world.

"You're former Navy, right?" Delacourt held the box a bit higher. "I'd think you'd have plenty of these."

Owen recalled the feeling of having his second grade bully play keep-away with his baseball. He easily flipped the box back into his hands. "Always in the market for something new."

"My point exactly." Delacourt shrugged, following him down the aisle of the store. "Something new's presenting itself. You have the skills and expertise to get paid for it."

Owen spotted his trunk through the window, where Maisie waited for him. And hoped to spot another dinosaur... a few triceratops had wandered from their herd last week. He hadn't the heart to tell her they'd been found dead and frozen while trying to make their way south. There had been projections of how many of the dinosaurs would survive their first winter... and he'd been hoping that was the solution. Yet, once again, nature proved resilient.

"Morals don't matter to the bill collectors." Delacourt spoke calmly from behind. "Hammond, Masarani, they could afford humility or whatever else. The everyday man, like you and I, cannot. And discretion happens to be a favorite of my clientele."

Owen turned back, drawing on his full height. Delacourt wasn't saying it and he didn't need to. Mankind made another mistake and the weasels of the world were profiting off it within a week. Barry, Lowery, they had plenty fo stories of the new shape the black market was taking. If things were different, I'd be right there with them.

"Guys like me catch guys like you eventually." Owen cut the fat, matching Delacourt's calm. "If they don't eat you first."

Delacourt's posture tightened, considering the line Owen had just drawn. He tapped a pair of binoculars on the shelf, the cocky grin easing back over his lips. "That ain't likely and you know why?"

He relished the dramatic pause. "I know where I stand. See, everyone's thinking co-existence is the answer. But at the end of the day, this' either our world... or theirs.'

'I grew up with a rodeo and family's whole living rested on proving themselves superior to the animal. Any animal." His grin grew, eyes shifting memories that made Owen uncomfortable. Delacourt leaned in, watching for a reaction. "Left with I was eighteen; been in many other corrals since then. Results are always the same."

"Until it's not." Owen only saw this guy through Blue's eyes; he'd be dead in seconds. Delacourt unhooked the binoculars, like the possibility didn't interest him. "These creatures are just mankind's next challenge. Not my fault if some people overestimate themselves."

Owen hadn't expected a conscience, and he wasn't about to present his own. Media streams blew up every time there was another dino-related death.

"With us, though," Delacourt was back to comparing, and fraying Owen's nerves. "We go in knowing what to expect. Having that confidence is part of the control."

Owen moved the binoculars off his chest. "Go admire your 'confidence' somewhere else."

Delacourt's eyes hardened a second, until he saundered back up. "Nice to know where we stand."

He kept the binoculars, heading back to the register. Owen breathed out, switching hands with his bag as he pushed outside. Icy mountain air rushed under his coat, cooling his heated skin... and thoughts. He slipped Maisie's present into his side pocket, taking slow breaths across the parking lot. I'll need to call Barry before the day's out.

"Owen!" Maisie smiled, poking out from the back. "You got the shirt? Pleeeasse tell me you got the shirt!"

His jaw dropped. "Knew I forgot-"

"Liar!" Maisie grabbed the bag from him, struggling with its weight. Owen watched her, eyes lit, cheeks round with her smile. This was why he was here. New world or not.