The Crash Site

[blindandlost]

It doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter how you were travelling. All that matters is the Island, and the Island wants you. All are drawn to the same stretch of shoreline; your plane suddenly loses power and drops from the sky to crash into the sand. Your boat runs aground. Your helicopter plows a deep furrow until the blades tangle and catch in the thick growth of the jungle.

However it happened, now you're here. You belong to the Island. There might be something salvageable in the debris, but no matter what you find, no matter who is with you, one thing is certain:

You are lost.

Comments

[hatchworthy]

"Okay. The Spine." There wasn't really a whole lot of room for him to stand back, but Hatchworth made do, shuffling away to stand back near the flaming remains of his crate. And the flaming remains of what had probably been a lady.

After staring down at her for a moment, he turned away and started beating out the flames on his clothes with jerky motions. Don't think about it. Too much steam hissed out with each motion; he'd filled up before the trip, but the heat was overtaxing his boiler. Hatchy had always thought fire was pretty, but he didn't like being quite this close to it anymore.

[awfulsentimetal]

A quick blast with the old tesla ought to do it--

Plating shifted and steam hissed as he prepared to bring the old weapon online, raising his hand. With a screeching, grinding finality all movement ceased, The Spine's arm caught midway in the transformation from appendage to device.

Error.

"Uh..." Well, okay. He'd just try something else. He opened his mouth, and--

Error.

No time. There was no time to sort himself out. The Spine gripped the edge of the tear and started hauling again. "Hatchy, if you've got any ideas now'd be the time...!"

[hatchworthy]

Hatchworth looked up from where he had been waiting. So he wasn't going to blow it open? Why not? The Spine wasn't damaged, was he?

Gloved hands hovered hesitantly over the hatch in his chest for a moment, before swinging it open. He didn't have his cannon anymore, but of course the rift was still there - maybe he could still do it? "I have an. idea. Stand back."

He vented a long jet of steam, fingers nervously twitching together. Okay. Okay. Managing the blue matter wasn't as easy as using a normal weapon would have been; even in war he'd never precisely been able to control what came out. Hatchy tried to hold very still and think maybe-a-cannonball-or-something-definitely-not-actual-blue-matter-blast thoughts as he felt the rift twist and warp inside him...

...and a turkey sandwich popped out and fell onto the ground. And then caught fire.

"Never. mind."

[awfulsentimetal]

"That's okay, Hatchy, we'll just have to get you outta there the old-fashioned way." It had been a tiny flicker of a hope, anyway. The Spine suspected sandwiches. He frowned, stepping forward to dig his feet into the sand. His silver fingers worked into the tear again. Steam wafted from his vents and gears ground as he worked to widen the gap. "How's it lookin' in there?" Not that he needed more incentive to hurry.

[hatchworthy]

Hatchy moved back to put his own weight against the tear again, glancing around as he did so. "It is very fiery. the Spine. But I am not anymore." That was one good thing, right? At least he wasn't actually on fire as they were talking.

After a moment of silence, he added: "There are people. here." With fewer wars behind him than his older brothers, it had been a very long time since Hatchworth had seen bodies.