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

[awfulsentimetal]

That's about the size of it. [The Spine takes a step back now that Peter is on his feet. He rubs at the back of his neck, not quite meeting the inventor's gaze.] The cockpit is mostly intact, I think--let's get back to everyone else first, though, okay? I'll fill you in on the way.