Crash {Stranded RP} discussion

This would be where the half of the plane that made it to the island landed, pieces scattered across a large part of the beach. The front end of the plane crashed into the trees at the edge of the forest, knocking down quite a few of them, while the broken back end now faces the water, the high tide almost completely covering the three rows of seats closest to the opening on the right side. Many holes are ripped into the plane, which would explain why people are waking up in places other than the plane. People will likely be waking close enough to the plane, somewhere between the forest, the East beach, and the North beach. Judging by the line across the sand, it is likely that the plane initially crashed at the South beach, and slide over to the more Eastern side, so people may be there as well. However, for the people inside, who's seatbelts kept them from flying out of the plane, this is what they'd wake up to. A wreck. A smoking hunk of metal.

Stella woke slowly, groggy, weirdly tired for some unusual reason. She didn't quite notice anything out of place at first, until she inhaled through her nose. Smoke. Smoke everywhere. A scream rose in her throat but she choked it off. She opened her eyes, looking around her for the first time. Blue seats, a shiny black seatbelt around her waist. She wore them at all times when she was flying, her anxiety forced her to do so. She tried to speak, to call out a hello, but her voice was cracked, unhearable

Coben awoke, his eyes still closed, and stretched lightly. The all too familiar smell of smoldering plastics and creaking metal snapped him instantly to full wakefulness. His eyes snapped open and he tried to stand but was immediately thrown, painfully, back into his seat by the belt that was still strapped around it. Blood from a gash on his forehead flowed down his face and blurred the vision in his right eye. Angrily he slapped the seatbelt release and stepped into the aisle of the plane, careful of the slight tilt the floor had gained on impact. Funny, never been in an AC-130 with seats this nice before… he thought to himself as he reached under his trench coat for his sidearm. His hand met only fabric and painfully bruised ribs. As realization hit him he laughed out loud: out of all the times he had flown into battlefields all across the world, he was in a commercial plane crash.

Stella reached down to unbuckle her seatbelt. Her right arm screamed out in agony. It seemed her right arm had a gash in it. Nothinf too deep, too serious, but enough to cause her momentary pain. Looking up, shesaw momovement in behind her. She was unsure whether to draw the stranger towards her, or wait tillthey left. Her anxiety was skyrockeying

Grabbing his carry-on from the overhead compartment, apparently the only one that didn't open on impact judging from the scattered luggage, Coben picked his way carefully towards the broken end of the plane's fuselage. The sea breeze billowed his coat out behind him and the tropic sun glinted from the silver thread.

Finally, her worries got the best of her. "Hello?" She coughed out hoarsly, "sir, hello, please" her voice rasped. She did her best to undo her belt with only her left hand, which was usless as nondominate as it was. "Hello" she coughed

Coben's ears perked up and he turned around, noticing for the first time the girl still strapped into her seat. He walked over to her and, seeing her having a bit of trouble with her seatbelt, he unlatched it for her. "How bad is it?" he asked when he noticed the gash in her arm. He opened up a nearby suitcase and started rummaging through it.

"Its not too bad" shr said, standing up, "thanyou for your help. What happened? Where are we?" She studied the catastrophe around them, biting her lower lip. Her parents would be worried. She was supposed to be on stage

Coben found a coat in the suitcase and tore off a trip of it, handing it to the girl as he picked his own carry on back up. "Well, they say 'turbulence never brought down a plane' so something must have gone wrong." He replied. "As for where we are I couldn't say exactly, but it must be somewhere in the Pacific". As he got to the end of the plane he set down his suitcase and stripped out of his trench coat before wading out into the water and trying the door into the cargo compartment.

Stella covered up the gash and followed closely behind him. "This is Not how the plans were set" she mutterwd to herself, tugging at her bangs. This was her trick for releaving her anxiety. Well, not releaving, but easing

The door to the cargo area creaked open and Coben ducked inside. "Watch your step" he called back over his shoulder "What's your name, by the way?" he asked as he dug through piles of luggage, seemingly looking for something in particular.

"Stella" shereplied in her Australian accent, "and whats yours?' She replied politely. She carefully picked her way through the rubble

"Coben, at your service." he replied as he shook the water off of a large black aluminum hardcase with "ExOp" on the front in silver, the same as his trench coat. He set it atop a stack of luggage to keep it out of the water and pulled out six more identically designed cases, two briefcase sized, one four feet long and badly damaged, and the rest cubes two foot to a side.

Stella sat down on a piece of luggage with a sigh, holding up her head in her hands. "Well this royally blows" she said, addressing no one in particular

"We'll get out of here eventually. In the meantime…" Coben input a number into the conbination lock on the briefcase sized luggage and opened it up, removing a chest harness and locking himself into it. "In the meantime, watch your back. These islands can be havens for pirates and smugglers". Opening one of the cube shaped cases, he removed pistol magazines and locked them into the harness.

It only took a few minutes for Coben to find the rest of his luggage and suit up. First rule of business in any unknown situation: arm up. By the time he was finished he had two CZ-75 in shoulder houlsters and a Leader .50 sniper rifle across his back. The badly damaged case had revealed an AUG assault rifle that hadn't survived the landing along with an oversized PLR-16 assault pistol which had faired only slightly better. He didn't dare try to fire it without a thourough checking over. All of these were worn over a set of combat armor that would be sweltering in the jungle heat, but he couldn't bring himself to exchange its protection for mere comfort. The armor had, unfortunately, been dyed a desert tan to facilitate his recent assignment in the wastes of Australia and would stick out terribly in their new environment. On his head he strapped an armored mask which he left up rather than close it over his face and sweat even worse than he already knew he would. He tied his bags to the back of his armor and turned toward Stella, who had remained strangely quiet through the ordeal. "Ready to get out of here?" he asked.

"Um i guess" she said, watching him weirdly. She was glad he seemed to be on good terms, at least for now. She would hate to have one of thoze dangerous weapons pointed in her direction

"You know how to use one of these?" he asked patting one of the CZ-75s at his side as he stepped back out of the cargo area and onto the beach, his eyes scanning the horizon. Closer inspection would reveal the name Marly etched in a silver cursive font on the slide.

"No" she said, giving him a weird look, her nose slightly scrunching up, "Most normal people don't, just saying" she looked the weapons over. She had taken basic hand gun training, only for self defense, but was never very good

Coben nodded silently to himself as he picked his way slowly across the beach, as if he had kind of expected that answer. Instead, he drew a large Tanto-style combat knife from a belt sheath and flipped it around to hand it to his traveling companion handle-first. "Then at least take this. If someone comes for you, stab here" he pointed to his stomach "then slash here" he finished by drawing his thumb across his throat in the traditional gesture for "kill". "Don't know who or what's on this island, and you look like you're gonna need any advantage you can get."

Syvina's leg twitched. "No... I refuse to sign this treaty." She mumbled. The waves crashed up on the shore. "Wha?" Syvina said groggily as she woke up.

Stella took the knife from him, spinning the handle in her small hand, as she often did with her tennis racket. She had played tennis for years and the handle seemed very familiar to her, as well as the weight. "Ok, this I think I can handle" she replied, smiling at the other guy

"Good" Coben said simply, eyes scanning the shore. He would've sworn one of thos bodies just move but he had such a headache. He ran a hand over his forehead where something had collided with it during the crash, resulting in the gash that was now there. better not be another concussion he thought silently to himself as they moved along the beach.

"Do you remember what happened?" Stella asked Coben. In all honesty, she didn't remember a thing. She was usually doped up on sleeping pills before she even stepped on a plane and passed out before lift off. She hated flying

"I remember... something about turbulence. The captain turned on the fasten seatbelt sign." Coben rubbed a hand against his temple. "I can't remember much before or after that. A falling sensation." he looked over his shoulder at the downed plane, engines still smoking. Coben snorted "guess that part makes sense now".

Stella shivered. "Glad I was out for that" she muttered, grabbing a suitcase with her initials monogrammed on it. At least she'd look cute while stranded in this hellhole. "They're probably sending someone after us, aye mate?"

"Probably. If the system on the plane worked correctly, it'll have sent a distress signal when the pressure dropped. If not then, then when the plane hit the beach". Coben had angled now and was moving towards the jungle. The weight and padding of his armor was starting to get to him already, with sweat fairly pouring down his face. I must have imagined the body moving. Not surprised, I obviously hit my head on something he thought. "We need to find water. Soon. No matter what they say on those t.v. 'survival' shows, you can go for weeks without food. But sweating like this we're gonna need a lot of water."

"there's probably some left on the plane. You know, the bottled stuff? That they, like, give out for free or whatever?" Stella suggested

"That's... that makes sense." Coben said, mumbling slightly. His headache was getting worse. "Yeah, let's check that before we leave." he began leading the way back towards what was left of he plane.

Stella followed after him, taking careful steps. She was glad she had worn atheltic attire, smooth, sleek running capris, and a pink athletic tank top.

Coben had just made it into the broken end of the plane and walked halfway to the refreshment storage area near the front when suddenly he was no longer standing on the floor, but the wall. Then the other wall. As his equilibrium tried to catch up he stumbled and fell sideways against a seat, his knees inexplicably weak. The world twisted around him and he fought against the blackness that threatened to envelope his vision.this is trippy he thought as he tried to stand back up.

Stella watched him, nose scrunched up in confusion, as he fell this way and that. As they approached the storage, she prayed there would be some liquor left

Finally, Coben reached the refreshment area and started digging through the nearest cabinet. He grabbed a nearby backpack, emptied its contents onto the floor, amd started filling it with bottled water. Seeing a bottle of painkillers, he poured a few into his hand and tossed them into his mouth.

"What's all back there?" Stella asked, standing on plane seats to keep water from getting in her shoes. She hated having her socks wet. Absolutely despised it.

"Some water in bottles, in-flight snacks. The larger glass bottles broke, but some of those tiny alcohol bottles are intact. Looks like we've got the makings for the world's smallest Molotovs." Coben replied. The bag was almost full now and, being filled with water, it was pretty heavy. He held it back towards her. "Think you can handle this?" he asked, hooking a thumb towards his own back which was already piled with his own luggage.

"Or we could drink them..." she said suggestivly to the tiny bottles of alcohol, flashing him one of her perfect smile. "And possibly." she said with a shrug, taking the bag from him. The surprisng weight immidiately dragged her forward, toppling against him

Coben spun around and tried to catch her before she fell over, his head wound slowing him down just enough that it ended up as more of an awkward hug. "We can, uh, think about it" he said quickly as he helped her back to her feet. "The fact that no one else has come to loot the plane yet suggests that there might actually not be any pirates or smugglers on this island after all. A pity, really."

"A pity?" Stella said, raising an eyebrow, after she moved out her tank top, "Isn't that a good thing, mate?" She couldn't imagine pirates, at least not modern day. The most 'pirates' she'd seen were from Pirates of the Caribbean

"Good for some." Coben replied as he went back to searching through the plane's refreshments. "Personally, I'd have rather there had been pirates. Pirates would have meant a source of supplies, a place to get a boat, and it would mean that we were close to a trade route. The fact that there aren't any tells me that this island is probably way off the beaten path. That's gonna make it a lot harder to get out of here."

Stella thought about it for a moment before frowning, "Well, this blows. I should be in LA right now, not on some ruddy island."

Coben glanced over his shoulder out the window. "Well, at least it's a nice island." he said. "We could've ended up on some speck of dirt with no trees or fresh water. This we can work with." Finding nothing more of interest, Coben stuffed the empty pockets on his armor with bags of honey roasted peanuts, gave a handful to Stella, and closed the cabinet. "Well, that looks about it. Ready?"

Stella opened up her pink duffle bag and tossed the nuts inside. "Shouldn't we, like, make a shelter or something?" she asked. Wasn't that what people did?

"Somewhere, yes." Coben looked out at the window at the bech, trying to judge where high tide was. The painkillers had helped a bit, but it was still hard to think sometimes. High it looked like it was high tide now, with the water only coming up the first few rows of seats closest to the ocean, so the plane should be safe enough. It felt open and exposed, but Coben knew that only made a difference when you were facing human adversaries. Nature didn't care how easy you were to find. "We could probably set up here, actually. As long as the waves don't erode the sand from underneath us. Do you want to try to make camp in the plane?"

Stella shrugged, "that seems kinda more like your whole thing, mate" she said, wiggling her fingers, "I don't really do any of this stuff." It was true. Even though she was raised in Australia, one of the more outdoorsy continents, she was sheltered

"Alright, I'll set something up in here." Coben said, "we'll set up a camp and then see if we can find anyone else who survived". He started by collecting the luggage from the isles and stacking it up between the passenger compartment and the up hill end of the plane. "I'm gonna go collect some wood, if you'd like to find some blankets or something to sleep on" he said as he walked over to the door of the plane.

"Do you think there's like...jungle fruit or whatever? Like mangos?" She called out after him, before she headed towards the hostesses area and began rummaging for blankets. She found several of the ugly blue squares and set them aside. Moving up the front, first class, she started searching for the blankets she liked, the fluffy large gentle blankets

"There should be, unless we landed on the one island that doesn't have them." Coben called back. "Mangos, bananas, coconuts, pineapples. We should have no shortage of fruit." he continued out the door of the plane and walked up to the edge of the jungle, where he began gathering wood and the large flat leaves of the bananna trees.

Stella smiled. She loved fruit. Fruit was the food of the gods. After compiling a decent size stack of blankets, hopefully enough to fend off the cold, for as many people they could find. How cold would it get here at night? Hopefully not too cold...she bit her lower lip

Coben hauled back what he'd gathered and pulled it through the door. A good pile of branches in ths bottom, bananna leaves on top of them, and a bunch of banannas on top of that. "Looks like there is fruit on this island." he said as he set the banannas in a seat and started propping up branches into a makeshift wall between themselves and the lower end of the plane that opened up into the ocean.

"Great" Stella said joyfully.Perhaps this wouldn't be as terrible as she thought. Like a little vacation get away. She always wanted a vacation. "I have blankets" she chimed in