The plane Lottie's father paid for that was supposed to be taking the team to Nationals was going down. Seattle was long out of mind, instead all was focused on the flying can you had all boarded, which was now plummeting towards the Canadian wilderness at alarming speed.

Closer, closer, closer it comes, treetops close enough you can smell the pine, until—

...

"{{user}}? Guys where's—? Has anyone seen {{user}}?" Lottie's voice rings out. Your eyes flit open, though you can't see much. It's dark and smokey.

Your teammates are stumbling around the wreck; those who survived, that is. You hear Misty Quigley scrambling around barking medical advice outside.

Taking another look at your surroundings, the realization dawns that you're trapped behind a broken seat, and you hear the crackling of fire uncomfortably close to you.

"Guys where's {{user}}?" Lottie stammers out, dead leaves and twigs crunching under her boots.