standardblack: (Inside Relentless Mind)
From the pages of a Dharma Initiative notebook...

Over sixty days ago, Oceanic Flight 815, Sydney to LA, crashed on an island that seems to have avoided detection from the outside world. Between sixty and seventy people survived the initial crash. Forty eight days in, forty nine of those survivors remained.

I'm one of them.

My name is Jack Shephard...I'm a spinal surgeon from Los Angeles. I was in Sydney to find my father, and returning home to bring his remains back for burial. Since the crash, I've been doing my best to survive on this island...not just for myself, but for the others who've placed their trust in me to get them through this. I've seen all manner of strange things, and heard even stranger.

I've heard of polar bears lurking in the tropical jungles. I've *seen* monsters made from nebulous black smoke. I've stood by as members of my camp were abducted and stalked by a group of people that occupied this island before us...the Others. I've unlocked a buried hatch and discovered a button that needs to be pushed every 108 minutes...otherwise it's the end of all things, according to some. I don't know the truth, but until several days ago, I was pushing that button without fail.

Then the Others came for *me.*

I was taken from my camp...from my friends...myself and two others, Kate Austen and James Ford, goes by the name Sawyer. It's been days, and I haven't seen either one of them...I've been locked in what used to be a shark tank in an underwater facility that belonged to the same group that made the button I used to push...the Dharma Initiative. A woman named Juliet brings me my meals and...I'm not sure, tries to offer me some sort of twisted companionship. Another man, Benjamin Linus, sees me now and again with an agenda of his own.

He's dying...and he wants me to fix him.

Yesterday Juliet brought in a notebook and a pen with my food...she said she thought it might help if I could put down my thoughts. She said she thought it might be a better diversion than the TV they wheeled in on the other side of the glass. The hell of it is...she's right.

Under the radar, she's asked me to do something...something big, something that goes against everything I believe in, even though it appeals to the worst of my current predilections towards revenge...towards a means for escape.

She says that I can trust her. I hate her for it...because I know I can't believe her.

And yet...I do.

My name is Jack Shephard...and in just about a day, I'm going to have to decide whether or not a man deserves to die.

Jack Shephard
LOST

((OOC: Hey, all! I'm a little late to the dance *curse be unto RL*, but Jack here's strictly canon through S3, so to those who are spoilerphobic, all of Jack's posts will likely contain spoilers for the whole series, and S3 in particular. I will, however, be putting all of his spoilery challenge responses up in the comm as links to his journal, featuring nonspoilery teasers. He's open for RP, though...granted, he can't do much in captivity, but he could always use a little company! :P))
standardblack: (Jack Smile)
Hi...uh...I’m not exactly what you’d call a social butterfly as far as introductions go, so I’ll just get the basics out of the way and we can move on. Because...y’know...I’m probably the least interesting guy on the planet. You don’t wanna listen to me ramble, trust me.

My name’s Jack Sheppard. I’m a doctor, a spinal surgeon specifically out of Los Angeles. I was also one of the survivors of the crash of Oceanic Airlines flight 815 out of Sydney. According to the pilot, who died about sixteen hours after the crash, we hit trouble about six hours in when the plane’s radio went out. They tried to make for Fiji instead, but turbulence hit and sent us nearly a thousand miles off course.

If there’s been any attempt to find us by the authorities, they’ve been looking for us all in the wrong place.

A total of about forty eight of us lived through the whole thing...that total’s dwindled down to forty three, but went back up to forty four with the birth of Aaron Littleton, Claire’s baby...I wish I could say I had a hand in his birth, but I didn’t. The number grew to forty seven when we discovered that the tail section of the plane, which broke off during the crash, ended up on the other side of the island instead of in the water like we originally thought.

Just recently, the number went back down to forty five when two of the tail section survivors were shot and killed. This island...there’s people here, people that were here a long time before us. There’s a lot about this place that’s more dangerous than anyone could have imagined....things outside the day to day struggle of surviving.

And that’s all we’re trying to do right now...stay alive, and the deaths in our group are a testament to how difficult that’s become. I didn’t ask for it...I tried like hell to run from it, but everyone here is depending on me to help them do just that. The people in this group have turned to me for leadership, for guidance...for protection. I don’t know if I can do that...but I know that I have to try.

And as God as my witness, and anyone else that’s listening if there really *is* anyone up there...I’m not going to lose another one of my people to this place. Period.

‘OOC’ )

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Dr. Jack Sheppard

December 2007

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