Once upon a time, there was a strange and beautiful land, surrounded by a vast ocean. The Island, as it was aptly named, was home to many wondrous creatures and abundant wildlife. It was a peaceful paradise, the only major problem being, besides the viscous monster consisting of a lethal cloud of smoke, and also the terrifying natives, the occasional polar bear. However, getting pregnant was also probably not the safest plan either.
Cinna hated it. This actually had nothing to do with rampant polar bears (Cinna could take them out just fine with her trusty harpoon gun) or the smoke monster, which stayed away from Cinna's sensibly constructed banyan tree house. Cinna lived alone, and thought that getting pregnant was so ludicrous in the first place that it was definitely out of the question too. No, the very frustrating and annoying issue that Cinna was forced to put up with dealt with the survivors of a certain plane crash, which had occurred a couple months earlier. Now Cinna was perfectly willing to leave the survivors alone to their insignificant activities, which probably involved skirmishes over fruit and writing "S.O.S" in the sand. Cinna had hoped, albeit a little optimistically, that the castaways would return the courtesy and refrain from encroaching upon her and her land. But poor Cinna had been sadly mistaken. After about a month where the survivors were blissfully unaware of her, and she purposefully unaware of them, the first incident had occurred.
The castaways, carrying armed rifles and unstable paranoia, chanced upon her doorstep. Instead of politely knocking, and making civil introductions, they knocked down the front door and interrogated her at gunpoint. After they left reluctantly, another group arrived a few days later and proceeded to blow up her pretty garden to smithereens with dynamite from the black rock. Cinna had worked hard on her garden, so she stormed outside indignantly to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as she stepped one foot out her front door, she was ambushed from both sides, chained, and dragged away into the jungle. The chaotic castaways locked her in a bunker, and had a professed torturer come in to ask her more pointless questions. Apparently they didn't care to hear what Cinna's favorite color was, or how she made blackberry pie, (with extra vanilla extract) but only had two questions for her, why she was living on the island, and if she was one of the Others. Cinna tried to explain that she was not a native, but had journeyed to the island out of her own free will, seeking a vacation from the world, and all the stupid people in it, but Sayid, the torturer, would hear none of it.
When he asked her why she was here for the 14th time, Cinna snapped, and simply said: "Because I'm evil," with as much acidic inflection and sarcasm as she could muster. Of course Sayid was not pleased by this response. She was interrogated for three and a half more hours, over which she spent throwing back answers in a very sardonic manner after having lost all her patience.
Luckily, she was then cleared. Apparently, some of the other survivors had searched her home, and finding nothing there to incriminate her, reluctantly given up with the Inquisition. She was roughly cast out of the bunker, with neither an offer to rebuild her once beloved garden, nor even a simple apology. For the next few days, Cinna felt very cross as she toiled about in the blackened earth where fresh green herbs and flowers once stood. The survivors pestered her everyday, insisting on keeping watch over her, and not allowing her to leave her house. She finally decided that something needed to be done about her situation. Obviously the castaways were under the idiotic impression that she was one of the Island's original inhabitants, the moronically titled, "Others." Well, Cinna would just have to prove that this was not the case. Cinna scarcely interacted with the natives. The only thing she really knew about them was the fact that they had purged the Dharma Initiative after a long pointless war with them, something Cinna did not really mind. The Dharma scientists had drilled several unattractive holes in her backyard. The other tidbit of information she had gathered was that their entire campsite was protected by a dangerous fence. So even if one really wanted to go a suicidal half-crazed mission to find the Others, they couldn't even reach their location successfully. Unfortunately, it was exactly the suicidal and half-crazed mission Cinna would have to go on in order to clear her name with the castaways. There was still the problem of their constant surveillance however…
She needed a distraction technique. Something that would capture their attention until she was safely outside the perimeter they were swarming. So, Cinna grabbed a few sticks of dynamite that she herself had taken from the Black Rock, and packed a small knapsack full of useful tools and necessary items. She taped a voice recorder over and set it in the cellar. Then she waited for nightfall. When, night finally came, Cinna pounced on the right opportunity; several of the castaways had gone to take a leak in the forest. She turned on the recorder, making sure to turn on the cellar light and close the door. Then she snuck out of the house, and up into a big oak tree next to the front porch. She threw the dynamite into some bushes on the outskirts of clearing. Only one person noticed the noise of the dynamite thudding the earth, and before he had the chance to inspect it, Cinna had already thrown a paper airplane, lit with a match, into the same bushes. Then she scurried down from the tree and ran around the side of the house. There was a very loud noise, and then a chaotic mess of a different sort, as the castaways scrambled to their feet and ran around in a panicked frenzy. Cinna smirked, then slipped into the jungle noiselessly. She ran for a long time, until she was tired out, and walked, panting, for about a mile or so, until she came to the pylons she had heard about. She walked around them for a bit, until she was absolutely certain there was no actual entry point, before realizing that the entire fence itself would be pointless if such a thing existed. So she gave up exhaustedly, and rummaged around in her pack instead.
She eventually found what she was looking for, and held up her megaphone triumphantly. "This will definitely wake them up" Cinna thought happily, but not without a little bit of spite. After all, it was the stupid Others that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. They probably had frightened the poor survivors out of their wits. So Cinna did not hesitate to lift the megaphone to her lips and shout "HELLO THERE!" several times at the top of her lungs. Several lights were turned on, and Cinna heard several voices arguing loudly. Then she heard the click of several guns, and saw what appeared to be a man in his pajamas surrounded by an entourage carrying several firearms each. "Who are you and what are you doing here in the middle of the night?" The leader of the group said in a artificially pleasant voice that sent shivers down Cinna's spine. He stepped into the light of one of their torches, and Cinna saw he was a short to average height brown spiky haired person, with cold intensely blue intelligent eyes. Cinna gulped. "Uh, I live in the banyan tree house near the creepy foot statue. I came here to ask you a favor." There was a pause. Then the man looked at her directly. "What makes you think that we believe you're not one of the survivors from Flight Oceanic 815?" He said slowly with a menacing sort of calm Cinna found infuriating. "In fact, why would we grant you a favor at all after you rudely woke us up?" "Look." Cinna snapped, her patience wearing thin. "I know you kept tabs on my house and myself. You know I'm not one of the castaways. In fact, they are my problem. They seem to think I am one of you. They blew up my garden, and they are watching my house and looking for me as I speak. If I go back, I'll be caught, and under even more suspicions. All I want to ask you is if you knew of a solution to this mess. "What makes you think we can help you?" The man said impatiently. "What possibly could we do to remedy your little problem? Furthermore, what motivation would we have to help you in the first place?" Cinna gritted her teeth angrily. "But it's your fault! If you had just left the survivors alone in the first place this never would have happene-
"I think I can help," said a voice from the shadows. Everyone looked. Even the man, who Cinna guessed was the leader of the Others turned with a gesture of surprise. A woman stepped into the light. She was pale-skinned, with sensible brown hair and glasses.
"I'm Margo by the way."
"Cinna."
"No Margo." The man's voice sounded annoyed and rushed. "You can't help her. They could have turned her. Her little story is probably all made up-"
"Ben you know she's not a threat, just look at her! Please give me the code to the pylons."
"No." Ben turned away from Margo and began to walk away. Then he paused and looked back.
"And don't even think of calling Juliet."
Cinna was more than a little cross now, she was furious. "If you don't let me in, I'll,I'll tell the survivors where you are."
Ben turned again, this time with an amused expression. "Don't be silly." He said. Then he was gone. Cinna was boiled over with rage. She clenched her hands and seethed. What would she do now?