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The first thing Lars felt was pain.

His eyelids squeezed shut as terrible, searing agony ran through his head. It was like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull, producing a crack that ran down to the base of his spine. A wave of nausea rocked his stomach; he couldn’t breath. He couldn’t hear anything, save for a loud ringing.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but awful, stinging light - instantly his stomach jolted and he wretched, feeling the acidic tang in his throat as the pungent slime slipped out, pooling on the ground next to his face. He was lying on his side; he could tell that much. He grasped out with his hand, and suddenly pressed down on something jagged and sharp.

“Aaagh!”

He jolted up - a mistake, as the object dug deeper into his flesh. Tears built up as he tumbled onto his rear, the searing light in his eyes and the deafening ringing in his ears finally starting to fade.

He was in a clearing, beneath a pale green sky. Around him was twisted wreckage and debris, teal-green and gold, and the remains of complex machinery and consoles. He could smell wet mud and smoke, and feel the sweltering humidity in the air - wherever he was was tropical. Sickly brown green trees and bushes surrounded the clearing on all sides, and he could hear animalistic screeching on the wind.

What had happened? He couldn’t remember.