Flight 262 (Ilama)

[The Villa Strangiato]

Name: Nick Hoodie

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Appearance: A somewhat heavier man, he has short, brown hair and a pudgy, somewhat baby-like face. Shorter as well, he usually wears finer clothing not necessarily because of the needed work attire but because of his preference. Stubby fingers and short legs, Nick isn't exactly a handsome man.

Bio: Apart of the alternative news correspondence SPICE, what Nick lacks of appreciation for it's indie style SPICE makes up in it's real world stories. He as a reporter was sent to Hungary on the odd practice of 'cocaine weed' farms, a new hybrid drug that completely fucks over people. Obviously, his story was interrupted but he might have a new one here..

Items: Notepad with pencil, laptop, carrying bag.

The rest of the passengers are herded into the assorted jeeps that were scattered about on the silky, sandy beach. Handcuff like ropes were tied to your back as the armed men and women began to get back into their jeeps. The sounds of the olden jeeps started up as the vehicles started to leave the crash site, entering a jungle like area.

[llama]

I look around at my assailants, offering a smile or two to the group of them. I kinda cough, nervous as hell, and then start to speak, only to remember that none of these people would probably not speak English.

[The Villa Strangiato]

The armed man sitting shotgun with a shotgun turns around. He puts a finger to his mouth vertically, telling you to hush. He turns around as somewhat developed roads enter your view. You look around at your fellow passengers, who are as dazed and confused as you are currently. Soon, the jeeps form a convoy in a single line.

[llama]

I squint my eyes and look at him, as if to ask 'why', and sit in silence as the convoy keeps on trucking.