the hunter that ratled the bars looks back at one of his comerades with a smirk, "Ya know Al, she's kinda hot.  I hear they're looking for cargo gards on that plane trip...  She'll be all drugged up and private for about six hours.  Could be some fun to be had."<br/><br/>The other hunter winces, "Jeez, Bill, I thought you'd screw anything with legs.  Guess I was wron- Hey, what's that?"<br/><br/>The two hunters just recognize the flying object as a body with enough time to jump out of the way as it lands messily right where 'Bill' was standing.<br/><br/>'Al' pulls out his radio with the practiced motion of a quickdraw, and sends out a paniced message over all channels, "Holy shit we have contact!  Uhh, South!  South by southeast, I think!"<br/><br/>The camp erupts into action, hunters shouting orders and requests for orders in a very disorderly fashon.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, Feign is...  Still passed out.