OOC/Sign-Ups
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Rico pulled his jeep to a stop at a gas station on the edge of the road. He promptly filled up his tank and purchased a sweet, blue-colored fruit drink at the adjoining conveinence store. One hand on the wheel and one holding his beverage to his mouth, he pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the highway. The bright Fushian sun was setting over the ocean to one side, and the shadow of night slowly crept through the jungle on the other.
He was originally from the city of Valencio, roughly five-hundred miles to the west. A city boy, he was swept up in the "black years" at a young age, joining with a local milita force rather than working for the cartels that had burned fear into the land. When the internal violence had ended he found himself as an experienced killer and leader; and sold his services to the army as Fushia and it's western allies drifted towards war with the Federation. Four years he had travelled the galaxy fighting the most well-trained and proffesional soldiers there were. Now, at the age of twenty-four he had just ended his contract with the Fushian military, and he had the wind at his back and the rest of his life ahead of him.
He passed a sign that read: Santona de Losique, 5 miles ahead. The dark-green jeep drove on in the direction of the lights in the distance as the orange and pink hues of the sky slowly faded to purple and blue, and finally black.
