Sitting in the cockpit, the small hand gripping the steering wheel was white with effort. His eyes were fixed on the vortex, a look of fear etched on his face, but his missing lips still muttered curses incessantly.,"You damn bastards! You incompetent fools! You said the plane was modified, what a load of crap! What kind of wings are these They'd break in a gale! Are they made of paper! You knew I was coming here to explore the Bermuda Triangle and you gave me this junk! If I survive this, I swear on my life, I'll have your heads! ",The man came closer, with a flick of his hand he moved it to his chest and pressed it in. He was only wearing a white robe that had already been stained red.。