The directions given to Xzavier Mace were detailed enough. He had no issues whatsoever navigating his way towards the location he had been instructed to head to. The forest had been a real nightmare and he was only too glad to leave it behind him.
He wouldn't be in a hurry to forget his experience there at all. In so many ways, the forest was more dangerous than any enemy he had encountered in the past. The terrain itself contained more mystery than the average forest, and Xzavier left with more questions than answers.
His prediction was spot on. As he had envisaged, it had taken him half a day to trek from the forest to the shanty town before him.
"The damn system better give so more points for this."
He quickly put aside his unprofessional thoughts and focused on the shanty town that appeared before him. It lacked the luster and brilliance that was affiliated with major cities. At first sight, it looked very bland. It lacked the welcoming spirit of a traveler's towns.
In fact, he could almost certainly detect a subtle tinge of hostility in the air. Xzavier instantly went into alert mode. As he entered the gate and made his way through the streets of the town, Xzavier made a point to not rouse any kind of attention.
He prudently decided to keep his head down and mind his business. Anything outside of his mission was definitely not worth indulging.
His intentions were noble, but it seed like the towns people had other plans. Everywhere he went, he found himself on the receiving end of multiple unfriendly glares from extrely unfriendly faces. Xzavier was stunned.
He struggled to fathom the reason behind the vitriolic stares but he ca up short every single ti. The only logical explanation was that the people of this town hated strangers and instantly recognized them.
In addition to their strange attributes, Xzavier noticed that they were all dressed in a similar fashion- the people of this strange town were all dressed in vintage clothes. The kind that was typical of the twelfth century Europeans. Xzavier didn't know if it was a costu day or anything
He didn't bother to disturb himself with any of the details. As he passed a salon on the street, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and was taken aback by who he saw staring back at him.
No wonder they were all staring at him like he was an alien or sothing. Dressed head to toe in regular combat attire, he stood out amongst the crowd like a sore thumb. Head to toe, Xzavier was clad in the traditional black gear that was typical of mbers of the Special Forces.
His black beret, black combat boots, black Kevlar vest all casted him in a very strange light. Xzavier finally got a grip on the situation at hand.
He approached a group of n huddled together in corner of the street and tried to initiate a conversation.
"Good day chaps. Could I bother you with so questions?"
The blank irritated looks on their faces told him that he had better be on his way. He took the hint and abandoned his objective with them.
Further down the road, he chanced on a couple young lads who seed reasonable. He called out to them in the sa vein and asked the sa question. They retorted with a string of incomprehensible words and in a very hostile manner.
Xzavier soon realized the problem- it appeared that the dialect here was completely different! Xzavier sighed aloud.
"This is turning into a real issue. How can I navigate such a hostile environnt with an insurmountable obstacle like a language barrier?!"
It was indeed a problem. For without effective communication with the locals of this town, it would be extrely difficult to accomplish his mission here.
"Major Mace!"
He had completely forgotten that the military system was present with him. So he was shocked out of his boots when it's voice ca with an uncanny suddenness.
"Be advised, the local dialect has been programd into the micro chip installed in your cerebral cortex. To activate, simply say aloud: LANGUAGE SYSTEM ACTIVATE."
Xzavier didn't think that he would ever get used to the military system speaking to him. Still, he took note of everything it said. He couldn't deny that it had been of trendous help to him in recent tis. So, without wasting ti, he took a deep breath and and uttered the magic words:
"Language system ACTIVATE!"
There had been no spark or glowing or whirring noises that showed that physically showed that it had been activated. But although Xzavier didn't know it, millions of neurons in his brain had downloaded trillions of terabytes of data from the bionic chip, all in under 1.87 seconds.
He waited for a signal, but when none ca, he proceeded to test it himself. The perfect opportunity presented itself at that very mont. An elderly woman happened to co around the corner. Xzavier approached her with his question lined up in his head;
"Good day ancient one, could you please point in the direction of the pawn shop? I would like to make a trade please."
It was Xzavier's hope that since the woman was elderly, she might be more cultured than the others whom he had t. She looked at him with a blank expression. Just when Xzavier began to doubt the success of the language system, the old woman surprised him with her reply;
"You uncouth bastard!"
Xzavier was taken aback. It was rare to see an uncultured elderly woman, but it was also because he hadn't done anything to deserve the vicious verbal assault. She didn't stop there. She dressed him down for about three minutes before finally giving him brash directions to the place he was looking for.
Stunned by the hostility, Xzavier made his way towards the location. After navigating through a series of turns, he finally arrived at the underground chamber. It was wild place where exchanges and transactions were made between parties.
Xzavier thought that he had suffered enough of the strange stares above ground, but right here, in the midst of a cavern full of unsavory characters, Xzavier felt like every pair of eyes in the room was centered on him.
They all looked at him differently. Unbothered, Xzavier waddled through the throng of glaring eyes looking at him and arrived on the counter. There he set down the Cheetah's head at the desk of the receptionist.
The receptionist was a coly girl who looked like she was in her early or mid twenties. Xzavier reckoned she must have seen a lot in all of her ti working here. And yet, the look of surprise that registered on her face upon seeing the severed Cheetah's bloody head was priceless.
She was so lost for words that she remained mute for almost an entire minute. She stared and stared at the decapitated head that had been dumped in front of her by the stranger. Her face went white as though she had seen a ghost.
Within a short period of ti, she sohow managed to get a hold of herself and feigned indifference. But it was already too late. Xzavier had seen what he had seen and he took note of it. Her reaction told him all that he needed to know about how he would go about the deal.
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