Arm Wrestle

"Damn you, you cool jerk!"

Then, a diabolical idea came to the punk. His plan was to use Xzavier's cool front to support his theory. At the top of his voice, he cried out to the rest saying;

"Fellas! Fellas! Do you not see that he is afraid to confront us?! You all know what this means right?"

He paused for dramatic effect, then turned in Xzavier's direction and lifted up his thick stubby finger to point at him;

"He is just another coward and a DAMN LIAR!"

The others cheered him on. They had gotten significantly bolder since Xzavier had decided to keep silent. With the others now riled behind him, the chief punk glared at Xzavier as he thought to himself;

"Just wait, I am going to teach you a lesson you ungrateful bastard!"

Even in the midst of the growing storm around Xzavier, he remained as calm as the deep waters. He waited patiently for the receptionist to bring his pay so he could leave. That was the only thing keeping him here. He didn't care about the punk or his rabble rousers. All he cared about was his mission.

Anyone with less than average powers of reasoning could tell that the majority of the men in this place were egocentric. They were simple and at the same time, they were extremely fickle and prone to anger. Anything could set them off. So what happened next wasn't entirely surprising.

Physically, he was intimidating. The middle aged man stood at least six foot seven inches above the ground. His thick torso reminded many of the trunk of a tree.

His broad hairy chest was paralleled only by that of a bear. His entire build dangerously resembled that of an executioner or a butcher. On his face was a permanent scowl that never took a day off.

This was the person who stood up from behind the crowd and slowly made his way towards Xzavier. Everyone knew him, and most people avoided him.

So, with his eye on the stranger clad in black sitting alone at the counter, he moved through the crowd gracefully with little or no resistance towards Xzavier Mace.

He arrived at Xzavier's table with that permanent scowl on his face and grunted to announce his presence. Xzavier didn't even as much as glance in his direction. After the brief awkward silence, the tall bearded middle-aged man stated his purpose;

"You and me. Arm wrestle. Now."

Clearly he wasn't much of a talker. He dropped his words one at a time and refused to use any polite terms. From his own perspective, it was unmanly to speak too many words. Especially to someone like Xzavier whom he considered to be weak.

Naturally, Xzavier ignored him. And he would have continued to do so if the system hadn't chosen that very moment to issue him a new objective.

"Major Mace…"

It began.

"Damn it." He cursed. "Not now!"

Xzavier wasn't completely fond of the system's tasks. And yet, here he was, in a precarious situation with the system about to give him a new mission. He knew this was no coincidence. Still, he paid rapt attention to the system's command.

"…be advised, your instructions at this moment is to indulge the man's request. Enter into the primitive contest of arm wrestling with man before you Major. Over and out."

Just as Xzavier suspected, he knew that the new task would take on something of this nature. He thought of a way to circumvent this present task but he grew cold when he remembered something that had happened several weeks ago.

During his first few days at the forest, the system had issued him a fresh directive. Xzavier had foolishly waved it off and dismissed it casually. The end result had been greatly unfortunate for him. He almost died. It was an unforgettable experience and he was reminded of this every single time he thought of abandoning his mission.

"It looks like I have to do this. I surely don't want a repeat of what happened that day."

He forced all reservations he had at the back of his mind and focused on the present task at hand.

For the first time, Xzavier looked at the figure who stood before him, and took in his physical features as well as his overall vibe.

Xzavier's eyes saw a bull in the form of an incredibly muscular man. His metaphor was spot on. For in fact, the bearded man was built like a wild bull. His red eyes, his slightly darker skin tone and his obvious affinity for physical altercations suggested that this was a man who thrived on violence and showmanship.

Xzavier sighed, he was in no mood for a battle of egos right now.

Xzavier was very reluctant to carry out this task. It all seemed really boring to him. To engage in a venture that was purely spurned from testosterone didn't excite him in anyway.

It all seemed pointless to him. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't see the point behind all this. This was an actual problem because Xzavier never did anything without a motive. He wasn't spontaneous. He always had a plan.

Right now, he was disgusted by the fact that he was to feature in a face punching episode. But then again, to go against the system's instruction was complete suicide.

Xzavier looked at the man carefully and mouthed one word only;

"Fine."

There was no trace of emotion on the face of his bearded adversary. It genuinely seemed like he had already made up his mind to arm wrestle with Xzavier with or without his permission. The mood was already too tense so Xzavier broke the ice with a little joke;

"Take it easy on me alright. Don't go too hard."

Glad that Xzavier was finally recognizing his superior build, the muscular man also relaxed and leaned into the mood.

"Don't worry. I will do my possible best not to break your baby arm in the process."

Xzavier chuckled lightly at the middle aged man's soft jab. He had expected him to be all macho about it, and his last statement had proven him right. This was a battle of egos as much as it was of arms. To further create the illusion that he was actually in awe of his egocentric adversary, Xzavier politely made a request;

"May I have a little time to stretch?"

The already eager man wasn't pleased with his request. Clearly, he was an impatient man and he couldn't wait to crush Xzavier in the presence of his peers. He grunted his approval and backed up a little.

Xzavier made a showy display of stretching his arms and massaging his muscles. It was ridiculous because he was always in top form. His profession required that the stayed fit twelve months of the year. There was no time to catch a break, he was always training. And because of that, he was always in top form.

While he pretended to stretch, he surveyed the man's form and assessed his movements to find out any weak spots in his intimidating form.

Clearly he was the bigger man, in stature and in physique. Xzavier observed him some more and then came up with the perfect plan. He would ride it out as long as he could and at the same time, wait for the receptionist to fetch his payment. He clenched his fists passive aggressively and announced his readiness in an indifferent tone;

"Alright, let's do this."