I finally made it to the hill ten minutes after I left the Fantasticar. I was extremely exhausted. At the top of the hill was a huge apple tree. I sat down at the base of it. While I rested, I noticed growing at the base was a pair of full-grown wild mushrooms. I looked over them carefully. Immediately, thanks to one out of a set of ten nature books my stepfather gave me for Christmas when I was ten years old, I recognized the fungi to be one of the most poisonous varieties in all of Europe. With the Swiss army knife, I cut the two mushrooms; picked them up with the tweezers the army knife had, and placed them in a small bag the gear belt just happened to carry. As a precaution, I got out the small bottle of super strong hand sanitizer I made with my little chemistry set back at home from my knapsack, poured a little bit into my hands, and rubbed it in. Then, I stood up, and looked at the apple tree's branches. The apples appeared to be fresh and ripe. I stretched my arm to a high branch, and snapped an apple off. Before I ate the apple, I smelled and peered over it to make sure there were no signs of rotting, pesticides, or a worm residing inside. As I ate the apple, I viewed the land down below the hill. It was no wonder that Doom's men were able to reach the Fantasticar in as short an amount of time as they did. Doomstadt was right beyond the hill! Everywhere was medieval styled homes and stores. It was almost like I had walked into a time warp. The people walking throughout the village wore typical Eastern European styled clothing. Everyone had very false looking smiles. Doomstadt itself was proof of how Latveria was one of the poorest European countries. I almost felt sorry for those natives. But, what kept me from completely feeling sorry for them was the fact that Doom as their ruler had brainwashed them into hating me and my friends for no reason other than we were his "sworn enemies". The problem was going to be getting into Doomstadt without the natives recognizing who I was. Suddenly, an idea literally came to me. On a nearby path, a man and a cart were heading towards me. The man had a cane, and was poking it around as if he was not sure about what was around him. He was a blind man. Before I left the tree, I had taken a little translator from the gear belt that enabled me to speak English, yet would come out as any language I needed to be said, and vice-versa for the way I heard the person I was speaking to. Putting the translator on my belt, and setting it to the Latverian language, I was ready to converse with anyone within Latveria. Then quickly, I took a couple more apples from the tree, and headed down the hill. When I got to the trader, I calmly asked him.

"Excuse me sir, I was wondering how much I could trade for that lovely black cloak on your cart?"

The blind man turned his back to me and said in a thick Latverian accent.

"You must give me two of something for it!"

I tapped him on the shoulder. It nearly startled him.

"Yipe! Don't do that! I hate it when people scare me like that!"

He kept going on and on in an irrational voice about how he hated people startling him. I hastily put the two apples I had picked in his hands, stretched up and grabbed the cloak, and ran fast to a nearby bush. There, I put the cloak on. The cloak was so immense; it covered my easily noticeable uniform completely. When I put the hood on, I knew I looked like those druids that performed the annual rituals at Stonehenge in England. I don't think my friends would even recognize me if I wore that cloak. With that disguise I was confident with, I walked straight on to Doomstadt.