A recurring theme for our intrepid adventurers seems to be running through lush vaguely located plains and rolling hills doesn't it? Well after yet more of that, with very little of consequence happening, the heroes and their sarcastic guide came across a small port. A few pubs or those really grimy kebab stores you get where the owner is a hairy Pakistani man who only ever seems to grunt in response to your often inebriated food ordering seem to be the main services and goods at this quaint village. Banita and Dawkins lit up upon smelling anything remotely fattening, and instinctively reached for their gender neutral currency carrying devices.

Their leader stopped and heel-turned sharply to face his mentally and physically exhausted examinees. "Now you've all had a tough day, and while I personally do not respect you or your well-being on any level, my contract requires I do. So, " Mustachio put on an even drier and more monotonous voice than normal, and no, I didn't think it was possible either, sounding like he was reading from a script drilled into him from his training "'let me offer all you hardworking potential future hunters a gift of 1500 Jenny (yes I had to Google the currency in Hunter x Hunter don't judge me I'll judge you) to buy dinner.'" Letting out a deep sigh as he held out a coin purse for each of the four, he returned to his usual tone. "After you've eaten whatever slop they sell here we'll board the official ferry to Exam Cove and there we will undergo your final test. You'll sleep on the ferry. I will meet you all in one hour on the docks, if you are late because you are too busy clogging your arteries with questionable quality meat then we'll all be sure to cry at your loss." A long pause followed, most of the examinees asking themselves why they got stuck with the King of Charisma as their invigilator. After a very awkward silence and an increasingly antagonistic stare from Mustachio, he opened his tight lips again. "If you need me, there is a red light district in the town over. Follow the sounds of immense female pleasure and I'm sure to be there. See you at 8 you morons." With power the likes of which none of the heroes had ever seen before, which considering the roster we have here, is an immense achievement, Mustachio shot off with a single bound of his run. In under ten seconds he was over 150 metres away, and thus our adventurers collected their money from the floor and walked off into the town without a word to each other.

Delia had gone off with Sakura, being the member of the group she hated least as she was both hygienic and could hold a conversation. Somewhat. Delia had little appetite, her mind wracked with thoughts of the new side she had seen of Dawkins. Come to think of it, she knew very little about any members of her 'team' as it were. Now seemed like the ideal chance to ask Sakura about her history, and possibly to even get to know her a little. Delia didn't have many friends left, and she definitely hadn't made any new ones since her days at university. "Hey, Sakura?" she began, looking more genuine than usual.

"Hmm? What's up Smith-san? Did you want a bite of my pub bento?" the small girl replied over her box of neatly arranged chips and mushy peas.

"No no, nothing like that. I just wanted to, you know, get to know you more. We're gonna be in this exam for a little while longer, and I thought maybe we could talk about something..." Delia trailed off, slightly self-conscious after having in her mind embarrassed herself.

"Really? Great! I've been wanting to talk to you since we all met! I haven't had a girl friend in ages! O-M-G do you think we could be like sisters?!" Delia went blank faced as Sakura talked...and talked...and talked...she finished her half-pint of stout in one move, before ordering a shot of rum without Sakura even slowing her verbal onslaught.

Banita had gone off alone, partially because Dawkins was part of the filthy oppressive patriarchy and partly because she couldn't catch Sakura and Delia. She walked into a place called 'KEBABS', though the 'KE' was missing. Inside of BABS was a sleeping man of about 45, monobrow thick with lamb-meat grease. "Do you have any women working here I could talk to?" Banita probed. Abdullah the owner grunted. "Ugh, can I at least order a donner kebab from a female lamb? Make sure it's female or I'm suing! No male will be inside me that's rape." Again, Abdullah grunted. He pointed to the small menu hanging above him with a stumpy finger. The menu had two items on it: battered cod, and cattered bod. Upon seeing this, Banita went into a fury. "Uhhhhhhm EXCUUUUUUUUUUUSE me?! 'Bod' as in 'body'?! That's rape I'll have you know! This is exactly the kind of stuff that gets me pissed okay you men think you can objectify women like that!? What do you even have to say in your defence?!" Abdullah smirked the tiniest bit, and grunted again.

Dawkins had actually heard of this village before. Kapnin, a small village on the West coast with a population of about 500. When he was a kid Dawkins studied his atlas almost like a bible, if instead of being a Christian he was an intellectual fedora enthusiast. He knew almost every settlement in the country, and the locations of every fedora shop in every one of those settlements. Sadly Kapnin had none, its most interesting feature being the sunset over the beach. Dawkins was starving though, and he went into The Bee's Hive pub for a drink and some cheap peanuts. 17,466 peanuts, three pints of Diet Coke, and an empty wallet later, he exited with his fedora held high. He was nearing the final test, and soon he would be able to hunt down a girlfriend who wouldn't just friendzone him like Natasha did. "Damn you Natasha! He's not good enough for you he just wants your body!" He shouted at the evening sky rather abruptly, before noticing some noise from the playground to his left. The ever curious vanguard of intelligence went to investigate, as it could be a woman under attack who needed saving! 'Good thing I studied the blade!' thought Dawkins before rushing over to check it out.

"Come on dumbass give it here!" a small boy shouted. As Dawkins rounded the corner he was the source of the ruckus: just some kids. Three, to be exact. Two rather large ones with heads like crushed cans, and a third no taller than the other two's shoulders. In the third's arms was clutched a book, the title of which Dawkins couldn't make out, though it looked thick. The two seemed to be harassing the smaller child, pushing him into a corner. Images of his childhood flooded back into his mind, Dawkins was similarly harassed for his size or interest in reading and noire headwear. A rage filled Dawkins from his cargo shorts up his trench coat all the way to his fedora, a power even. In that moment he felt euphoric, not because of some phony God's blessing and unlike normal not even because of intellectual enlightenment, but from a surge of power like his aura had opened. Dawkins dethroned his fedora from his scalp, revealing locks of long, black, unkempt and greasy hair. Like a large Asian in a Bond film he tossed his trademark fedora, and it shot off like a railgun projectile. The gentlemanly headwear accelerated to mach two, which makes it all the more lucky that he missed by a fair amount. Still though the noise made by the impact of the hat and the ground made a very impressive noise, and the bullies' heads turned to see the silhouette of what they believed to be the local version of the Grim Reaper, the Unamused Farmhand. "Oh crap man let's go!" shouted the slightly uglier one, before both sped off. Dawkins walked towards his hat, which was still in perfect condition, and put it back on.

"Hmm! Those sheeple must be terrified of true ecclesiastical genius! Worship me ignorant religious followers!" He shouted loudly, before remembering the third child. He extended a hand, trying to look as cool and intimidating as possible even with Coke stains on his MLP shirt. The smaller child accepted his helping hand up, and was too shocked to externalise his numerous questions. "Remember child!" Dawkins howled, covering the small kid's face in spit, "People like them are too concerned with other people! Their false religion teaches to look out for others more than yourself!" Dawkins handed the child back his book, A Brief History of Time by Hawking, and lowered his voice. "So don't give thought to what other people think of you. Follow your own ambitions." Another slightly genuine moment from Andrew breaking through the Dawkins, before simmering down as usual. Just like he entered he exited again: stinking, ugly, and laughably arrogant.

Almost in unison all members of the group checked their watches/Tumblrs/phones/sundials and realised that the time was almost up. They all ran as fast as they could to the docks to find Mustachio, completely wasted and covered in hickies. "Ah! The freaks have returned...huzzahhhhhh!" he staggered around, gesturing for them to join him on their ferry, christened Not Another Test, We Swear. Cautiously they did, unaware that the most testing trial was soon to come. The four stood at the bow of the ship and looked at the mesmerising sunset without a word exchanged between them. Though they all seemed to despise one another, they were slowly getting to like each other, in some way or another. Will this new found appreciation for their fellow pupils last?

(Thank you so much as always for reading if you did, though if you didn't I don't suppose you'd be able to see this. I really do enjoy writing these actually so I will, for now at least, probably update this semi-regularly. If you enjoyed it feel free to say so in a review as well as give any ideas or advice. If you hated it feel free to abuse me in a private message or whatever, or just make a shrine to the hope that I kill myself soon. Stay enlightened from the sheeple readers, and until next time, goodbye).