After taking several group photos in front of their find, Grant and his team left the deep jungles of Hainan for a more metropolitan scene.

It was late afternoon by the time they got to Tin Tin Restaurant in the city. According to the internet the place had some of the best Hainan Chicken in all of Hainan for a reasonable price.

"What would you like to order?" said the waitress in heavily accented English.

"Yeah get us five orders of the Hainan Chicken," said Grant, his posture lazy and the energy sounding drained in his voice.

"The Hainan Chicken is our specialty," she said, collecting the menus. "You will all love it."

"We know we will which is why we are ordering it."

"Honestly I was leaning towards the curry beef," said Monty.

Grant whipped his head towards Monty. "Monty where are we?"

Monty looked at him stunned. "Hainan?"

"And what food item comes to mind when you think Hainan?"

"Hainan Chicken sir."

Grant stood up and slowly put his hands together on the table. "Seems like a real shame to come all the way out to Hainan and not eat Hainan Chicken. What do you think? Are you one of those kids who goes to Mcdonalds the moment they land in Thailand?"

"I gotta say I'm with him," said a voice from behind.

Grant saw that four of some of the most typical American looking young men he had ever seen were sitting at a table behind him. Their blonde hair were all style in approximately the same way. They all wore similar flannels and khaki board shorts. Even the sunglasses were the same.

"With him on what?" Grant demanded, shifting his seat to get a better angle to talk.

"Well," said the blonde closest to him. "Personally I just come here for the fancy Buddha statues, jungle hikes, and Chinese beach babes. Hainan Chicken is an afterthought bro. Its overrated.

Grant stood up in a flash, his shirt already removed. "You crossed the fucking line. You disrespect the chicken one more time...."

"You'll what?" said the same blonde. He and his pals had all stood up and removed their sunglasses.

"We will settle this in the restroom," said Grant. "If I kick your ass you and your posse of douche bags have to each order a plate of Hainan Chicken. If you beat my ass I'll order something else."

"I don't give a shit what you eat," said the blonde, his smirk so cocky that Grant wanted to destroy his white boy face right then and there. "If I win your girl there has to give me a kiss."

"In your dreams," said Makenna.

"Deal," said Grant. "Don't worry Makenna. You won't be kissing none of these guys today."

"Sir I'm going to have to ask you to put your shirt back on," said a waiter passing by.

Grant grudgingly obeyed, reaching for his clothes piled on his seat.

"Meet you in there in two minutes," said the blonde, making his way towards the restrooms. "Better not pussy out."

"Grant let's just forget it and eat our lunch," said Monty.

"Don't worry this will only take a minute," said Grant. "Rourke come with me in case they pull something funny."

Rourke stood up and followed Grant to the back corner of the restaurant. The place was quite empty being so late in the afternoon so Grant didn't expect any collateral damage.

Oddly enough however, Grant was confronted with an "Out of Service" laminated paper sign on the door to the mens' room.

"Off I thought our sunglasses totting pals just went in here," said Grant. He pounded on the door with his fist. "Hey anyone in there?"

There was no answer.

Grant sighed. "Come on Rourke let's see what the hell is going on for ourselves."

He pushed open the door and stepped in. There was no one in sight. Grant noticed that one of the stalls was locked and he could spot a couple of pairs of shoes by peeking under the stalls.

"Hey nice ambush," said Grant, walking up to the stall. "I can see you ok?"

Grant found the stall door to be unlocked so he pulled it open. All four douche bags were unconscious and slumped over each other on the toilet bowl. the fluffy end of what looked like tranquilizer darts were sticking out of their necks.

"What the hell?" Grant muttered.

Rourke let out a heavy grunt and Grant felt him fall against him but managed to maintain balance. He pushed Rourke out of the way in time to spot a well dressed gentleman in his forties armed with a strangely shaped gun.

Rourke grabbed one of the unconscious blondes and held it out in front of him like a shield before charging towards the man in the grey suit and purple tie. Rourke dumped the body on the man and managed to smack the gun away. Their attacker however dodged and parried the rest of Rourke's moves before striking the street fighter in the throat, bringing him to the ground clutching his neck.

"What are so supposed to be some kind of assassin?" Grant asked.

The grey suited man said nothing but raised his hands up in a combat stances before edging towards Grant.

"Rourke get up this guy looks tough," said Grant, his eyes darting from his incoming opponent and his struggling companion on the floor.

Grant attempted a combo of punches, a left to the ribs followed by a right hook to the jaw. Both were countered and Grant yelped in pain when he was struck in the shin. A knee strike to the abdomen followed by powerful hook to the face, nearly knocked Grant senseless.

Grant stumbled to the side and gripped the top of a urinal for support. "Ok time out lets just talk."

The man responded by grabbing Grant's hair and smashing his face against the edges of the urinal. Grant could feel himself losing consciousness fast.

With a cry Rourke tackled the assailant against the wall, grabbed him by the collar and headbutted him repeatedly. The man in the suit clawed and punched at Rourke's face but he was just too durable, his body no doubt hardened by years of fighting. Rourke grabbed his opponent by the shoulder to pull him into a fearsome straight punch that knocked the man's head back into the restroom wall. Lifting him high into the air by his groin and shirt, Rourke then brought the man down onto the floor with a crash. To finish the job he stomped hard on the knee and face.

"Jesus man that looked permanent," said Grant.

"One of my mentors told me to hit them in a way that they can't and won't want to get up," said Rourke, breathing heavily.

"Well your a better fighter than me that's for sure," said Grant, looking down at their attacker. "Your technique is a bit rough around the edges but damn have you got some power."

Roruke glanced at the pile of blondes in board shorts. "What do you want to do with them?"

"Just leave them," said Grant. "Let's go phone the police or something. Better let the restaurant manager know about this piece of shit too."

The two of them left the restroom to find the place empties of its employees and customers. Ten stern looking men stood around Grant's table. A young man with long brown wearing an expensive sweater sat sipping a soda next to Monty. Grant's companions looked nervous which to Grant meant that they were hostages.

"You know you should have started off with this," said Grant, limping over. "Your boyu in the bathroom got shit on by my friend here."

"Yes your friend was proven himself quite a capable fighter," said the newcomer at the table. "Your Hainan Chicken came by the way so feel free to eat while we talk."

Grant carefully sat himself down. Three of the henchmen closed in on Rourke once he was seated. Grant could see the putt of a pistol sticking out from behind a jacket.

"You must be my competition," said Grant. "Do we know each other?"

"No actually I learned about the Taiping treasure from your friend Frankie over there. He vlogged about being excited for your little trip. His videos online had me convinced and so I had you all followed out of curiosity. The more I listened the more I wanted in."

"Aren't you a little old to be playing playground bully?" said Grant. "We can give you a cut if you work with us."

"Hey no one wants to be co-whatever the word is ok? When you finish first at the same time it gets messy. Everyone likes to put just one name on the champion's trophy cup. Its just cleaner that way. No debate. Its like how people forget that George Lucas cooked up the idea for Indiana Jones long before Spielberg even considered making such a movie. You remember Lucas for Star Wars but attach Spielberg to Indiana."

"You still haven't told me your name," said Grant impatiently.

"Gordon Hovan," he said. "It's nothing personal kid I just want to get their first that's all. Hey you can come for the ride but I directed the movie. You'll be listed as male college student number 3 in the credits."

"When Hell freezes over," said Grant.

"Give me attitude one more time and I blow a hole in Monty's nuts," said Gordon flatly. "Look whatever pushes your buttons ok? A knife to your girlfriends throat? Nah too cliche, maybe I need to get more draconian like a bullet to her pussy or ripping off her fingernails with pliers."

"Ok I get the point," said Grant, waving him down. "Now what do you want?"

"You help me get the treasure and I give you partial credit that's all," said Gordon. "Don't try to report me or anything cause I would just kill you. Yeah even without you I still just might find it on my own. With you it might be faster. You seem to have the right intuition for this kind of hunt my friend."

"The treasure is in Vietnam," said Grant. "Happy?"

Gordon gestured at the plated of Hainan Chicken before them. "That was one of my guesses. There was evidence to suggest that the spread of Catholicism in Northern Vietnam was due to Christian immigrants coming in. Now eat up. We leave as soon as possible."

"It's ok guys," said Grant, picking up a knife and fork to begin eating. "Ignore them and enjoy your chicken."

They all ate in awkward silence while Gordon lay back in his seat, his men breathing hot air down their necks.

"This is good," said Makenna, close to finishing her chicken. "The rice is very flavorful. Goes great with the chicken and its juices."

"That's the idea," said Grant. "Simple chicken and rice."

"How do we know you won't kill us the moment we reach the treasure?" Rourke suddenly said.

"You don't but hey would you rather die now or die after you've at least had the chance to run a few golden Taiping coins through your fingers?"

"How encouraging," said Makenna.

"Very," said Gordon. "I like to make it plain for people to understand. I might let you live though if your a good girl."

Makenna made a face as he winked at her. Grant knew he had to play along for the moment. Gordon seemed intelligent, the type for didn't like to deal with bullshit and kept his enemies guessing. Grant didn't like their chances of slipping out of his clutches.