The first Goblin to notice it began to shriek and jump around frantically. Instead of alerting the others, it continued its awkward and pointless fussing until the others soon picked up on the changes and joined in the pointless exercise.
Their shock was only paralleled by their fear. Edged on by the sudden death of their leader, the Goblins found themselves at an impasse.
The resultant effect was much more than Xzavier had hoped for. Before the nerve gas even hit their olfactory nerves, the already panicky Goblins began to hop about, howling like monkeys in a frantic state.
Unable to do anything, they looked on with horror as the strange thick smoke encompassed them like a malevolent deity. The childish Goblins were unable to stay calm so they quickly entered into a state of pandemonium.
Soon enough, the tear gas filtered through the group and they couldn't help but breathe it in. The nerve gas hit their nostrils and the effect was instantaneous.
The Goblins found themselves coughing and spluttering as the gas ripped their lungs from the inside out. It didn't help that they were skipping about aimlessly.
The more the move, the more energy they expended, consequently their need for more oxygen tripled by the second. The heavier their breaths, the more gas they inhaled. At that point, it was obvious to them that they were totally screwed.
So, the cowardly beings did the only thing they could- weep. The volume of their chilling cries rang through the night like a death dirge. In addition to their already desperate situation, visibility became a real problem.
While the gas assaulted their extra-large lungs, it also attacked their eyes violently. Blood soon began to spill from their eye balls. Even worse for them was the fact that they couldn't see each other.
Feeling alienated from the rest, each of them felt like they were alone in their own personal hell.
A couple of smaller Goblins writhed in pain on the ground while some of the larger ones clutched their throats as they struggled to breathe.
Without the common sense or a leader to guide them, the Goblins fell into a state of perpetual despair. It was chaos, and it was beautiful. They were now fair game.
From where Xzavier crouched down as he overlooked the Goblins' situation, he smiled again. Even though the Major didn't want to admit it, deep down he seemed to be enjoying the hunt a little too much.
His innovative thinking had taken full advantage of the current situation and it was proving to be very effective. If the first stage the appetizer, the second stage was the main course. Xzavier slipped on his black ski mask and Black Hand gloves.
It was time for the A.O.D to step out. A.O.D. was an abbreviation that was used by the Special Forces on special missions like this, its meaning was as ominous as its abbreviation;
It simply meant 'Angel of Death.'
Other trained killers might recite a creed or an ancient text before going in for the slaughter, but not Xzavier Mace.
Merging with the darkness, Xzavier filtered through the night with the terrifying stealth of an apex predator and executed the next stage of his plan.
Blades!
Xzavier had always nurtured a very strange fascination for blades. But at this very moment, he didn't think he loved blades more than he ever did.
Even while he had been in training, Xzavier had always preferred the cold harsh steel of the Swiss army knife to the regular grip of a solid handgun, rifle and machine gun.
Blades gave Xzavier the satisfaction and finesse he sought for in weapons. He absolutely adored the katana; he saw the long slender blade as an instrument to be danced with.
But Xzavier had already determined in his heart that if he ever found himself in the dance that was a fight to the death, he would call on his favorite set of blades- the legendary twin Arabian scythes.
This was a set of wicked curved blades that were rumored to have been used by an ancient order of assassins. He had trained with them night and day for several years. And right now, he had found the perfect opportunity to show case the fruits of the long years of training.
Charged with a fresh new diabolic energy, like the mystical ninja of ancient times, the black clad assassin took on the group of Goblins single handedly with nothing but a pair of twin blades. They never saw him coming.
As the ideal hunter, Xzavier started by picking out the weakest in the herd. He tip toed around quietly in the thick fog of smoke, crept up behind the first one, struck out both of his hand in a scissors like position and slashed the unsuspecting neck of the Goblin.
The poor creature didn't even have time to scream before the wicked curved blades sliced through both the external jugular vein and the middle thyroid vein. It slumped to the ground while clutching its sliced throat as blood came gushing out.
Xzavier felt no pity whatsoever for it. He had gone into killer mode and there was no stopping him. His quick sharp eyes rolled back and forth as he searched for the next victim that would fall by his blade.
Xzavier looked sinister as hell in his outfit. In addition to his already spooky black battle gear, he had on his very creepy gas mask that protected him from the suffocating smoke. His overall ambience was like that of a death reaper.
The only thing that was missing was wings and a large wicked sickle. He hopped on to the next unfortunate Goblin and struck it from behind with the exact same tactic.
The Goblins couldn't see, and because they couldn't see, it was impossible for them to fight an invisible enemy. In fact, their situation was so hopeless that they were yet to discern that they were actually under attack.
With no leader to guide or coordinate them, they were like sheep for the slaughter and Xzavier was the wolf.
The smoke had practically rendered visibility and breathing impossible for the Goblins, so Xzavier pretty much had his field day with them.
Slipping through the chaos, Xzavier was killing at an impressive rate of three Goblins per minute. He simply crept up from behind, side stepped and SLASHED, crept up again from behind and repeated the whole dance again and again until he had virtually slaughtered over one third of them.
Xzavier's senses were still tingling with diabolic excitement. This was absolutely what he lived for. Drenched in blood, and surrounded by the dead bodies of vile creatures, Xzavier had never felt so alive than he was in that moment.
The crowning glory of it wall was the piling bodies that he left in his wake as he charged through the camp like an avenging angel. It was hard for him not to revel in the glory of the moment. Even after he had sliced open one hundred Goblin necks, Xzavier was still far from tired.
He tapped into his seemingly endless source of energy and blazed another deadly trail through a column of Goblins with his blades dripping with read fresh blood. As he danced through the band of terrified clueless Goblins, Xzavier's blades sang in accordance with his movements.
Xzavier remembered what was the Kadin had said about the Goblins' intelligence being so low that an ordinary person could defeat them. It turned out that it was true. In about ten minute's time, the whole band had been slaughtered.
Unfazed, the sinister figure that was Xzavier, walked over to the corpse of the leader and cut off its thumb. That was all the proof he needed.
Victorious, he turned back and headed towards the direction of the underground exchange.