Jean-Claude followed the mohawked man out, leaving Xavier alone in the tech-filled room.
He wandered for a few minutes before a rack of synthetic muscle fibers caught his attention - grade-A stuff that'd pump enough power through his frame to bench-press a truck. Next to it sat neural boosters in titanium cases, promising the kind of processing speed that'd make him dodge bullets Matrix-style.
But fragments of conversation from the next room kept breaking his concentration.
"...shipment coming in tonight..." Jean-Claude's voice leaked through the wall.
Xavier shook his head and moved on to examine a display of reflex amplifiers. The price tags made his credit account weep, but quality didn't come cheap in this business.
"...security's tight at the docks..." The mohawk guy's voice again.
The words sparked something in Xavier's brain. His audio processors automatically adjusted, filtering out background noise.
