Until he got off the plane, Magneto still hadn't realized the seriousness of the situation. Holding the contract in his hand, he was brimming with confidence, thinking that he would soon be able to bring a vast supply of food resources back to the Andromeda galaxy and continue serving as humanity's sharp spearhead in interstellar exploration.
The plane landed in Guadalajara, where it was even hotter. Mexico's distribution of rainfall and heat was similar to China's: humid in the south and dry in the north. The north there was dry heat, while here it was humid heat.
Before Schiller had even stepped outside, he felt his clothes soaked through. Clark, however, seemed delighted. He said, "I don't know what year this is, but it looks like we got lucky. The rainfall has been quite good this year. There should be a bumper harvest soon."
Staring at a text message on his phone, Schiller said, "This isn't luck. Star Lord has already started working. Which village are we going to first?"
"We're going straight there?" Magneto raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we find a hotel first...?"
"What hotel? Of course we're going straight to the village to find a house to stay in. It rained today, so tomorrow morning, before the soil dries, will be the best time to sow." Clark strode toward the airport exit. "I'll get us a car."
Once outside the airport, they found no shortage of unlicensed drivers waiting for fares. Clark struck up a conversation with them in Spanish spoken with an authentic southern accent. Several drivers assumed Clark was a local Mexican celebrity there to film a program, so they were quite accommodating.
But when they saw Clark bringing over several passengers who were obviously American, they waved their hands and refused the job. Clark had