The fluorescent lights of the questionable diner buzzed overhead, casting an unappetizing green glow over Mia's half-eaten "mystery meat" burger. Blackie, perched on the cracked vinyl seat beside her, diligently cleaned a suspicious-looking sausage link with his sandpapery tongue.

"This isn't so bad," Nelson offered optimistically, taking a bite of his fries, which resembled pale, limp worms more than anything edible. "A little... different, but still..." his voice trailed off as he chewed, his eyes widening. "Uh, maybe not."

Mia grimaced, pushing the burger patty further away. "Maybe we should have gone with the mystery soup," she mumbled, eyeing a murky concoction bubbling ominously in a nearby pot.

Blackie, ever the voice of reason (or at least disdainful meows), flicked his tail dismissively. "This entire establishment," he declared, "is a monument to questionable hygiene."

Just then, a waitress with a smile that wouldn't have convinced a fly landed at their table. "All finished, you folks?" she drawled, her voice thick with a southern accent that could curdle milk.

"Uh, yeah," Nelson stammered, pushing his plate away. "We'll, uh, take the check."

The waitress chuckled, a sound like gravel crunching. "Head on down to the register, honey. It's a stuffed armadillo by the jukebox."

Nelson and Mia exchanged bewildered glances. A stuffed armadillo cashier? This was definitely a first.

With a sigh, they paid for their... experience, and stepped back out into the bustling airport city. Now, where was that hotel again? They'd hailed a taxi straight from the airport, lured in by the promise of "exotic snacks." Big mistake.

"Let's see," Mia muttered, squinting at her phone. "The map app is totally useless here. It only shows pictures of giant pretzels and suspicious massage parlors."

Nelson scratched his head. "Maybe we should ask someone?"

"Ask who?" Blackie jumped in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The man walking his pet iguana on a leash? Or the lady juggling flaming batons outside the tattoo parlor?"

Mia winced. This was not an ideal situation. Lost, hungry (well, maybe not anymore), and surrounded by the... unique sights of this airport city, their mission to find Wu was starting to feel a little less like ninja business and a little more like a bad reality TV show.

Just then, a booming voice cut through the cacophony. "Hey there, lost little tourists!"

They turned to see a towering figure with a handlebar mustache and a Hawaiian shirt straining across his impressive chest. "You folks look like you could use a ride!"

Nelson and Mia exchanged another glance. This was definitely not part of the plan, but then again, neither was questionable diner food or a stuffed armadillo cashier.

Blackie, however, narrowed his eyes at the stranger. "Do you happen to know the way to the Hotel of Questionable Plumbing?" he inquired, his voice surprisingly polite.

The man boomed a laugh. "The Hotel of Questionable Plumbing? Now that's a place I haven't heard of in years! Hop in, my friends! I know just the shortcut."

Mia and Nelson, despite their better judgment (and Blackie's pointed glare), found themselves piling into the back of the man's rusty pickup truck, the questionable food churning uncomfortably in their stomachs. This wasn't exactly how they pictured their journey to find Wu unfolding, but hey, at least it was an adventure, right? A questionable, smelly, possibly dangerous adventure, but an adventure nonetheless.