In the room on the second floor of the factory.
"Mr. Bill... Mr. Bill, I now very much believe in your theory about the mutated kind, so I think, maybe we should call the police?"
"Call the police?" Bill turned his head and stared at the thug, "Are you insulting me?"
"Of course not, it's just that... uhh... look, that clerk just broke metal screws with his bare hands, so..."
"Are you scared??"
"Uhh... I just feel like I suddenly don't hate them that much anymore."
Bill spat contemptuously, not even bothering to respond to the thug's suggestion. He stared again at the surveillance screen, his cheeks bulging while his eyes emitted a strange brilliance. Truth be told, he was indeed incredibly surprised—after all, seeing the kind of scenes that only appeared in comic novels was astonishing to anyone. But more than that, he was thrilled. Watching a group of legendary beings struggle to survive in the cage he had designed was an indescribable pleasure.
