August 20, 2036. Pylo Williams stands in the auction house, his eyes surveying the room with intensity, methodical in nature. He watches every little thing, reading—hot and cold—every person around him. Every so often, his attention would waver back to the present conversation with Felix. Felix watched him intently and noted that something about Pylo was very strange; his gaze never appeared to be still, and his eyes did not show the slightest hint of fatigue. They were sharp, calculating, always moving.
Felix asked, "So, Mr. Pylo, what do you think of the atmosphere here?"
Pylo answered, "This place is nicely decorated, classy, and just right with its ambiance.".
"Your insight is interesting," Felix said.
Pylo nodded slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Felix. I should probably get home, though."
"Of course, Mr. Pylo. Nice to meet you," Felix said, holding out his hand.
They shook hands. As Pylo turned to leave, a hint of a smile played on his lips, but only he knew what it meant. Out in the chilly evening air, he slid into a sleek black Mercedes-Benz, its elegant lines speaking of sophistication—a car that matched the driver. He headed west, toward his home on the outskirts of London.
His house was a handsome, two-story affair, modern in style and minimalist in aspect. Its deep charcoal color contrasted very well with the lightness of the roof and the window frames. Large windows framed in slim black outlines allowed natural light into the place, and the open, polished interior showed brilliant. Another small canopy was placed over the front opening, while the low-maintained lawn around it, edged by a low black fence, gave the impression of subtle beauty all over the property.
Inside, Pylo was to move with purpose. He walked directly to the kitchen and pulled out a plastic container from the fridge. Inside were cold nuggets, which he quickly got to fry, showcasing his culinary skill—which happened to be a talent he shared with Felix. Once the nuggets were done, he took them outside to the backyard.
Outside in the backyard, a few chickens stood at the fence, awaiting. Pylo dug into the bag and pulled out the nuggets, dropping them in a bowl. *But was he feeding them chicken?* No. These weren't normal nuggets; they were made of human meat.