Predator

51

Amelia didn't know that after she left, Liam squatted there, grabbing a handful of elephant grass with his left hand while playing with the military knife he always carried with his right. The blade gleamed coldly as it shaved off the dry, yellow parts of the grass, leaving the freshest pieces in front of Mike.

"Everyone's gone. You don't need to pretend with me."

"You figured it out, didn't you?" Liam said, tapping the ground lightly with his fist.

"You know what S plans to do with you, and you don't want it." He opened another bottle of milk, placing it next to the fresh grass on Mike's right.

"Indeed, with your current intelligence at this age, fasting is probably the only method you could think of." Liam didn't hesitate to offer praise, though his tone carried a hint of sarcasm.

Mike angrily snorted at him, pawing the ground with his front hoof. If not for the cage between them, the elephant might have charged and knocked Liam over.

"Do whatever you want—fast, throw tantrums. I have all the time in the world to play along."

"But don't make her worry."

"When she cries, it annoys me."

"When I'm annoyed, I want to kill something for fun."

Amelia came back in a rush, "I couldn't..."

"You couldn't find it?"

Of course, she couldn't find it—the military knife was with Liam. If she had, it would have been surprising.

Liam pretended, "Then I must have remembered wrong."

Nearby, the hunting dogs became restless, ears perking up and barking excitedly. They crouched low, ready to attack.

"They've brought the person."

At the other end of the factory, a man with disheveled glasses and a nervous expression was being "assisted" by two mercenaries. He was pushed to the ground, a gun pressed to his forehead.

"Check on this elephant."

"It hasn't been eating."

The speaker had a rare European face for Nairobi.

The veterinarian, confused, heard the click of a lock. Suddenly, his collar was grabbed, and he was thrown into the elephant's cage, almost colliding with the small elephant hiding in the corner.

He had been inexplicably captured on his way home from work, without any medical tools, and now had to improvise.

He pried open the elephant's mouth to check, finding no problems in the oral cavity.

No obvious injuries on the body either.

A layer of dry mud covered the skin, with no mosquito bites.

Several eyes outside the cage watched his every move. Trembling, he adjusted his glasses, the lenses reflecting a hesitant light as he briefly scanned the environment.

"It's probably... it shouldn't be kept like this."

He nervously concluded, "Mood significantly affects appetite too."

A mercenary cursed, "Not kept like this? Should it be released then? Are you talking nonsense?"

The veterinarian panicked, wondering if he should backtrack—

The cage door opened.

The European man with deep-set eyes asked, implying something, "So what should we do? Take it to the East African savannah for a walk?"