The sunset slowly descended in the west, staining the sky a golden red, as if draping a thin veil over Langley Air Force Base.
Inside the grand Air Force One, in the dining room.
Nett sat on a high-backed chair with his upper body bare.
Since the implantation of the Brain Bug, he increasingly enjoyed working or eating without a shirt, the coolness bringing a sense of liberation to his entire body.
Wearing clothes would cover the Brain Bug on his back, inducing a faint sense of alienation in his mind.
Besides, it was more convenient this way.
He didn't even need to manually cut the steak before him. The Brain Bug behind him extended fleshy tendrils, tearing the steak apart like a lion's mouth, feeding it sometimes to the Brain Bug itself and sometimes to Nett's mouth.
This absurd scene made the Secretary of State's heart leap with shock.
