Ventura, Los Angeles.
02:53:51.
The torrential rain continues.
Sergio sped along the road in the SUV he had just stolen, but he felt something was missing. He then tentatively opened the storage compartment and rummaged around for a bit—there were actually a few packets of pills. Just by smelling them, he knew how much potent stuff had been added. His luck couldn't be better.
To be honest, he didn't know where he was going. He was just in a really bad mood, and hadn't had a moment's peace since joining this raid. Anyway, he had no worries about what was going to happen next. He just needed to vent his anger, play with some hot girls, or find a crowded place to go on a killing spree. He'd do whatever it took to get revenge.
Detroit is a good place, suitable for a guy like him who just wants to eat, drink and have fun. Although there are many idiots he knows in Eoubs' branch in America, those executives are usually too lazy to show up. All they do all day is stay at parties, play with their pets, or torture their subordinates, and admire the forbidden creatures they keep. That's about it.
Sergio did consider switching jobs, but most of the time it was just a thought. For example, when he was passed around to East Xia, Gore, that piece of shit, if he hadn't done such a great job and knew how to maintain a better situation with the least resources, he would have been chopped up and fed to pigs by Eoubs long ago.
As for Detroit, this infamous old paradise.
He grabbed a packet of hallucinogenic drugs, didn't even count how many there were, tore open the packaging, and swallowed them all.
A long time ago, when Sergio was doing fieldwork—probably before C01 existed—he was sent to that city for exploration work, and to be honest, his impression of it wasn't very good.
The industrial noise is constant 24 hours a day. Every day when I wake up and open the window, all I see is a traffic jam that makes me want to swallow a bullet and die. Even the air is filled with a foul, pungent smell of exhaust fumes.
Furthermore, in the city center, there were free gun distribution areas at every intersection. At the time, he didn't understand why these things were built. After a month, he realized that people preferred to find a quiet corner where no one would bother them, pick a decent-looking weapon, put it in their mouth, and pull the trigger to be free, rather than wake up every day breathing air that could give them lung cancer.
This is a typical city of crime, a hell for the unemployed. Your chances of finding a job there are hundreds of times lower than being run over by an ant on the street. In the apartment Eoubs provided for him free of charge, Sergio's job was simply to transmit data on potential infected individuals to the terminal, then patrol the area regularly, clock in, and when there was nothing else to do, he'd stop by the convenience store at the street corner to buy some medicine—a pack costing only seven dollars.
He would swallow at least five packets every day, then continue to bask in the car exhaust, breathing in that disgusting air with a dizzy head. As he stuffed those pills into his mouth, chewed them, and swallowed them, you could feel, "Fuck, this is what it means to be a piece of trash. What you're enjoying is the fleeting happiness that mediocre people can only have in a lifetime."
For the past two months, Sergio would go to bars every night to have a good time, and not just one, because the girls in each place had a different style. However, most of them were ridiculously sexy, but almost every time he went to a bar, he would be photographed by those idiot security guards, who said it was a rule—made specifically for him, because several girls had been lured away by this beast, and they had suffered heavy losses.
Forget about those things... In those months, aside from the sluts he met on one-night stands, the pretty girls looking for sugar daddies, the gay men looking for protection, the gay men looking for solace, and a few drug dealers whose mothers he had no idea were male or female, he also thoroughly enjoyed a different kind of wonderful time while ensuring that his work was completed.
Damn, that period was incredibly awesome, wasn't it?
He knew where his destiny lay; only that place was suitable for him to settle down and live.
Detroit is truly a perfect city.
Especially villains like Sergio.
He decided to have a big meal at a certain chamber of commerce first. He knew very well that although the government had ordered all residents to stay at home, the law was just a piece of paper to some idiots, especially at this time of year when some rich kids were definitely having a restricted banquet.
And he just happened to know some of those places.
Sergio felt much better as he thought about it, and unconsciously sped up to 140 mph, turning on the car's music player. The first thing he heard was a very energetic and upbeat song.
"Damn... what kind of stupid taste is this? Dude, I listen to classical music, okay?"
He immediately switched it off and actually changed it to "Radetzky March".
"This is what you call enjoyment! Detroit, classical music... it's fucking spectacular!"
He activated satellite navigation, not caring whether Pandora and 252 had caught up. If they had, all the better; he would go on a killing spree in the city and wreak havoc on the entire Los Angeles.
But now, Sergio wants to find a place to do what men have to do.
...
...
An hour later.
Forced into joining the group, Krauser had a lot to do. His first priority was to find Sergio and kill the guy who had betrayed him halfway through, or leave him half alive and send him to Dongxia so that the research department could operate on him.
The last location information showed that he was in a villa area on the edge of Orange County—hundreds of kilometers away from the Dolphin Hotel. God knows how he got there. Damn it, this guy doesn't have the ability to teleport. It's simply unbelievable.
At the same time, he also thought that Gore was just asking for trouble. How could he dare to cooperate with such a mad dog? Besides, there are so many villas in this place. Finding someone in a short time is just a joke.
And what does "cooperate" even mean? Everyone knows there are two taboos chasing him to kill him. There's absolutely no need for him to get involved in this mess. Everyone's going to die sooner or later anyway, so why can't we be a little more relaxed about our work? He doesn't want to waste his time on this trivial matter.
"Sigh... An ACE and a potential B05 agent, if they were to fight, Los Angeles would be in serious trouble. I'm just a C02 agent joining in the fun."
Now that things have come to this, Krauser is just going to do it casually. He doesn't know if others will do the same, but he can't get away with it anyway, so he'll just go through the motions.
However, he also noticed some rather unusual things. He had assumed that Los Angeles was completely closed off in this state, but surprisingly, there were quite a few people strolling around the suburbs. Among them were even women who looked like models coming and going from villas. Thinking about it carefully, they might actually be some high-quality "service" personnel.
At that moment, he knocked on the door of another villa and continued his tedious work.
"Excuse me, I'm an investigator from the Los Angeles Police Department. We're looking for this man. Have you seen him?"
As he spoke, he took out Sergio's photo and placed it in front of the villa owner for a short while.
"Oh... I ran into that speeding bastard half an hour ago."
The man stared at the photo for a few seconds and replied truthfully.
Krauser was greatly shocked.
Is it really true, just such a coincidence?
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