Some citizens searched for everything related to the plane crash, but the information they found was vague and unsettling.
Although there is no clear evidence of terrorist attacks online, various details point to their existence—for example, almost every year some prominent figures mysteriously disappear, sometimes even several families. These people are not just nobody; they include high-ranking officials and political figures, who are now suddenly dead.
They had naturally never heard of Eoubs, but the methods used in the Americas to purge unstable individuals were like a black hole, releasing only fragmented rumors and chillingly blurry images. You always knew that some kind of organization that set the rules for survival existed. Perhaps one moment the road beneath your feet was solid and stable, but the next second you might suddenly slip, sink into a swamp, and be swallowed up.
One hour later.
Los Angeles, San Bernardino.
"I told you the world is in turmoil right now. You definitely haven't seen the unedited photos from the scene. Everyone looks like they've been splattered with tomato sauce all over the street. Apparently, one police officer broke down on the spot. His wife and kids were on that out-of-control plane. After finishing their cleaning duties, they went back to their office and shot themselves. Tsk tsk... the whole family is wiped out."
A pair of drug dealers were squatting in front of a convenience store. They looked like a couple, smoking and talking about the recent bombing news. One of them said...
"I've already seen it. If you ask me, it's all retribution. This is what happens to the damn capitalist world. But it doesn't really concern us. Have you seen the video online? I don't know if it's photoshopped or what, but the military killed many of the people in charge of the airport involved, and some were arrested."
The other man was clearly high on drugs, and his speech was filled with such a strong sense of world-weariness that you'd think these two idiots were some kind of New World class warriors.
The two were talking indignantly, unaware that someone was walking up from behind.
The woman patted the dust off her skirt, and accidentally bumped her elbow against something. She turned around and saw a young man dressed in a very strange way.
"Do I look good, beautiful?" Sergio straightened his collar and tie with a flourish, and said in an extremely proud tone, "Just give me a compliment, thank you."
She immediately realized that this might also be a mentally challenged person addicted to hallucinogens; normal people don't talk like that.
"Buddy, do you think you're being pretentious?" The man was under the influence of the drug, and he was carrying a gun, not afraid of any potential conflict.
Sergio leaned back tactically. Damn, he really has a keen eye for talent. He originally wanted to kill a few people to vent his anger before the meeting, but he didn't expect to meet a kindred spirit.
"Yes—I really like to show off. I'm super low-class, and showing off gives me a sense of accomplishment and superiority, which makes me extremely satisfied. I enjoy the 'wow' looks from others; it's my everything. If I didn't show off, my life would have no meaning or happiness."
The couple was immediately taken aback by Sergio's nonsensical reply, thinking he might really be a madman, and quickly left.
"Who let you leave?"
Without warning, he pressed down on both of their shoulders.
...
The meeting place is a high-end hotel.
When Sergio arrived, the place was brightly lit, and a banquet was being held in the hall, which had already reached its climax. The air was filled with the smells of alcohol, snacks, cigarettes, and burning hallucinogens. Food and drinks had been deliberately dumped on the floor, as if doing so would make the guests look high-class and wealthy.
He was stunned for a minute, then noticed that a group of people were huddled together in the corner, and most of them were on their way to Paradise.
It's obvious that these people have absolutely no concept of day and night; time is like a fictional thing to them that doesn't exist. Even Eoubs' clerk's time difference isn't this outrageous.
Sergio had barely stepped into the hall when he was spotted by a bodyguard. The guy was as strong as a bull, his shirt bulging as if it was about to burst open. He was also drunk, and when he saw someone suddenly come in, he pounced on him.
He then came to his senses, took out the gun he had taken, and pressed it against the man's head to calm him down.
"Species... the only supreme species is humankind! You know that, you should have always known that!" the bodyguard shouted at him, his emotions running high. "He can't die! Only he is outside the rules... there must be some hint about this."
Sergio pretended to think for a few seconds, then swiftly shot him and turned to go upstairs.
He thought that move was incredibly cool, so cool that it would be made into a movie and go down in history. Damn, that's just how he is.
On the second floor, he glanced back again. The man had a bloody hole in his forehead, still gazing upwards. The dappled light danced across his stiff expression, filled with thirst for knowledge and excitement. He didn't know what those words were trying to express, only that the man had probably gone too far, believing he had discovered the truths of the universe, such as the existence of theology as an excuse for the weak to continue living.
Sergio ignored him and went upstairs, quickly finding the door to the meeting place.
Compared to the overly bright lights in the lobby, the light behind the half-open door was rather dim.
Before I could even think about it, I heard classical music playing inside. In such a decadent and luxurious place, someone was actually listening to this garbage.
Sergio clicked his tongue, sensing he'd met his match. He pushed open the door and went inside, immediately spotting the corpse.
A woman is nailed to the wall, behind her is an oil painting with a burning effect, presumably by a famous artist, its work incredibly detailed and astonishing. The light of the flames shines from behind her, turning the room crimson, as if everyone is being burned in judgment, their flesh reduced to useless, charred reflections after death.
The corpse's face was deliberately painted with a smiling face, all done by the same person, full of absurdist characteristics, with the corners of her mouth splitting to her ears, making it seem as if she had experienced some joyful things in her life and looked very happy.
Snap—
Someone reached out and turned on the light.
The light suddenly returned, exposing the bloody corpse to the public.
This is a Mediterranean-style room, mainly in gray and white, with simple yet elegant furniture, which makes the bloody scene all the more jarring.
Joseph, dressed simply as if attending a family gathering, was calmly looking at Sergio and beckoning.
"You've arrived. Please have a seat."
Sergio immediately felt like he'd blown his own horn. Damn it, is this a natural disaster? What a show-off!
Without thinking twice, he walked over.
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