Parking area rest zone, inside a gray vintage recreational vehicle.

In front of the vehicle, there is a ceiling-mounted TV playing the Los Angeles morning news.

A white man with reddened skin is sitting at the dining table eating a steak, rare enough that it's still bloody. The steak looks tender, but its taste is unknown.

The TV volume isn't high, but in the quiet RV, it's still clear to hear.

[Hello, viewers. I'm CBS intern journalist Nami Inoue, and I am here to report some major news.

At 1 AM today, a chemical attack occurred at a bar in Los Angeles, with victims infected with the same virus, dying in horrific ways.

The FBI has sealed off the scene. From various investigation results, the number of victims last night exceeds 40, more than the Steven Community College attack case's victims, and this bio-virus is extremely lethal, causing death in a short time.

As I know, last night's bar attack had only one survivor, who has already been transferred to the hospital for treatment. I'm calling on everyone to pray for him and hope for his speedy recovery. I will continue covering this report...]

The white man eating steak suddenly raised his head, staring fixedly at the TV screen with a somewhat terrifying look, no longer absorbing the words. His red cheeks reveal a sense of excitement and agitation, "A survivor?"

His breathing became rapid, "Finally got my chance. It's you."

3 PM, Joseph Hospital.

On the fifth-floor corridor of the hospital, people are bustling back and forth, each busy with their own tasks.

A male doctor in a white coat pushing a medical cart arrives at room 505. His mask-covered face makes features indistinguishable, but his exposed skin is slightly red as he peers through the window into the room.

"Creak..." The door sounded as the white man opened the hospital room door, pushing the cart inside.

The white doctor glanced around the room. On the bed lies a Mexican patient with red skin, looking haggard and wearing a respirator. He saw no other soul around, so he slowly closed the door, pushing the cart further in.

The Mexican patient on the bed kept his eyes shut, seemingly in a coma.

The white man checked the patient's name and diagnosis, revealing an expression of delight.

This is the survivor he was searching for, the Immune Body of the Yagola Virus.

This white doctor is none other than the biochemical weapon expert, Severo Joli.

Severo called the patient's name softly, with no reaction as the patient remained unconscious.

Severo retrieved blood collection tools from the cart, clumsily ripping open the needle's packaging with his left hand.

His movements were not fast; the palm of his left hand seemed glued with something.

At this instant, the bathroom door slowly opened, and a dark-haired youth rushed out, "FBI, don't move!"

Severo's hand froze momentarily, looking towards the bathroom, his mouth twitched as he coldly snorted, "Robbery and Murder Department, Luke Lee."

"You know me?"

"I saw your news report. You're the one who killed Tapani Reagan."

"He committed suicide."

"You drove him to a dead end. Strictly speaking, he wasn't a bad person."

Luke teased, "You're right; he only wanted to kill dozens with chemical weapons."

Severo interrogated, "Was the news about the survivor deliberately released by you to lure me?"

"It was leaked by a journalist. I just guessed that you might come, so I wanted to meet you."

Severo taunted, "Did you also guess I'd walk out of here?"

"Sure, provided you wear handcuffs first."

Severo's left hand moved slightly, pressing beneath his thumb while his right hand unbuttoned the white coat, revealing a bomb underneath.

He showed his left hand to Luke, with a remote control taped to his palm. "I've already pressed the activation button. Once my finger releases—

'Boom...'

you, me, everyone on this floor will die."

Luke glanced at the patient on the bed, changing the topic, "So you guessed the FBI would set up here."

"I wasn't sure, but I had no choice.

If the news about the survivor was deliberately leaked by you, it means you've seen my trump card.

Sooner or later, I'd be a dead man.

Indeed, you've already cornered me. Tapani Reagan and those brainless Middle Eastern men were taken down by you, so I had to come personally.

But if you think I'd go quietly, you'd underestimate me.

If you shoot, I'll release, we'll all see God together; to me, it's just a matter of sooner or later.

I'm not really bothered; on the contrary, it'd be a pity for a promising young man like you.

As the sycophant journalists say, Los Angeles needs you," Severo taunted with a nasal intonation.

"Your voice is disgusting. I somewhat regret meeting you; this might affect my appetite for dinner."

"Then agree to my terms."

"What terms?"

Severo pointed to the bed with his left finger, "I want to leave with his blood."

Luke breathed a sigh of relief, understanding from this statement that Severo believes the Immune Body exists, and the FBI only leaked news to set up an ambush.

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