Main driver's seat.
Andrei, who was driving, quietly glanced at Soren—lost in thought—through the rearview mirror.
His hands gripping the steering wheel trembled faintly.
He wasn't sure if it was lingering fear or excitement.
Peter's miserable death brought sorrow to his heart, but whenever he thought about the footage captured on the camera last night, ambition sprouted wildly in his chest like weeds.
He knew that if he could edit even the tip of the iceberg of last night's events into a video and release it, Sewer Crocodile would instantly become the hottest, most talked-about paranormal exploration show on the entire internet.
Compared to that, the guilt over one human life didn't seem so hard to bear.
"Soren…"
Andrei hesitated for a long time before finally speaking up. "Now that Peter is dead, our show is short a person."
"Would you consider coming on as our new host?"
Soren snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the two men in the front seats. A new idea formed in his mind.
His current situation was actually quite awkward. He had plenty of combat power but no clear direction to apply it. He needed to quickly establish an entirely independent intelligence network that wasn't controlled by any existing forces.
Morrison and Enzo had wide connections and wild methods, but they were black-market middlemen. As long as someone paid enough, they'd work for anyone. Frequent requests from Soren would risk exposing his intentions and cost a fortune.
In contrast, Andrei and Clancy—these two lunatics willing to film in a serial killer's house just for views—were perfect tools. Letting them roam all over America might accidentally dig up useful clues one day.
Thinking this, Soren didn't refuse outright. Instead, he pulled out a piece of shriveled flesh he'd taken from one of the mechanically modified monsters earlier. The pattern on it was still clear: an ouroboros (snake eating its own tail) with a single eyeball carved in the center of the coil. Staring at the eye too long induced strong dizziness and the feeling of being watched.
He handed it forward. "You two travel everywhere for your show and see a lot. Have either of you seen this pattern somewhere before?"
Andrei glanced at it during a break in driving and his face turned white. He quickly looked back at the road.
Clancy, in the passenger seat, suppressed his nausea, took the piece of flesh, and examined it carefully.
He frowned, looking hesitant. "This pattern… it feels kind of familiar. I think I've definitely seen it somewhere before."
"Really?" Soren raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.
"Give me some time," Clancy said, rubbing his dizzy head. "Once we're back in Los Santos, I'll go through all the abandoned footage we've shot over the years. I'm sure this appeared in one of our lenses."
Soren nodded in satisfaction and gave them his phone number. "If you find anything, contact me immediately. If you can locate something that actually interests me, guest-hosting an episode isn't impossible."
After all, these two already ran around the country chasing thrills with their own funding. Might as well plant two free eyes and ears on the outside.
The van fell quiet again as it cruised down the highway.
Just as Soren leaned back to rest, a piercing screech of brakes erupted. The van jolted violently and stopped dead.
Soren didn't even shift in his seat.
Clancy wasn't so lucky—his forehead split open against the camera, blood flowing, and the expensive lens clattered to the floor.
"FUCK! This damn lens costs more than my medical bills!" Clancy clutched his head and cursed.
Soren moved to the front and looked out.
The previously clear highway was now blocked.
Dozens of meters ahead, armored vehicles and a main battle tank sat across the road, their cannons aimed directly at the van. Dozens of fully armed soldiers crouched behind cover, gas masks hanging on their chests, ready for combat.
Several state troopers in bulletproof vests strode toward them, waving glowing red batons, signaling them to pull over.
Andrei's Adam's apple bobbed as cold sweat poured down his face. He'd only taken people into an abandoned house—sure, someone died, but did that really warrant tanks from the military?
One trooper spoke into his shoulder radio, then knocked on the driver's window.
Andrei shakily lowered it, breathing hard.
The trooper scanned the interior, voice hoarse: "Road ahead closed due to hazardous material leak. Per executive order, this county and the dozen towns ahead are mandatory evacuation zones."
He eyed Andrei's pale face and frowned, hand drifting toward his pistol. "Sir? You okay?"
"I… I'm fine," Andrei stammered.
The trooper looked skeptical but, thinking about the overtime ahead and seeing the beat-up van, decided not to push it. "If you're fine, turn around immediately. Don't stop anywhere. Leave the area now."
Soren patted Andrei's shoulder to calm him. Through the window, he saw distant mountains being swallowed by a rapidly expanding white mass—fog or something worse—spreading visibly outward.
The van turned around and drove off.
Once the police disappeared from the rearview mirror, Andrei finally relaxed, slumping in his seat with a long sigh.
"Damn it, I'd bet anything that's not some chemical leak in there!" He ruffled his hair, trying to regain composure. "Remember that disaster in the Los Santos suburbs recently? Half a block turned into a meteor crater, and the media straight-up lied saying it was a gas explosion!"
Soren found the man's shift from terrified to conspiracy-energized amusing.
Seeing no objection, Andrei's eyes lit up. "Hey Soren, interested in sneaking in with us to check it out? They brought out tanks to block the road—this has to be another big event the higher-ups are covering up! If we get first-hand footage, this episode will explode online!"
Soren raised an eyebrow. "Main road's blocked by the military. You know any back roads?"
"Of course!" Andrei slapped his chest confidently. "This is Maine—tons of unexplained legends here. I've secretly scouted this area countless times for the show. I know the land better than any GPS."
Soren checked the map. The blockade zone was huge; detouring would add serious time. The fact they were being sent back the way they came suggested side roads might be blocked too. With tanks involved, his curiosity was piqued about what the shadowy organization was up to this time.
"Then let's go."
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