On a mountain road near Los Angeles, a Porsche burns fiercely. Luo An stands with his back to the flames, his face cold as ice, clutching an M4A1 he'd taken, staring intently at the driver in front of him.
The middle-aged white male driver is cursing furiously in his mind at their team's temporary leader who had ordered them to silence Luo An and Mona on a whim:
They're just a couple out on a wilderness date, not looking to provoke us at all. Why did we have to mess with them?
Now look, both of his teammates have been killed in turn, and he's got a gun to his head.
Thinking back to the moment Luo An pulled him from the car, the driver's face turns alternating shades of red and white. If by some luck he survives today, he swears he'll take that temporary leader down.
Seeing the driver's face change colors, Luo An cocks the M4A1 with a "click" and asks directly:
"Talk or not?"
"I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The driver clutches his excruciatingly painful abdomen and shouts hurriedly:
