Eh? You want to try the humanoid girl's iron fist too?

She left Madison Square Garden in the dark, pondering the reporter's notes the whole way. The closer she got to the high-radiation area, the more elid infected people she encountered. Raphael thought that among the infected she had killed might be the reporter who wrote those notes.

The heavy mood became even more depressing after thinking about the instigator.

How long did these innocent people suffer before they mutated?

The search revealed no corresponding explanatory materials or documents. Raphael sighed again; the Planning Bureau's precautions against her were still too tight.

Every time she emerged from a dilapidated shop or residential building, she received desperate last words written by many people.

They cursed all the municipal bureaucrats, resented their fate, and were terrified by their inherent violence and increasingly stiff and sluggish bodies.

These messages were initially well-organized, but the handwriting became increasingly illegible and stiff as they progressed.

People are struggling in despair, and those words can only express that.

Raphael lowered his gun and walked into the street. The thugs, like monsters that automatically spawn in a game, would always appear from the most inconspicuous corners.

Their lines are mostly similar, either asking for money or sex.

Frustrated and impatient, they noticed Raphael walking alone on the road, prepared themselves, and jumped straight at her.

Raphael waited a few seconds under the cover of the charred car, then quickly drew his weapon and disengaged the pin.

The battle lasted less than a minute, and six more bodies lay on the icy road, their deaths utterly meaningless.

As dawn approached, Raphael, lost in thought, recalled the reverse engineering cores stored as failed samples in the Advanced Research Projects Agency's sample warehouse.

Could we use this as a basis to create a puppet humanoid?

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 45 The Second Agent

Outside the post office operations center entrance, morning.

The newly activated agents jumped out of the vehicles. Without needing any additional orders, the strong young men gathered in twos and threes, then spread out to the sides and gradually advanced using the cover on the road.

The soldiers of the JTF Joint Operations Force were forced to retreat by dozens of bandits. Even though they fought back fiercely, their commander failed to make use of the resources at his disposal and only knew how to yell "counterattack!"

Liu Fei limped up, sat down against a roadblock, and instructed the agent who had survived the plane crash with her not far away to organize the newly arrived second batch of agents, quickly support the soldiers of the JTF Joint Operations Force, and launch a cleanup operation around the base.

The initial phase of the cleanup operation went smoothly, but they still encountered some thorny problems.

“I don’t like this,” Bill Osborn said calmly, holding his binoculars.

"I also

"I don't like it," Liu Fei agreed. Looking through the 10x binoculars, her field of vision was less expansive, but more focused.

The current situation is anything but pleasant. As the purge neared its end, a guy identified by the ISAC as a Lexie gang leader seized the opportunity to take several scavengers hostage.

Matt Russell, with several hostages in his hands, constantly blackmailed the agents outside who were hesitant to act.

Russell was involved in the murders of two FBI agents and a federal judge, and after four years on the run, he was finally found.

Born in Minnesota, far from the protection of his ancestral homeland, and burdened with serious crimes, the most serious of which was murder, which landed him in prison.

If it weren't for the Green Dollar virus, Russell might have spent the rest of his life in prison.

The Strategic Services' hostage rescue team, as if in training, began preparing for the rescue operation under the leadership of Captain Oliver Black.

"Have you found anything?" Liu Fei asked.

“There’s movement, but we don’t know who the figures are,” Bill Osborn replied. “The lighting is bad. These guys might not be very smart, but they’re crazy enough.”

"The objective required JTF members to provide them with bottled water and MRE rations."

"Give them to them," Liu Fei said, turning on the radio.

“Liu, can you tamper with the water and food?” Bill asked.

"No, they will let the hostages eat first, and only after confirming that there are no problems will they eat themselves."

Liu Fei was also troubled. Her orders were to ensure the safety of the hostages. If she followed her plan, the hostages were irrelevant; killing the Lex Gang leader, who was becoming a menace, was more important.

But the power lies with others; she's merely an acting commander for now. If her decisions provoke resentment from her superiors and subordinates, she'll be packing her bags and leaving immediately.

"Is there any other way—"

“The final decision isn’t in my hands,” Liu Fei cut off Bill’s questioning. “The special agent supervisor said he’s the one in charge here.”

Bill lowered his binoculars, his face showing displeasure: "Who is the supervisor?"

"I don't know, but they sent a negotiation expert and a psychiatrist who are skilled in this area. His expertise is hard to come by, but he won't arrive for another two hours. This oversight commissioner hopes to generate some news and ease the pressure from public opinion."

The negotiation expert, whose arrival date was uncertain, and the SHD oversight commissioner, hoping to generate positive news. Bill really wanted to strangle that idiot commissioner.

"Could we give those two a big gift?"

Liu Fei's eyes darted around; she was thinking of something even more dangerous and interesting hidden in this city. Products from the Vietnam War era had somehow appeared in New York.

Although they packaged their message very discreetly, some things, once done, will inevitably leave traces. After all, the real world is different from the virtual cyberspace.

Rumors of unexplained nuclear radiation in New York had already been confirmed. Liu Fei followed her curiosity and looked into it further, but many related documents were blocked.

Even though she had certain access to classified information in SHD, the lines of black marker on the document she received made her temples throb.

That wasn't the end of it. A specialist from the agency came to question her about the implications of using the authority of the Homeland Strategy Bureau to access sensitive federal information.

"What?" Bill asked, puzzled.

"Never mind, it's too late," Liu Fei said, her hand resting on the microphone.

Bill shook his head; he hated this kind of half-hearted talk.

"Can we create an opportunity for a strong attack?"

"So what's your solution? Get around that supervisor."

"The hostages these bastards have aren't really important, but what if we send them a hostage that will make that supervisor furious?"

“A stupid idea, but I like it.” Bill grinned. “You want to send that negotiation expert to Russell? I agree.”

"Where are our negotiation experts?" Liu Fei asked the liaison officer beside her.

"Estimated arrival time: 3 minutes."

The two command team members exchanged a smile; now they could begin.

"Danny, how long have you been in that ready-to-fire state?" Bill asked next. Extensive training and combat data have shown that if a sniper remains in that state of readiness for more than 30 minutes, it becomes very difficult to maintain complete focus.

At that time, the observer and the shooter should switch roles.

Bill Osborne believes Danny Clyde should switch roles with the observer.

“About 15 minutes, Bill. I’m fine… I’m fine, I saw the prisoner. Shit, who’s that?” Danny exclaimed.

"Don't be nervous, those are our negotiation experts and press team."

A well-dressed expert with round-framed glasses, accompanied by two assistants, slowly approached the apartment building surrounded by the Second Wave Agent Corps, guided by JTF team members.

The oversight commissioner seemed to realize the problem and quickly said, "I approve the use of lethal force within the rules of engagement."

It seemed too late. The three had already entered the apartment building. The light inside was dim; the sun would set in ninety minutes.

Strong winds have been blowing all day; the cold air coming from the north seems intent on tearing New York to shreds.

The rising dust stung people's eyes, and to make matters worse, the wind speed reached around 40 knots and was blowing straight through Danny's line of fire.

This strong wind has a very serious impact on the trajectory, causing it to deviate by at least 4 inches.

“All team members, prepare for battle,” Bill proposed. “We’ve just received ‘compromise authorization.’”

“That makes him seem like an idiot even more,” Captain Gavin Steele said over the radio.

He was furious and no longer cared whether the SHD Special Agent Supervisor could hear him.

More likely, that commissioner had already mentally strangled him more than once.

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 46 Masterpiece

Danny watched the negotiating team's movements, then noticed the female reporter.

"That girl is really pretty," he thought, "it's just a pity her hair and makeup are..."

"Number 3 has a clear view, but..." the observer from Sniper Team 3 said, "He's acting a bit strange."

"What's strange?" Liu Fei asked immediately.

“Number 3 is right,” Bill chimed in, setting up his binoculars to examine the face closely. He saw an expression filled with madness.

"Russell's expression is off, all teams, be alert! Russell's on drugs! Bring the reporters back!"

But it was too late.

Liu Fei picked up the radio handheld device, her eyes fixed on Russell's head. At this moment, Russell was no longer a person, but merely a monitoring object, a target.

The rescue team is now operating under the "compromise authorization" rule, and at least in this respect, the attack team's choice of action is flawless.

This means that if the situation becomes extremely dire, the attack rescue team has the authority to take any action that its leader deems appropriate.

Furthermore, the special "combat rules" issued by this supervisor clearly state that if the target being monitored is carrying a lethal weapon that endangers the life of any agent or hostage, then the sniper should apply 3 pounds of force to the trigger of the rifle with his right index finger and pull the trigger.

“For God’s sake, everyone calm down.” Danny took a deep breath. The crosshairs and rangefinder markings in his scope had already included the target.

Danny unconsciously reassessed the distance, then calmed himself down and tried to focus on the sudden gust of wind.

Taking wind drift, distance, and weight into account, the crosshair of the scope was adjusted by 5 mils in the opposite direction of the wind.

Since it's a high-to-low shot, the effect of gravity is almost negligible.

Ultimately, the center of the mirror pointed to the area above Russell's ear, a perfect spot where a hit would be fatal.

The situation looked both comical and terrifying.

The journalist smiled as he moved the microphone back and forth, while the burly photographer carried a large camera and aimed it at the interviewee. Russell was speaking forcefully, but because he was speaking against the wind, no one except a few people present could hear a single word.

Matt Russell's expression was aggressive from the start and never softened.

Before long, his left hand clenched into a fist, and his right hand reached into his waist.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew off the female reporter's white beret.

Russell seemed to have been provoked; his expression changed from calm and even to manic and agitated.

Then he suddenly calmed down, but such calmness was not necessarily a good omen.

This is most likely due to drug stimulation.