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

"FUCK, shit, God damn it!"

When Liu Fei saw the camera light turn red again to indicate it was recording, she turned away from the camera, trying her best to avoid appearing in the frame.

As for the specialist whose scene was so visually striking and provocative, there was no need for her to offer any advice.

Bill was beating him up, punching him mercilessly.

If this footage were to be broadcast on outside news channels, this guy would be finished.

However, it is highly likely that these scenes will be cut and ultimately turned into a great propaganda advertisement showcasing the "51" Order combat agents' valiant efforts within the blockade zone.

Although the outcomes of these events are different, they are all the same and will all have regrettable aspects.

Anyway, news editors will step in and revise things to fit their expectations.

The hysteria that inevitably followed the shock was tormenting the female reporter. She took off her blood-soaked winter coat, completely forgetting that it was the dead of winter.

The agents who cared for her wrapped her in a thermal folded blanket to help calm her down.

JTF's cleanup team arrived at the scene and carried the bodies out of the building one by one.

Bill summoned the captains of the special agents and ordered them to check their weapons, the amount of ammunition used, and the number of bullets hit on each body.

He now desperately wants to have a few experienced forensic doctors who have seen countless corpses.

It was only after the female reporter recovered and asked about the bulletproof vest that she learned that her accompanying photographer had been shot.

Fortunately, the Homeland Strategy Bureau advised them to wear soft body armor to protect them from bullets, otherwise things would have been much worse.

Then, she was able to get up again because she was still alive and well. She hadn't been shot, nor had she contracted the virus.

Seeing the corpses strewn across the road, fear returned. Although young and naive, she was intelligent and wise, already understanding some important truths.

She will surely heed good advice the next time someone gives her it. Those nightmares will only highlight the importance of this lesson.

In less than half an hour, she was able to stand up on her own without anyone's help, change into two formal outfits, and calmly recount the story that had happened.

Standing on the fourth floor of the apartment, Liu Fei saw ISAC constructing an Echo scene in her eyes—the intelligent system analysis computer reconstructing the story that had happened here using the captured residual information.

An unidentified troublemaker first caused irreparable trouble for the agents, and the blame for the innocent victims must be placed on her.

The intruder said, "Can you stand up? We need to leave."

April Keller struggled briefly before being taken away by the intruders.

Before Liu Fei arrived at the scene, she saw the two people leaving through her binoculars.

The one being carried is definitely April Keller, while the other one is confirmed to be the anonymous individual marked as an A-level threat in the file.

But why?

Does April Keller have any unspeakable secrets?

There should be. Liu Fei stubbornly believes that anyone who has managed to take good care of themselves in such a harsh environment as New York must have something special about them.

PS: Please vote and support!

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 49 Fear

The winter night was cold. After the stimulation of the day and the dusty march, Aibo's mind could no longer stay clear, and she couldn't help but want to drink water.

She asked Raphael, who was walking with a firm stride, "Is there any water?"

The dark object landed precisely in her arms, and Aibo drank the cool water greedily without thinking.

However, the burning sensation that immediately rose from her stomach reminded her that this was not water at all, but some kind of strong liquor.

This guy...

When the heat subsided by half, she couldn't resist taking a second sip. As she raised the bottle to her lips, she suddenly realized that strong liquor was actually quite interesting at times like this.

From her childhood, school days, and even after the incident in New York, spirits have always been something she would never consider—alcohol would numb her brain and hinder her creative process.

But now she's walking down the street without any regard for her image, holding a bottle of strong liquor of unknown origin.

This seemed unbelievable and strange to her.

With a feeling of understanding, April followed the footprints and caught up with Raphael, who was leading the way.

Raphael turned his head and looked at her thoughtfully, as if answering a secret thought:

"Yes, vodka, is it good?"

Raphael gestured toward the end of the road and added, "Alcohol isn't all bad; it can warm you up."

"Why?" April asked.

"How should I put it, Mrs. Keller asked me to find you."

Raphael pulled a group photo from a zippered pouch inside his tactical vest and handed it to April.

“I’m sorry, when I saw her, Mrs. Keller, you know how terrible the artificially modified smallpox virus was. When I saw her, the lady’s life was as fragile as a candle in the wind.”

Aibo held the family photo with immense care, then looked up and gazed at the thinly dressed girl, saying:

"You'll catch a cold like that."

Raphael remained unmoved, letting the wind blow her open coat, the chill of the wind making her feel quite pleasant.

To cool down, she unbuttoned her top, pulled it open at the chest, and let her undergarments...

The wind billowed it like a sail.

"Hey!"

April grabbed Raphael's hand and pressed the torn collar back into place.

"Hmm? It's cool this way. I won't get sick."

Raphael smiled; she thought the old lady's daughter was making a mountain out of a molehill.

She didn't answer.

“You’ll never know how I caught a cold,” April stubbornly repeated. “It gets even colder here at night. I’ve caught a cold from running around the city every day, and I don’t even have a voice or the strength to speak.”

Sure enough, in her delicate voice, one could sense a hoarseness caused by a cold.

"Why are you running around the city?" Raphael slowed his pace so that April could keep up with him. "Where have you been? Who have you been in contact with?"

"Actually, I didn't go to many places, but I had a special guide – it was a gift from my husband. When there was plenty of food, I even went to Wall Street... but things are different now, and he's not here anymore."

April spoke so calmly, as if she weren't talking about herself, which surprised Raphael, prompting her to ask that empty, insignificant, and meaningless question that she usually disliked.

"It's been like this since the outbreak started, aren't you afraid?"

“I’m scared,” April admitted. “Last month when I was active in the central district, things were fine; many people spontaneously maintained order, but not anymore. But I have no choice; I have to go in…”

She quickened her pace, touched Raphael's shoulder trustingly, and said in a slightly nervous whisper:

"Do you know what's scary? No, you wouldn't know. I can tell you've gotten used to this kind of life... What's scary is that I could suddenly be beaten to death and then have nothing left. I've always wanted to know, why did you kill my husband, why?"

You don't know, I was right beside him when he died. He was always so fierce, cursing everyone, and also very pessimistic. He always had this look on his face, as if he'd seen it all, and he kept saying that the financial system was full of swindlers, swindlers like never before.

You know, the more the injured person is in pain and groaning, the more fiercely he curses.

But when I held him in my arms as he was dying—he had a wound in his abdomen—he lay quietly, not cursing or saying a word, even though he was in great pain, as if to say: It's over.

He had probably never experienced such peace in the first half of his life. I know he is actually a very kind person.

He swore because he couldn't bear to see people being swindled out of their money by investment managers using sweet talk, but that's just his job—working in securities at an investment bank.

This caused him great pain. He remained silent, saying nothing, just lying in my arms. Nothing… But when I cried, he suddenly smiled. Do you know why?

“I don’t know,” Raphael said. “Maybe it’s because he’s happy to see you’re still alive and healthy. Maybe not, I don’t know.”

She paused for a moment, then asked, "Who killed your husband?"

"I don't know. They were wearing those black police combat uniforms when they stormed into the office building and killed everyone."

Aibo hesitated for a moment, then continued:

"He's dead, New York is finished, the publishing houses and universities are gone. I have nothing left. Do you know how old I am?"

She chattered on and on, sharing her thoughts on surviving the lockdown of New York.

"If, I mean if,"

Raphael occasionally replied:

"You've already achieved success in your career, traveled to all the places you wanted to go, and are already married. Don't you find it that terrible?"

“No,” April said confidently, “I know it’s not as terrible for you as it is for me. We are from two different worlds, but you are too young.”

How old are you?

"Hmm, 23-27 years old, is that right?"

“Yes,” Raphael smiled.

Actually, based on the time her original body was taken offline, her original body was only less than 3 years old. But saying that would definitely make Miss Aibo think it was an excuse.

Sometimes a lie can be more effective than telling the whole truth.

And she couldn't understand why April was so afraid, yet still mustered the courage to face the danger. Was it because of "love"? April said her husband had been killed by armed men.

“You see,” April continued, “so you shouldn’t find it scary. But it is scary for me.”

These words were spoken with such melancholy, yet with a strange sense of self-sacrifice, that Raphael couldn't help but want to quickly stroke her head like a child, say a few unrealistic kind words, and tell her that everything would be alright, that her misfortune had stopped.

But the burning city prevented her from making such empty promises. There was only one way to help Aibo: to use the National Guard's channels to send him out.

Raphael did one thing in place of these empty words: she tiptoed and gently stroked April's head, then quickly removed her hand, not wanting to plunge her into boundless fear.

Aibo paused, then tilted her head and said, "Are you trying to comfort me?"

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 50 F**K Sig! (Seeking votes and support)

"If you ask me, you're luckier than everyone else who stayed in the city because of the misfortune."

"Are you lucky?"

"Yes, I will send you away from here."

"Where?"

"Go to a safe place."

Aibo stopped and looked intently at the girl in front of her who had also stopped and was looking back at her. "Is there still a safe place now?"