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

They used their strong arms to trap their partner's head under their armpits and punched each other in the chest until it was bruised and battered.

Or they might hide in the shadows, brandish a military dagger, and leap out to leave a scratch on their partner's chest with the tip of the blade, or lightly smear a fake paintbrush on the victim's neck, mischievously mimicking a clean and efficient method of murder.

They said they did this to put the other person in the best possible condition; they did it both for fun and to hone their skills.

People like this can be distinguished from others simply by their gait and demeanor. They possess an air of arrogance, a charisma that draws others in like a rock star.

Jacob remembered that the captain's name was Eric Kirk, a sergeant major (E-8), and he had that kind of aura about him, and was one of the best in the special forces.

Before Eric set off, he chuckled and said, "Although I don't like those arrogant guys in the Navy, I want you to remember this: Never Out of the Fight!"

After saying that, they set off without looking back, their steps firm, and never returned.

He tried to hold on, but the ELID infected's steel-like bodies, their overwhelming numbers, and their deployment according to traditional special operations...

Add to that the fire-wielding bastards, and the Rangers' defensive line was breached by those brainless idiots six hours after the operation began.

Not long after, Jacob's contact with the "Griffin" recovery team was completely lost.

He didn't know the details of the mission, but that kind of thing was definitely the primary reason for its failure.

Jacob's B Company suffered 14 casualties and 23 wounded in the mission. Lieutenant Colonel Billis sent a rapid reaction team, but they also perished.

While everyone was reeling from the defeat, Billis rallied the two companies that had carried out the mission and sent the remaining troops out to provide support, thus preventing them from suffering even greater losses during the retreat.

At this point, Raphael had already set up the machine gun. Although she had not received any explicit orders, she immediately returned to her old ways, using the high-magnification optical sight and excellent ballistic performance to carry out precise strikes.

When Jacob turned around and noticed Raphael, he cursed at her undisciplined behavior, then noticed that the infected people the mobile response team hadn't had time to deal with had collapsed.

He immediately suppressed his temper, beamed with joy, and praised his deputy Noah, who stayed in the company headquarters to oversee the operations, saying, "We've struck gold!"

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 77 Step by Step

While the surviving army did receive the vast majority of the airdropped supplies, they were still facing a shortage of resources and would be in a state of emergency if supplies were cut off.

Food is always a big problem, Jacob thought, looking at the street ahead engulfed in flames.

Billis has taken in too many refugees, and because of the greenback smallpox virus, it is impossible to release all of them and put them into production.

He also noticed a strange phenomenon: the amount of supplies obtained from the airdrop sites they surrounded was more than twice that of the "wilderness" airdrop sites.

Perhaps the troops' communication with the Joint Special Operations Command had not been interrupted, Jacob thought.

"What nonsense are you thinking? It's already been announced publicly."

Exhausted, Jacob sat on the ground, leaning against the iron wall of the watchtower, unscrewed the water bottle cap, and took a few sips. He felt cold; for the first time that day, he realized it was already late at night and he wasn't wearing a coat.

Noah, his good friend, guessed what was on his mind and brought him his coat from the lounge.

Jacob initially draped it over his shoulders, but Noah insisted that he wear it properly.

Clang, clang, clang...

Mortars roared down the next street, and not only that, the two autonomous artillery batteries began firing. Carl Jacob openly expressed his envy, wishing that autonomous artillery batteries could be deployed along the defenses of several major streets.

Unfortunately, they don't have many resources.

JTF armored vehicles and large-caliber weapons were abandoned in the "black zone," and anyone who went in would die.

When the Rangers arrived, besides the MK18 grenade launchers and M2HB mounted on Humvees, the only heavy firepower they had left was the mortar.

Thanks to the noise from the artillery bombardment and the Viper cannon, the ELID infected, whose sound-tracking ability was maximized, were slowly drawn to the scene.

Taking this opportunity, Jacob began to arrange for the rotation of personnel.

Fortunately, it was just a regular defensive battle. After getting used to dealing with the nearly invulnerable ELID infected, we were able to achieve virtually no casualties.

The reinforced squad that was on the outside returned safely. Except for one unlucky guy who twisted his ankle from running too fast, everyone else was fine, just a little tired.

At 4 a.m., Jacob and Noah began their inspection, adjusting and optimizing the defensive line. He looked at the girl lying on the defensive line, intently on guard, and said, "Oh, she... she's been a great help."

He thought about it for a moment, and realized that throughout the entire day, from the moment he thought there would definitely be a fierce defensive battle until the very last minute of the battle, he only thought of people when he discovered the benefits.

Oh, and there was their original purpose. Jacob remembered that Lieutenant Raphael had come seeking help, hoping to use their equipment to establish contact with Annapolis College and thus get the news of her predicament out.

Hope is slim, but...

Jacob shook his head, but said he would take the person over when it got light.

"What's wrong? Do you think the duck you've got might fly away?" Noah walked over with two cups. As he handed them to Jacob, he glanced at the wary girl in the distance.

“Vodka? Where did you get that?” Jacob exclaimed in surprise.

He glanced at the ammunition box

At the table that had been set up, I discovered quite a few interesting things. They were all dishes made from canned food, each with a different color and flavor.

Beside him sat an exquisite can opener. Jacob took it down, slipped the small ring onto the special can stopper, and opened the can.

Noah glanced at the label on the can. "Planning to send this to that lieutenant? This is fruit, it's very precious."

"Sigh, if you've asked someone to do something for you, you should at least repay them."

"You've got your eye on it?" Noah teased.

“I don’t know, and…” Jacob scratched his cheek with his finger and said in an uncertain tone, “It feels like we are from two different worlds, like two parallel lines that will never intersect from the very beginning.”

"Don't be so desperate."

“Don’t forget who we are,” Jacob reminded him. “We are essentially rebels.”

"Who cares? As long as we have enough value, those guys in Washington will recognize our status and restore our reputation."

"Washington? Ha!"

Jacob was much better informed. Apart from the Marines who remained at the White House, the president and his staff, the State Department and other agencies had all moved to Camp David. Congress had temporarily moved to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and the Supreme Court was also located in Philadelphia.

He has seen through those selfish bastards now.

"Thank you for your hard work, I had to call you over at the last minute," he said, handing over a can of fruit.

Raphael didn't take the shot; after firing another shot smoothly, he spoke:

When can we see Lieutenant Colonel Billis?

"Why are you so determined to see him?" Jacob asked rhetorically.

"Isn't he your commander? Only he can grant authorization for long-distance communications like this."

"Satellite communications, indeed, it's your only chance to leave New York."

Jacob placed the canned fruit next to Raphael. "Eat it later. We don't have many clean canned fruits here, and this is my reward for you participating in this battle as a naval lieutenant."

After saying that, he got up and left.

Raphael listened to the footsteps receding into the distance, then turned back to look. What did those words mean? Was "as a naval lieutenant" implying that they had become rebels?

Well, whether they're rebels or not doesn't matter, as long as she gets the information she wants. Nothing else matters. If it really triggers a large-scale rebellion, she shouldn't be the one with the headaches.

Raphael's goal was always clear: to grasp everything he could in front of him, and that was enough.

Sometimes everything goes against you, all the bad things happen at once, and you might think, "That's it, this is my end." Faced with this situation, you either try to accept it or find a way to solve it.

It's that simple.

All you need to do is think about solving problems, remove the obstacles in your path, and come up with various ways to solve one problem before moving on to the next.

This process continues until you've solved enough problems, at which point you'll find that the initial problem has already been solved.

Raphael sat up cross-legged, took out his utensils, and slowly began to enjoy the canned pineapple.

Sugar water is precious, and pineapple is even more precious. Humanoids also have appetites, and that awful stuff from MRE is really disgusting; no matter how she tries to mix it, she can't salvage the terrible taste.

I haven't had fruit in a long time.

The sensation of sweetness exploding in her mouth was wonderful. She rested her cheek on one hand, squinted her eyes, and savored the feeling. No matter what she ate after the battle, it would make her feel happy.

However, she wondered, "Am I even human?"

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 78 Negotiation (4K)

"May I come in?"

"Come in."

A short soldier in camouflage, without any rank insignia or identification, opened the door. He nodded slightly, gesturing for Raphael to enter the office.

She walked in, stopped, saluted, and said, "Raphael, Lieutenant, it's a pleasure to meet you here."

Charles Billis returned the salute from his chair, silently watching the unexpected visitor.

He knew that he absolutely could not treat the girl in front of him with the impression of her "weak" appearance; on the contrary, he should be alert and handle the situation with caution.

A dozen hours earlier, she had hacked into his radio channel; otherwise, his contact with the patrol team wouldn't have been so friendly.

“Please sit down. I have something to look at. Could you wait a moment?” he said.

“Thank you for taking the time,” Raphael replied, settling down on the creaking stool.

She displayed the good manners of a "young girl," taking off her baseball cap and placing it on her lap, then sitting properly on the stool.

Billis took a moment to look closely at the "good girl" Raphael. She had thick hair with a few wisps of slightly curled chestnut hair hanging on her forehead.

Her eyes were a beautiful light blue, a rare and lovely color.

Billis then turned his attention to what was in front of him and carefully read the battle report from the previous night.

The newly trained soldiers have basically integrated into the unit, and the nighttime combat losses were much lower than expected.

It was probably by identifying the behavioral patterns of ELID infected individuals and making adjustments accordingly that casualties were kept to a minimum.

However, the cost was the consumption of ammunition, and the final figures reported to him were quite astonishing, basically hitting the limit they could bear.

Just 34 more hours and we'll get a new airdrop of supplies.

It's not a good feeling to have your fate completely in someone else's hands, but he's helpless in the face of this situation.

The situation was self-evident: they were trapped without logistical support—low-pressure grenades and mortar shells needed to be conserved; ammunition, though plentiful, also needed to be used sparingly; hot meals were only available at night; and drinking water also needed to be conserved.

However, the quartermasters of each company were in no hurry to report the matter, as they were sure they still had some money left over.

After two months of fighting, many people's clothes are damaged, and even those in better condition are worn out and filthy—things anyone who has spent a few months on the front lines will know.

Winter clothing is relatively easy to dispose of; it can be recycled from uncontaminated shopping malls and stores.

Even if it is absolutely necessary to recycle items from shopping malls teeming with the virus, they will undergo a high-temperature boiling disinfection process. Only by doing so can the infection rate be minimized.

The quartermasters were actually troubled by the issue of uniformity. They managed to find camouflage uniforms in large shopping malls, but the patterns all had minor issues.