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

There is no doubt that he must take control of the command.

However, sending Raphael out alone and placing all our hopes on her is also a very risky gamble.

Damn it!

Vic John began to hate himself for not working harder two years earlier and for simply coasting along in the Rangers.

Why think about those things now?

Offense and defense are constantly changing. Once the attacking side discovers a weakness in the defensive deployment, they can choose to break through or encircle the enemy.

If the defender discovers a gap in the attacker's offensive, they can take the initiative to disrupt the enemy's offensive rhythm, slow down the opponent's speed, weaken the enemy's offensive power, and ultimately thwart the opponent's fighting will.

"If you try to defend everything, you will end up defending nothing." This means that if you try to defend everything, you will end up defending nothing, especially since the defender usually does not have a numerical advantage over the attacker.

Therefore, in defensive operations, it is crucial to ensure that forces are evenly distributed, and commanders should strive to concentrate forces to defend the enemy's final direction of attack.

Vic desperately tried to recall the knowledge he had read in books, fighting back while constantly observing his surroundings. He needed to evacuate two team members from the kill zone to prepare for their retreat from the rear.

But this put even more pressure on the squad. Losing that machine gun was already a serious problem; the enemy had clearly found a strong point, and even the enemy to the south was pushing forward.

Raphael, what are you doing?

Just like last time, he came out cleanly and decisively, as swiftly as cutting melons and vegetables!

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 95 Reversal

"Reloading, cover me!"

Raphael leaned against the wall, and the microphone headphones lived up to expectations, picking up the sounds in the room through the wall, amplifying them, and sending them to the user's ears.

Haha, thank you all for shouting at the top of your lungs.

She slowly straightened up, already holding a grenade with the safety pin removed in her hand. She really wanted to shout to the people in the room, "You're in big trouble!"

The gunfire inside the house was intense, and the commander of the ambush team was doing his best, but encountering her was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

"Let's go."

As the M67 grenade flew out of his hand and into the window, Raphael picked up his gun, circled around the corner of the building, and crept along the alley to the back of the building where the enemy was temporarily taking refuge.

boom--

The explosion was the trigger for the chaos.

Raphael slightly opened the back door and aimed at the stairwell above. Well, anyway, these half-baked attackers are too excited. Their attention is mostly focused on the front, and even the rear guards who aren't engaged in combat are paying most attention to the convoy on the road instead of watching their rear.

引人

Notably, a faint, warm orange glow emanated from their shoulders and wrists. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the source of the light was the orange halo around the shoulder lights attached to the straps of their watches and backpacks.

Anyone who has lived in post-disaster New York for a period of time can identify these people by their attire, gleaming watches, and shoulder lights.

Furthermore, she noticed the Velcro straps on their arms or chests, with the common phoenix symbol on them further identifying them as SHD agents of the Homeland Strategy Bureau.

The Strategic Homeland Security Agency, an organization that is mysterious to most ordinary people, is like an unkillable cockroach, lurking everywhere in this place.

They stepped onto the stage silently, without any clues or warning.

For Raphael, no matter how morally superior the agents were, they couldn't stop her actions with their inherent sense of justice.

I'm sorry, but I don't regret it.

Then she gently threw the second grenade.

The explosion and shockwave occurred simultaneously inside the building, while Raphael, standing outside, chuckled almost at the same time. Her solid, resonant, calm voice was slightly low for a woman, but it was enough to make one blush and their heart race.

The stairwell was filled with smoke and screams as someone roared up the stairs.

Raphael seized the opportunity and didn't miss—a pile of corpses lay on the stairs.

How many? At least four. And there are groans on the platform above.

She peered sideways, gun in hand, then crouched down, peering again. Good, the agents hadn't recovered from the chaos—they'd acted on impulse, choosing to treat their comrade on the spot instead of diverting someone from the remaining group to check the overall situation and then spotting the lurking Raphael.

She got a new opportunity.

He flung open the door wide and cautiously yet boldly stepped inside. Raphael first circled the area downstairs, his movements and firing as swift as the printhead of a digital direct-to-garment printer.

Just as the person inside turned around upon hearing the commotion, her finger had already pulled the trigger.

The XM5 fired five shots at a near-machine gun rate.

He collapsed to the ground, his lungs shattered by the bullet, and could only convulse. It was from the pain of breathing; with each breath, blood spurted from his mouth. The automatic clotting mechanism failed to work, instead causing even greater bleeding.

Raphael didn't even look at him; he focused his attention on the doorway in front of him and the space inside.

Boom, boom, boom...

The sound of hurried footsteps drew closer; they must have been notified. And rightly so, whether it was a hasty ambush or a pre-planned one, the commander would have assigned people to suitable positions for early warning and surveillance.

Her intrusion through the back door should have been discovered by the intelligence team.

However, that's not important.

Ammunition was plentiful; even if she killed indiscriminately like an executioner, she only managed to fill the magazine pouch on her waist with three empty magazines. Her pistol and spare magazines remained untouched; wiping out all the agents here would be no problem at all.

She excels at close-quarters combat, even more so than most people who consider themselves experts.

After changing the magazine, she returned to the stairs, where the landing was in chaos. Two "good guys" were already armed and ready, while an accomplice was bandaging her wounds.

Is that all they have left? Is there no one else around?

Raphael hated thinking about their situation because it inevitably led his thoughts down the path of "good".

Thinking about it carefully, the agents upstairs are trapped, and theoretically, they could rush down from the second floor.

But why would they abandon their wounded comrades? Besides, they had other comrades on guard outside; they only needed to hold their ground to receive support.

In the end, the one who will truly be in trouble is the invader, namely Raphael, who will be wreaking havoc at this time.

The roles of prey were instantly reversed, and the one who suffered was her, not the agent trapped upstairs.

Judging from their resolute demeanor, you could tell they had seriously considered the possibility of dying in smoke, grenades, or bullets, but they genuinely didn't want that outcome.

Raphael looked back at the situation outside. The electronic warfare program was activated, and all radio waves within a radius of 100 meters were blocked by chaotic electromagnetic noise.

She had an idea.

You can shout from downstairs, ordering them to drop their weapons and get out of there. Tell them "we" won't shoot.

After all, they probably weren't sure exactly how many of "us" had broken into the building.

Is this feasible? Would she risk everything if she were in her shoes? Unlikely, but possible.

From the agent's perspective, the enemy downstairs was clearly neither in a hurry nor in danger. At least until their reinforcements arrived, they could calmly and irritating them.

The radio is malfunctioning; it cannot establish contact with other stations no matter what frequency it is tuned to.

The injured person upstairs will soon pass away, but what's troublesome is that they always bring enough food and water for three days whenever they go out—this is also an important factor that needs to be taken into consideration.

Given the current situation, they cannot determine when reinforcements will arrive, but these reinforcements will definitely come; it's just that the specific timing is uncertain.

Therefore, agents have no reason to take risks or compromise with anyone.

In short, those people upstairs wouldn't believe Raphael, who killed several of their men downstairs.

“Hey guys,” Raphael called upstairs, “you’re not dead yet, are you?”

"Fuck you!" they replied. "Our teammates are coming from all directions, you're about to lose!"

P.S.: I was too tired yesterday, sorry.

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 96 The Lost

Okay, fine, it's over. It's just hard to say who will be the one to suffer the consequences.

Everyone is now in a state of silence; telecommunications cannot be sent out or received.

Raphael shrugged and calmly replied, "Fine, you guys are really stubborn. This just means a few more of you will die here."

Of course, they could only hear her voice, not see her small gestures, and could only discern the "sarcasm" in her voice.

Look at these guys, they're all cynical and ruthless.

Ironically, Raphael felt that her judgment of them was not exaggerated at all. Both they and her current situation were a mess of arguments.

Clearly, she could now leave everything behind and peacefully depart, while her friends upstairs could only wait for their companions to arrive.

The initiative is now in Raphael's hands.

"You bastard, what do you want to do?!" the voice above asked.

"I don't want to do anything."

Brandon Eddie glanced at the shrapnel stuck in the wall and the person lying on the other side, offering a wry smile in response to the enemy's speech downstairs. He didn't know what to say, so he picked up his submachine gun, stood ready, and gestured for his remaining comrades to leave through the window.

Someone got so angry that they yelled at the top of their lungs, "Are you fucking messing with me from here?"

"Believe it or not, my purpose is to keep you here until your reinforcements arrive."

There was silence upstairs, then the same voice said again: "Okay, you win."

Both sides knew the truth, so they remained silent.

Raphael slowly raised his gun, aiming at the gap between the stairs and the ceiling, his heel slowly sliding across the floor, bringing...

Moving your body also causes the world seen through the scope to move slowly.

Brandon moved in the same way as her, but with a more steady gait, trying to catch a glimpse of Raphael through the gap.

Perhaps they heard it, or perhaps they anticipated their opponent's move, but the two of them simultaneously unleashed a burst of fire.

It had no effect. Although the 6.8 bullets penetrated the wooden planks on the side of the stairs, the bullets, having lost their momentum, fell limply to the floor; the .45 bullets fared even worse, most of them embedding themselves in the floor, and the few that bounced off were all out of sight.

Another long standoff has begun.

……

“Finally, they’ve retreated.” Atchison Henry slumped to the ground, stroking the still-warm receiver. “It seems like putting all our eggs in one basket with the lieutenant, John.”

Vic John wore a complicated expression as he gripped the magazine and frantically crammed bullets into it.

He didn't answer Acheson's question, but instead asked, "How is Jeffrey?"

"That won't work either."

Where is the body?