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

"The target is still in the same place; it hasn't moved," the mechanic reported.

Although the marker moved and disappeared instantly, they all saw its instantaneous location. "It's really useful," Schipper thought to himself, "but its security is practically nonexistent; anyone could use it."

Even the AKM has a safety to prevent accidental discharge; and these incredibly convenient pieces of equipment don't even require the most basic authentication methods, as if they were intentionally designed that way.

"Got it." The mechanic's eyes widened as he aimed at the shadow whose only features were its head and the gun's trajectory.

This time there were no deviations. He had calculated everything, including wind deflection, gravity, and other factors.

Whoosh—Clang!

"Damn it."

Raphael suddenly curled up, covering his right eye as he sat on the ground. Red liquid slowly seeped from between his fingers. When the bullet hit the metal rim of the roadblock, small particles from the shattered bullet embedded themselves in his eyeball.

She lowered her head, and the simulated blood that gushed out like a spring flowed through her fingers, slid down her cheeks, and dripped onto the hem of her skirt.

The once pristine white dress was now covered in grime and dust from sitting on the ground and crawling around in a disheveled state, so adding a touch of bright red, mimicking blood wouldn't make much difference.

It's fine as a dark-colored outer layer; you can't see the stains unless you look closely.

Her hair, also covered in mud, was stuck together in clumps hanging down beside her ears, and she couldn't help but reach out to straighten it.

Raphael glanced at the NGSW AR assault rifle lying beside him; the quick-access scope that was originally mounted on the receiver via a scope bridge was now riddled with holes.

It seems to have blocked most of the debris, but these metal fragments made it unable to continue working.

Raphael glanced at the small puddle of blood and sewage beside him, and sure enough, his reflection in the projection was a wretched mess, almost unbearable to look at.

The broken roadblock was being closely watched by the sniper on the other side, offering no chance to retaliate. But that wasn't the crucial issue; she also detected three rapidly approaching heat signatures.

They had already deployed, constantly exchanging positions to cover each other as they advanced. One of them was positioned slightly behind, but this reluctance to engage made her realize that if she didn't find a new position, she would be in dire straits.

It's ridiculous that humans have put her at such a disadvantage...

Who are they laughing at? Of course, they're laughing at herself.

It seems we need to create some distance and get the advancing trio out of the Watcher's protection range before we can take them down one by one.

— We must put remote-controlled humanoids on the agenda. Individual operations are simply too disadvantageous in terms of numbers, no matter what requirements DARPA may make.

She, Raphael NGSW, is determined to survive in this terrible world.

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 100 Post-War Report

She used her hand to remove what seemed to be embedded in her eyeball, blocking out the constant pain emanating from her right eye, and then activated the built-in backup camera.

A faint red glow emanated from where the right eye used to be.

The field of vision has been restored and the clarity meets the usage requirements, but thermal vision and low-light vision are impaired and cannot work together.

It seems the bureau has put a lot of effort into this body, she thought.

Losing your right eye is better than having your head smashed to pieces; it's probably the best outcome.

Despite the enemy being so close, she chose to use tools to remove the scope bridge from the receiver rail and then erect the iron sights at both ends of the rail.

This is a backup plan. Even if there are replacement scope bridges and quick-access variable magnification optical sights in the backpack, they all require installation time and zeroing calibration, none of which are easy.

Within his field of vision, the mechanic saw the girl use a feint to dodge one of his bullets, then raise her assault rifle and fire a burst at the captain and his men.

Their reaction time, intuition, and decision-making speed are all quite good, but unfortunately, they are outnumbered and cannot compete with well-organized combat squads.

The mechanic silently concluded that if the target were given a squad of similar skill, they should be able to hold their own in combat, thus leading to a stalemate that neither side wanted.

Thinking this, he stood up and reported, "The target has moved out of my firing range. Watch out for two minutes."

"Received. You did a great job, now it's our turn."

Captain Alpha slowed his pace, as did the others. But instead of letting their target create distance, they remained well behind her.

The two sides occasionally exchanged fire, but neither could gain the upper hand.

They only stopped their pursuit after confirming that the target had left the SHD outpost area.

"Alpha, that target just now seemed to be ours," the mechanic suddenly said.

"what?"

"I detected that special material at the intersection just now; it's not something humans possess. What did they say?"

The mechanic dipped his finger into the dark red liquid spilled beside the barricade. "Bionic blood, yes, that's the name. What should we do? Chase after them?"

"No, let's restart the Homeland Strategic Bureau's outpost first and replace the respirator filters." Alpha wasn't stupid; continuing the chase might allow them to complete the mission, but their entire group would definitely be doomed.

Neither becoming a rotting, lifeless corpse nor an ELID infected covered in silicon is the future they desire. Moreover, the compensation paid by their employers is insufficient to justify their willingness to risk their lives.

Damn it, Raphael jumped over the isolation wall, but I didn't expect there to be a pulse scanner flying over from behind.

The intense battle that night had pushed her physical body and electronic warfare equipment to their limits. After leaving Times Square, she immediately found a safe house to rest, running a self-check program while she slept.

The area inside and outside the blockade wall was clearly two different worlds. Inside, you could rarely see any normal, living people, while outside, separated by just a wall, there were either emaciated scavengers or...

They are civilian patrol teams armed with long guns and short cannons.

Well, it's a mixed bag. The Lex Gang seems to have split up, and the Purifiers have several leaders.

When Raphael woke up, he looked at the new world of New York in the White District with amazement, and then was pleasantly surprised to find that the satellite signal had been restored.

She first spat at the surviving army, then dialed a satellite phone and uploaded the combat data from a few hours earlier, questioning DARPA about why it had sent out a new recovery team without distinguishing between friend and foe.

Actually, it's quite normal to not distinguish between friend and foe. After all, Raphael took out one of their team members first, and then lured them into fighting SHD, which seemed to have caused further casualties at that time.

If it were her, she would definitely hunt them down to the bitter end.

Raphael understood that victory meant retaliating, while defeat meant harboring resentment. Since she couldn't defeat this group now, she could only hold onto her anger and leave their territory as soon as possible. Only when she had accumulated enough strength to win would she launch a counterattack.

"It's been seven days since our last communication, Raphael. It's good to hear your voice again," Director Harry B. Carnegie's voice was calm. "How's the recovery mission going?"

"The process is proceeding normally, however, my negotiations with the Rangers have broken down."

“Yes, I already know about that,” Harry said. “It means you made a mistake.”

"Another matter to report: a new special operations team has appeared within the blockade zone, and they are highly capable. They not only have watchtowers, but they can also launch a strong counterattack while withstanding my fire. Are they our people?"

"To my knowledge, the Federation has not sent a second recovery team besides the Griffin Squad."

"Where did they come from?"

Harry saw the combat data and video footage sent by Raphael and basically knew the cause and effect of Raphael's defeat.

There was nothing wrong with using the fire to relieve the siege; the problem was that she ran into new enemies during her retreat, which slowed her down.

The commander of that special operations team acted decisively, abandoning the task of dealing with his dead comrades and instead pursuing Raphael.

Their attacks were relentless, one after another, leaving Raphael with almost no chance to fight back.

That Overwatch player was also quite outstanding; during the second firefight, she was almost shot in the head, but thankfully the quick-scoper shielded her with his body.

However, after losing the ability to switch magnification during the battle, the hope of winning this battle against overwhelming odds was completely lost, and disengaging in time was the best option.

Raphael seized the opportunity when the enemy sniper moved, quickly launched a counterattack, and then swiftly threw grenades and smoke grenades to create a barrier. He then successfully used his familiarity with the terrain to quickly shake off the enemy behind him.

Harry remained silent for a long time before uttering a startling statement: "They might be after you."

"How could that be? Wasn't it true that nobody knew I existed?"

"But the news still leaked out. The National Strategic Bureau received a similar report, describing F-16s on the ground as such."

"Ah, so what do you plan to do?" Raphael asked.

“Let’s consider the retreat,” Harry suggested. “Your visual system is damaged, and your physical condition is also poor. This 52-day high-risk activity has already met our expected goals.”

"What about the lockdown zone? The radiation concentration in the collapsed area has reached a level that I can hardly bear. If this continues, it won't just be Manhattan Island that's doomed."

“Yes, I know, but I can’t lose you,” Harry said.

"I'm so touched."

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 101 The Changes in Manhattan's White District

The old fox promised to arrange the evacuation, but organizing and deploying manpower always takes time. It's unrealistic to expect that someone will agree to provide an evacuation platform and then appear before Raphael the next day.

This isn't the world of Red Alert; they don't possess time-space teleportation technology.

Raphael had no objection, only that there might be a few more passengers on the return trip. Chief Harry didn't say much, only requesting that passengers pass a medical check-up, otherwise everything would be discussed in person.

This is already a very favorable condition. Previously, they were required to bring their cargo to the evacuation platform, but now the requirements have been greatly relaxed.

"So how do you plan to deal with the mess in the locked-down area?"

“This is not a problem for you or for me to consider, but a 10-mile stretch of land centered on New York is no longer habitable.”

Harry didn't reveal much, such as how it was disposed of. Since it couldn't be recovered, how it was disposed of was no longer important.

Raphael wrapped her right eye with bandages to prevent others from discovering that she was not "human".

Despite the inconvenience this would cause, her existence would only plunge humanity into panic rather than bring joy and a great liberation of productivity until the public accepts that "robots" look almost identical to ordinary people.

Furthermore, enemies have already appeared in the city that never sleeps, searching for her. To swagger into the streets as she used to would be tantamount to courting death.

Meanwhile, the Hundred-Eyed Giants squad suddenly received new mission instructions.

“Doug, new orders have arrived.” Cecilia checked the IAC terminal three times, confirming that the order came from their superior, Raphael: “She requires us to rendezvous at a designated location. We are injured, our movements are temporarily hampered, and we lack sufficient ammunition to support the operation…”

Looking out the window at the streets already lush with greenery, Doug asked, "Where are we? Are there any specific arrangements for a rendezvous?"

"It's near the intersection of Seventh Avenue and West 26th Street, but we'll have to get there to decode the exact address."

"Okay, let's pack up and head over there." Tony rubbed his hands together; he couldn't wait any longer.

After emerging from the heavily collapsed radiation zone, he experienced some discomfort for a short period, but quickly recovered.

He only told Doug, and the next day, under Cecilia and Alki's puzzled gazes, Doug tallied the amount of anti-ELID drugs they currently possessed, re-planned the frequency and number of uses, and finally asked them to take them according to the newly determined schedule.

This is very unusual.

When Cecilia saw Tony, her eyes flickered slightly, as if she understood something.

"Can you two still hold on?" she asked bluntly.

"Well, it seems you've caught me." Tony said nonchalantly, "As long as I'm in a low-radiation environment, I'm fine."

“And you?” she asked, staring at Alki.

The latter patted his chest, making a dull thud, "All done, no problems."

"Then let's go."