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

……

On the other hand, Raphael saw several major warnings marked in red in the self-test data stream, all indicating problems with her lower limb joints. Although she could still manage, the injury records showed that they were caused by the impact of her landing from the second floor or her running jump.

At first, the body could withstand it, but it couldn't withstand the repeated impacts, which became stronger with each impact, as did the weight.

If this continues, once the body's limits are exceeded, it will immediately be in a state where it is prone to malfunction, leading to difficulty in movement.

Given this situation, Raphael chose to contact the surviving army, attempting to obtain mission data from them. Clearly, the core group, led by Lieutenant Colonel Billis...

Xin had no intention of fulfilling her promise. Instead, she used her communication privileges to establish contact with their superiors and launch new activities.

She was a bastard whose rational judgment was clouded by ambition. She sat on the floor of her apartment balcony, peering through the gaps in the railing at the street below.

It's still early, and the Argus squad will need a lot of time to get here from Tandron. If they're unlucky on the way and encounter JTF joint operations forces, SHD agents, or other random individuals multiple times, the fighting and retreating to find new routes will take up a lot of time.

Not long after the order was issued, she heard complaints from the Hundred-Eyed Giants squad in their internal communication channel. There were simply too many enemies; ever since the leader of the Lester Gang was killed by SHD agents, the bandits who could have formed groups had scattered everywhere.

And then there are those bastards from the JTF (Joint Forces of the People's Liberation Army), who have no skills but insist on patrolling key intersections and checking scavengers passing by.

Some JTF members are dishonest and are extorting money from refugees who are already struggling on the brink of death.

If Doug hadn't reminded them to pass through silently, they would have killed these bastards who betrayed everyone and then pretended to be "good guys."

As for the special agents, the situation is much better. As long as you don't show hostility or hostility, they'll just ignore you.

What's the point of fighting all day? It seems that's the attitude of the guys who entered New York after the second wave. They're like, "Fight or don't, it's up to us. We still have to fix circuits, signal relay antennas, sewers, and water pipes." They're really working-class.

Fortunately, thanks to their tireless efforts, most of the Manhattan area under the control of the Department of Homeland Strategy has had its power and water supply restored. Although New York's water system does not require electricity to operate, what truly needs maintenance are the damaged water lines.

They learned from the survivor army in the east of the city, collecting essential supplies and gathering a large number of refugees stranded in the city for unified management.

At this point, the number of deaths from influenza is actually very small; the majority of deaths are due to the harsh winter and food shortages.

This directly led to another peculiar yet inevitable phenomenon: the money flu almost stopped spreading.

As long as scavengers do not enter the designated virus-contaminated areas, they will not contract the disease. Moreover, many contaminated areas have been completely burned away by the high-temperature flames thanks to the efforts of the purifiers.

Sometimes, Doug couldn't help but think that if the Purifiers continued to burn, perhaps most of Manhattan's flooded areas would be purified by them.

It's a terrible idea, but it's also a shortcut to the answer.

Once all chains of transmission are broken and the source of infection is eliminated, even the most powerful virus will be rendered helpless, like a skilled cook without ingredients. Without a carrier of infection, we can declare ourselves safe.

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 102 Deathmatch

In the dead of night, Raphael suddenly woke up from her sleep. She first heard a 'rat-a-tat-tat' sound, followed by a series of explosions.

The explosion quickly covered the entire street in dust.

"Raphael, please respond. This is Cecilia. We are about to cross the intersection. Can you provide cover?"

The sudden sound in her headphones made her immediately grab her XM5 assault rifle. The scope and optical sight were already in place, but she only had 37 rounds of ammunition, almost two magazines' worth.

After the fighting is over, all that's left is to go down and have a modern, not-so-elegant, pistol duel with the enemy.

The enemy used long spears, while she could only use short spears.

Those damned survivor army used her recruited squads to deplete her combat resources, ultimately leading to this predicament. She should have known better than to promote it online; she tried to steal a chicken but lost the rice instead, suffering a double loss.

She was seething with hatred, secretly vowing that once she returned to the outside world, she'd better not let her access the internet again. If she did, she'd immediately flood it with spam, using every trick in the book—traffic generation, fake news, debunking—she'd give them all a piece of her mind.

Even a rabbit will kick an eagle when cornered!

"Die with your ambitions, anyway, a few hundred more corpses won't make a difference!" Raphael, after preparing himself, replied, "Roger, reporting your location."

"Uh, we'll be moving from east to west along 26th Street. Please don't shoot at us. We're engaged in combat with the enemy, about four in number. Be careful, they have a sniper."

"Roger that, I've spotted you." Raphael ripped off his bandages and opened his backup camera, which emitted a dark red glow in his right eye. "Target located, confirming shooter's position."

"Can you cover us?" Cecilia asked urgently.

"Yes, but I have to change positions after I fire."

"Then fire!"

"Your wish will be granted." Raphael sat cross-legged on the floor, rifle in hand, peering through the crack. The unknown unit that had been chasing the Hundred-Eyed Giant squad was the same one from the night before last; no wonder they had routed the squad.

The fact that he managed to survive and stay here demonstrates his fighting prowess.

"Ah—" Alki screamed as a bullet grazed his cheek, tearing half his face open to reveal a bloody skull and gums. Unlike Raphael's red bionic blood, this viscous, brightly colored liquid immediately flowed down.

Boom!

The ensuing explosion sent up a cloud of smoke that completely enveloped him. Alki Hubost was finished; the power of the M67 grenade was undeniable, and it had detonated right at his feet.

Amidst the dust, a faint red light flickered, moving swiftly like a ghost, occasionally accompanied by bursts of P-416 fire.

Raphael ignored the losses suffered by the Hundred-Eyed Giants squad, focusing instead on catching the figures darting left and right on the highway.

She seized the opportunity the moment he slowed down as he climbed over the roadblock.

Throat, thud, thud! Three shots flew out in quick succession. The second bullet hit his thigh precisely, and the third bullet struck his abdomen, tearing away a large chunk of flesh as it passed through.

One for another, that's fair.

"Ugh—fuck! Ahhh!"

A scream burst from the rat's lungs, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to move.

"Hold this place. Skif, bring him back, bring him back!"

As Schipper reached out to pull him back, he fired a burst of shots towards the balcony where Raphael had just been. He kept firing to ensure the shooter could no longer fire from that position.

"Can we find the enemy sniper?!" he asked the mechanic on watch, while checking the rat's injuries.

"No, he's moved from where he was."

Alpha threw another small apple forward, and only after the sound of the explosion had faded into the distance did he ask, "How's the rat?"

"Damn it, we have to get out of here. The rat is injured!" Skeef yelled.

"How are your injuries?"

"Holy crap, so much blood, it looks like arteries."

"Don't worry about me, brothers!" Rat pulled out his magazine and shoved it at Schipper. "Get the fuck out of here..."

Before he could finish speaking, bullets flying from the street all landed on the rat, sparing him the agony of struggling before death.

"Mechanic, cover me!"

"Prepare to disengage from combat," Alpha said after firing a low-pressure grenade.

"Skif, how is the rat? How is the rat?" the mechanic pressed, "Tell me, how is he!"

"The rat is dead, cargo 200!"

“Mechanic, the rats have 200 cargoes,” Alpha repeated.

"Get out."

Schipper packed up the magazine that the rat had given him, turned and rushed diagonally to the cover behind Alpha, and then began to cover the captain's retreat.

Raphael found a new firing position, right behind a bay window. The window wasn't broken, and the sheer curtains provided excellent cover. She aimed at the man standing at the forefront, firing.

Suddenly, Alpha's heart skipped a beat. He darted away from his original position and slid into the wreckage of a car.

The moment he left, a sharp clang made his forehead instantly covered in fine beads of sweat.

That damn sniper!

Alpha removed the magazine and tossed it into the recovery bag, then took a new magazine from the magazine pouch on his tactical vest and loaded it. He quickly peeked out, then decisively activated the pulse.

But the familiar feeling returned. Although four targets were captured for a moment, they all flew into the air and disappeared into the ground in strange ways.

What they want is nearby.

It wasn't the agents retreating along the highway, but the shooter who hadn't yet shown himself; he was the team's primary objective for this mission.

Before arriving in New York, their superiors, or employers, sent a message saying that by whatever means necessary, they should defeat it and reclaim its body.

But now, he has lost another teammate, while the other side has clearly gained reinforcements.

The score became 4 to 3. The opponents' new additions were slightly less skilled than them, but not to the point of despair.

The scales of victory and defeat were now perfectly balanced.

"Mechanic, are you done on your end?" Alpha pressed the PTT button and called the squad sniper, who was doing something else.

The mechanic did not answer, but instead used a radio to generate noises of varying lengths, communicating with the captain in Morse code that he was currently in stealth mode and unable to make verbal communication.

By this time, Raphael had already heard faint footsteps. She deliberately made a noise, then placed the empty XM5 assault rifle behind the door, so that the enemy sneaking up from below could only see a small part of the muzzle.

She stood by the door of the apartment across the street, her eyes closed, listening for footsteps, a pistol pointed at the vulnerable door, waiting for her prey to take the bait.

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 103 Camp David Press Conference

The mechanic stopped, leaned against the wall in the stairwell, and listened carefully to the faint sounds coming from the apartment building.

Half a minute passed, and there was no breathing, no footsteps; he heard nothing.

He had checked the alley leading from the back door of the apartment building; it was surrounded by garbage and barbed wire, a dead end that no normal person would ever take.

Suddenly, he saw the gun barrel lurking behind the door crack and immediately ducked back.

Raphael caught the sound detail and opened fire continuously through the door. She didn't aim at the upper body, letting the bullets travel straight towards the enemy.

A pistol is barely effective against armor-piercing targets, let alone through a doorway. The moment the magazine was emptied, she pushed open the door and rushed forward, grabbing the mechanic's weapon and then launching a spinning kick with her right leg.

The mechanic felt a jolt in his abdomen, and a powerful pull tore at his arm that was gripping the weapon.

The weapon slipped from his hand, and he flew backward.

In the chaos, he realized that the other party was no human; the dark red light emanating from the other party's right eye was incredibly vivid in the darkness.

This was the high-value target their team had been searching for; they were really overextending themselves.

Hearing the clanging and banging sounds coming from the stairwell, Raphael drew his fighting dagger and rushed down as well.

"So why did you come to provoke me in the first place!"

As the knife pierced the skin of his throat, warm blood seeped from the opening. The man struggled for a moment, then became a fresh corpse…

Raphael plopped down, and the machine's over-limit warning started again. A series of error messages and warning data kept refreshing in his mind, this time it was the left arm.

As it lunged down, it collided heavily with the stair railing.

While conducting a makeshift self-check, Raphael removed the stealthy attacker's headset and radio.