Eh? Do you also want to try the iron fist of the humanoid girl?

There was no interception along the way, and it seemed that someone was happy to see their actions.

While passing through a refugee camp, Fei Niao couldn't help but chuckle when she saw a man face down on the side of the road with a rope tied around his neck and the other end tied to the neck of a bottle of vodka.

This is not to mock this poor homeless man who can only numb himself with alcohol.

Instead, he was laughing at the isolation wall that stretches for thousands of kilometers. This guy lying on the roadside drinking to drown his sorrows is actually a lucky man.

Those who are blocked outside the wall can only survive cautiously, using their lives to test which places are livable and which places will turn people into ELID zombies without emotions, reason, or wisdom.

The journey out of the refugee resettlement camp was uneventful. A large number of homeless people cast dull looks at him, and many people gathered around him, wanting to get something from Fei Niao.

She ignored them all.

Refugee camps like this one are everywhere, and you can stumble upon them on any random state highway.

The federal government, led by Camp David, the presidential retreat, has no intention of changing the status quo.

They continue to deploy resources to the Western Pacific, Europe, and the Middle East, absorbing capital through the military.

What made Asuka feel even more ironic was that when she was leaving the refugee camp, she was stopped by the National Guard.

The reason was that she attempted to leave the federally designated refugee camp, which violated federal and state law.

Because she is a refugee. Anyone who enters a refugee camp is treated fairly as a refugee, regardless of their status.

If it weren't for her naval certificate, which she despised, she might have fought with these bastards.

Even so, she was forced to take out three bundles of $20 bills and handed them to the captain of the guard who still refused to let her go after verifying her identity.

Only after Asuka paid a bribe did the other side allow the soldiers with rifles to clear the road.

This place is full of bandits. Even the state-level military has become like this. She couldn't imagine what a strange state the US Army is in.

At this point, Asuka completely understood Raphael's idea. She understood the host's intention to send the surviving "friends" and "seniors of the wind band club" to a country west of Japan, rather than using the convenience of their channel identity to bring them to the United States.

For ordinary people, the United States after the collapse of normal order is a living purgatory.

Chapter 179 Escape

Being afraid is just as bad as being terrified.

Since becoming a core researcher of the humanoid mechanical team, Philip has never experienced real fear.

There was an inherent nervousness when agents approached him, especially when he first started working for them, but he quickly gained confidence in the job.

For him, virtuosity is a safety barrier.

This barrier comforted his soul and made him feel at ease.

However, it didn’t feel that way today.

Now he was in a strange environment, and it was more than just a strange land.

Because he was used to city life, no matter which city he was in, he knew how to disappear without a trace in a few minutes.

He couldn't say that he could dodge all the police, but he was confident that he could escape from their pursuit before the police arrived.

This is not a city.

He got off the train a hundred meters away from what looked like a station facility, because in a small town like this, the residents were familiar with each other, and it was a new thing for them to have a passenger break into a train like this.

Then Philip crossed the street cautiously and went towards the station hut. He found it deserted, and there was no timetable on the blank wall.

The Greyhound bus stopped outside the station at this time, blew two shrill whistles symbolically, and then a cloud of black smoke came out. It took its few passengers along the road and staggered away into the town.

When Philip came out after hearing the noise, the Greyhound bus had disappeared without a trace.

What a damn place, he complained.

Once you get to the station, you will know what to do next. Such irresponsible words coming from the mouth of the agent who met with him really... make it difficult for people to trust him.

He climbed over the barbed wire, broke into the station and took a careful look around. Finally, he found something unusual under a dusty storage counter.

It's not quite right to say that there were things, because as he saw, they were covered in dust, but there was a small cabinet in the corner with a key in it, and it was much cleaner than the dusty surroundings.

Could it be a bomb?

Philip hesitated for half a minute, then immediately opened the mechanical lock.

It would be too easy for those agents to kill him, there was no need to resort to such troublesome methods.

Hidden in the locker is a plane ticket and driver's license, as well as a way to get out of here safely.

The ticket was for a short commuter flight from the airport in the next town, and the agent's advice to him was to walk out of the town and hitchhike.

Only in this way will there be no traces of activity left.

When Philip saw this, the heavy stone in his heart loosened a little, and he finally stopped running for his life like a headless fly.

He looked around the interior of the station and found that the building was extremely ugly. It looked like the house was made purely of poured cement.

The heavy roof supported the deep snow in winter and perhaps also avoided the tornadoes he had heard of but never experienced.

The long benches for waiting for the bus were also made of cement. As soon as I sat down on them, my fearful mood was immediately extinguished by the coldness coming from my butt.

Philip had never experienced anything like this in his smooth life.

Unsurprisingly, the person noticed the attack module disguised as verification information.

Otherwise he wouldn't have ended up like this.

Although DARPA did not take advantage of the situation, their current silence shows their attitude.

As long as it could appease the anger of that inferior imitation of human beings, they would certainly not hesitate to throw away his lonely and helpless life.

Damn the robots, damn everyone in the research bureau.

Philip thought of what he had in his head. If he could leave this place and find a country that would accept him, he would be able to gain a more important position than now.

It’s better to forget about fantasies, as groundless imagination will only arouse unnecessary hopes.

At this moment, what he needed least was hope.

Many times, illusory hope actually brings about endless despair.

After resting for a few minutes, he checked his watch and again wondered if another Greyhound bus would come.

If not, then you can only try to meet a kind car owner who is willing to give you a ride.

He climbed out of the station, walked to the shoulder of the road, raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up.

Several cars sped past at a speed of more than 100 kilometers per hour. It was dark at night and the taxi drivers with their headlights on could not see the man at all, let alone brake in time.

Half an hour later, a tattered pickup truck slowly stopped by the roadside.

"Where are you going, buddy?" the driver asked. He looked like a farmer, about sixty years old, with a tanned face and neck.

Philip glanced at the back seat of the pickup truck, where a girl was sitting by the window with her eyes closed.

The heavy bangs are like a seal, adding a bit of gloomy temperament out of thin air.

Doesn't look like that dangerous, inferior imitation of a human.

"I'm going to the airport in the small town ahead. Can you give me a ride?"

Philip said as he got into the driver's seat. The driver was not wearing his seat belt, which would likely lead to him being stopped by the highway patrol.

However, Philip did not tie it either, as he wanted to make it easier to move.

"Of course, I have to go out the next way anyway. What's your name, sir?"

"Lou-Louise, Louis Hadwig."

"Oh, my name is Peter. You're not from here, are you?"

"No, I'm actually British," Philip continued.

"Englishman with an American accent," Peter grinned, "How did you get here?"

"It's because of business."

"What's your business?"

"Don't mention it. I'm in the network construction business, but I only provide consulting services. I'm a bit like an intermediary. I provide solutions to the consulting parties and evaluate the effectiveness of the plans for them."

"I see. Then why are we stranded here? There's no village or shop nearby," asked the driver.

What's wrong with this guy? Is he a policeman? Why are the questions he asks exactly the same as those of the traffic police?

"My, uh, friend had an emergency at home, so he had to drop me off at the bus station in town and told me to take a Greyhound back home."

"Oh ha~"

The driver was so delighted that his shoulders hunched and moved up and down.

"You'd better not have this friend of yours... There are only two buses here every day, in the morning and in the afternoon. If you miss it, you'll miss it."

"……Oh."

Philip struggled for a long time before finally uttering a word. He had completely lost the desire to talk.

The driver saw the unfortunate fellow's depressed look and laughed so hard that he almost lost control of the steering wheel.

Philip was relieved because the driver stopped asking questions at this time. He silently prayed that his lie would work.

Sometimes, lies are much more useful than the truth, and what just happened is a real example.

His mind was racing, much faster than those two damn old pickup trucks.

The engine roared lifelessly, and the driver was obviously reluctant to step on the accelerator.

On the road, other vehicles whizzed past him one after another.

The farmer was old and patient, and if Philip had been driving he would have squeezed the old car to its limits.

Even so, it was only about a quarter of an hour before he saw the green exit sign reflected in the light.

A silhouette of an airplane is affixed above the sign.

If he goes along this road, he will find the airport he wants to go to.

When the pickup truck driver slowly drove past the exit and turned right to a place that seemed far away from the small airport, Philip resisted the urge to pull out his gun and shoot the old farmer.

After a while, Peter stopped by the roadside and pointed to the slightly shabby and dilapidated terminal of the airport across the street and said, "Hey, young man, we're here."

"Thank you, sir." Philip thanked him as he left.

He saw the brightly lit airport, and the roar of the turbofan engines danced like waves under the starry sky.

We'll be able to leave this damn place soon.

Philip thought about the three bionic figures, who were just a pile of scrap metal, and how dared they disobey his orders.

"Have a nice trip," said the driver, with a friendly smile unique to country farmers on his face.

At this point, Raphael opened his eyes, removed his hood and sat up.

"Thank you, old sir."

"No big deal." The driver gave her an OK sign and encouraged her, "It would be better to beat him up, the kind that makes him cry."

"definitely."

Raphael knew what Mr. Peter meant. He was completely deceived by Raphael's lies and firmly believed that Philip was a scumbag who abandoned his family and daughter.

Chapter 180 Surprise

Philip looked at the bright lights in the distance, and his heavy steps became lighter.

But soon he heard something unusual, no, his body sensed something unusual.

Instinct reminded him to quickly walk out of the darkness and enter the bright building right in front of him.

In there, no matter what kind of demons and monsters there were, they couldn't kill him.

Although the airport terminal is spacious, due to 911/, the surveillance facilities and security control measures inside the airport can almost be described as sufficient.

Airport police officers on patrol carry lethal weapons and are ready to rush out at the slightest sign of trouble.

"...Long time no see, Mr. Philip."

The voice, raised with a deliberately tightened throat, came out from the darkness behind like a death warrant.