Major Ward and his team stood frozen, barely able to comprehend the scene unfolding before them.
In their vision, Morris's figure appeared only as a momentary blur, like a brief distortion caused by signal interference.
Yet, in that instant, Arasaka's previously well-organized and fiercely offensive crossfire net was brutally torn apart from within, as if by an invisible giant hand, completely disintegrating.
They couldn't track Morris's millimeter-precise movements, only watch as the outcome unfolded before their eyes.
Arasaka soldiers fell one after another, most unable to even let out a muffled groan.
Some suddenly had a bullet hole appear in their forehead, others had their necks cleanly severed, and still others had their gun-wielding arms completely detached.
Death descended precisely upon each Arasaka soldier with an efficiency beyond the limits of human reaction.
This was no longer a battle; it was a unilateral, ruthless purge.
Two distinctly different gunshots intertwined in the air: on one side, the panicked, chaotic spray from the "Masamune" submachine guns in the Arasaka soldiers' hands; on the other, Morris's auxiliary submachine gun's stable, short bursts, each sounding like the rhythm of Death, inevitably accompanied by the end of a life.
Major Ward, being a veteran tempered by battle, his initial shock lasted less than two seconds.
He suppressed the chill in his heart and hoarsely shouted to his subordinates: "Don't just stand there! Suppressing fire! Clear the flanks! Coordinate with her rhythm!"
He immediately realized that the only thing they could do now was not to get in the way of that terrifying entity, while also dealing with the stragglers who had miraculously escaped the first wave of the purge.
Militech soldiers snapped back to reality, leaning out from behind cover and unleashing bullets on the Arasaka soldiers who were attempting to retreat or had luckily hidden in Morris's blind spots.
Their firepower became a mere accompaniment to Morris's dance of death, barely filling the negligible gaps in the slaughter.
The battle began abruptly and ended even more swiftly.
In less than two minutes, when the last Arasaka soldier, attempting to climb over a low wall, was shot through the back of the neck by Morris from thirty meters away, all gunfire ceased abruptly.
The abandoned mining area was once again enveloped in dead silence, with only the mournful wail of the wind passing through metal frames remaining.
The dense smell of gunpowder mixed with the fresh scent of blood, forming a nauseating odor.
The bodies of over a dozen elite Arasaka soldiers lay scattered among the ruins in various twisted postures, silently narrating the brief and brutal slaughter.
Morris stood still in the center of the clearing, slowly retracting her auxiliary submachine gun to its mounting point at her arm's side.
Her dark gray combat suit was still pristine, with not even noticeable stains on her shoe soles, as if she had merely passed through a filthy area with composure, yet remained unstained.
She calmly turned to Major Ward, her modified optical lenses sweeping over him and his team, as if confirming that the threat had been neutralized, and also silently inquiring if the transaction was to continue.
Her posture at this moment formed a stark contrast with the surrounding carnage, as if the highly efficient slaughter she had just performed was merely a routine warm-up for her.
"The transaction continues," her voice came, steady and without a hint of fluctuation.
Major Ward took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in his heart, and signaled his subordinates to continue with the verification and material handover.
His gaze towards Morris was a mix of complex emotions, both deep reverence for the battle he had just witnessed and an undeniable, burning ambition.
Once the handover was confirmed, he took a step forward and said to Morris in a sincere tone, "Lieutenant, your skills are as excellent as they were when you were in the unit."
He deliberately used Morris's rank from her time in Militech, his voice carrying just the right amount of nostalgia, "Honestly, seeing you like this now reminds me of my days in the Mobile Task Force.
Jackson and the others would be happy for you if they knew your current situation."
He paused, carefully observing Morris's reaction, and continued, "Militech has always considered you one of us. If you're willing, we can arrange an informal gathering, just like at the officers' club back then. After all, some friendships aren't easily broken."
Morris stood still, her modified eyes glowing faintly in the dimness.
After listening to Ward, her face remained calm and expressionless, as if the names and past events he had just mentioned were merely a breeze passing by her ears.
"I remember Jackson," her voice was as steady as the Badlands' eternal night, "and every day in the Mobile Task Force."
She paused slightly, looking directly at Ward: "But these memories will not influence my judgment, nor will they shake my loyalty. I cannot influence my Master's decisions. The transaction is complete, I will convey your wishes, but do not hold any expectations."
Her tone was like stating an established fact, unquestionable, leaving no room for negotiation.
With that, she simply gestured, signaling Rebecca to follow.
The two, carrying heavy supply crates, quickly disappeared into the boundless darkness of the Badlands, leaving the Militech team standing there, watching them depart.
Major Ward stood rooted to the spot, watching as the two figures were completely swallowed by the night.
He understood that his attempt to probe her about camaraderie had been like a stone dropped into a deep pool, failing to even create a ripple.
He remained silent for a moment, then ordered the area to be cleared and for them to withdraw as quickly as possible.
He knew in his heart that Arasaka had suffered a great loss this time and would not give up easily.
And for Militech, they also needed to re-evaluate how they dealt with this mysterious force.
— —
Back at the wasteland workshop, Morris neatly placed the acquired supply crates in the designated area, then reported the entire transaction process in detail to Osiris.
When she mentioned Arasaka's sudden ambush, Osiris' mechanical finger, which was inspecting the inventory list, paused slightly.
This unplanned conflict not only wasted his time but also disrupted established efficiency; he detested such unnecessary interference caused by others' foolishness.
"Arasaka," Osiris' voice carried a hint of coldness, "They need to pay the price for their foolish actions."
He quickly completed his assessment; simple defense or warning was no longer enough, a more deterrent response had to be taken.
This was not out of anger, but based on considerations of efficiency; similar interferences must be completely prevented from happening again.
"Morris, target Arasaka," Osiris' instruction was concise and clear, "There's no need to hide your identity; let them clearly know that this is a response to this ambush."
He wanted Arasaka, and all potential coveters, to understand that any act of provocation would incur an unforgiving counterattack.
"Understood, Master," Morris nodded slightly, her combat system already beginning its pre-mission self-check.
She had no questions about the upcoming operation, only absolute obedience.