Just as Ye Mo's fingers slid off the glasses frame, the system notification indicated that the system was vibrating for the second time.
He didn't look at the sky again, nor did he turn around. The wind on the rooftop was twice as strong as before, making the hem of his hoodie slap against his thighs. He knew Tony was already waiting on the other end of the communication channel; the nuclear missile was flying this way, and time was running out.
He moved.
He stepped onto the edge of the building, leaned forward, and jumped. In the instant of freefall, all he could hear was the whistling sound. Three hundred meters was enough for him to slow his breathing to its slowest point, and enough for the " Regenerative Phasing " cooldown bar to complete its final tick.
The bottom of the mothership was directly below, the purple halo resembling a constantly opening and closing mouth. The weak point Tony had previously identified—the junction of the cooling pipes—was now flashing with blue pulses, like some kind of metronome.
He calculated the angle precisely, twisting his body half a second before landing, aligning his shoulder with the gap.
The skin begins to deteriorate the moment it comes into contact with the skin.
It wasn't that it was being penetrated, but rather that it seeped in. His whole body was like a pool of living water, seeping into the metal seams. The outer shield swept across his left arm, and the skin instantly carbonized and turned black, but new tissue immediately grew out, grayer in color and harder in texture.
The first line of defense has been breached.
He landed in a sloping passage, his foot slipping. The walls were covered with glowing conduits, blue light flowing along them, its rhythm out of sync with his heartbeat. There was a smell in the air, indescribable, somewhat like burnt electrical wire mixed with rust.
He steadied himself against the wall and began to work his Mental Network.
Ten meters. He could only detect up to ten meters. Any further and there was static, like someone scratching a blackboard with their fingernails, intermittent and echoing. He frowned, raised his hand to touch his temple, and the system vibrated twice in his mind, indicating "Environmental Interference Level: High".
Telepathy is not welcome in this place.
He walked forward, lightly touching the ground with the toes of his shoes with each step to confirm there was no pressure. The pipes on both sides became increasingly dense, some embedded directly into the walls like blood vessels piercing bones. Occasionally, he felt vibrations overhead, which could be from the rotation of a cannon or the transmission of energy.
After walking about fifty meters, a fork in the road appeared ahead. The passage on the left was low, with puddles reflecting off the ground; the passage on the right was wider, with red warning stripes on the walls.
He chose the right side.
He had just taken a step when his ankle suddenly tightened. Looking down, he saw a tube emerging from the wall and wrapping around his calf, its surface radiating a burst of blue light. He reacted extremely quickly, bending his knee to pull his leg back while simultaneously raising his hand to slap the wall.
"Bang!"
His palm slammed onto a raised metal plate. It was the spare shut-off valve he had noted down when he passed by. The conduit retracted instantly, and the blue light went out.
He took a breath and stared at the board for two seconds. There were scratches on it, as if someone had repeatedly scratched it with a sharp object. It wasn't Chitauri mark, but rather... a distress signal.
He didn't have time to think it through. He continued forward.
At the end of the passage was a circular hall, with three thick pipes suspended from the ceiling, converging into a black cylinder in the center. The cylinder had cracks on its surface, from which red light emanated, its frequency matching that of the portal outside.
He took two steps closer, about to reach out, when suddenly a red light came on in the corridor ahead.
Six guards rushed out from around the corner, fully armored, their weapons already charged. He remained rooted to the spot when their guns were pointed at his chest.
There's no escaping it.
He closed his eyes, his consciousness directly connecting to the thirteenth level of the " Gene Spiral Tower ".
" Steel Bone Body " activated.
His skin instantly mineralized, and grayish-white lines spread from his neck to his arms. The first energy blast hit his shoulder, exploding into a burst of sparks; his clothes were torn, but his skin remained intact.
He used the recoil to jump backward, simultaneously raising his hand to block the second shot. His steel forearm blocked the attack, but it was still numbed by the blast.
The third shot came, but he didn't try to catch it; he turned and ran.
The guard caught up, his footsteps echoing in the passage. He turned into a maintenance tunnel, a narrow space where he could only walk sideways. The gunfire behind him stopped, presumably to avoid accidentally hitting equipment.
He stood against the wall, listening for any sounds.
The footsteps faded into the distance. He breathed a sigh of relief, and just as he was about to move, the system notification on his wrist vibrated again.
" Steel Bone Body " enters cooldown mode; estimated recovery time: four minutes.
He looked down at his hands. The grayish-white surface was slowly fading, revealing reddened skin. This condition wouldn't last long; the next time he was hit, he would bleed.
He can't stop.
Climbing along the maintenance tunnel, the ground was greasy and sticky to the touch. After climbing for about ten meters, a ladder appeared ahead, leading to the floor below.
He went down.
The landing site was a maintenance platform, directly opposite a massive conveyor belt. The belt was moving, and it was covered with luminescent crystals, the same color as the mothership's hull. In the distance, more platforms could be seen, interspersed like Hive.
The core information should be below this.
He walked along the railing, looking for stairs or an elevator. After walking less than twenty meters, the metal plate under his feet suddenly sank by half a centimeter.
trap!
He jumped back immediately. The next second, three pipes overhead shot out high-pressure steam, right where he had just been standing. The steam hit the railing, hissing and emitting white smoke.
He crouched in the corner, his heart pounding. Every inch of this place was riddled with traps, and they weren't random. That last move was timed so perfectly, it was as if someone was watching him.
He looked up at the ceiling.
There are no cameras, but there are nodes. Every few meters, a black sphere is embedded in the top, with fine slits on its surface, and it opens and closes in rhythm with the conveyor belt. It looks like an eye.
He held his breath and slowly backed away.
Halfway back, I caught a glimpse of the area below the railing out of the corner of my eye.
There was something about the size of a palm, black, with irregular edges, stuck to a metal bracket. He looked closer and saw it was a circuit board, but it had been modified. Two words were written on the back with a carving knife, "Don't believe it."
The handwriting is very new.
He froze. This couldn't possibly have been left by the Chitauri. They didn't use human writing, nor did they engage in such underhanded tactics.
Who is it?
There was no time to think. The sound of machinery churning came from afar, like a large gate opening. He had to find a way down before the guards resealed the area.
He left the railing and walked along the edge of the platform. Ahead was a door marked with a red triangle warning, and next to it, a control panel was flashing a green light.
He went to enter the password.
The panel suddenly went black.
Then a line of text lit up:
You're not the first person to come in.