The Vibranium fragment warmed again, two brief pulses, like someone knocking twice on a door through a wall. Ye Mo opened his eyes at once, his fingers already at the edge of his pocket.
He did not move, only watched the timestamp in the lower-right corner of the main console. The last scan had come after twenty minutes and seven seconds; this one came at exactly twenty minutes, not a second off.
"They're still using machines to check on us," he said.
Emma Frost leaned against the training pod. The neural interface had just been connected, and the current-test light flashed three times before stabilizing. "That means they don't dare send anyone close."
"It also means they believe this system works." Ye Mo took out the fragment. The red line was still embedded in its surface, its color somewhat fainter than before. "We need to keep them thinking that."
The corner of her mouth twitched. "Put on an act?"
"More than that." He sat up straight and opened the encrypted tactical panel. "We need the whole performance-plans, arguments, mistakes, corrections. We can't leave any of it out."
The lights in the control room flickered slightly, signaling an automatic switch to backup power. The system log showed that over the past three hours, the listening devices had picked up seven waves of false signals they had released, with a read rate as high as 92%. That figure was abnormally high, which showed precisely how eager the other side was to confirm the targets' condition.
Ye Mo brought up the data-flow map and marked every triggered node in red. The seven points formed a line, pointing to the same logical flaw: the other side cared only whether there was a response, not whether that response made sense.
"They don't want the truth," he said. "They want an answer they can convince themselves of."
Emma Frost nodded. "Then let's give them one."
Ye Mo created a new folder and named it "Red Line Contingency · Level Three Response." The first layer of the strategy was disinformation. He brought up the "Evacuate New York" simulation he had written earlier, altered the timeline, and added more details: Emma Frost's psychic fluctuations exceeding limits three times, frequent system warnings, and Mr. X considering activating Plan B.
"Make it harsher," Emma Frost said. "Say I think you're insane and don't want to keep following you to my death."
Ye Mo looked up. "Is that really what you think?"
"No." She sneered. "But they don't know that."
He chuckled and tapped at the keyboard, revising a few lines. The new version included an additional dialogue log:
[Codename X]: We have to leave.
[Codename E]: Where? You think we can survive just by fleeing underground? You have no idea what they're doing!
[Codename X]: We don't have a choice now.
[Codename E]: Then go alone. I'm not gambling my life with you.
"Convincing enough," Emma Frost said after reading it. "Especially the last line. That really sounds like something I'd say."
"That's because I know you." He closed the window. "Next is the second layer-physical camouflage."
He marked six points on the map of the base's perimeter, each near an abandoned power distribution box or an aging signal tower. "Install miniature energy simulators to release low-intensity mutant fluctuations at set intervals, with frequencies mimicking the signatures of your abilities and mine."
"Make them think we're still going about our usual activities."
"Right." He selected the automatic deployment program. "Once an hour, in random combinations. Don't make the rhythm too regular."
Emma Frost suddenly asked, "Could this attract other trouble? Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. misreading it, for example?"
"Yes." Ye Mo nodded. "So we keep the output within the safe threshold. It won't trigger high-level alerts. Besides..." He paused. "Even if someone comes to investigate, all they'll see is two 'dead people' hiding and afraid to show themselves. No one will consider us a threat."
She fell silent. It sounded like self-mockery, but it was the truth.
The third layer was the main event. Ye Mo opened the Gene Spiral Tower interface and brought up the test records for "Regenerative Phasing." This was the only ability data he could make public; everything else was blank. He decided to use it as bait.
"Fabricate a mission route," he said. "Build an operational logic from these test records that points to an abandoned facility somewhere in South America."
"Where?" Emma Frost asked.
"An old oil refinery in Venezuela." He enlarged the satellite image. "Destroyed by a hurricane ten years ago. Local gangs control it now, and no one pays it any attention."
He began piecing the data together: first using Regenerative Phasing to simulate the energy-consumption curve for passing through walls, then layering in parameters such as environmental temperature differences and oxygen concentration, ultimately generating a complete "combat simulation." The conclusion read: the target location was suitable for long-term concealment, and relocation within a week was recommended.
"Will they believe it?" Emma Frost sounded doubtful.
"Not necessarily," Ye Mo said. "But they'll definitely investigate. Once people start moving, they leave traces."
She understood. This was not a con; it was fishing-using false intelligence to lure the enemy into acting, then tracing their movements back.
Together, they checked the entire process. The first layer of misdirection lowered their guard, the second maintained a sense of presence, and the third created an opening to lure the enemy deeper. The three links fit together, and none could be left out.
"We still need an emotional flashpoint," Emma Frost said suddenly.
"What?"
"An internal argument." She pointed at the dialogue from earlier. "Text alone isn't enough. We need sound. Record an argument where I question your judgment and demand to act independently."
Ye Mo frowned. "Too risky. What if they analyze our voiceprints and realize we're acting?"
"Then make it more real," she said. "I can get genuinely angry. Neither of us has slept well these past few days. We both have tempers."
He looked at her. Her face was pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes, but her gaze was firm.
"All right." He nodded. "But we only record thirty seconds. Once you finish, we stop. Don't drag it out."
She walked over to the recording area and adjusted the microphone's height. "Remember, after I say, 'You never should have let me come out alive,' interrupt me, then cut the power."
"Why that line?"
"Because it's true." She looked at him. "That day in the subway tunnel, you could have left me behind."
He did not answer. He only tapped the desktop twice and pressed record.
Emma Frost took a deep breath.
"You were wrong! You've been making mistakes from the very beginning! You think you're protecting me? You don't even know what I went through!"
Her voice rose, trembling.
"I don't want to be a burden anymore! And I certainly don't want to hear you use 'system notifications' as an excuse! That day in the tunnel, you could have left-you never should have let me come out alive!"
Ye Mo reached out and pressed stop. The light went out.
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
"Convincing enough," he said.
"It's true." She took off her headphones. "I'm simply choosing to stand with you now."
He did not respond. He turned and dragged the recording into the data package, setting it to be pushed out with the signal stream every twenty minutes.
The entire system began running. False intelligence, false fluctuations, and a false argument were all bundled into the routine data stream and continuously fed into the monitored frequency band. The intervals were precise to the second, as steady as a heartbeat.
The Vibranium fragment warmed again. The fourth pulse arrived on time.
Ye Mo placed it in his palm, feeling its familiar warmth. He closed his eyes, his fingertips gently brushing the fragment's edges.
"They're watching," he said.
"So are we." Emma Frost reconnected the neural interface. "After the next scan, I'm going to probe again."
"Only the surface," he said. "Don't go deeper."
"I know." She closed her eyes. "But I need to confirm whether they've upgraded their surveillance protocols."
The main computer's fans sped up, and the data push entered loop mode. On the screen, the map of South America lit up, and a virtual travel route slowly took shape.
Ye Mo leaned back in his chair, his eyes still closed. His breathing was soft and slow, his fingers remaining against the fragment's surface.
Twenty minutes later, the pulse arrived on schedule.
This time, the corner of his mouth moved slightly.
It was not a smile, but confirmation.
The net had been cast. All that remained was to wait for the fish to bite.
The blue light on Emma Frost's interface came on. When the connection progress bar reached 78%, it suddenly shuddered.
Her fingers twitched, and her eyelids fluttered twice in quick succession.
Ye Mo opened his eyes and looked at the screen.
The data stream was normal, and the monitoring frequency had not changed.
But a spike appeared in Emma Frost's brainwave chart, as though some force had struck it violently.
She drew a sharp breath and opened her eyes.
"Something's wrong." Her voice was very quiet. "They... changed channels."