The night wind swirled dust, blowing past the broken barbed wire fence at the edge of the industrial zone. Ye Mo's right foot had just stepped out of the ruins when his shoe crushed a charred fragment of a document, the AIM logo split in two beneath his foot. He didn't look down, but simply wiped the dust from his face, his throat dry and itchy.
"The signal is there," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "The residual current seeps back into his ability channel along the shockwave's path, like an invisible thread. If he uses that move again, I can drag him to his lair."
Tony leaned against a crooked lamppost, his armored visor half-open, oil smeared on his left cheek, his right hand braced against his hip, where the blast wave had grazed him and now throbbed with pain. "12% fuel left, thrusters intermittently depressurizing. This suit of armor is basically a walking oven right now." He gasped for breath. "Thirty more seconds and we're grounded."
Emma Frost sat on the concrete block, her hands clasped on her knees, her fingertips trembling slightly. Her eyes were closed, her temples throbbing. The Mental Scan had just ended, and the tactile sensation of the metallic membrane still lingered in her mind—as if someone had wrapped her brain in lead, making it impossible for even the finest mental probe to penetrate.
"There were no densely populated groups of consciousness within five kilometers." She opened her eyes, her voice soft but clear. "They used a silent evacuation, possibly a sealed transport vehicle, or perhaps an underground pipeline. Only scattered emotional remnants remained at the scene: anxiety, exhaustion, and a bit... relief?"
"Glad we didn't chase after them?" Tony smirked. "Fine, let them have their fun for a while."
The three stood on the city's border. Behind them lay a half-collapsed warehouse, charred equipment, and spent shell casings scattered everywhere. In front of them was a smooth asphalt road with streetlights on and a convenience store sign flashing blue. A delivery scooter drove by in the distance, the rider wearing a helmet, holding the handlebars with one hand and taking out his phone to check orders with the other.
Life is back.
Ye Mo glanced at his watch; it was 2:17 AM. He stretched his right shoulder; the muscles were still a little sore after the Steel Bone armor dissipated, like he'd run ten kilometers and then carried sandbags up stairs. "Let's double-check that it's safe," he said. "Don't turn around only to find a wolf lurking behind you."
Tony nodded, swiped his finger across the armored wrist control panel a few times, and the radar interface popped up. The thermal scan covered three blocks in the surrounding area. Green dots were scattered here and there, all body temperature signals from residential buildings. No abnormal clusters or high-speed moving targets were detected.
"Radar clear," he said.
Ye Mo crouched down, his right palm flat on the ground. His perception of Lightning Control hadn't completely cooled; his fingertips could still detect faint electrical fluctuations in the ground. He closed his eyes and traced the subtle electrical traces forward—the arcs of electricity, the sparks from the explosion, and the residual energy from the pulse gun left over from the battle all surfaced in his consciousness like lines drawn with charcoal. He scanned all the way to the intersection of the main road, where all traces abruptly stopped.
"The electrical trace has broken." He withdrew his hand. "They disappeared after crossing the street; they either switched to an insulated vehicle or simply burrowed underground."
Emma Frost took a deep breath and began another shallow scan. This time, it wasn't tracking, but investigation—like mopping the floor, inch by inch. She swept past the living room of the corner apartment, where a couple was sleeping with the lights off; past the convenience store, where the clerk was yawning and tidying the shelves; past the children's playground in the opposite neighborhood, where the swings were empty and swaying, and rainwater had accumulated at the bottom of the slide.
"Nobody's here." She opened her eyes. "At least nobody's watching us right now."
All three of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Tony leaned back, his head gently bumping against the lamppost, and closed his eyes for three seconds. "I say, shouldn't we consider finding a place to sit down? This armor is making me taste like I'm being marinated."
Ye Mo looked around and his gaze fell on an old-fashioned coffee shop on the street corner. Red and white checkered curtains, a sign that read "Open 24 Hours" hanging above the glass door, and dim lighting inside, where he could see a middle-aged man in an apron wiping cups behind the counter.
"Go there," he said.
The three walked along the sidewalk, their steps slow. Tony's armor emitted a slight hydraulic depressurization sound, making each step feel heavy; Emma Frost kept pressing her right temple, as if her headache hadn't subsided; Ye Mo walked at the back, his hoodie pulled down to cover half his face, but his eyes constantly scanned the reflections in the glass of the surrounding shops.
The coffee shop doorbell rang once.
The boss looked up and paused in his work. Three customers had come in late at night: one was wearing a metal suit covered in scratches, another was pale as if he had just come off the operating table, and the third was a young man whose hoodie was covered in dust, looking like he had just escaped from a construction site.
"What would you three like to drink?" he asked tentatively.
"Black coffee, no sugar," Ye Mo said.
"Same one." Tony pulled out a chair and sat down, the armor joints clicking as he grinned. "And get me a cup of hot water, I need to soak this metal shell."
Emma Frost didn't speak, took off her gloves and placed them on the table, gently rubbing her wrists. "Hot cocoa," she said, "With marshmallows."
The boss nodded and turned to prepare.
The three chose a corner table by the window. Tony leaned against the wall, facing the door; Emma Frost sat in the shadows, facing the glass window; and Ye Mo was positioned between the two, his gaze sweeping across the entire store and the street outside.
The act of removing equipment was like unloading a burden. Tony completely pulled off his mask, revealing a face covered in grease and stubble on his chin; Emma Frost took off her tactical belt and gently placed it on the back of her chair; Ye Mo finally pulled down the hood of his hoodie, and his silver half-rimmed glasses were already perched on his nose, the lenses reflecting the warm light of the store.
After the coffee arrived, Tony held the paper cup to warm his hands; the rising steam made him squint. "We escaped danger again this time," he smiled, his voice much lighter than before. "Though we were a bit disheveled, at least we didn't lose our lives in this run-down industrial area."
Ye Mo lowered his head and blew on his coffee, not replying. He took a sip, the bitterness spreading on his tongue, which somewhat suppressed the battle images in his mind. His left hand unconsciously rubbed his right palm, where the lingering heat from using Lightning Control still remained, like holding a circuit board that had just been disconnected from the power.
"But we can't let our guard down." He put down his glass, the bottom tapping softly on the table. "They withdrew cleanly and efficiently, with a plan, a rearguard, and methods to shield their Mind Stone. This isn't a ragtag army; it's a professional force."
Emma Frost picked up her hot cocoa, took a small sip, and watched the marshmallow slowly melt on the surface. "I can't read that leader," she said. "It's not just defensiveness, it's a physical barrier. He might actually have a metal implant in his brain, or some kind of bio-shield."
"AIM's old tricks," Tony scoffed. "They wanted to develop mind control chips back in the day, but I blew up their lab. Now it seems someone's picking it up again."
Ye Mo shook his head. "It's not just AIM. The presence of Extremis Virus remnants on the equipment indicates that Killian was also involved. The two sides cooperated."
The shop was quiet for a few seconds. The background music was old-fashioned jazz, and the saxophone sounded languid, inexplicably matching their mood.
The waiter came over to exchange the sugar packet, and the plastic box made a click as it hit the table.
The three of them looked up almost simultaneously.
Their eyes met, then quickly looked away.
Tony coughed twice. "... That's an overreaction."
Emma Frost's lips twitched slightly, but she didn't laugh out loud; however, her tense shoulders relaxed a little.
Ye Mo looked out the window again. The streets were deserted, with only mosquitoes swarming under the streetlights. A cleaning truck slowly drove by, its nozzles spraying out a fan-shaped mist of water, instantly darkening the ground.
"Actually..." Tony suddenly said, "What I want to do most right now is take a shower, sleep for twelve hours, and wake up to find that it was all a nightmare."
"Then you'll have to dismantle the armor first," Ye Mo said. "Otherwise, taking a bath will be like taking a sauna, and sleeping will be like being on a hot plate."
"You're right," Tony shrugged, "But I don't even have the strength to stand up right now."
Emma Frost exhaled softly, closed her eyes, and performed another quick scan. This time it was just instinct, like checking if the doors and windows were locked before bed. Her senses swept across the apartment building across the street: a child kicking off the covers on the second floor, an elderly couple snoring on the third floor, and a couple arguing on the fourth floor—all normal noises of daily life.
"There's no danger right now." She opened her eyes and looked at Ye Mo. "You can relax a little..."
Ye Mo didn't move, his fingers still rubbing his palm. He knew what she meant by "relax a little"—not physically, but mentally. It was the feeling of relaxation after the final round of a ten-round boxing match.
But he couldn't do it.
The shockwave from that punch that shattered the electric arc, the metal membrane that shielded his Mind Stone, the enemy's calm and orderly retreat... these details swirled in his mind like a cassette tape recorder.
He raised his hand and looked at his palm. The skin was intact, but it felt as if a layer of Steel Bone was hidden beneath, ready to spring out at any moment, and an electric current hummed in his veins.
"Being vigilant isn't a bad thing," he said. "What's bad is thinking you've won and then sitting back and sipping tea."
Tony looked at him and suddenly laughed, "You, you say you don't want to be a hero, but you're more serious than anyone else."
"I'm not a hero," Ye Mo, taking a sip of coffee. "I just... don't want to die a horrible death."
Emma Frost bent down and stirred the hot cocoa; the marshmallow had already melted into a small ring of foam. She didn't speak again, but her gaze was more steady than before.
Time passed slowly. The sky outside the window was still dark, but you could feel the city waking up—a slight vibration came from the subway tracks in the distance, the shutters of the breakfast stalls began to slam shut, and a stray cat darted out from behind a trash can, carrying half a sandwich into the alley.
Neither of them mentioned leaving.
No one said what to do next.
Just want this moment of quiet, even if it's just an illusion.
Tony leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, eyes closed, seemingly resting. Emma Frost placed her hands on the table, head slightly lowered, as if dozing. Ye Mo remained seated, back straight, eyes fixed on the window, like Sentry who hadn't turned off his device.
The clock in the café pointed to 3:07.
The bell rang again.
A girl in pajamas pushed open the door, her hair disheveled, carrying an empty milk tea cup. She went straight to the counter and said, "Boss, I'd like a different bubble tea, please."
None of the three of them even lifted their eyelids.
But they all knew--
This city has truly returned.