Ye Mo leaned back in the crooked folding chair in the control room, his eyes fixed on a cracked tablet screen in front of him. There was no image on the screen, only a series of fluctuating waveform lines, like someone's electrocardiogram struggling before it stopped. He rested his left hand on his temple, and his right index finger occasionally tapped the screen to pull out the recorded fluctuation frequencies for comparison.
It was completely dark, and only the emergency lights in the base flashed green, like the eyes of some nocturnal animal. The wind seeped in through the cracks in the wall, making a charred piece of paper spin on the ground. He remembered saying half an hour ago that he would start monitoring the first round of surveillance—and then he actually came, even though Emma Frost had advised him to at least get two hours of sleep, even though Bucky had said before leaving, "No matter how strong your Regeneration abilities are, you can't withstand your brain being burned through."
But he couldn't stop keeping an eye on it.
In the previous chapter, they had just established a mechanism for recording abnormal fluctuations: Category A - Emergency, Category B - To be investigated, and Category C - Observation; they had even agreed on the numbering format. Now he's the first on duty; if he misses something on the first day, who will trust this process in the future?
At first, he thought it was just residual signals at work. Hydra had blown up several lines when they retreated, so electromagnetic remnants were quite common. But when he compared all the background noise from the past twelve hours, he discovered a low-frequency resonant wave slowly rising—0.7 Hz, lasting for thirty-seven minutes, originating from high altitude, at an unknown distance.
This thing doesn't look like anything from Earth.
He squinted at the system interface; the notification sound in his mind was eerily quiet. In the past, whenever he approached Mutants or a location with superpowers, the mechanical female voice would always announce, " X-Gene fragment detected, recorded." But this time, nothing happened. Instead, he was the one who "heard" it first.
"Something's not right," he muttered, tracing a circle on the screen with his finger. "This isn't any of the signal patterns we've ever used."
He got up and walked to the metal cabinet in the corner, opened the drawer, took out a marker, and drew a vertical line on the wall, marking it "threshold starting point." This was something Captain America had mentioned in the meeting—set trigger standards, don't rely on feelings or guesswork. He did as he was told, but he still felt uneasy. Because this signal had already crossed his self-defined Class B warning line.
After hesitating for two seconds, he took out his small notebook, turned to the first page with the column "Cosmic Anomalies" written on it, wrote down the trends of time, frequency and intensity changes, and added a question mark at the end.
Then he turned and left the control room, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the rusty floor. At the end of the corridor, Emma Frost sat against the wall, eyes closed, wearing a dusty gray coat, her breathing light.
"Are you awake?" Ye Mo asked in a low voice.
Emma Frost didn't open her eyes. "If you're asking me if I was dreaming, the answer is no. I'm only maintaining the lowest power scan, using it sparingly."
"It's not about dreams." He crouched down. "I caught a signal, 0.7 Hz, continuously increasing, origin unknown. It's not in any known database, and it's not Hydra's communication band. I feel... it's not coming from the ground."
Emma Frost then opened her eyes, her gaze sharpening. "Can you eliminate equipment interference?"
"It's ruled out. I've blocked all local sources, including our own communicators, backup power, and even the cooling pulses from Bucky's robotic arm. This signal is independent."
She paused for a few seconds, then frowned slightly. "Let me scan the remaining space."
"Don't take too long. You said before that continuous scanning for more than four hours would cause problems."
"I know." She stood up, clasped her hands in front of her chest, and her eyes gradually lost focus.
Ye Mo held his breath. He knew Emma Frost's abilities were limited, and forcibly digging deeper might trigger a mental backlash, just like when she almost fainted last time she dealt with the assassins. But he needed evidence, otherwise Captain America might not respond immediately just because he said "something fell from the sky."
About thirty seconds later, Emma Frost gasped for breath, her face turning pale for a moment.
"There's something." Her voice was a little hoarse. "I didn't see a specific target, but in higher dimensions, there is indeed a non-local consciousness fluctuation. It's very faint, like... an echo."
"Echo?" Ye Mo pressed.
"Yes. It's like someone shouted, the sound dissipated, leaving only a faint echo in the air." She rubbed her temples. "I'm not sure what it is, but it doesn't belong to human thought patterns, nor does it resemble an animal instinct. It's closer to... the aftershock of some kind of collective will."
The two exchanged a glance but neither spoke.
That's enough.
Ye Mo turned and walked towards the central corridor, quickening his pace. Emma Frost followed closely behind, fastening her coat zipper as she walked. At the corner, Captain America was standing beside his shield stand, inspecting the wear and tear on the edges. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.
"What's the situation?" he asked succinctly.
"A new threat is approaching," Ye Mo said directly. "I detected an abnormal low-frequency resonance, Emma Frost confirmed the presence of non-local consciousness remnants in space. Although the target is not visible, the signal is strengthening, originating from high altitude, which is highly likely a precursor to an external intrusion."
Captain America didn't respond immediately, but instead looked at Emma Frost: "Can you get tested again?"
"Yes, but it can only last half a minute each time, and the result won't be any clearer," Emma Frost said calmly. "This isn't a technical problem; the target itself is avoiding direct contact. It may not have truly entered our dimension yet."
Bucky returned from the east passage, carrying a disassembled rifle. He stopped upon hearing the conversation. "You mean, another enemy is about to fall from the sky?"
"I didn't say 'again'," Ye Mo shook his head. "I meant 'it's always been there.' Hydra has someone pushing them from behind; the Scavengers Protocol wasn't something they could have planned independently. I'm just now 'hearing' the footsteps of that pusher."
Black Widow emerged from the west guard post, adjusting the monitoring terminal as she spoke, "So you want us all on high alert, just because of a 'footstep' that can't be heard, seen, or touched?"
"It's not based on intuition." Ye Mo pulled out a small notebook and handed it over. "This contains data records, threshold comparisons, and Emma Frost's Mental Scan as evidence. We just established the rule yesterday—report any anomalies. I'm just executing the procedure now."
Black Widow took the notebook, glanced at it quickly, and handed it to Captain America.
Captain America finished reading, closed the notebook, and nodded. "Activate Level 2 Alert Protocol."
Once the order was given, no one questioned it, and no one delayed.
" Emma Frost, set up a basic psychic early warning network with a radius of 500 meters, maintaining low power consumption." Captain America spoke steadily. " Black Widow, work with Bucky to inventory the weapons cache, repair communication nodes, and update emergency response procedures. Ye Mo, you continue at your sensing post; report any changes immediately."
"Understood," the three replied in unison.
Emma Frost returned to the command area, sat cross-legged, closed her eyes again, and her breathing gradually slowed down; Black Widow and Bucky turned and walked towards the equipment room, discussing in hushed tones which equipment was still usable; Captain America inspected the progress of the defense line along the central corridor, pausing for two seconds after passing each bunker to check if the view was clear.
Ye Mo did not leave. He returned to the control room, sat back down in that broken chair, and stared at the waveform on the tablet. The numbers changed again—0.73 Hz, increasing by 0.03, continuing.
He reached up and touched his temples, where they felt faintly hot, as if a needle was gently stirring inside. The aftereffects of the Regeneration hadn't completely subsided, but he dared not let his guard down.
The wind outside picked up, whipping up sand that pounded against the corrugated iron wall, like someone gently knocking on the door. He ignored it, simply putting on his headphones, switching to live audio streaming, and turning the gain to maximum.
In the silence, that faint low-frequency vibration persisted, so stable it seemed unnatural.
He looked down and wrote in his notebook, "Second round of monitoring begins, signal uninterrupted, threat level raised to B+."
Then he pressed the record button, leaving a voice note. "If I suddenly can't speak, look at the waveform. It's getting closer."