Ye Mo stared at the waveform lines on the tablet screen, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his temples. The heat was still there, like a red-hot wire slowly churning in his brain. He had just finished recording a voice message, sending "B+ level threat" to the public channel, when a burst of static came through his earpiece, followed by Captain America's voice. "Roger, all personnel aware."
He didn't reply, but simply nodded, as if the other person could see him.
The wind outside picked up, and the sand pounded against the corrugated iron wall, making a crackling sound like someone scratching at the door with their fingernails. He took off his headphones, got up, walked to the bucket in the corner, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and splashed it directly on his face. The chill cleared his head a little. He shook his head, returned to his chair, and pulled up three sets of historical data for side-by-side comparison—0.7 Hz, 0.71 Hz, and 0.73 Hz. The hourly increase was stable at around 1.3%, not an error, not equipment leakage, and certainly not the coarse signal pulses of Hydra.
This thing is patterned, and it's getting closer and closer.
He opened his notebook, circled "B+", and added, "Energy density continues to rise. No attack pattern detected, but approach speed is increasing." After writing, he closed the notebook and casually stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. When he looked up, the reflection in his glasses caught a glimpse of the monitoring screen behind him. Several red dots were quietly distributed across the entire base's floor plan, representing the positions of Emma Frost, Bucky, Black Widow, Captain America, none of which had moved.
He knew what they were doing.
Captain America stood in front of a map in the central corridor, a highlighter in his hand, marking out blind spots of the bunkers on the wall projection. He had just held a short meeting, his voice low, but each word struck like a nail. "Prioritize repairing the east radar, charge the EMP jammers to over 80%, switch patrols to two-person shifts, rotating every forty minutes."
Nobody asked why.
Ever since Ye Mo uploaded the data, the entire base's rhythm has changed. It's no longer the lazy state of "waiting for the enemy to come to our door before dealing with them," but rather a real effort to reinforce, inventory, and inspect. Even Bucky, who usually loves to complain, didn't say a word, took the list, and headed towards the armory.
Ye Mo stared at the slowly fluctuating frequency on the screen, feeling a sense of emptiness. The enemies he'd faced before, no matter how strong, at least had a shadow— Hydra in its green uniform, Thanos wielding a double-edged sword, Loki's constant taunts. But this time? He couldn't see them, couldn't touch them, and even the system didn't react; he had to rely entirely on the sounds he "heard."
If he hadn't saved the day a few times before, anyone else saying that would probably have been dismissed as having neurasthenia and sent to rest.
He pulled up the hood of his hoodie, covering half of his ears to reduce outside noise. Then he put on his glasses; the lenses were slightly reflective, reflecting the outline of the door frame behind him. He didn't like having his back to the door, even though this was the inner base. Tony had taught him a saying, "The place you think is safest is often the first to collapse."
He believes it now.
Over in the command area, Emma Frost sat cross-legged, her coat zipped up to her chin, hands clasped on her knees, eyes closed, breathing shallowly. She had begun a new round of scanning, making a note on a piece of paper every ten minutes; three or four sheets of scrap paper were already piled up at the corner. Her task was to monitor the mental remnants in the upper atmosphere, hoping to salvage any more "echoes." But so far, the feedback had been the same. "Weak, unstable."
Ye Mo understood this feeling; it was like knowing someone was walking upstairs but being unable to capture any footage on the security camera.
He glanced at the time; forty-two minutes had passed since the last data upload. He turned the audio gain back on and lowered the threshold by 0.5 decibels, immediately filling his headphones with a hissing sound. He patiently filtered through the noise bit by bit, finally catching a barely perceptible vibration in the background noise—it was still the same frequency, 0.74 Hz, slightly higher than before.
He immediately pressed the record button and drew a vertical line in his notebook, marking "Second threshold breach".
Just as he finished writing, footsteps sounded outside the door, steady and rhythmic—it was Captain America. He pushed the door open and came in, still wearing his tactical belt. He glanced at the screen, then looked at Ye Mo: "How's it going?"
"It's still rising." Ye Mo pointed to the waveform, "It's 1.3 per hour, and it's already at 0.74. I don't see any attack intent, but it's definitely getting closer."
Captain America paused for two seconds, then nodded. "I understand. The east radar will be online in twenty minutes. Once it's connected, I'll have Emma Frost assist with a directional acquisition. You keep guarding it, don't try to tough it out."
"I'm fine," Ye Mo waved his hand. "My head is just a little hot, I'll be fine after resting for a while."
Captain America glanced at him but didn't call him out. He knew this guy liked to act like nothing was wrong once he got into character. But he didn't try to persuade him further, only saying, "Press the alarm if anything happens," before turning and leaving.
After the door closed, Ye Mo let out a long breath, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knew Captain America didn't believe it completely, but at least he was willing to follow his lead. That was enough. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, recalling the meditation techniques Tony had taught him—not some mystical Mind Stone purification, just simple "counting heartbeats + clearing his mind." He did it for a few minutes, and his heart rate dropped from 107 to 89, and his mind felt a little better.
When he opened his eyes again, he casually put his silver half-rimmed glasses back on, adjusting the angle so that the lenses reflected the lower half of the door behind him. Then he pulled up his hood to block the light from both sides, shrinking into the shadows, leaving only his eyes fixed on the screen.
He knew that all he could do now was wait.
Inside the armory, Bucky was crouching on the ground checking the energy bar of the EMP jammer. A red light flashed, and he frowned, removed the back cover to look at the circuit board, then turned to Black Widow and said, "The capacitors are worn out; we need to replace them."
Black Widow, who was adjusting her communicator, didn't even look up when she heard this. "The spare part is in the third slot, number E-7. Also, check the trigger spring of the armor-piercing crossbow; I tried it twice yesterday and there was a delay."
Bucky grunted and got up to rummage through the cabinet. The two had worked together for years and didn't need many words. One handed him tools, the other disassembled parts, their movements clean and efficient. The emergency light on the wall flickered, casting their shadows swaying on the wall.
"You think that thing up there can really be shot down?" Bucky asked casually as he tightened the screws.
"I don't know." Black Widow finally raised her head, "But I trust Ye Mo. Every time he says 'something's up,' it always turns out he really has something to do."
Bucky scoffed. "Last time he said he slipped, but he ended up rushing out and taking three incendiary bombs."
So don't take his claim of a headache seriously this time.
The two exchanged a glance, neither of them smiling, but the atmosphere eased for a moment.
On the other side, Emma Frost opened her eyes and let out a soft breath. This round of scanning took five minutes, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead. She picked up a pen and wrote on the latest sheet of paper, "Increased mental residual fluctuations, direction locked at 12 degrees north of east, altitude estimated... cannot be confirmed." After writing, she folded the paper, put it in a special envelope, and labeled it "Open only by the command team."
She didn't call anyone; she simply placed the envelope on the corner of the table, closed her eyes again, and prepared for the next round.
Time passed slowly, the lights in the base remained green, and the wind blew even harder, whipping up pebbles that pelted the roof like a never-ending rain. Ye Mo drank half a bottle of water and ate two compressed biscuits, his eyes never leaving the screen for a second.
The frequency value jumped to 0.75.
He pressed the record button again. "Third round of monitoring complete. Signal continues to strengthen, but no clear hostile behavior has been identified. Maintain Level 2 alert and increase nighttime patrol frequency. I am still on duty."
After saying that, he leaned back in his chair and tapped his knee twice with his fingers—this was the secret signal he and Emma Frost had agreed upon, meaning "I'm still conscious." A few seconds later, a very soft "beep" came from the earpiece, indicating that the other party had received the message.
He sat up straight, placed his hands on his knees, and stared at the pulsating wavy line.
The wind is still blowing, the lights are still flashing, and the data is still rising.
He didn't move.