Ye Mo stared at the screen. The frequency had just jumped to 0.757 Hz when a faint static noise came through his headphones. He didn't move, but tapped the edge of the tablet twice with his finger—the same code, reminding Emma Frost that he was still awake. But this time, after a few seconds, the familiar "beep" didn't sound.
He glanced to the side and saw that Emma Frost's forehead was covered in even more sweat, her breathing was shallow, and she seemed trapped in some invisible net. She hadn't received the signal.
" Emma Frost?" he lowered his voice, "Are you still online?"
Emma Frost's eyelashes trembled, but she didn't open her eyes, only managing to squeeze out two words through clenched teeth. "Rewinding."
Ye Mo understood. She wasn't scanning the present, but rather digging up old grievances—unearthing fragments of memories from past battles and comparing them to the fluctuations before her. This task was even more mentally taxing than monitoring real-time data, equivalent to running a marathon while memorizing 100 decimal places of pi.
He looked away and brought up the cache again. He swiped three times with his left hand to open three sets of historical waveforms: one was the energy burst during the Hydra raid on the stronghold, another was the electromagnetic preheating before the Scavengers Protocol was activated, and the last was the residual vibration from the West Pipeline suicide attack. All three data segments had an inexplicable "tail end," like a signature left by someone.
He amplified the current signal at 12 degrees north of east, overlaying the four curves together. His fingertip paused.
They overlapped.
Not only are the frequencies similar, but the fluctuation rhythms, amplification slopes, and even the inflection points of energy decay are exactly the same. This is not a coincidence; it's a replication. Someone is using their past battles as templates, copying their homework bit by bit from afar.
"Damn it." Ye Mo cursed under his breath, then immediately switched to the public channel, "Attention everyone, there's new information."
Captain America, who was standing in front of the tactical board, turned around immediately upon hearing the communication. Bucky and Black Widow stopped in their tracks just as they reached the entrance of the Southwest Supply Depot. Emma Frost also slowly opened her eyes, her face slightly pale.
"Don't rush to change shifts." Ye Mo pointed to the main screen. "I just pulled up the data from the first three attacks and compared it. I found that this signal has a waveform characteristic that is highly consistent with the waves of enemies we've dealt with before. It's not just similar, it's almost a complete copy."
No one spoke.
Ye Mo continued, "Low-frequency oscillations with mental shielding—this combination shouldn't appear in the same wave of attacks. But look—" He marked the overlapping areas with red circles, "Here, here, and here, the afterimages of three old battlefields are all blended into this signal. It's like someone is taking our combat records and adding code to a new weapon, line by line."
Captain America took a step closer. "You mean, the remnants of the previous enemy are still alive and are cooperating with a new force?"
"It's more than just cooperation," Ye Mo shook his head. "Someone is directing them. The rhythm, intensity, and approach are all following the patterns we know best. This isn't a test; it's psychological warfare. They know how we'll react and want to lower our guard, making us think it's just our old adversary doing it again."
The command center was silent for a few seconds.
Black Widow spoke up, "It could also be a system misreading. After being on duty for over ten hours straight, the equipment might have retained some memory."
"The equipment won't," Emma Frost suddenly interjected, her voice a little hoarse, "But I can sense it. During the rewind just now, I detected two levels of consciousness fluctuations. The surface layer was mechanical commands, cold and impersonal, like an automatically running program. But beneath that was another layer... extremely faint, carrying emotion, hatred, with a very clear target—us."
Captain America's expression changed.
He didn't question it anymore, turned around and walked back to the projection table, grabbed a highlighter and crossed out the rotation arrangements for the three defensive lines on the original deployment map.
"Change the plan," he said. " Bucky, you're not going to the southwest warehouse anymore, you're stationed there instead. Take an EMP jammer and an armor-piercing crossbow with you; I need you to be able to cut off any underground infiltration immediately. Black Widow, you go to the north ventilation shaft and establish a sniping position, your field of vision covering the entire eastern radar zone. The two of you will form a triangular support formation; once any unusual movement is detected, immediately confirm it with both frequencies."
The two nodded, picked up their bags, and left.
" Ye Mo, Emma Frost." Captain America looked at the monitoring console. "You're still the early warning core. But now it's not just about watching the sky anymore. I want you to expand your scanning range downwards, to within ten meters underground. Any unnatural vibrations or mental activity, report it immediately."
"Understood." Ye Mo had already brought up the backup sensor array interface and started remote activation. These devices were originally for emergency use, deployed 30 meters underground around the base, and were not turned on under normal circumstances to save power and interference.
Emma Frost closed her eyes, placed her hands on her knees, and re-entered scanning mode. This time her breathing was slower, and the veins on her forehead bulged slightly, as if she were forcibly tearing open an invisible barrier.
Ye Mo glanced at her, said nothing, and continued operating the device. Just as his finger pressed the "start" button, a "buzz" sound came from the headphones, and a burst of static rushed in.
He frowned, lowered the gain, and filtered out the background noise. A few seconds later, the waveform stabilized—still at the same frequency, 0.758 Hz, but this time, a very faint vibration was mixed into the background noise, like someone gently tapping on the wall from the ground.
"There's movement underground," he immediately reported. "About eight meters deep, 12 degrees north of east, advancing in sync with the airborne signal. It's not natural geological activity; the rhythm is too regular."
Captain America marked the coordinates on the tactics board. "It's not a coincidence. They're advancing on two fronts simultaneously; the aerial attack is a decoy, while the real killing blow is on the ground."
"It might not necessarily be a killer move," Ye Mo said, stroking his chin. "It's more like a test. They know we've set up defenses, so they want to see how we deploy our troops. If we move even one person now, they'll know what we're afraid of."
"Then let them see," Captain America sneered. "But we have to make sure what they 'see' is different from the actual deployment."
He turned to Ye Mo: "You just said you have backup sensors? Could you forge a few false signals and send them out?"
"Sure." Ye Mo grinned. "I can make them show that we've installed a high-frequency pulse network on the south side and deployed automatic turrets in the east. Anyway, those devices all look pretty much the same; they just need to be powered on to emit smoke, which is enough to scare people."
"Go do it." Captain America nodded. "The more the better. I want the enemy to think we're mainly defending the southeast, but actually..." He twirled his pen, drawing a circle in the northwest corner, "... this is the real ambush point."
Ye Mo immediately took action. While remotely activating the real sensors, he simultaneously forged five sets of false alarm network data within the system and broadcast them out via low-power broadcast. These signals were just weak enough to be intercepted, yet strong enough to be believable.
After finishing, he let out a long sigh and took off his headphones.
He felt a cool sensation in his ears and realized they were full of sweat. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but suddenly everything went black, and his eardrums buzzed as if someone was stirring his brain with an iron spoon.
"I'm short of oxygen," Emma Frost suddenly said, without even opening her eyes. "Take off your headphones for thirty seconds and take a deep breath."
Ye Mo didn't try to be brave and did as instructed. He leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and his chest rose and fell. A few seconds later, the tinnitus subsided, and his vision returned to normal.
He put his headphones back on, picked up his notebook, and wrote four words on a blank page, "Dual-Frontline Operation Plan".
Then he looked up at Captain America: "Whether it's an old enemy or a new face, we have to fight two battles at the same time. One in the open, one in the shadows. Whoever shows a weakness first loses."
Captain America looked at him, said nothing, and simply nodded.
No one spoke again in the command area.
Ye Mo stared at the screen; the frequency value jumped to 0.759 Hz. The underground vibrations were still synchronized, but the rhythm had changed, as if it had received false information and was replanning its route.
He knew that the other party was already making adjustments.
He knew that the battle had not yet begun, but every step he took counted.
Captain America returned to the tactical board and redrawn the defensive responsibility area. The highlighter scratched across the paper, the lines growing denser and denser.
Emma Frost remained seated cross-legged, her breathing steady, but her fingertips trembled slightly, as if silently sensing every subtle movement in the air.
Ye Mo placed his hands on his knees, his gaze fixed intently on the main screen.
The wind is still blowing, the lights are still flashing, and the data is still rising.
He didn't move.