Preparing for battle

The lights in the monitoring room were still on, but Ye Mo was no longer inside. The red dot on the main control panel screen continued to jump, its frequency stable, like a heartbeat embedded in the pulse of the universe. The light at the end of the corridor, which had been flickering, finally went out completely and never came back on. The base was so quiet that you could hear the sound of airflow rubbing against each other in the ventilation ducts, like some kind of whisper, or like nothing being said at all.

When he walked out of the monitoring sub-area, his sleeves were still rolled up, the blue markings on his right arm were pressed against his skin, and the bluish-gray lines had already climbed to the outside of his wrist. Each pulsation was perfectly timed with the ripples on the deep space map—once every 0.7 seconds, no more, no less. The catheter had long been removed, and the lingering stinging sensation on the back of his neck had disappeared, but he could still "hear" that rhythm, as if he had a pair of headphones stuck in his ears that he could never remove.

Lights were on in the rooms along the corridor, one after another. Over at the training ground, the sandbags were still swaying gently, the force of the punch still lingering. Captain America stood at the locker room door, zipping up his combat suit to his chest, the shoulder armor snapping shut. He didn't look at Ye Mo, but simply raised his hand to adjust his wrist guards, the movement slow, but each joint was like a wound-up toy, precise and accurate.

At the command console, Black Widow switched off the last communication band. She slid her finger across the panel, confirming all encrypted lines were disconnected, then removed her tactical headset and casually stuffed it into her waist pouch. As she turned, she glanced down the corridor, her eyes meeting Ye Mo's. Neither spoke; she simply nodded, as if to say, "I know you're there."

Hawkeye had just finished his last set of calibrations in the shooting simulator. The sound of the bowstring being released was soft, and the muffled thud of the arrow hitting the bullseye came through the soundproof wall. He put the bow back in its case, took off his eyepiece and wiped it, then looked up at the surveillance camera on the ceiling. His lips twitched almost imperceptibly, as if he were smiling, or perhaps confirming that something was still there.

Thor sat cross-legged on the floor of the rest pod, Mjolnir lying across his knees. His eyes were closed, his palms resting on the handle, tiny arcs of electricity crackling and dancing in his hands. Suddenly, he opened his eyes, whispered something in Asgard, his voice low, but a flash of blue light shot from the hammer tip, striking a metal beam in the ceiling and leaving a scorch mark. He didn't look, but simply stood up, picked up the hammer with one hand, and slung it over his shoulder.

The sound of Tony's armor activating came from deep within the laboratory. First, a low-frequency hum, then the hissing sound of the hydraulic system pressurizing, and finally the signature "click" as the visor closed. When he stepped out, the armor wasn't fully closed; the chest plate was glowing, and the shoulder components were still automatically calibrating their positions. He looked up and saw Ye Mo standing at the end of the main corridor, paused for a moment, then raised half his face. "Hey, the one in the hoodie, your complexion is worse than my air filter that hasn't been changed in three days."

"Your filter can even sound an alarm on its own," Ye Mo replied, his voice a little hoarse. "Mine's a real-life human early warning system."

Tony walked over, his footsteps heavy, the joints of his armor making a slight metallic scraping sound. He reached out and patted Ye Mo's shoulder with considerable force. "Alright, stop pretending to be a martyr. If you really can't hold on, you can go back to sleep now. I'll wake you up when they come knocking on the door."

"I'm not going." Ye Mo shook his head. "It's here."

Tony squinted. "Who?"

"It's not anyone else." Ye Mo raised his right hand, glancing at the blue mark on his wrist. "It's us, we're ready."

Tony didn't ask any more questions. He understood. Some things don't need to be said too clearly, especially at a time like this. He simply turned around and gestured towards the exit. "Let's go?"

Ye Mo nodded.

The two walked side by side toward the main exit. On the way, they ran into Captain America coming out of the training ground, his shield already strapped to his shoulder; Black Widow came around from the command post, carrying a pair of tactical boots; Hawkeye turned out from the side corridor with a quiver on his back, casually tossing a bottle of water to Ye Mo; Thor walked through the living quarters, his Mjolnir dragging on the ground, sparks crackling all the way.

No one spoke. No one asked, "Where are you going?" "What are you doing?" "Are you ready?" These questions were unnecessary. They knew where to go and what to do. But this time, there were no alarms, no announcements, no countdowns, not even a single word of "assemble." Yet, one by one, the six of them appeared on the open platform in front of the main gate of the base.

It was still dark. The eastern horizon was shrouded in a layer of gray-white, as if someone had erased it, but it wasn't completely clean. The wind wasn't strong, but it carried a metallic smell, like the stuffiness before rain, or the smell of electricity burning the air. The platform floor was made of cast alloy, cool to the touch, and reflected a faint light. The six men stood still. No one gave an order, and no one assigned a position, but their posture naturally formed a semi-circle— Captain America was in the front left, shield held horizontally in front of his chest; Black Widow was half a step behind him, her hands hanging down, her fingertips not far from her holster; Hawkeye was slightly behind, his eyes narrowed, staring at an invisible point in the sky; Thor stood on the right, the tip of his hammer touching the ground, arcs of electricity occasionally flashing; Tony stood to Ye Mo's right, his mask open, the light from his breastplate illuminating half of his face; Ye Mo was at the very front, slightly to the left, like the edge of a knife.

He glanced down at his wrist. The blue markings were still pulsating, the frequency unchanged. He closed his eyes and sensed the familiar fluctuation within his body— the X-Gene Resonance System was operating quietly, without prompts or warnings, simply existing. He knew this was no coincidence. His body had become some kind of interface, and the approaching thing was resonating with him in some way.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze was steady.

Tony cleared his throat twice, breaking the silence. "So, we're just going to stand here and wait for it to send over its resume?"

Ye Mo twitched the corner of his mouth. "Didn't you say you wanted manual verification? This is an interview."

"Fine." Tony stretched his shoulder armor. "I'll treat it as if it's trying to steal my patent. I'll try diplomacy first, then force it."

Captain America didn't respond. He simply placed his hand on the edge of his shield and tapped his knuckles twice, the rhythm matching the blue stripes. Hawkeye glanced at him and also tapped his bow case with his fingers. Black Widow stood ramrod straight, but her breathing changed, becoming deeper and slower. Thor whispered something, and his hammer suddenly flashed, as if in response.

Ye Mo didn't move. He stared at the gray sky, his mind not on tactics, combinations of abilities, or how to win. He was simply confirming one thing—he was still standing, and they were all standing. That was enough.

Tony suddenly spoke up, "Hey, you in the hoodie."

"Um?"

"If your system could predict lottery numbers, how about we go out and make a fortune together?"

"You can afford the whole company." Ye Mo rolled his eyes. "Do you even need to guess?"

"That's different," Tony grinned. "I mean, if world peace is restored after this war, we'll have to find something worthwhile to do, right?"

"I'd believe you even if you retired and opened a barbecue stand," Ye Mo laughed. "As long as you don't make me skewer lamb."

"Then you're in charge of promoting it," Tony patted him. "Just say, ' Mr. X's special formula, it grants supernatural powers.'"

"Shut up, my foot." Ye Mo shoved him, almost getting pushed back by the armor.

After they finished laughing, no one responded. But the atmosphere changed. It wasn't relaxed or at ease, but a strange calm—like the stillness before a storm, all the power gathered, waiting for a signal.

Captain America took a step forward and stood next to Ye Mo. He didn't look at anyone, but gripped his shield tighter, his gaze fixed on the sky. Hawkeye placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pressed it. Black Widow stood on the other side, her hands clasped behind her back, her chin slightly raised. Thor let out a low growl, Mjolnir hovered three inches off the ground, arcs of electricity surging around him. Tony's mask slowly closed, and his breastplate shone brightly.

Ye Mo stood still, the blue veins on his right arm throbbing even more clearly. He didn't roll up his sleeve, but he could feel the rhythm climbing up his veins. He knew time was running out. 72 hours sounded like a long time, but in the face of something like this, even a second could be the last chance.

He took a deep breath; the cold air filled his lungs, causing a slight pain, but it also cleared his head.

"We're not here to win," he said in a low voice, and no one was sure who he was talking to.

But everyone heard it.

Tony's voice came from inside the armor, with an electronic reverb. "So what are we here for?"

"So it doesn't think we can be scared away," Ye Mo, looking at the sky, "So it can tell it—we're here, we're not hiding, we're waiting."

Tony paused for a second, then laughed, "Alright. Let's show it what Earth's defenses are like."

The wind suddenly picked up. The clouds began to move, revealing a corner of deep sky. The stars were silent, but Ye Mo knew that the red dot was still there, approaching the structure of reality at a speed of 0.02 light-years every seven seconds.

He raised his right hand and tapped it seven times on the alloy floor.

At the same time, the backup power in the base's main control room suddenly turned on, and the red dot on the deep space map on the screen flashed briefly.

Tony's armor detected an anomaly and emitted a short alarm.

Thor gripped the hammer handle and hissed, "It's awake."

Ye Mo straightened up, and the blue markings on his right arm throbbed for the last time, the frequency remaining stable.

He knew the time had come.