Mental Dread, Brief Control

A splash of water created ripples at the bottom of the well. Ye Mo sank completely into the black water, leaving only his fingertips lightly tapping the rusty well wall—three short taps and one long tap, their pre-arranged code to signal that he was still alive. He didn't have the strength to move much; his lungs felt like they were stuffed with a red-hot wire, and his right leg, from knee to ankle, was numb from cramping. But he knew he couldn't make a sound, couldn't move much, and even his breathing had to be reduced to a tiny puff of white mist at the tip of his nose.

The sound of metal boots stepping on the edge of the drain above stopped.

The Yellowjacket stood at the side pipe exit, his suit's scanning module humming as it spun, red light sweeping across the shaft's inner walls, ladders, and the surface of the accumulated water. His thermal tracking had suddenly stopped; the target had vanished without a trace—this was abnormal. He stared down at the murky water, his finger already on the particle cannon's trigger.

Scott lay prone on the platform halfway up the ladder, Emma Frost on his back. He held his breath, his palms sweating, his knuckles white as he gripped the ladder. He dared not look down, nor climb up—the access door was above, but it was jammed shut; below was a stagnant pool of water, a teammate nearly frozen solid, and a madman in a steel exoskeleton who looked like he wanted to blast anyone to smithereens.

"Don't move... please don't move..." he murmured to himself, not daring to even blink.

Just then, Emma Frost on his back suddenly twitched.

It wasn't the swaying of sleepwalking; it was a sudden, sharpening of her entire spine, as if she'd been struck by a high-voltage electric shock. Her eyes opened, and her pupils weren't black or blue, but rather shimmered with a silvery-white light, like moonlight shining on the surface of a frozen lake.

She didn't look at Scott, nor at the area below his shoulder; her gaze pierced through the air and locked onto the enormous thing at the pipe opening.

The Yellowjacket was preparing to leap down and launch a surprise attack. His brain had just issued the "jump" command when, in the next second, it felt as if a whole bucket of liquid nitrogen had been poured into his brain—his thoughts froze.

It's not a moment of distraction, not dizziness, it's a command interruption.

His muscles remembered how to exert force, but the nerve signals couldn't reach his limbs. His finger was on the trigger, but he couldn't complete the final half-millimeter of pressing. His eyes could move and he could see the target, but his body seemed welded to the spot.

Three seconds.

In just three short seconds, everything can change.

Emma Frost's lips moved, her voice so soft only she could hear. "Right shoulder... power supply line... 0.3 millimeters crack."

This wasn't mind reading; it was ** Mental Resonance Capture **. In the moment when the opponent's mind was most relaxed, she followed their aggressive impulse, found the energy flow trajectory of the armor, and precisely located its weakness.

After saying that, the silver light in her eyes went out, her head tilted to the side, and she slumped back onto Scott's back, blood trickling down her forehead and dripping onto Scott's collar, warm.

"Holy crap!" Scott nearly slipped off the ladder. "You scared me to death! If you're awake, you're awake! Don't use those Shocker movie special effects!"

But he reacted quickly, immediately realizing that those three seconds hadn't been an illusion. He shoved Emma Frost into the corner of the platform, used his coat to block the gap beneath her to prevent her from rolling down, then grabbed the edge of the ladder, gave a powerful push, and propelled himself forward.

It didn't fly upwards, it flew horizontally.

He activated the miniature thrusters of his Ant-Man Suit, shrinking to the size of a fist in mid-air and gliding along the bottom of the drainage ditch at bullet-like speed. Before the Yellowjacket could even regain control, he had already circled behind him.

"Brother, lend me your shoulder." Scott growled, enlarging his body as he slammed the electromagnetic pulse device in his hand onto the seam of the Yellowjacket's right shoulder.

"Smack!"

Sparks flew, and the armor system emitted a piercing alarm. The right arm's power suddenly dropped, and the servo motor emitted a "clicking" sound.

Almost simultaneously, the stagnant water burst open, and Ye Mo emerged from the water, kneeling on one knee in the mud, slapping the ground with both hands. The remaining cold air surged from his palms, and ice spread visibly under the feet of the Yellowjacket, instantly frosting the slippery metal surface and then freezing it back into ice.

"Stand still, buddy," Ye Mo gritted his teeth, blood still oozing from the corner of his mouth. "This is the stance you chose."

The Yellowjacket finally broke free from the Mental Dread. His first reaction was to retreat, but his foot slipped, his left leg went sideways, and he lost his balance. He instinctively raised his right arm to try to support himself, but his right shoulder system had short-circuited, and his entire arm was frozen in mid-air.

"Now!" Ye Mo shouted, looking up.

Before he could repeat himself, Scott leaped from the side. This time, instead of shrinking, he expanded with all his might, his weight instantly increasing dramatically, like a concrete slab falling from the sky, slamming down on the Yellowjacket's right shoulder.

"Boom!"

The armor could not withstand the double blow, and it made a sound of metal tearing. A crack broke open at the right shoulder joint, exposing the internal pipes, from which blue-purple energy flowed and hissed.

Ye Mo followed up immediately, condensing and compressing a stream of cold air in his right hand, and bracing himself against the ground with his left hand, sliding closer and pouring the cold air into the crack. The low temperature caused the energy conduit to quickly become brittle, several key lines burst on the spot, and his right arm became completely paralyzed.

The Yellowjacket grunted, his knee slamming heavily onto the ice. A crack appeared in his helmet visor, revealing half of his distorted face. He braced himself with his left hand, trying to restart the system, but alarms continued to sound. His right arm was completely disabled, and the flight module entered self-protection lock due to energy disturbance.

"It's not over yet." Ye Mo panted heavily, barely managing to stand up while holding onto the ladder, still clutching half an ice blade in his hand. "You chased us through three pipes and stepped on two traps. Now you know what reverse hunting is?"

Scott landed, his suit slightly damaged, his face covered in dust, but his eyes shone with an alarming brilliance. "I'm saying, how about we consider charging a 'pursuit fee'? The kind that's charged by the minute."

No one laughed.

Because everyone knows that the three-second Mental Dread was just an interruption, not an end. Although the Yellowjacket knelt, he did not fall. His left arm could still move, and the tactical module in his helmet was still operating. As long as he pressed the emergency protocol, he could activate the backup power or call for support at any time.

Ye Mo stared at him, his fingers trembling slightly. The cold energy within him was almost depleted; if he used "Ice Manipulation" again, he might truly turn into an ice sculpture. He glanced at Emma Frost on the platform; she was still unconscious, but her breathing was more steady than before.

"Scott," he whispered, "How many zooms do you have left?"

"A full charge should last forty times, and now... about six more." Scott checked the controller. "But I don't recommend going head-to-head with him again. This guy has Particle Concussion Punch in his left arm; he just didn't have a chance to use it earlier."

"Then don't give him a chance." Ye Mo narrowed his eyes. "Once he stands up, you attack from below, disrupting his left arm's servo system. I'll distract him."

"And what about you? You look like you can't even stand up straight."

"Me?" Ye Mo grinned, revealing a mouthful of bloody teeth. "I'm responsible for distracting him. The system just notified me of a new technique called ' Ice Spike Feint,' which sounds pretty intimidating."

"You're doing this again!" Scott rolled his eyes. "Every time I get into a fight and you give me a system notification, I feel like you're just messing with me."

"Believe it or not." Ye Mo slowly took a step forward, his foot landing on the ice with a soft cracking sound. "But you have to listen to me now, because we haven't won yet."

The Yellowjacket slowly raised his head. Behind the crack in his mask, his eyes coldly swept over the two men, showing no anger, no panic, only a murderous intent born of being offended.

He braced himself with his left hand on the ground and began to slowly get up.

Scott immediately took a half step back, his fingers resting on the controller, ready to shrink his advance at any moment. Ye Mo straightened up, raising the ice blade to his chest, the cold air gathering again at his fingertips.

Just then, Emma Frost's finger twitched.

It wasn't an unconscious twitch; it was a rhythmic tapping—three short taps followed by one long one—exactly the same tapping Ye Mo had done underwater earlier.

Scott noticed and lowered his voice. "She... she's responding to you?"

Ye Mo didn't speak, but his expression changed.

He knew Emma Frost wasn't fully awake, but she was still fighting. Her consciousness was like a thin thread, wrapped around their rhythm of action, pulling them along even if they only had one breath left.

The Yellowjacket finally stood up straight, slowly raising his left arm, and the buzzing sound of the particle fist charging rang out again.

The air was so tense it felt like it was about to explode.

Ye Mo took a deep breath, pushed off with his feet, and the ice blade flew out of his hand, heading straight for the opponent's face. At the same time, Scott crouched down and rolled, shrinking his body, and slid down the ice towards the enemy's left knee joint.

The battle is not over yet.

But this time, they were no longer prey fleeing for their lives.