The sirens grew closer, and red and blue lights swept back and forth across the shattered window frames, cutting through the smoke in the laboratory like searchlights. Ye Mo leaned against the control panel, his ears still ringing, the metallic taste in his mouth lingering. He raised his hand to wipe his face, his fingertips brushing against the dried bloodstains at the corner of his mouth, which stung painfully.
The figure slumped in the corner stirred.
It wasn't the mechanical twitching of an armored vehicle flashing red lights, but a human— Darren Cross's fingers suddenly curled, his five fingers digging into the cracks in the ground, as if trying to prop himself up.
"No," Ye Mo whispered, his voice hoarse, "Making a move now is suicide."
But the other party didn't listen to him.
The Yellowjacket's right arm jerked violently, the joint making a metallic creaking sound as he lunged forward with the remaining momentum. But just as his left shoulder left the ground, the ice layer formed by the freezing spray cracked open, freezing his movement instantly. He let out a muffled roar as he slammed face down onto the metal floor with a dull thud.
This fall completely drained his strength.
He lay there, a wisp of white smoke rising from the large hole in the back of his armor, like a furnace exhaling its last breath after burning out. On the monitoring screen, the energy reading slowly dropped from 3%, 2.1, 1.8, 0.9... finally reaching zero. The red light went out, the system shut down, and the entire suit of armor became a scrap metal shell.
"Finally, he's behaving himself." Scott leaned against the wall, his helmet half off, revealing a face covered in sweat. He was breathing heavily, his fingers still resting on the power button on his suit, afraid it would activate again at any moment.
Emma Frost stood there, the cracks on her skin completely healed, and the Diamond Form had completely degenerated. She glanced at Darren on the ground, then looked at Ye Mo: "Is he still alive?"
"His heart is still beating," Ye Mo stared at the vital signs curve, "But his consciousness is probably long gone. That lunge just now probably used up the last bit of his energy."
Before the words were finished, the sound of orderly footsteps came from outside the door, the sound of boots striking the ground growing louder as they approached. Immediately afterwards, the beams of tactical flashlights swept in through the breach, drawing several diagonal lines on the ceiling.
"People inside! Hands behind your heads, squat down! Repeat, hands behind your heads, don't move!"
The police arrived, and it was a special police squad.
The leader was a middle-aged police officer wearing a bulletproof vest, holding an assault rifle, his sharp eyes scanning the entire area. He paused when he saw the armor wreckage in the corner, then quickly pointed his gun at Ye Mo and the other two.
"Everyone, squat down! Raise your hands! Now!"
No one moved at the scene.
Scott sighed and slowly raised his hands, "Dude, we're here to defuse the bomb, not to blow up the building."
"Shut up!" another officer yelled, "Move again and I'll shoot!"
Emma Frost frowned but didn't speak, only slowly raising her hand. Ye Mo also slowly straightened up, making no unnecessary movements, only saying in a hoarse voice, "The target is in the corner, codenamed ' Yellowjacket,' incapacitated, armor energy depleted, no immediate threat. You can send someone to check."
The officer squinted at the data stream on the monitor screen, then glanced at the slumped Darren. After a few seconds, he gestured behind him. "Two men, go check his status; the rest of you, stay alert and seal off the exits."
Two officers crouched low as they approached, one with a gun at the ready, the other crouching down to check Darren's pulse and armor condition. They opened the neck port of the suit, inserted a handheld detector, and after a few quick readings, one of them turned and nodded. "Confirmed, vital signs are weak, on the verge of unconsciousness, suit completely malfunctioning."
"Take him into custody," the officer ordered.
Four officers carried a stretcher and carefully dragged Darren out of the armor. The man was completely wrapped in a high-strength fiber suit, his face covered in abrasions and burns, and his breathing was so shallow that his chest was barely rising and falling. Just as they were about to fasten the restraints, Darren suddenly opened his eyes.
His cloudy pupils swept around before finally settling on Ye Mo.
"You... don't understand..." he managed to squeeze out a few words, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grinding iron, "I must... get it... the core algorithm... cannot be destroyed..."
Two police officers immediately drew their guns and pointed them at his head.
"Don't shoot!" Ye Mo stepped forward, his voice not loud but extremely steady, "He doesn't even have the strength to lift a finger. If you shoot him, tomorrow's headlines will be 'Police Torture Prisoner'."
The officer's eyes narrowed, and he raised his hand to signal his men to holster their guns. He took the sedative from his waist and pressed it against Darren's neck with a "snap." The current surged, Darren's body stiffened, his eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious again.
"Put a restraint ring on him," the officer said.
Someone produced specially made handcuffs, their surfaces engraved with electromagnetic interference patterns, designed specifically for Mutants or users of high-tech armor. With a click, Darren's wrists were locked, and he was lifted onto a stretcher and placed into a bomb disposal vehicle marked "High-Risk Personnel Transport." The doors closed, the engine started, and the red and blue lights flashed as it drove away from the base entrance, gradually disappearing into the mountain road before dawn.
The laboratory fell silent.
The fire was under control, with only a few broken pipes still smoldering and dripping water making a clearer sound in the open space. Scott leaned against the wall, slowly slid down to the ground, and casually tossed his helmet aside.
"I swear, this is the team-building activity I least want to participate in my life." He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. "Next time anyone says 'Let's relax in the lab,' I'll call the police."
Emma Frost walked to Ye Mo's side and asked softly, "Did we win?"
Ye Mo didn't look at her; his gaze went through the broken window to the horizon. It was already beginning to turn white there, with a hint of pale orange showing through the edge of the gray-blue sky, like someone had accidentally spilled a bucket of paint.
"Yeah," he forced a tired smile, "For now."
A gust of wind blew in through the gap, causing the hood of his black hoodie to flutter slightly. His silver half-rimmed glasses were askew, but he didn't bother to adjust them.
Scott opened one eye and stared at the ceiling. "What's next? Wait for them to come back and give their statements? Or just write a report and submit it? Let me tell you, if this happens again, my daughter will definitely want someone else to be her father."
"Don't think about it too much." Ye Mo looked down at his hands, where there were still burn marks left by the lightning surge on his palms. "Let them handle it. Our mission is over."
"Is it really over?" Emma Frost suddenly asked.
Neither of them responded.
The sound of fire trucks leaving could be heard in the distance, followed by several regular police cars driving away. The entire base seemed to have been emptied of air, leaving only the three of them standing in place, like three statues that hadn't had time to leave.
Scott reached out and touched the torn part of his suit; it was hardened by the intense heat. He tried to move his elbow, and the joint made a slight clicking sound.
"Hey, can we find somewhere to sleep?" he muttered. "I'm not picky about beds, the floor's fine too, just don't let me hear the alarm again."
Ye Mo finally moved a step and walked to the control panel, swiping his finger across the screen. All system statuses turned gray, data was archived, and defense protocols were automatically disabled. He pressed the last button, the main power was cut off, and the entire laboratory was plunged into dim light.
Only the emergency lights were still on, casting long shadows at the three people's feet.
Emma Frost gently stroked her arm to confirm that the last trace of crystal had disappeared. She stood ramrod straight, but her shoulders slumped slightly, clearly having reached her limit.
"Can you still hold on?" Ye Mo asked her.
"I can stand for a while longer," she said.
The sky outside was getting brighter, and the morning light slanted in, falling on the armor wreckage. The charred metal edges reflected a faint light, like a Mars that refused to be completely extinguished.
Scott picked up his helmet, dusted it off, and placed it on his lap. He didn't say anything more, just sat quietly, his breathing gradually becoming steady.
Ye Mo stared out the window, his gaze unfocused. He knew this wasn't over— Darren's last words before he lost consciousness were still echoing in his mind, "We must get it," indicating that someone was pushing things from behind, that something was waiting.
But now, at least for this moment, they've survived.
The sirens faded completely into the distance, and the wind swirled the Ashes in the air before they fell again.
The water pipe on the east side of the laboratory was still dripping, one drop, two drops, hitting the puddles and making a soft "plop" sound.
Scott closed his eyes and unconsciously tapped the helmet shell twice with his fingers.
Emma Frost stood still, her eyelashes fluttering slightly.
Ye Mo raised his hand and adjusted his glasses.