The Particles' Aftermath
The heavy hydraulic lock of the explosion-proof door gave a final, dull thud before springing open completely. Ye Mo reached out and pressed the red physical switch on the side of the control panel. Accompanied by a tooth-grinding metallic scraping sound, the eerie blue light that seemed to tear a person apart instantly dimmed.
"The concentration has decreased." Emma Frost's voice was slightly weak. She slowly lowered her hands, and the diamond-like luster that had enveloped her receded like a tide, revealing a slightly pale face. "The leakage channel of the Pym Particles has been cut off."
Scott shrunk back to normal size mid-air and crashed heavily onto the dusty metal floor. He rubbed his aching shoulders, let out a long sigh, and wore a wry smile of relief, "That felt like being spun around in a washing machine a hundred times. If Hank knew I'd turned his precious lab upside down like this, he'd probably grind his dentures to dust."
Ye Mo didn't reply; his gaze was fixed on the fluctuating data curve on the monitor screen. The green safety line finally stabilized, replacing the previously skyrocketing red alert. The underground laboratory returned to a deathly silence, broken only by the faint sound of airflow from the ventilation ducts and the occasional dripping of water in the distance.
The crisis was temporarily averted. But the tension did not dissipate with the cessation of the alarms; instead, it felt like a thorn piercing Ye Mo's nerves.
"Don't relax." Ye Mo turned around and looked at the two of them. "Let's look up first."
Scott paused for a moment, then reacted, quickly walking to the terminal next to him. His fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing the public surveillance network and civilian communication frequencies outside the base. The screens that should have been playing evening entertainment programs were now all glaringly white with black text.
"This..." Scott's voice suddenly faltered, and the smile on his face froze.
On the huge projection screen, news footage was playing in a loop. In the footage, the outline of a city was faintly visible in the flames, and thick smoke billowed up, obscuring the night sky. The streets were a scene of devastation, with piles of broken building debris, and the sirens of police and the cries of the crowd came through loudspeakers, sounding particularly jarring.
"Sokovia." Ye Mo read out the place name that flashed briefly in the corner of the screen, his tone calm yet chilling, "Destruction caused by a battle between superhumans. Live broadcast worldwide."
Emma Frost stood half a step to Ye Mo's side, her brows furrowed. She didn't speak, but simply closed her eyes slightly, as if sensing something. After a moment, she opened her eyes, a complex emotion flashing within them. "I can feel it. On the ground, fear, anger, blame... these emotions are surging like a tide. Not directed at any one person, but at all those with special abilities."
Ye Mo walked to the screen and looked at the shocking images: the ruins after the explosion, the crying children, and the angry protesters. This was not just a physical disaster, but also a psychological turning point. Public tolerance for superhumans was collapsing at a visible rate.
"The previous bystander attitude is turning into hostility." Ye Mo pointed to an interview clip on the screen, where an elderly man with tears streaming down his face was shouting at the camera, "We've had enough! This kind of power doesn't belong to humans!"
Scott swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "So, that's why Darren wanted to steal the core algorithm? They didn't just want the money; they wanted a reason to create chaos?"
"Maybe." Ye Mo neither confirmed nor denied it. The system notification sounded in his mind, which meant that there was no readily available ability to borrow, but his keen intuition, which came from being a transmigrator, was frantically warning him.
Behind this hostility lies not only spontaneous public sentiment, but also what appears to be some organized force manipulating things behind the scenes. The direction of public opinion is never formed naturally.
"We can't be bystanders." Ye Mo turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife. "Scott, broaden your information gathering. Don't just focus on news reports; I need to see real-time comments on social media forums, in-depth analysis in political commentary sections, and even non-public briefings from within the government. I need to know who's manipulating the narrative and who's exploiting this incident."
Scott straightened his back, his previous fatigue vanishing, replaced by a professional focus. "Understood. I'll go dig."
Emma Frost walked to Ye Mo's side and asked in a low voice, "Are you going to get involved?"
"Now is not the time." Ye Mo shook his head, a cold smile curving his lips. "What we need to do is see the whole picture of the game. Before the policies are implemented, we need to predict their every move. Sokovia is just the beginning; the storms to come will only be bigger."
He walked to the control panel, his fingers rapidly typing commands on the keyboard, raising the base's security level to the highest level. The code on the screen scrolled by quickly, reflected in his deep eyes.
"Remember," Ye Mo's voice was low and firm, "In this industry, silence is not golden, ignorance is fatal. What we need to do is build our ship before the storm comes."
Scott was already busy, various data streams converging into a huge network on his screen. Emma Frost stood quietly to the side, her gaze sweeping over the malicious text on the screen, her eyes unwavering, only coldly scrutinizing.
Ye Mo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. In his mind, the invisible Gene Spiral Tower stood quietly. Although it had not yet unlocked new levels, the ability fragments that had been collected were like dormant embers, waiting for the moment to be ignited.
The shadow of Sokovia is spreading. And this is only the beginning.