Natasha pushed the folder to the corner of the table, her movements as light as if she were setting off a landmine about to explode.
Ye Mo didn't rush to touch it. Instead, he pulled over a chair with a missing leg and sat down. He casually took out a half-pack of flattened cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and put it in his mouth, but didn't light it. He stared at Natasha's eyes, trying to find a flaw in those dark eyes that seemed to see through her soul, but he saw nothing but exhaustion and calmness.
"The name you mentioned," Ye Mo finally spoke, his voice dry, as if he hadn't had water in a long time, "Who is it?"
Natasha didn't answer directly, but instead lit another cigarette. The smoke rose, blurring half of her face and the already dim light in the room. She pulled a stack of photos from a folder and spread them out on the dusty table.
"Not one person, but a group of ghosts." Natasha exhaled a smoke ring, her tone so calm it sent chills down one's spine. "The driving force behind the Superhuman Registration Act is hidden behind three seemingly unrelated organizations. One is ' Horizon Media,' which controls mainstream media; another is ' Deep Blue Capital,' an offshore trust responsible for laundering funds; and the third is the ' Wings of Freedom ' think tank, which specializes in lobbying politicians."
Ye Mo glanced at the photos. They contained meeting minutes, screenshots of bank transfers, and smiling faces of several men in suits shaking hands on different occasions. At first glance, it seemed like the kind of old-fashioned business conspiracy theory, full of clichés.
"You think I'm lying to you?" Natasha seemed to see through his thoughts, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "If I were lying, I could have just thrown this pile of waste paper in your face and walked away. There's no need to go through all this trouble, risking being targeted by the remnants of Hydra, to come all this way."
Ye Mo didn't speak, but lowered his head and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
Deep within his consciousness, the long-dormant " Gene Spiral Tower " trembled slightly. Although no new levels were unlocked, the fragments of perception he had gained from his contact with the Mutants were now quietly unfolding like an invisible net. He didn't need to forcefully read her thoughts like Emma Frost —that would consume too much mental energy and be easily exposed. He simply used a kind of "intuition"-like sharpness to capture the logical flaws in Natasha's words and the environmental information remaining on her.
For example, the faint bitter almond scent on her fingertips was from tobacco found only in certain regions; the extremely subtle contraction of her pupils when she looked at the third photograph indicated that it held a special stimulating significance for her; and the rhythm of her breathing, steady yet with a deliberately suppressed urgency, was a physiological reaction to being in a state of high alert for a long time.
These details, pieced together, point to one conclusion: she was telling the truth. Moreover, what she held in her hands was far more weighty than she spoke of.
"Continue." Ye Mo stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the photograph.
The photo shows a middle-aged man in a gray sweater talking to a woman in a trench coat in an inconspicuous coffee shop. The background is blurred, making it impossible to see the exact location, but Ye Mo recognized the man's profile—he had seen him in the news; he was a senior editor at " Horizon Media."
"These three organizations, on the surface, keep to themselves and don't interfere with each other." Ye Mo pointed to the photo, speaking slowly and clearly, "' Horizon Media ' is responsible for creating public opinion, portraying superhumans as uncontrollable and dangerous factors; ' Deep Blue Capital ' is responsible for providing financial support, allowing radical anti-superhuman organizations to fund their activities; and ' Wings of Freedom ' drafts legal provisions behind the scenes, ensuring that the scales of justice tip in favor of regulation. It's a perfect closed loop."
Natasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him analyze quietly. "You're very smart, Ye Mo. But that's not enough. You need to understand that these three organizations have no direct shareholding ties, nor do they share a common legal entity. They're like three independent puzzle pieces, seemingly unrelated, but at crucial moments, their actions are perfectly coordinated."
"You mean, someone is directing things behind the scenes?" Ye Mo raised his head, his eyes sharpening.
"Or rather, someone is using this storm to reap profits." Natasha flicked her cigarette ash. "Once the Superhuman Registration Act passes, superheroes will be subject to strict government regulation. What does that mean? It means the existing balance of power will be broken. For those who crave power, this is a golden opportunity. They don't need to fight themselves; they can simply fan the flames from behind to make heroes kill each other or be forced to submit."
Ye Mo fell silent. He walked to the window, pulled back a crack in the curtains, and looked out at the dark night sky. The neon lights of New York were still flashing, but in his eyes, the city had become a giant spider web, and he, Tony, Steve, and even himself could all be prey in that web.
"Their objective is still unclear." Ye Mo turned around, his back to the window. "What exactly do they want? Is it merely to control the heroes? Or something deeper?"
"That's hard to say," Natasha shook her head. "But the clues I've found indicate that they're acquiring large quantities of Vibranium samples and secretly contacting Mutants with special abilities. This isn't just a political game; it involves a struggle for supernatural powers."
Ye Mo's heart sank. Mutants... The word flashed Emma Frost's image in his mind, and also reminded him of the dormant ability fragments in the system. If these people also targeted Mutants, then the trouble would be immense.
"I need time." Ye Mo took a deep breath and made his decision. "I can't step in now. The Avengers are divided right now; Tony supports the bill, while Steve opposes it. If I intervene now, it will only make the situation more chaotic and may even make us a target for attacks from all sides."
Natasha nodded, seemingly unsurprised by his reaction. "A wise choice. At this stage, concealment is more important than prominence. I will continue to gather evidence from S.H.I.E.L.D..'s perspective, while you... you need to find your own way to approach those key figures."
"The identity of Mr. X is very useful now." Ye Mo sneered. "As an anonymous information broker, no one will suspect me. I can infiltrate those social circles and see if I can dig out more information."
"Be careful." Natasha put the photos away and returned them to the folder. "They're not stupid. If they can orchestrate such a large-scale operation, they must have counter-surveillance measures. If you sense anything amiss, retreat immediately."
Ye Mo did not respond, but simply nodded silently.
Natasha turned and walked towards the door, pausing as her hand touched the doorknob. She didn't turn back, but whispered, "Remember, Ye Mo. Neutrality is no longer your shield, but your shackles. The moment you began investigating the truth, you had no way out."
After saying that, she opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.
Silence returned to the room.
Ye Mo stood there, listening to the footsteps outside the door gradually fading away until they were completely gone, before he finally breathed a sigh of relief. He walked to the table, picked up the folder, opened the cover, and found a note inside with an address and a string of numbers written on it.
This is Natasha's next target for him.
He glanced out the window; the sky was already turning a pale white. A new day was about to begin, and he was about to welcome another visitor.
Tony Stark.
That always loud, arrogant yet kind Iron Man will soon be knocking on this door. Ye Mo knew that the upcoming conversation would be a tough battle. Tony wouldn't easily give up his position, and he had to guide the situation in his favor without revealing his true intentions.
He straightened the collar of his black hooded sweatshirt, put on his silver half-rimmed glasses, concealing a hint of weariness in his eyes. His slightly pale face was reflected in the lenses, but his gaze was unusually firm.
He walked to the sofa, picked up the worn notebook from last night, turned to a new page, and wrote down today's date. Then, he took a pen from the drawer and drew a simple sketch on the paper—a design prototype of Tony's armor, with several key weaknesses marked next to it.
This is his preparation for the upcoming meeting.
He cannot afford to lose, at least not in this round. Because in the eye of the storm, only by staying clear-headed can one find a way to survive.
Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, falling on the table and illuminating the stack of photos and folders. Ye Mo reached out and gently stroked the face of the middle-aged man in one of the photos, feeling the rough texture of the paper against his fingertips.
He knew that the net had been cast, and he had to learn how to navigate it, rather than be trapped in it.