The encrypted communicator's screen went dark, but the words had already seeped into Ye Mo's nerves like nails.
He didn't get up immediately, nor did he go to get water or move around. The air in the room seemed to have been sucked out of the room, leaving only the slight hum of the hard drive fan and his own excessively steady breathing. It was a silence before a game, like the moment a hunter pulls the trigger, when all the senses shrink to the fingertips.
There was no earth-shattering sound the moment the send button was pressed. But deep within Ye Mo's consciousness, the " Gene Spiral Tower " seemed to tremble slightly. It wasn't an awakening of ability, but a subtle sensation, like a radar wave sweeping across the screen. He was waiting. Waiting for a response, even if it was just a single byte of data.
Time ticked by, second by second. The hands of the wall clock moved with unusual heaviness, each tick tugging at a taut nerve.
Ye Mo closed his eyes, not using any ability to spy on the outside world, but instead allowing himself to enter a state of absolute clarity. He reviewed the message he had just sent in his mind: no signature, no threat, only that fatal legal loophole and a tentative invitation. This is how gamblers play, and also the rule of experts. If the other party is a fool, they will simply ignore it; if it is a trap, they will set a scheme to extract information; if it is Natasha Romanoff, she will verify its authenticity.
About fifteen minutes passed.
The indicator light on the encrypted terminal suddenly flashed. The pale blue light flickered in the darkness, like a blinking eye.
Ye Mo opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the screen like Blade.
A new data packet is being transmitted. There are no words, only a complex hash checksum and a specific frequency parameter. This is Black Widow's way of replying. She doesn't speak, but her actions carry more weight than any language. She is confirming Ye Mo's identity and the authenticity of this information.
Ye Mo's fingers flew across the keyboard as he entered the hash code for comparison. The system's background process automatically ran the parsing program, and a few seconds later, a green checkmark appeared on the screen.
Verification successful.
This isn't ordinary hacking; it's one of S.H.I.E.L.D..'s highest-level internal verification protocols. Those who can obtain this protocol are either high-ranking officials or former members of the inner circle. By using this method, Natasha is essentially telling Ye Mo: I trust you halfway; the other half depends on your abilities.
Ye Mo's lips curled up slightly, revealing a very faint smile. This smile contained no warmth, only the relaxed feeling after reaching a preliminary consensus.
He picked up the coffee cup beside him and took a sip of the now-cold black coffee. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, keeping him awake. Now, the main event was about to begin.
Now that the bridge is half built, the rest of the journey must be walked together.
Ye Mo opened a new document window and began to organize his thoughts. He couldn't just give Natasha an empty legal clause; that would be too naive. The rescue operation needed details, flesh and blood, and precise calculations that meant walking on the edge of a knife.
He recalled the map of the underground prison he had previously drawn using Spatial Perception in his mind. Those lines, nodes, and energy fluctuation points had now become specific tactical coordinates.
He started typing.
[Target Distribution: North Zone 3 is a high-risk area, holding Mutants with high-energy characteristics; South Zone 1 is a general containment area, densely populated with relatively loose defenses.]
[Third-Party Qualifications: According to Annex 74, the receiving organization must possess Level 3 emergency medical services certification and an independent regulatory license. Currently, there are three private medical institutions in New York City that meet this qualification. Two of them are under surveillance, and the remaining one is located on the outskirts of Queens, where there are blind spots in the security system's administrative procedures.]
[Biological Sample Challenge: We need voluntary or involuntary samples from three high-ranking Mutants. Considering the time constraints, we recommend using the "substitution method." This involves exploiting the identity confusion during transport to replace real samples with simulated samples, or extracting the samples during transit.]
After sending these messages, Ye Mo entered waiting mode again.
This time, the wait was even shorter. Just three minutes later, the terminal lit up again.
Natasha's reply was more concise, even carrying a touch of the dry humor typical of secret agents.
[You're very intelligent, but unfortunately a bit idealistic.]
[Legal loopholes are just a stepping stone; the real door requires a key.]
[Regarding the sample: I'm not responsible for providing it, but I can create chaos. When the alarm goes off, nobody will care that a vial of blood is missing.]
[Regarding the location: The hospital in Queens is nice, but its power supply is old-fashioned. If I cut off the external power grid, there will be a four-second downtime when switching to backup power. Those four seconds are enough for a car to sneak in, and enough for a car to stay inside.]
Ye Mo looked at the screen, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes.
That's what professionalism is all about.
He was initially worried about how to create interference, but Natasha offered the most hardcore solution—a power outage. Simple, brutal, and effective. Moreover, she mentioned a "four-second window of opportunity," indicating that she was very familiar with the hospital's facilities and might have even done her homework beforehand.
Although the two did not meet, their thoughts clashed intensely. Ye Mo offered "reason," a gap in the rules; Natasha offered "force," a means to break the balance. The combination of these two forces was like a scalpel with an anesthetic, both precise and deadly.
Ye Mo continued typing.
[Agreed. During the four-second window of opportunity, I need you to create a minor disturbance on the perimeter, such as a traffic malfunction or fire alarm, to attract the attention of the patrol team. At the same time, you need to ensure the transport vehicle's route passes through my blind spots.]
[Blind spots have been marked.] Natasha replied, attaching a simple route map. Several key intersections were marked in red on the map, which were the weak points of energy fluctuations that Ye Mo had previously sensed.
"[Sample issue?] "Ye Mo pressed.
[Solve it yourself. You're Mr. X, aren't you? Mutants resonanceist. You can approach them, gain their trust, or... other ways.]
Ye Mo remained silent for a moment.
Obtaining samples is indeed a challenge. Forcibly extracting them would provoke violent resistance, or even lead to the target's death, defeating the purpose of the rescue. However, he possesses fragments of the " Life Resonance " ability. Although not fully activated, he can sense the emotional fluctuations and physiological states of Mutants when in close proximity. Perhaps, through emotional reassurance, he could get them to cooperate in the sampling process?
This requires extremely high skill; the slightest mistake will expose the error.
But there are no other options at the moment.
Ye Mo took a deep breath and typed out the last paragraph.
[I'll figure out how to get the samples. But before that, I need you to confirm one thing: once this operation begins, there's no turning back. S.H.I.E.L.D..'s tracking network is very tight; we only have one chance.]
Natasha's reply came quickly, without any hesitation.
[I know. That's why I'm here. If you're scared, you can turn off your phone now.]
Upon seeing these words, Ye Mo finally felt a weight lifted from his heart.
Fear is instinct, but courage is choice. Natasha's choice was the same as his.
He stood up and walked to the window. The night outside was still deep, and the city's neon lights flickered in the distance, like a false starry sky. He took off his glasses, rubbed his temples, and then put them back on.
The man in the mirror no longer had a confused or evasive look in his eyes. It was a kind of resolute determination that came from deep thought, like a piece of polished steel, cold and hard.
He sat back down at the table and opened a folder named "Troy." Inside were all the disguised documents he had prepared in advance, forged medical transport permits, and a set of blueprints for a signal jammer capable of blocking regular scans.
These were all "backup plans" he had secretly prepared under the neutrality strategy over this period of time. He never expected that they would be used so soon.
He packaged all the materials and sent them to Natasha.
[This is a decoy plan. The vehicle's appearance, license plate number, and driver information are all fake. The real car will enter through a maintenance opening that has been modified from the sewer.]
Natasha replied with a simple emoji: a thumbs-up gesture.
[Received. See you at the usual place at 3 AM tomorrow. Don't be late.]
Communication ended.
The screen went completely black. Silence returned to the room.
Ye Mo leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. This breath exhaled the hesitation, fear, and self-doubt he had felt earlier. Now, he was no longer the observer hiding in the shadows, but a player about to enter the game.
The bridge to cooperation has been built. The road ahead, though still full of unknowns and dangers, at least he is no longer alone.
He glanced at the time: 2:30 a. m.
There are less than 24 hours left before the operation begins.
Ye Mo stood up, stretched his stiff neck, and made a crisp cracking sound. He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a dark gray tactical trench coat from the bottom. He had kept this coat all this time, just for today.
He put on his trench coat, zipped it up, and covered the black hoodie underneath. Then, he picked up the backpack on the table and checked the equipment inside: an encrypted communicator, a miniature toolkit, and several pre-charged tranquilizers.
Everything is ready.
He didn't look back at the apartment again. This would become his starting point, and also his cover.
Ye Mo pushed open the door and walked into the corridor. The motion-activated lights in the hallway turned on one by one with his footsteps, and then turned off one by one behind him. His footsteps were very light, almost inaudible, like a cat, silently blending into the darkness.
He knew that Natasha was somewhere in a safe house, making final preparations. Perhaps she was cleaning her weapons, perhaps she was checking her equipment, or perhaps she was simply quietly looking at her watch in the dark, counting down the days.
Although the two had never met, they understood each other perfectly.
This tacit understanding is more real than any grand words.
Ye Mo walked out of the building and blended into the crowds of New York in the dead of night. The streetlights on the corner were dim, and occasionally a drunkard staggered past, but no one noticed the young man in the trench coat. His steps were steady, and his goal was clear.
He won't sleep tonight.
He wanted to run through the entire action plan one last time, rehearsing every possible problem until it became muscle memory, until the blueprint in his mind was clear down to every detail.
Because tomorrow will be the eye of the storm.
And he was ready to face the storm.