The orders from Prosecutor Carter were absolute and final. Six riot-gear clad guards moved with vicious efficiency. They ignored Ethan Blake's newly healed status and treated him like a dangerous, rabid animal.
"Get him out! Move, Blake!" a guard yelled, ripping the restraints from the headboard and snapping heavy, uncomfortable shackles onto Ethan's ankles and wrists. His body, now surprisingly resilient thanks to the Basic Qi Breathing, absorbed the rough handling, though the metal digging into his skin was painful.
They dragged him out of the infirmary, down corridors, and out into the cold night air of Oakwood County. They didn't bother with a standard transport car; an unmarked, armored van with reinforced steel walls was waiting.
"In the back, scum! Move!" an officer snarled, shoving Ethan's head down.
Ethan was thrown onto the bare, cold steel floor of the van. The guards piled in, their presence heavy and menacing.
