The isolation wing smelled of damp concrete and old fear. As Ethan approached the final heavy door, two guards—larger than the ones in the foyer—stepped into his path, their batons drawn. They hadn't seen what Falcon 20 did to their Warden; they only saw a young man they thought they could bully.
"Step back, kid. You don't have authorization for this sector," said the first guard.
Ethan didn't speak. He didn't even break his stride. As the guard reached out to grab his shoulder, Ethan's hand moved like a blur of silver lightning. His steel-like fist slammed into the man's ribcage. The sound of snapping bone echoed through the corridor like dry burning on a fire. The guard was lifted off his feet, his lungs collapsing instantly as he hit the wall and slumped into a heap.
