System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)

He roared, throwing himself into a trio of guards trying to flank José. He used the Dao Martial Technique of the Fist, his movements still lightning-fast, and with three precise, devastating blows, he shattered ribs and cracked the skull of each guard. They dropped like sacks of meat.

But without his passive protection, Ethan became a target.

"GET HIM!" shrieked an officer whose partner had just been pulverized.

A flurry of blows rained down. A heavy baton slammed into the side of Ethan's head. Pain, sharp and blindingly fierce, exploded behind his eyes. He stumbled, shaking off the daze, and punched another inmate who tried to capitalize on the moment, sending the man flying.

Then came the federal response. A guard, sighting through the tear gas, leveled his non-lethal weapon. THWACK! A rubber bullet struck Ethan squarely in the chest, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. It was followed instantly by a second, aimed directly at his forehead.

The second round hit with the force of a hammer. Ethan's head snapped back. He felt the skin tear, the blood immediately gush warm and thick over his eyes, mixing with the tears from the gas. He staggered backward, his vision turning red. Another baton found his jaw.

The final blow sent him spinning. Ethan fell hard to the concrete floor. He was bleeding profusely from his head and face, inert amongst the rubble of broken chairs and unconscious bodies.

He was beaten. He was human.

The last thing Ethan registered before the darkness claimed him was the sight of Captain Hayes, The Iron Lady, standing on the high platform, watching the carnage with chilling satisfaction. The riot was over.

...

Ethan's memory was blurred, a mosaic of batons, screams, and the acrid smell of tear gas. He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. He was lying on a cold, hard floor. He felt the weight of new, thick chains on his ankles and wrists.

Jason was chained across from him, his breathing rough and ragged, still bleeding profusely from the fresh wounds inflicted by the guards.

"Hey... hey, old man, are you awake?" Ethan said, his voice hoarse from the gas.

Jason slowly raised his head, a monumental task given his condition, and offered a bloody smile that only a brother-in-arms would understand.

"Sure," Jason said, spitting out a bit of blood. "Those little taps are just a warm-up. Believe me, I've been treated worse in Syria. That's where I was in the shit. That's why I told you not to attack—I could handle it."

"I don't give a damn if you can handle it or not," Ethan said, the fury still hot in his voice. "They wanted to screw with me through you, so I screwed with them. I won't let them humiliate my people."

"Yes, but now you're busted up, and we're in this shitty place, chained up," Jason countered, trying to sound logical.

"Do you know how much time has passed?" Ethan ask.

"Maybe three or four hours," Jason said, his voice flat. "They brought us straight here after they contained the riot."

"I'm glad not much time passed," Ethan said, recalling the last images of Captain Hayes.

Ethan checked his handcuffs. He was secured with heavy chains, but his hands and ankles weren't fixed to the wall; the chain only limited his range. He stood up, a movement that should have been agonizing.

The Basic Qi Breathing had already done its job. The pain, the contusions from the rubber bullets and the baton blows, had all vanished. He was completely like new; only the dry blood on his face and jumpsuit remained as a trace of his injury.

Jason stared at him, bewildered, watching how easily he rose.

Without waiting, Ethan began his routine. He adapted the movement to the chains, running in place, making short circuits to simulate his 10 kilometers.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, astonished, thinking his boss had lost his mind from the beating. "You should save your energy! You're in the hole, Ethan!"

"This is just a warm-up," Ethan said, his breathing becoming deep and rhythmic with the Qi Breathing. "I prefer to keep my body in perfect shape rather than let the pain defeat me. If I stay still, this hole will consume us."

Despite the chains, Ethan completed his sequence: 100 adapted push-ups using his fists, 100 squats, 100 ab crunches, and finally, 100 modified burpees. The sound of the chains scraping the floor was all that filled the room, along with Ethan's steady breathing.

While Ethan sweated—a clean, purified sweat—he continued the conversation, using it as a way to keep his mind sharp.

"Don't worry about my body, Jason. Worry about Vance," Ethan said, finishing his last burpees with a grunt. "We have to get out of this bullshit terrorism charge."

"The evidence is against you. The bomb, the assault," Jason said, his voice muffled. "Howard and Prosecutor Carter are controlling the narrative. And now, with a riot on top of it, they're going to bury us alive, Boss."

Ethan finished his routine, breathing slowly and deeply. He sat down across from Jason, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"The riot bought us time. And attention," Ethan said. "Vance is vulnerable. He's in the hospital, and his operations are paralyzed. We need to get to Officer Sparks. If she can testify, we have a chance."

"She's in Internal Affairs custody, Boss. And if Prosecutor Carter is involved, I doubt they'll let her talk. And if she does, Vance will kill her," Jason said.

"Then we'll have to get to her first. And if Vance wants war, he'll get war," Ethan said, leaning against the wall. "We can't just be mercenaries in prison, Jason. We have to be terrorists—for them. The next time we see Vance, we're going to annihilate him. And Captain Hayes, the Iron Lady, is going to help us escape. She just doesn't know it yet."

The tension in the cell was as dense as the darkness. Two men, chained and accused of terrorism, had just laid out the plan to dismantle a corruption network from inside the most feared maximum-security prison in the country.