The cell door slid open with a soft, hydraulic hiss. The sudden mechanical sound was jarring after the profound silence that had followed the chaotic temporal journey. Ethan, still weak but rapidly recovering from the temporal sickness, looked up from his cot. He had spent the last few hours meticulously organizing the data the System had downloaded, trying to rationalize the existence of the King of Darkness and anti-matter cannons.
Special Agent Mark Wilkerson—the same agent who had just interrogated Director Brown—stood framed in the doorway. He was alone, which was unusual for an official visit.
"Mr. Blake," Wilkerson said, his voice flat. "Get up. We're releasing you."
Ethan slowly stood, his movements deliberately casual. He already knew, thanks to the System's quick processing of the surrounding political turmoil, that his time as a prisoner was over. He was no longer a terrorist, but a liability.
