Heavy tactical boots thudded against the concrete floor of Tianhai Stadium.
A squad of eight SWAT officers in black helmets lifted the groaning, limp body of Blood-Claw Yan.
They secured three pairs of titanium alloy suppression cuffs around his broken wrists and ankles.
Beside him, two officers hauled Alliance Chief Lei Ba out of the tangled cables beneath the shattered jumbotron.
Lei Ba’s silk shirt was shredded, his face bruised and swollen beyond recognition.
His eyes were glassy, staring blankly at the concrete as blood dripped from his split lip.
As the officers marched the two broken men toward the armored transport vans, Lei Ba coughed weakly, muttering incoherent curses.
The stadium’s thirty thousand spectators watched in silence as the heavy rear van doors slammed shut with a sharp metallic clank.
