Alex sat waiting, thinking, planning, not much else that could be done as he kept from moving with his injuries. Carton would pay for this, for his stand against the law. Now Alex knew what he was like, and he could plan. No more tricky escapes, and carton would be lucky if their next encounter didn't end as quickly as it began, with a high powered sniper rifle bullet going through his skull. He had proved he couldn't be trusted, and being taken alive didn't seem like a viable alternative either. Once he figured out a counter for that Tome of his, Carton was finished.

At last relief came, the sound of engines outside as an aerial ambulance lowered itself to the ground, first response personnel rushing in in response to the drop in his vital signs. Justicars were monitored at all times to be safe, and so they could be prompted treated in a medical emergency, as he was now. He was laid down on a stretcher and lifted up into the bay of the craft, a mask laid over his head that pressed against his face but allowed him to breathe just as well, soothing the burned skin.

It was a swift ride back to the Capital, and he was transported yet again from the flying ambulance into the building, through halls to the medical center. He had to go to surgery, to get new skin grafted on to replace that which was burned, and they would have to put him under in the process. Before they could, he stirred, grabbing the arm of one of the attendants. "Tell Asgard," he said haltingly, fighting the pain of talking, with his lips cracked and skin flaking. "Cole has a Tome...uses gas to make explosions....he's unstable."

"We will," agreed the attendant, before the drugs hissed into his system and he dropped away to dark oblivion. It would be a long operation, but as the night passed by and the morning opened up onto mid day, when Alex awoke, he would find himself in a hospital bed, half his face covered in bandages, but restored. Now he would just have to wait.