After Schiller got into the Federal Bureau of Investigation vehicle, silence filled the car. His complexion was dull, and he was breathing rapidly. The escort agent beside him finally could not hold back any longer. "What's wrong with you? Do you need medication?"
"I have a severe stress response. You must... must immediately provide me with a sufficient dose of sedatives. Otherwise, I can't guarantee I'll live long enough to see your superior..." Schiller said between ragged breaths.
The driver did not hesitate. He immediately picked up the communicator and said, "Send someone to the hospital. Get a sufficient dose of sedatives."
After saying that, he turned to assess Schiller's symptoms and added, "Strong tranquilizers, for mania and neural overstimulation..."
"Thank you. You're even more professional than my students." Schiller tilted his head back against the rear seat headrest.
The agents' attitudes were fairly good. A female agent in the passenger seat said, "Hold on a little longer. We have to take you to our Temporary Base before we can medicate you."
Schiller had already closed his eyes, suppressing his neural overstimulation together with Gray Mist. But since it was a psychological neural reaction, as long as the source of stimulation remained, the excitement would not stop. Its specific symptoms included hyperventilation, trembling limbs, elevated blood pressure, and so on.
As Schiller leaned against the seatback, pale-faced, the female agent in the passenger seat quietly said to the driver, "Scott, in this situation, can we put a hood over his head? That could easily make him stop breathing, right? If he goes into shock, we don't have any resuscitation equipment..."
Then she glanced at the road outside. "The streets are full of broccoli right now. We can barely drive at all. If he really goes into shock, we won't even