I’m really looking forward to finally putting to paper some of the very first ideas that I had for the series, many of which are crucial to the overall narrative.

That’s not the only foray in Genoa City I’m making either, with work also continuing on the adventures of Annabel Warrant, girl detective and her various investigations in and around Genoa City High.

I’m hoping to launch Westcrest — Season 3 with a brand new chapter, entitled “Prologue”, that should get new readers up to speed and blow the lid on a few of Chatravati’s long-held secrets.

But for you’ll need to wait until at least the 1st of January, 2012.

So consider yourself warned, but remember to ask… when you’re drifting off to sleep, or waiting at a train station, when you’re alone, or afraid, or are feeling brave. Never, ever, forget to ask:

What is Westcrest?

Boom, goes the pistol and Hogan Dale slumps backwards.

“Tel-Ur in mind… maybe,” Conor says. “But his body was still human.”

Then the moment is gone as a new siren starts to sound.

“What’s happening?” Sarra asks. A small but incredibly bright spark of red light is flickering at the heart of the engine.

“It’s too late,” says Conor. “By plugging himself in, Dale caused a feedback loop.”

“Feedback loop?” says Sarra.

“It’s going to blow up,” Conor says simply.

“Then we’d better move,” says Jeremy. His voice is higher-pitched than normal, which probably has something to do with the pretty young police woman who’s bleeding to death beneath him.

Jeremy isn’t strong enough to carry Claire on his own, so Conor helps him lift the body and Sarra runs up the stairs ahead of them. The engine behind them is crackling and the walls of the Sanctum are vibrating.

They enter the corridor containing the zombies. Jeremy and Conor sweat as they guide Claire’s body between the rows of cells. As they pass each one the zombies throw themselves against the bars with a series of sickening crunches.

“Should we do something?” says Sarra.

“It’s too late for them,” grunts Conor. Although Claire isn’t particularly heavy, both of the boys are already exhausted from carrying her.

They make it back to the elevator and lower Claire to the ground. Jeremy’s canary yellow jacket is smeared with blood. Claire whimpers on the floor of the elevator and muzak dribbles out at them from a pair of tinny speakers.

“How long do we have?” asks Sarra.

“I don’t know,” Conor admits. “I’ve never seen an e-class engine explode before. I have no idea how long it will take to reach critical mass…”

Then the elevator doors are open and they’re back in the Sanctum foyer. The building is empty, except for the shambling shapes of figures wearing helmets; these are not Enforcers, but firemen.

“Help us!” Jeremy calls to one of them and in a matter of moments Claire is being taken away from them and loaded onto a stretcher.

The Sanctum foyer is still painted crimson by the emergency lights. A deep rumbling comes from beneath their feet and Conor yells: “Get out! There’s a bomb!”

Several of the firemen communicate rapidly back and forth on their radios until somebody gives the order to retreat. Jeremy, Conor and Sarra go with them, stumbling out of the front doors and onto the Sanctum lawns.

“We’re too close,” says Conor, glancing back at the building. “Everyone needs to get back…”

But it is too late. Suddenly the sky above the Genoa City is lit as though by daylight as the Sanctum explodes upwards in a pillar of brilliant blue fire. Hot air rushes over them, blowing Jeremy’s jacket open and disturbing the leaves of the topiary guard dogs. The night sky bursts with a series of brilliant exploding lights that—to an uninformed observer—would look a lot like fireworks.

Jeremy lets his bloodied jacket fall to the grass and pulls Sarra close to him as they stare up at the light show in the sky. A car-sized chunk of the building lands only a few feet away and smoulders on the grass.

“We should move,” says Sarra as she burrows her head in Jeremy’s chest.

“You’re safe with me,” says Jeremy.

THE END… FOR NOW!

Then there is a sound like pop-pop-pop and the Enforcers are twitching from side to side and letting the weapons fall from their hands.

“Dance!” Conor says to the Enforcers. Electricity arcs between them and they collapse to the ground. A sickly smell that only Sarra recognises rises from the unmoving bodies. It is the scent of burning flesh.

“No!” says Hogan Dale and pumps the trigger of his pistol. Fortunately he’s aiming at Jeremy and all of the bullets swing wide. One of them strikes a control panel and sends up a geyser of sparks.

“Watch where you’re waving that thing,” says Sarra and snaps both of her wrists in the direction of the police chief. White fire strikes the steps but the Chief manages to roll away in time. He lowers the pistol at Sarra and repeats: “What… did… you… do?”

“I knew that the Enforcer armour has an in-built defense mechanism capable of administering an electric shock,” Conor explains. “I just overloaded the circuit. Now you’ve got no Enforcers, but plenty of delicious fried zombies.”

“No Enforcers?” says Dale. His face is twitching and all of them are starting to realise that the police chief is actually rather mad. “You killed them… all?”

“They were already dead,” says Claire as she steps out of the shadows. “How could you do this, Chief? The Sanctum trusted you.”

Hogan Dale does something unexpected then—he lowers the pistol. “Westcrest,” he murmurs. “It’s always Westcrest… my entire career I have lived in their shadow. Don’t you think that it’s time they left law enforcement to the professionals?”

“The only thing you’re professional at is being a failure,” says Sarra.

Those words awaken something in the Chief that causes his eyes to snap wide open and his mouth to turn from a scowl into a frenzied grin. “A failure?” he says to Sarra. “You’re calling me a failure, girl?”

Then he actually laughs—a crazy laugh that echoes back at them from the walls of the Inner Sanctum. He raises the pistol and says: “I will show you just how wrong you are!”

Keeping the gun trained on them, Hogan Dale crosses to one of the tubes that previously housed the Enforcers. His hand is shaking but all of them (except, maybe, Jeremy) are aware of just how dangerous a stray bullet can be.

“No!” Conor calls as he realises what the Chief is trying to do. “They’re not calibrated for human use, you’ll…”

Dale reaches into the coffin with one hand and pulls out a handful of wires that he begins clipping to his skin. He tapes one to his forehead and shoves another up his right nostril.

“You can’t do that,” says Conor. “You’ll send the whole system critical!”

“You can’t stop me,” says Dale and fires the pistol. The bullet hits Claire and she stumbles backwards, clutching at her shoulder. Jeremy drops to his knees and places both of his hands against the wound. Blood spills out between his fingers.

Dale cranks a lever at the side of the tube and his body goes rigid. The gun falls from his hand and clatters loudly to the floor.

“Should I take him out?” Sarra asks, but Conor shakes his head.

“He’s part of the system now,” Conor explains as he heads towards the control panel. “I need to shut it down.”

Hogan Dale’s entire body is engulfed in blue light and he is screaming and screaming. His hair is standing on end and his hands are balled into fists at his side.

“The engine’s going critical,” says Conor. His hands are flying across the control panel like the hands of a master pianist.

“We need to get Claire out of here,” says Jeremy from the floor.

The room is suddenly plunged into darkness as the light from the engine is extinguished. Emergency lights come on around the room and they see the police chief laying face down on the floor. For a moment they think he is dead, but then the body twitches and he pushes himself up onto his knees.

He tears at his shirt, pulling it open to reveal his bare chest and stammers: “I… am… Tel-Ur!”

And then he roars.

CONTINUES…

A showdown is on the cards this Thursday as we finally reach the series finale of Westcrest — Season 2!

Claire’s mouth drops open. They are standing on a balcony from which two sets of stairs curve downwards towards a large central floor. The entire room is cast in an eerie blue-green glow by the object at rest in the middle of it.

“Oh no,” says Conor, leaning over the edge of the balcony to look down at the engine. “No, no, no… that’s impossible.”

Jeremy and Sarra step up on either side of him and follow the direction of his gaze. Sitting at the centre of the room, hooked up to several free-standing control panels and a number of horizontal tubes that look uncomfortably like coffins—is an e-class engine identical to the one in Marcus’s motorbike.

“The mission just changed,” says Conor. “We can’t destroy that. We need to extract it.” Conor places his finger to his ear and says: “Helena, Helena can you hear me?”

But there is no reply over the earpiece, either because they are too far underground or the equipment in the room is interfering with the signal.

“Where did they get that?” asks Sarra as they start down the stairs.

“There is only supposed to be two e-class engines on Earth,” says Conor. “One of them belongs to us and the other… to Eastcrest.”

All four of them are now on the bottom level of the room. Conor immediately heads towards the largest control panel and studies it, scratching his chin. The others are just about to ask him what they can do to help when a loud hissing sound comes from one of the tubes—and the lid slides off.

“Conor!” calls Sarra, but he is too busy hammering dials and flicking switches in an order that makes sense to him alone. Something wearing a black visor sits up in the coffin and from around the room there are a chorus of identical hisses as the other tubes begin to open.

They’re like me, echoes Marcus in their heads.

“This doesn’t look good,” says Jeremy. The first Enforcer steps out of its coffin and Sarra blasts it with heat. A burning smell fills the air, but the Enforcer’s uniform does not catch on fire and the zombie inside the protective suit is unharmed.

“Halt!” booms the artificial voice of another and the cry is repeated by each new Enforcer as they emerge from the tubes.

“Halt!”

“Halt!”

“Halt!”

“An Enforcer has arrived,” says the first of the dark-suited figures and reaches for the weapon hanging at its belt. It is a shining black police baton and the Enforcer twirls it through the air with an expert grace that is undoubtedly reminiscent of Marcus.

“I think we might be in trouble,” says Sarra and Jeremy nods. Conor continues battering the switchboard, seemingly oblivious to everything else going on around him.

“Stop!” says Claire, stepping in front of Jeremy and Sarra. She is holding out her police badge and doing an admirable job of not shaking too much, although she is clearly afraid. “I am an officer of the Sanctum and you will do as I say!”

That seems to steady the Enforcers for a moment, but then a gunshot rings out from the balcony where they entered the room. Jeremy, Sarra and Claire hit the floor.

“Step away from the control panel!” says the newcomer as he strides down the stairs. As he steps into the blue light cast by the future engine, Sarra recognises the man as Hogan Dale—Chief of Police.

Now the Enforcers have closed in around them, trapping Jeremy, Sarra and Claire in a tight circle. Each of them is wielding a different weapon—Jeremy spots knives, staffs and even an electric chainsaw amongst them.

“I’ve been expanding the Enforcers repitoire,” says Hogan with a grin. “It would be silly to waste all of that training, afterall.” Then he notices that Conor is still at the control panel and his face goes dark. “Step away,” he repeats. “Or else your friends will die.”

Conor strikes a square button on the console with his elbow and there is a noise like sparking electricity. “Gladly,” he tells the Chief of Police and steps away from the control panel with his hands on his head.

CONTINUES…

“What’s happening?” asks Helena once she’s recovered from the noise.

“We’re evacuating the building,” Conor replies and they can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s running.

“This was supposed to be a covert mission, Conor,” Helena tells him, but it’s too late now.

Within the Sanctum everything is lit by flashing red and blue emergency lights. A siren whoops.

“Fire!” Claire calls as they make their way through the police headquarters. “Everybody out!”

Thick black smoke is seeping out of the corridor where they left the smouldering rubbish bin and is coiling up around the columns that support the ceiling. Claire leads them around several corners (for a moment Jeremy is convinced that they are walking in circles) before she stops at an elevator that has a place to swipe a security card beside it.

Claire swipes her ID badge but it makes a noise like something you might hear on a television gameshow when a contestant loses. “I don’t have access,” she says and crinkles her nose.

“Allow me,” says Conor. He steps up beside Claire and brandishes his collection of security passes.

Jeremy stands a little distance away with his hands on his knees. The combination of the smoke and the red-tinged lights is making him feel sick. Then, with a pneumatic hiss, the doors of the elevator spring open.

“Come on,” says Sarra to Jeremy and this time it is her that takes him by the hand. She leads him into the elevator with Conor and Claire.

“Going down!” says Claire enthusiastically as the elevator doors slide closed. The alarms already sound muted behind the metal doors.

Nobody can tell exactly how far down the elevator takes them, but after a few moments the doors slide open again to reveal a junction of white corridors.

“Which way now?” says Sarra as they step out of the elevator. The corridor continues ahead of them as well as branching off to the right and left.

“The red needle is pointing this way,” says Jeremy. He has Chatravati’s pocket watch out in his hands.

They follow Jeremy. The sound of the alarm is barely audible below the Sanctum and their footsteps (especially Claire’s) echo loudly as they walk. Soon they reach a narrow red door and Conor opens it with another keycard.

“What on earth…” says Claire as they step through the door. The new corridor is not as brightly lit as the last, but they can see that it contains dozens of cells. From within the darkness of the cells they can hear a variety of soft noises—slurping, munching and grinding sounds that set all of their nerves on edge.

Claire reaches for the torch at her belt before the others have a chance to warn her and she shines it directly into the closest cell. The circle of light falls directly on a zombie crouched against the back wall of its prison. The undead creature stares blankly into the light of the torch, its jaw hanging open.

All four of them scream as the zombie suddenly leaps to its feet and lurches towards them, swinging an arm between the bars of the cell. Drool swings like ropes from the open mouth of the creature and it rasps something that’s supposed to be words.

That noise is all it takes to break the fugue. Within moments there are zombies moaning and lurching about in all of the cells. Dozens of dead arms stretch out from between the bars and claw at the air.

“This… is what Enforcers are?” says Claire and Conor nods.

“It’s horrible,” says Sarra.

The red needle on the watch is pointing to the far end of the corridor, between the two rows of cells. “Here goes nothing,” says Jeremy and steps forward.

They walk in single file. As they pass each cell the zombies call to them. Some of them spit black phlegm between the bars and Claire in particular takes considerable efforts to avoid stepping on any.

One of the zombies grabs Claire by the arm and pulls her hard against the bars. She screams and kicks backwards at the creature, causing one of her heels to go flying into the cell. This distracts the zombie and it lets her go, scuttling across the floor to inspect the shoe up close.

“I think we’ve established that zombies have a weakness for fashion,” says Claire, wiping the sweat from her brow and giggling nervously. Sarra and Jeremy both grab her away from the cell as the zombie stuffs the shoe into its mouth and begins chewing on it.

“We’re close,” says Jeremy when they finally reach the door at the end of the corridor. “I can feel it,” he places one hand against the cold metal door. The door is reinforced with dozens of complex locking mechanisms—evidence that somebody really wants to protect whatever is on the other side.

“There’s nowhere to even swipe a keycard…” says Claire.

“That’s why I brought this,” says Conor and hefts the universal opener.

“Where were you even keeping that?” asks Sarra, lifting an eyebrow.

Conor winks at her and places the universal opener against the door

CONTINUES…

]]>

As to the why and how of it, well… the “why” is a rather lengthy affair, but it should be enough to say that it involves turning zombies into super-soldiers and having them patrol the city streets at night.

The “how” involves uncomfortably stiff blue police uniforms that Jeremy, Conor and Sarra all have their doubts about and the distortion field generator hanging from Conor’s belt.

“This is going to be the longest walk of our lives,” whispers Sarra as they step onto the cobblestone path. The night is warm and the air smells of freshly cut grass. The path traces its way between sprawling lawns and colourful flower displays. Topiary dogs guard the end of the path, where light—bright and blue—spills out the front door of the Sanctum and onto the steps.

Jeremy, Conor and Sarra each wear their police uniforms with an awkardness particular to them alone and the sight of them lurching towards the Sanctum would be comical, were their mission not so serious. But wait a minute… is it really that serious? The Sanctum are, afterall, only using the zombie super-soldiers to defend the innocent citizens of Genoa City.

“I don’t even know why we’re doing this,” says Jeremy.

“It’s simple,” says Conor. “The technology that the Sanctum is using to power the Enforcer program is far too advanced for our current time period. We have some idea—from Marcus and other places—about how the future of our planet is supposed to progress. Anachronisms—things or people from other times—are one of the greatest risks to changing those outcomes.”

“But it’s okay for us to fly around on a souped-up bike?” asks Jeremy.

“Not according to Helena,” says Sarra.

“It’s a matter of moderation,” says Conor matter-of-factly, but Jeremy’s not buying it.

Then the steps to the Sanctum are looming up before them and all three fall silent at precisely the same moment. They pass through the front doors and squint under the bright lights of the Sanctum foyer. There is blue carpet under their feet and spherical fluroscent lights set into the walls.

“Move it, recruits,” says a burly officer pushing past. Then he stops to look at each of their faces and says: “Wait a minute, I don’t think I… ” his voice trails off and his face drains of colour. He moves one hand to his stomach and shuffles weakly away. “Nevermind,” he mutters as he goes.

That makes them all feel a little more confident in the function of the field generator that’s strapped to Conor’s belt—and doubly pleased that they took tablets to protect themselves against its effects.

From the foyer they make their way up the large central staircase of the Sanctum foyer, which leads to offices and conference rooms that are sometimes used by the public. Nobody stops them or tries to speak to them… although several people actually turn away from them as they pass.

“Here,” says Sarra stopping to rest against a wall. “I think we can breathe for a minute.”

They are standing in a corridor that’s empty except for a water fountain and a plastic plant—and now a woman with curly blonde hair and a pair of mauve coloured heels that don’t really match her navy blue police skirt. Glasses with rectangular lenses are perched precariously at the end of her nose. “Excuse me,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

Jeremy, Conor and Sarra stand dumbfounded, while the water fountain hums beside them. Each of them does their best to not make eye-contact with the woman as they wait for the destabiliser to do its work.

“Come on,” says Conor and thumps the machine at his waist.

“Well?” says the woman. Now her arms are crossed and she’s tapping a foot on the floor: tap-tap-tap-tap.

“I think she’s immune,” Jeremy says to Conor.

“Can’t exactly set her on fire,” says Sarra with a scowl.

And then something almost like a look of recognition comes over the woman’s face.

“There we go,” says Conor—but it’s not what he thinks, because the woman does not move away but, in fact, steps closer.

“Uh…” says Sarra who feels like her personal space is being invaded.

“Please,” says the woman under her breath. “Come with me,” she says. And… mostly because they don’t what else to do, Jeremy, Conor and Sarra all follow the woman through an unmarked grey door.

CONTINUES…

“You need to stop freakin’ out, Marcus,” says Sarra. “We’ll be fine,”

“Statistically that’s somewhat unlikely,” says Conor. “Given the lack of any veteran units on the squad, I’d say it’s highly likely that something will go wrong.”

“Don’t worry,” says Jeremy. “I single-handedly took down a troll.” And it’s only the fifteen-hundredth time he’s reminded them.

“And caused half of the city to blackout,” says Sarra, poking out her tongue.

“This time I don’t care if you black out half of the Territory,” Chatravati’s voice bears down on them from above. He is standing up on the podium beside Helena. “You need to infiltrate the Sanctum, discover what is powering the Enforcer program and destroy it.”

“Sounds exciting,” says Sarra.

“We’ll be in constant communication,” says Helena. She strides down the narrow staircase that leads to the podium in what appear to be impossibly high heels. She holds up an earpiece. “You won’t be alone out there,”

“We’re taking every… possible… precaution…” says Marcus as he hefts a rocket launcher out of the munitions crate. Conor shakes his head and Marcus puts it back.

“So, what do we know?” asks Sarra and it’s the first time that Jeremy has ever seen her really paying attention. This is their big chance, he realises. Their big chance to prove themselves as fully-fledged members of Westcrest.

“The Sanctum are capturing zombies,” says Chatravati. “And are turning them into super-soldiers.”

“We know that the Sanctum have to be using advanced technology in order to imprint the Tel-Ur brain-training onto the Enforcers,” says Conor.

“Tel-Ur brain-training?” says Jeremy. Even after living at the mansion for months it sometimes still feels like they’re speaking another language.

“He means that the Enforcers are like me,” says Marcus.

“So you’re sending the three of us…” Sarra begins, indicating Conor and Jeremy standing on either side of her. “Into a place where everyone has guns and fights like Marcus. Does anyone else see a problem here?”

“Told you,” says Conor. “Anyway… whatever they’re using to power the Enforcer program won’t be… from ‘around here’ if you know what I mean.”

“So you shouldn’t have any trouble recognising it,” says Chatravati. “But just in case… this might help you to find what you’re looking for,”

Chatravati thrusts a silver pocket watch into Jeremy’s hands. “You’ll need to calibrate it,” he says. “Sarra can show you how.”

“Wait-“ Sarra begins, but Chatravati ends the question before it really begins by stating simply: “It’s mine.”

“Press this button,” Sarra instructs Jeremy, pointing to a large silver button at the top of the pocket watch. “Then put your other finger here…”

“Ouch!” says Jeremy as something like a pin pricks the end of his finger.

“All done,” says Sarra.

“What just happened?”

“The watch will now recognise you as its owner,” says Chatravati. “It can return you home, if things become too dangerous.”

“But that’s not its main purpose,” says Helena. “The watches were created to indicate the location of the nearest anachronism. That is: the closest thing to the watch that’s not of its time.”

Sarra flicks the lid of the watch open and Jeremy watches the red needle swinging around.

“They go kind of funky here,” Sarra says, but together they watch as the red needle eventually stops spinning. It is pointing to the nearest wall of the garage—or more accurately, to the conveyance with the glowing blue engine.

“Future technology,” says Jeremy, glancing between the watch and the motorbike. “I understand.”

“You will be in full disguise,” says Helena opening one of the lockers in the garage. It contains three small-sized Genoa City police uniforms. “You’ll be carrying a portable distortion field that makes things… uncomfortable for those around you. That should help you get inside at least.”

“It won’t make us sick as well?” Jeremy asks.

“We have a pill for that,” says Helena.

“Plus we have these,” Conor holds up a metal ring from which hangs every conceivable variation of keycard and security swipe that might be required inside the Sanctum. “And just in case we come up against a door I haven’t prepared for…”

Conor lifts something from the bench that looks halfway between a clamp and a handheld computer.

“Universal opener,” Sarra explains before Jeremy opens his mouth.

“The latest plans we have of the Sanctum show that several new offices were constructed within the past twelve months,” says Helena. As she speaks a multitude of maps appear on the computer monitors that are arranged haphazardly across the garage. “Our maps haven’t been updated since then, but we’re guessing that whatever’s powering the Enforcer program is probably being kept in one of these new areas.”

“So all we need to do is find the power source…” says Jeremy.

“And destroy it,” says Marcus. “By whatever means necessary.”

“Bet you’re really mad to be missing out on this one,” Sarra says.

Marcus only growls.

CONTINUES…

Next week we head into the final story arc for this season of Westcrest in “The Sanctum, Part I”. Will Jeremy, Sarra and Conor manage to succesfully disable the Enforcer program? Find out the answer to this and more NEXT TUESDAY as the Westcrest juniors attempt to infilitrate the headquarters of Genoa City’s finest.

“He’s awake,” says a voice.

“You were almost delerious when you got back,” says Helena. She’s wearing white surgical gloves and looking down at Marcus with her brow furrowed.

“This sort of thing seems to happen to you a lot,” comes Sarra’s voice from somewhere outside the circle of light.

“It’s kind of his role,” says Conor.

“What… happened?” croaks Marcus and Helena tells Conor to get him some water.

“You arrived on the bike, barely coherent,” Helena says. “The Enforcers almost got you. Your knee is hurt pretty badly.”

Conor appears at the side of the bed with a glass of water. Marcus thanks him and takes a sip.

“For now, you just need to get some rest,” Helena tells him as she adjusts his pillow.

Marcus hands the glass of water back to Conor and lets his eyes drift closed.

When Marcus opens his eyes again the room is dark. There is a crack of light where the door has been left ajar and he can hear muffled voices coming from beyond it. There is a high-pitched laugh—Sarra—and Marcus thinks he can hear Jeremy’s voice as well. Then the door opens and the beam of light gets wider until Marcus is caught in it.

“Hey boss,” Marcus says as Chatravati steps into the room. “Did you..?”

“I saw,” says Chatravati.

Marcus feels more alert now and pushes himself up in the bed. There was something important he needed to tell Chatravati, but he only just remembered.

“Well there’s one thing I’m guessing that you didn’t see,” says Marcus and Chatravati waits patiently for him to speak again. “The Enforcers are Tel-Ur,” he says at last.

Chatravati’s eyes widen and he tilts his head to one side. “That’s… are you sure?”

“That thing was matching me blow-for-blow,” says Marcus. “It was an even fight. And when I took off the helmet and looked into its eyes, I knew for certain.”

“You’d need quite a lot of power to pull off something like that,” says Conor as he steps into the room and stands beside Chatravati.

“Undead Tel-Ur,” says Marcus through gritted teeth. The thought of it makes him sick.

“How could I not see something like this coming?” says Chatravati, smashing his fist into his palm. “We need to end this.”

“I’ll be ready,” says Marcus and starts getting out of the bed.

“No,” says Chatravati, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re staying here. Conor?”

“There’s something you should see,” says Conor and switches on a television beside the bed. The picture wavers for a moment and is broken up by horizontally scrolling lines. Then the image grows clear and Marcus sees… himself.

“That’s right folks, that’s his face again that you’re seeing on the screen,” says the high-pitched voice of Newscaster Brian. “If anyone in Genoa City sees this man you are advised to get to safety and contact the Sanctum as soon as possible. As mentioned earlier in our report, he is wanted for a brutal attack against one of the Sanctum’s new Enforcer patrols. The Enforcer in question is expected to make a full recovery, according to a statement released earlier by Police Chief, Hogan Dale…”

“They got you on camera,” says Conor.

“How bad is it?” asks Marcus.

“Bad enough that until Conor removes your picture from the national news and security archives you’re staying here,” says Chatravati. “Which means I’ll have to send the others to deal with this.”

Conor clears his throat. “Do you really think that Helena’s ready..?”

“No,” says Chatravati. “You will be going with Jeremy and Sarra.”

“They’re not ready!” says Marcus.

“Enough!” says Chatravati. “There will be no further discussion.”

“I’ll go and start the preparations,” says Conor.

CONTINUES…

“Over here!” says Marcus and steps out from behind the timber. It takes only a second for the Enforcer to register his arrival and the dark visor turns towards him. Marcus cracks his knuckles.

The Enforcer and Marcus rush at each other. They grip hands and Marcus cries out as a short electrical pulse is discharged through the Enforcer’s body armour. He steps away and throws a fist at the Enforcer’s chest, but the armoured figure ducks away in time.

They continue trading blows like this, turning around one another in circles as they make their way thorugh the building site. The Enforcer swings at Marcus and he dodges, before hitting back with his shoulder and dropping the Enforcer to the ground.

Now the Enforcer reaches for the pistol strapped to its chest. Crack, crack, crack is the sound that the bullets make as the gun fires and Marcus ducks for cover behind a steel girder. Looking around for a weapon—any weapon—Marcus closes his fingers around a brick and ducks out of cover. He hurls the brick at the Enforcer.

The brick hits the Enforcer in the chest, stunning him enough for Marcus to get close. Again they trade blows. Marcus strikes the Enforcer in the stomach and throws a knee into the black visor when the officer doubles over. The visor does not break and Marcus feels pain shoot sharply through his leg.

Then the Enforcer catches Marcus unbalanced and thrusts both fists into his face at once. The future-human topples backwards, blood trickling from his nose. A boot strikes Marcus in the chest and something heavy comes down on his knee. There is a crunching sound that Marcus believes to be the tearing of ligaments and he cries out. He scream echoes weirdly around the mostly-empty building site.

As the Enforcer produces his pistol once more and lowers it towards Marcus. Marcus chops at the wrist of the Enforcer with his straightened palm as hard as he can and the gun goes tumbling away. Marcus stands up, supporting most of his weight on his uninjured leg and hits out at the Enforcer again.

It seems clear that the Enforcer wasn’t expecting Marcus to get up again and for a moment it simply stands there, immobile and uncertain of what to do. This is a characteristic that Marcus recognises, but he doesn’t care to think about it too much. He limps forward, pushing the Enforcer into a metal beam and following with a flurry of punches.

The Enforcer is temporarily incapacitated, but Marcus knows that he can’t waste any time. Grabbing the police officer by the chest, Marcus turns and throws it on the ground where he was laying only moments before. Then he pushes over a portable cement mixer, pinning the Enforcer to the ground.

Marcus watches the Enforcer struggle to get free and realises—whatever they are—that the Enforcers are completely silent. Not even a whisper comes from beneath the black visor. Marcus drops to his knees and attempts to pull the helmet free of the Enforcer’s head, but it remains firmly fixed in place.

Grunting with frustration, Marcus scans the area in search for anything he can use to open the visor. Spotting a crowbar he scuttles towards it. Behind him, he hears the cement mixer topple over as the Enforcer rises to its feet.

“Stay… down!” says Marcus, spinning in a circle and striking the Enforcer’s helmet as hard as he can. The clang of the crowbar striking the Enforcer’s head is almost deafening as it rings out across the night. The Enforcer raises its arms, helpless for a moment and then stumbles backwards as Marcus hits it again. He twists the crowbar expertly in his wrist and hits again and again.

Finally the Enforcer slumps to the ground and Marcus wipes the blood from his nose with , the back of his hand. Muttering expletives, he lowers himself beside the armoured figure and uses the pointed edge of the crowbar to shatter the visor that covers its face.

Marcus reaches into his pocket for the contact lenses and only bothers placing one of them in his eye. “Can you guys see this?” Marcus asks and looks down at the Enforcer.

The face of the creature is almost warped beyond recognition—but Marcus can tell that the Enforcer was human once. A tangle of wires trace in and out of the waxy skin of the corpse and Marcus can tell that whoever was inside the suit had already been dead for a long time.

Then the eyes of the corpse snap open and Marcus finds himself staring down into them. Dead though they may be, there is still a spark in them—a fire that Marcus recognises as well as if he were looking at himself in the mirror. For the Enforcers are not just zombies, Marcus realises, they are also Tel-Ur.

“Time to move,” comes Conor’s voice in his ear and Marcus shakes his head clear of thoughts. A brilliant circle of light falls on Marcus where he’s squatting above the body of the Enforcer.

Marcus turns and blinks. He can see the dark shadows of at least three more Enforcers highlighted against the glare. “Freeze,” says a synthesised voice that seems to play out of the chest of one of the Enforcers and Marcus doesn’t need to be told twice. Ignoring the pain in his knee he pushes away from the damaged Enforcer and makes his way towards the place where he left the conveyance.

Gunshots ring out behind him, but Marcus is good at finding cover and makes it across the building site unscathed. He climbs onto the motorbike as the Enforcer’s spotlight finds him, then he squeezes the throttle and shoots away in an explosion of gravel and dirt.

CONTINUES…