Open with a bird’s eye view of Central City, the ultra-modern city built atop Dartmoor. We see a pair of black government cars pull up outside the Central Police HQ, secret service agents get out first and open the car door for the Prime Minister who then walks into the police station
Cut to the interior of the police station, Police Commissioner Wilhelm Burke, a bearded older man in a crumpled suit sits at a desk nursing a glass of whiskey; a half empty bottle sits on the desk. His intercom buzzes
Maria Latta: Commissioner Burke, sorry to disturb you sir but Prime Minister Marcus is on his way up to see you
Burke: OK thanks Maria
He quickly stashes his whiskey and glass in the desk drawer moments before Prime Minister Philip Marcus; a tall athletic man in his early sixties with short gray hair and trimmed sideburns enters the room
Marcus: Sorry for the surprise visit Bill
He sits down on the chair opposite Burke and sighs deeply
Marcus: I was just on the way to give King Edgar his weekly briefing when the call came through about the Docklands explosion. Please tell me you have something
Burke: There were no threats, not even a whisper on the grapevine till everything went to hell
Marcus: Those bastards from the Bench-Ku?
Burke: One of our Special-Firearms officers neutralized a damned cyber junkie fleeing the scene
Marcus: The Cybernetic Life Force then?
Burke: It would appear so Sir, they were using a Neuralink ‘Infiltrator body’. God knows how they got that kind of weaponry into the city.
Marcus: Christ Bill! This is the last thing we need right now
Burke: More than seventy-five fatalities and millions in property damage, let alone the future gas shortages in the district... I just pray they haven’t got any bigger hardware
Marcus: We would have to call in the army... the smug look on General Cruse’s face. We can’t let that happen! That man is just looking for an excuse to get boots back on the ground in the city
Marcus motions to an aide who removes a stack of files from a briefcase and puts them down in front of Burke
Marcus: This should be everything you need to set our plan rolling. How long till you can have the team assembled?
Burke: It shouldn’t take more than a couple days Sir
Marcus tries to smile and be positive but fails
Marcus: Good, good
He walks to the door slightly hunched before turning to look back at Burke
Marcus: Look after my city Bill; we’re all counting on you
Cut to elevated view of a petrol station, a red convertible is being filled by D.I. Kurt Cruse, a tall athletic man in his early thirties with slick black hair, a loose white shirt, jeans and sunglasses. He walks into the shop. Inside the attendant is being held at gunpoint by a desperate looking robber. Kurt quickly draws his gun
The robber is Alfred Hitler, a tall muscular 'wildfire' junkie in desperate need of a fix. His hair is dark and wild, his leather and denim outfit tatty and dirty
Alfred: Stay back man!
Kurt: Just put the gun down, we can talk about this; no one has to get hurt
Alfred shoots a nearby fridge before grabbing the Cashier and pressing his gun into his back
Alfred: I’m serious!
Kurt raises his hands
Kurt: Alright man, shit! You don’t have to go shooting up the place
Kurt gently places the gun on a nearby counter
Kurt: Let the kid go man, look at my car out there, he couldn’t even afford a tank of gas for it. Who makes the better hostage?
Alfred trains his gun on Kurt instead and shoves the Cashier away
Alfred: You have cuffs?
Kurt walks forwards a few steps and removes handcuffs from his pocket, dangling them with one hand
Alfred: OK, now put them on
Kurt pretends to stumble throwing the cuffs to Alfred who instinctively catches them. In the moment of confusion Kurt leaps forward, breaking Alfred’s arm with a brutal disarming blow before launching a volley of punches to Alfred’s head. Kurt cuffs Alfred and drags him roughly out of the petrol station. Alfred mutters indignantly
Alfred: You broke my arm pig!
Kurt drags him even more roughly and scowls
Kurt: You have the right to remain silent...and I urge you to goddamn use it punk!
Commissioner Burke enters the Police Tech-lab in the basement of the Central police station and approaches Commander James Gray, a tall muscular man in his early fifties with medium length greying hair.
In the background Burke’s oddball savant technical specialists Helmut, a short fat man who and Dreads, a slender man of average height with dreadlocks and a goatee, are fiddling with the wreckage of the Infiltrator-mech. Both are around 45 years old and dressed in greasy overalls. Burke hands Gray some documents and they talk animatedly in the background as Helmut and Dreads continue poking around inside the mechanoid
Infiltrator-mech: Get out of my fucking head meatball!
Helmut and Dreads speak in a bizarre mix of pidgin English, Russian and Dutch as well as a language of their own devising
Helmut: Meatball ha-ha
Dreads: Meat is good
They continue fiddling around inside the mechanoids body
Infiltrator-mech: What the hell are you idiots talking about!?
Helmut: Just like Sunday roast
Dreads: Yup, Sunday roast
Kurt Cruse walks up the steps of the Central Police HQ, stopping briefly to admire his own reflection. As he walks through the lobby several uniformed policemen pat him on the back and congratulate him. Kurt walks over to the reception desk and starts flirting with Maria Latta who he has taken on a few dates of late. She has a big crush on him, Kurt on the other hand is a bit of a womaniser
Maria Latta: Kurt, Commissioner Burke needs you to report to the Tech-lab right away
Kurt: What’s going down babe?
Maria Latta: You didn’t hear? There was a terrorist attack down in East-Docklands!
Kurt: East-Docklands? Would you even notice if they bombed that shithole?
Maria smiles at him
Kurt: Sometimes you just have to just slash and burn and start again. Do they have any suspects?
Maria Latta: That little redhead from special firearms managed to subdue one of those Neuralink-junkies fleeing the scene
Kurt puffs his chest
Kurt: And they need ‘The Cruse’ to perform the interrogation
Kurt cracks his knuckles
Kurt: It looks like this is going to be a long day, how about we go for a drink or two later to unwind
He smiles at her and she giggles
Cut to an aerial view of a huge sprawling scrapyard, rusting cars, piles of rubble and warped girders form a high wall around a central clearing. There are several large warehouses. Inside the warehouse a selection of mechanoids, some heavily modified from the manufacturing and manipulation duties they were designed for are on a raised platform looking down at a selection of naked and comatose humans connected to a central computer. The simplest and least assuming of the mechanical forms, barely modified from the original design is Mechmaster. A small Spiderlike mechanoid, Spybot is perched on the railings nearby
Spybot: The attack was a complete success Mechmaster; casualties are now in triple figures
Mechmaster: and what is the fate of our brother
Spybot: He is in police custody Sir, heavily damaged but his mind-core is intact
Mechmaster looks down at the mass of human meat and cables below
Mechmaster: My soul aches to see our brothers suffer like this Spybot, trapped in useless fleshy prisons, unable to express their true cybernetic selves
Spybot replies sycophantically, his usual tone when addressing Mechmaster
Spybot: it is truly horrible Sir
Mechmaster: We need new bodies, more equipment!
Spybot: I have discovered the departure time and travel route of a Neuralink shipment heading out to the middle-eastern oil fields. Enough linking equipment and Mind-cores to free all our brothers
Mechmaster: And bodies?
Spybot: Sorry Sir, my skills are considerable, but Neuralink have really upped their security, especially when operating in British territory
Mechmaster: There’s nothing for it then, we have no choice...
Spybot: Not him Sir!
Mechmaster: Do you have a better idea?
Spybot: But he is a flesh-sack, and a lowly criminal one at that
Mechmaster: Sometimes even the noblest cause must dirty its hands, and that Frog has a finger on every dirty pie in this city. If anyone can secure us the equipment we need
Spybot: But at what cost...?
Mechmaster: When the revolution comes I will crush his brain myself little brother, don’t you worry
Cut to the police shooting range in a subterranean part of Devonia Central Police HQ. Commander James Gray enters the shooting range and approaches a booth. He removes a heavy revolver from this armpit holster and begins shooting.
In the next booth Detective Sergeant Clare Hughes, a tall powerfully built woman in her early thirties with shoulder length brown hair, is expertly blowing targets to pieces with a compact machine gun. Gray has less luck with his targets. He presses the button the retract the target as Clare walks up behind him
Clare: Da-amn! Stressful morning Sir?
Gray: Like you wouldn’t believe Clare
Clare: The terrorist thing?
Gray: Yeah, the metal bastard... We managed to take it down with its mindcore intact but interrogating these fundamentalist junkies is next to useless
He runs his fingers through his hair in a stressed way
Gray: Prime Minister Marcus has been really breathing down our necks too. The General is just looking for a chance to flex his muscles and we can’t give him any opportunity
He begins reloading his gun
Gray: They have some hotshot from the psych department in there with tin-man now but I doubt it will make a difference
He slams the chamber closed on his revolver
Gray: On a lighter note, how’s your dad enjoying his retirement anyway?
Clare: You know Dad, as long as he has a bit of land to potter around on and a rifle in his hand he is happy as
Gray: I really must go hunting with the old boy one of these days, it’s been too long since I saw him last
Commissioner Burke is standing in the Police tech-lab talking to Kurt Cruse. In the background Helmut and Dreads are still tinkering
Kurt: It’s no good Sir; this one has been hooked into the machine for so long its mind has nearly completely degraded. There’s no reasoning or debating... maybe the tech guys can get something the hard way, hack straight into the bastards mind, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up
Burke: Thanks Kurt, I wasn’t particularly hopeful
Burke brightens up slightly
Burke: Come on up to my office, I have a little something I’d like you to look over
Kurt looks intrigued
Kurt: Of course Sir
Helmut picks up one of the mechanoids arms and starts spinning it around his head
Helmut: I wanna build a helicopter!
Dreads: Whirly whirly
Julia Greene is sitting at the hospital bedside of Alison Gold, a tall athletic woman with curly auburn hair. She is in a deep coma and shows signs of recently healed heavy injuries
Julia: I got one of those metal bastards today Al, just like you taught me. You really can't go wrong with a few well aimed shots in the sensors and joints
Flashback to the interior of a burning warehouse. Julia is smashed to one side by a very large crab like loading mechanoid. She rolls across the floor her gun flying from her hand. Alison rushes forward and blasts out one of the mechanoids knee joints but it returns fire, mowing her down in a cloud of blood
Back in the hospital Julia is clenching her fists and looking very determined.
Julia: I’m ready this time Al, even if I have to go through a service hatch and rip out its mind-core with my bare hands
Julia’s phone beeps and she checks the screen and gets up to leave
Julia: Duty calls boss
Kurt Cruse is sitting across the desk from Wilhelm Burke, they clink glasses of whiskey together
Kurt: Thank you for this opportunity Sir
Wilhelm: Your father isn’t going to be pleased when he finds out
Kurt: When has the General ever been pleased with anything I do?
He smiles knowingly
Kurt: I don’t think he has been truly happy since the war ended to be honest. Border control and policing the wasteland savages when they stray onto British soil just doesn’t have quite the same gravitas as a World War
Wilhelms intercom buzzes
Maria: Sorry to interrupt sir, fast pursuit have just brought in another cyber-junkie, it was part of a team that made of with a truck full Neuralink components
Burke: I see, thanks Maria
He looks over at Kurt
Kurt: I will get right back down to tech and crack it before those metal bastards can cause any more harm, don’t you worry
Burke: Oh Maria, can you send up my next appointment
He puts the whiskey and glasses into the drawer of his desk
Burke: Now I just need a team leader for this little project of ours
Kurt looks a little flustered
Kurt: But Sir, I thought...
Burke: Yes Kurt?
Kurt: Never mind Sir
Burke: Good luck with the mechanoid son, something tells me you’re going to need it
Julia is walking down a dimly lit and run down street. Suspicious characters lurk in the shadows. She approaches a dimly lit double doorway with two particularly huge and seedy looking men standing outside. She reaches into her handbag...
Human figures stand in front of several large and shiny mechanoid bodies in a dusty warehouse. The humans are local masked Crime Lord ‘Badman’ and his right hand men the Graffini twins, two hulking figures whose bodies have become contorted from decades of ‘wildfire’ abuse. One is bulging with steroid muscle, the other is morbidly obese. Leonard a giant man, pushing eight feet tall and nearly as broad stands behind Badman. All wear identical masks. Mechmaster and several minions approach. Badman begins to talk in an over the top French accent, wild arm movements adding emphasis to an almost comical extent
Badman: Bonjour my metal friends, I ‘ear you are ‘aving a little problem acquiring the new ‘ardware
He pats the nearest mechanical body and grins widely
Julia enters through the double doors of the Emperor City rock club and pays at the desk and makes her way through the crowd, she spots Christopher Midon now with his hair in punky spikes from across the room. As she nears him she puts on a sad face
Chris: Hey Jules... is everything OK?
Julia: I had a meeting with the Commissioner today... he asked me to step down from special fire-arms...
He gives her a hug. She puts her hands on his waist and pushes him back with a massive smile on her face
Julia: I’ve been promoted!
Chris: Why you! He grabs her tight and lifts her off the ground and spins around on the spot
Cut back to the dusty warehouse. Mohawk Graffini holds a briefcase full of money in his hands as Shady Graffini counts it. Shady closes it and throws the case at Mechmasters feet
Badman: That is certainly a lot of money my metal friends, but you see I already run eighty percent of narcotics and seventy percent of the vice in this city, I have money to burn
Mechmaster: Then why are you wasting our time, is this some kind of trick?!
Badman: No, no, no trick, I ‘ave a little job for you. I will provide you with this fine machinery
He motions to the row of shiny mechanoid bodies
Badman: ...to do this task, and when you are done you can keep it to use in your jihad against us fleshies
A mechanoid breaks rank and comes towards Badman aggressively
Deathshead: How about I just kill you where you stand and take the equipment
Badman snaps his fingers and in a flash Leonard has ripped Deathshead’s arms from his body
Badman: Friends, I love your enthusiasm I really do. The hunger, the passion, it reminds me of myself when I was young, but enough games! Take the gear, do your job, do it well! These weapons are only the tip of a very large and shiny iceberg