...de to purple. He is small figure flitting between buildings that used to be universities, hospitals, homes. He knows his way around now - he has been stuck with this outfit, in this place, for nearly a year.

 Finally, crouching under a pine in the dark he looks out as his home: The base. A fortified compound in the centre of an ex-horsetrack. His home - but not tonight. Tonight he will sleep in one of the many White nests spaced evenly in no mans land. Spears casts one last look around, and breaks from the treeline. White nests are black seven meter tall towers, topped with small bare platform, no railings, no covers, no equipment, just amnesty. Climb up the rope ladder and display the colours of the militia. If after twenty hours you still haven't spasm with infection, you are allowed in. Otherwise it doesn't matter - you are already dead.

Suddenly a gunshot rings out. And Spears hears the crack of the bullet as it passes to his left.