“I need you to find out who they are,” says Chatravati. His face is grave and impassive; carved out of stone.
“Or what they are,” says Marcus, dragging on one motorcycle glove. Jeremy and Sarra have finally got around to reconfiguring the engine of the conveyance, but it is yet to have really been tested since Conor’s unauthorised modifications were made. “I take it you already have a theory?”
Chatravati nods. It’s the slightest twitch of muscle, barely discernable, but it’s all Marcus needs to know that the old man is serious. The future-human nods at his leader and straddles the bike. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll activate the video when I’ve got one.”
Marcus has special contact lenses in his pocket. The contacts use nanotechnology to transmit live video back to Westcrest, but they can only broadcast for around ten minutes at a time before the technology disintegrates. That means Marcus will have to work quickly once he’s disabled an Enforcer.
“Be careful,” says Chatravati and in a blaze of yellow fire Marcus jets down the exit drain and out to Lake Freyja.
The city looms before Marcus as he steers the bike across the lake. Water churns beneath him and so far everything seems to be in working order. He gently pulls back on a lever under his right hand and the bike begins to rise through the air.
The lights of the city twinkle around him as he flies through Genoa City. There is a palpable feeling of tension in the air tonight, probably as a result of Hogan Dale’s press conference. Exactly how are you supposed to take the news that your city is going to be patrolled by heavily-armed soldiers in black body armour?
Marcus spots a construction site that is set to be the location of a new skyscraper and guides the bike towards it. He drifts down between cranes and metal girders, bringing the conveyance to rest beside a pile of dirt. There is a portable toilet just across from him and temporary fences have been set up around the perimeter of the building site.
There’s been no word from Conor yet—and Marcus knows that’s because they don’t know how to track the Enforcers. So far, Genoa City’s newest guardians remain a complete mystery.
That might make you think that it would be difficult to find one, but the Police Chief had made it perfectly clear that nothing would take place in Genoa City without the Enforcers knowing about it. So all that Marcus needs to do is make something happen and thankfully, that’s his specialty.
Reaching into his leather jacket, Marcus pulls out a flare gun and aims it up between the criss-crossing metal beams of the structure. He pulls the trigger and a burst of red heat soars up into the sky and lingers. “Come and get me,” says Marcus, returning the weapon to his jacket and sidling up beside a pallet of timber planks.
“Marcus, are you there?” comes a tinny voice in his ear.
“Yeah, Conor,” says Marcus. “I’ve fired a flare.”
“Hold tight,” says Conor over the in-ear device and Marcus nods even though nobody sees it. The construction site has taken on a peculiar red glow under the light of the flare and it reminds Marcus a little of the Crimson Court.
Complex, wavy patterns are thrown on the ground by the light of the flare as it shines down on a multitude of pipes, metal bars and piles of stacked building materials. This makes it difficult for Marcus to see clearly, but he remains vigilant.
Marcus turns in small circles, ducks back into cover, peers out: and then he sees one. Highlighted clearly against one of the chainlink fences, a figure in a dark visor steps forward.
An Enforcer has arrived.