Chancellor Malachy's greatest folly was his conceit. With the Futurist's stranglehold on New British now loosened, the puppet masters swiftly exposed Malachy's foibles and forced him upon his sword - with a shove – though rumours of a conspiracy abounded. Yet even with the winds of change blowing through New Britain, a hardline Futurist cleric named Percy Winterbottom was installed as new Chancellor and he set about reinforcing Futurist New Britain with fear and menace as his allies. A ruthless taskmaster, Winterbottom set his Ministries gruelling targets, challenging the Agency of Change to empty the Clouds and recover the Hub's lost data via any means they determined necessary. Moles were scattered across the nation, seeded amongst the plebs to ascertain the level of Loyalist dissidence created by the Queen's Christmas Message. The hype machine churned out endless propaganda, warning everyone to behave, to keep calm and carry on.

As power was restored in the major British metropolis, unrest grew in the regions. Without a national citizen database, coupled with the temporary breakdown of authority, Guards were no longer feared and they battled to maintain the law.  And since the Futurist fist had unclenched, albeit briefly, upstart dissidents were taking full advantage in attempt to expose the regime. Fanning the flames of disobedience, the dissident numbers swelled and Changes became their codeword. The Futurist response was predictable: violent, physical and swift. Winterbottom was nothing short of fanatical in attempting to erase the smudge of Loyalism propagating across the nation.

Not long in to the New Year, on a frightfully cold February morning, an excavation crew sifting through the rubble that has once been Bigger Ben, discovered something unusual. Immediately, Chancellor Winterbottom was notified. Ushered in to the excavated foundations of Ground Zero, two Agents flanked the Chancellor as he entered the workers' demountable. Seven workers, a foreman and a Guard stood anxiously next to a small trestle table. Closing the door, the foreman opened a deep metallic brief case.

"May I say what an honour it is..." the foreman began.

"Did I request you to speak?" the Chancellor snapped sternly as he rubbed his crucifix. Silence ensued.

Winterbottom inched his nose over the deep briefcase and peered in at the contents. He smiled. Withdrawing a pair of scorched lower arm bones, the wrist joints and clenched skeletal phalanges had been fused by heat. The macabre fingers clutched a disfigured ring of gold with melted jewels.

"Right to the end," chuckled Winterbottom, knowing full well whose bones they were.  

"It seemed odd..." offered the worker who found the remains.

"Who has been told of this find?" Winterbottom demanded.

"No one else," the foreman stammered. "Geoff only dug it up forty minutes ago. We were finishing shifts and most of the men had gone home or gone for dinner break."

Winterbottom again inspected the gruesome piece then quietly closed the lid.

"Excellent," Winterbottom said, as he clutched the handle, picking up the bag and turned to leave, issuing an order to his Agents. "Kill them all."

The Chancellor exited the demountable and strode across to his waiting limousine. He slid the case on to the backseat and heard excessive claps of gunfire. As the chauffeur drove the non-descript government HyperCar in to the priority lane, Winterbottom opened up his private channel communicator. An Agent's face appeared in the viewer.

"Please arrange to send a rehabilitation crew to Ground Zero and ensure you wipe the minds of all the workers for the past three days. Implant moles and check for heretics, I don't want an infestation of Loyalism in the reconstruction zone."

"Immediately, sir," the agent saluted as Winterbottom ended the call. He dialled a second number and after a few rings, an older Japanese man's face filled the viewer. Grumpy from being awoken, he picked crusty sleep from his eyes.

In perfectly accented Japanese, Winterbottom spoke as a cold and evil smile twisted across his thin lips.

"Hajimamashti," addressed Winterbottom, drumming his fingertips on the case.

"Commence preparations for Operation Sunrise."