Dorian gasped for breath. It was dark around him, with only a tiny bit of light somewhere above his head. Where was he? He was lying on a cold floor, wherever he was. There was a sort of ominous creaking around him. Dorian tried to lift himself into a sitting position. Pain shot through his chest and arms and his head fell back to the floor with a thud. Ow.

Then Dorian remembered what had happened. He'd been shot by that thug, Graves, while the Detective Inspector and his other goon, Killick, had watched. Dorian realised where he was: in one of the cages for the faceless people. The ominous creaking was their hands, flexing. He strained his eyes to see shapes in the gloom, shapes of men, women, and children.

A metallic screech announced the opening of the cage door. Dorian assumed it was Bishop coming to see if he was alive again. Ignoring the pain from his chest, he forced himself to sit up. The creaking of the hands grew louder, more insistent.

A faint blue light lit up some of the faceless faces in the cage. Dorian dragged himself backwards against a wall; he wasn't yet recovered enough to stand up without help. The intimidating clip-clop of shoes echoed all around him as the caged crowd unseeingly surged towards the source of the blue light. If it was another person, investigating as Dorian had done, they were in trouble. He tried to stand, but before he could even put his weight on his feet, he was blinded by a flood of light.

'Stay where you are!' Bishop's voice ordered. The light cast shadows on the wall Dorian was leaning against. A man was pulled out of the cage. Dorian clawed his way up the side of the cage to get himself onto his feet.

In the dim light of the Police base holding-pen, Dorian saw a man being escorted to the stairs by Bishop and Graves. Dorian's eyes were wide as he recognised the man's suit. The Doctor.

Dorian shook his head bitterly as the mesh door screeched open again and Killick dragged Dorian through the crowd of faceless people. Almost.

Killick dragged Dorian out into the car park. Halfway across, another large, balding man joined them. Dorian could hear the Detective Inspector Bishop's voice echoing across the empty concourse as he interrogated the Doctor. Dorian just hoped his father wouldn't receive the same treatment as Dorian had.

The sun was rising over the terraced houses of North London. It was Coronation day.

'Where are you taking me?' Dorian asked, as he was pushed into the back seat.

'There are some very important people who would like to speak to you, Captain,' Killick replied.

'Who?'

'I can't tell you that, sir. Me an' Crabtree just got orders to take you there, sir.' From the passenger seat, Crabtree nodded.

'Ah, orders from above?' Dorian guessed, 'Detective Inspector Bishop was it?'

'No sir, not 'im.' Killick hesitated a moment, as if he wasn't sure he should carry on, as the car pulled out of the compound. A few seconds later he continued. 'In all honesty sir, the news 'e got about you shocked 'im. To the core like. It's very alien, if you don't mind me using the word, sir.'

'Careful,' Crabtree warned, but Killick ignored him.

'He was in a right state after Graves shot you – shoutin' at us sayin' "we just killed an innocent man" and things like that. He was goin' mad like, tearin' at 'is 'air and 'is tie and all. Not like an officer at all, sir.'

They had just rounded the corner of Damascus Road, by Magpie's Electronics shop, when Killick slammed on the brakes, bringing the heavy car to a screeching halt.

'What the hell are you doin'?' Killick yelled at the person he'd almost hit. It was a woman, in a bright pink skirt and denim jacket. An unusually modern outfit. Dorian recognised her and jumped out of the car.

'Sir?' Killick called, as he and Crabtree clambered out of the car as well.

'Rose?' Dorian asked, walking slowly over to the girl. She was just standing there, rocking from side to side on her pink-heeled feet. As Dorian reached out to touch her shoulder, he had a sickening feeling about what had happened to her. At his touch, she turned towards him, confirming his suspicions. Her face was gone.

'Crabtree, get a blanket from the boot before anyone sees her!' Killick ordered.

'Wait!' Dorian ordered, looking around the street. What had Rose been doing out here without the Doctor? They were a few streets away from Florizel Street where Dorian had glimpsed the pair earlier that day. There was nothing around Damascus Road but Magpie's shop and a couple of houses.

'Sir, we've got to get her out of sight before people see. You know, because of the Coronation. We'll take her back to the base, put her with the others.' Killick said as Crabtree brought the blanket over.

Dorian glared at him as the muffled sounds of people rising for the big day began. 'No.' He said firmly. 'You will not just "put her with the others". Take her back to the base, fine, but take her directly to Detective Inspector Bishop. And do it gently. That's an order. Understand?'

'Yes sir,' Killick nodded. 'Aren't you comin' back with us sir?'

'I'm going to find out what she was doing out here, and I'm going to try to get to the bottom of this before it happens to anyone else.'

The car had just pulled back around the corner of Damascus Road when Dorian launched into action. Rose's location had given Dorian an idea, but he had to go and confirm his suspicions before he acted on them. So with that in mind, Dorian sprinted off to Florizel Street.

The milkman was doing his rounds as Dorian stared down the street, scanning the rooftops; there were television aerials on almost every house. He ticked them off on a mental list: the Gallaghers, Mr Gallagher had gone the previous day. The Jacksons, their son Timothy had been one of the first. The Woods, the Davies', the MacDonalds. All of them had television aerials, and all of them had at least one family member whose face had been removed. The Connollys. They'd only recently had their aerial put up. But Dorian was already convinced of the link. It was only when young Tommy opened the front door to collect the milk that Dorian decided on one final check.

'Tommy!' he called, jogging over to the boy.

'Hello Dr Smith,' the boy smiled, though his tone didn't seem to fit his face; Dorian knew then that someone in the Connolly household had been taken. 'You ready for the big day?'

'Yes, thank you Tommy. I'm really only here to ask you one question.'

The boy nodded.

'I've been away since last night, I'm just wondering, has anyone in your family been taken away,' There was no need for specifics as Tommy knew what he meant.

'They got Gran last night. We thought the Doctor, that is another doctor who came to the house, could help, but they came and took her before he could.'

'And what was she doing when she changed?'

Tommy shrugged, 'Just watching telly,'

'Tommy! Get back inside!' Mr Connolly's voice boomed from within the house, before the front door was wrenched open. 'Oh, it's you Dr Smith. What do you want this early in the morning?'

Dorian put on his politest smile. 'Just having a little chat to Tommy, Mr Connolly. I was out taking a walk this fine morning, you know, nothing like some fresh air to clear the mind. And of course it's the big day, we all need to be at our best don't we?'

'Exactly doctor, in fact I was just telling Rita that she should do 'er hair up nice like, even though 'er Majesty won't be able to see it,'

'Very good Mr Connolly,' Dorian nodded, 'I'll just be heading back home to get ready myself then, goodbye Mr Connolly, goodbye Tommy.' Dorian waved before walking briskly back to Damascus Road.

'Magpie!' Dorian yelled as he hammered on the door to the electronics shop. He heard a shuffling within the shop and the door swung open a moment later to reveal the short and tired-looking Mr Magpie.

'What can I do for you Dr Smith?' the shop-keeper asked nervously, blocking the doorway with his small build.

'Can we talk inside?' Dorian asked, feigning politeness. Magpie's hesitation was all he needed. Dorian pushed past the little man and found himself in the middle of the shop, surrounded by televisions.

'Here, what's all this about doctor?' Magpie exclaimed.

'Don't play games with me Mr Magpie; I'm here to get some answers. You've been selling television sets cheap. Why?'

'So that- So that as many people as possible can get the honour of watching the Coronation in the comfort of their own homes, doctor.' Magpie stuttered.

'Right. Well each house that has one of your televisions has had a person smuggled away by the Police because their faces have been taken from them. Do you have anything to say to that Mr Magpie?'

'Had their faces taken?' Magpie chuckled nervously, 'sounds like you've been having a bit of a drink doc. Early celebration was it?'

Dorian noticed that Magpie had locked the door to the shop. Glancing around for anything unusual, Dorian backed towards the till. On the workbench beside the till was a black box with a small screen in the middle. Magpie's eyes darted from Dorian to the box.

Dorian grabbed the box.

'This looks important to you Magpie, so maybe you'll cooperate with me now or I'll smash this box to pieces. Besides, it looks a little bit beyond your time, I'd say.'

'I made that with my own hands doctor,' Magpie swallowed hard. 'It's just a little thing I tinker about with, nothing you'd understand.'

'On the contrary, I'm very good with things like this, and though I don't doubt it was made by your hands, I suspect that it wasn't your idea. Judging by the texture of the material and the taste,' Dorian licked the box to Magpie's surprise, 'yep, iron. Bakelite, a thermosetting phenol formaldehyde resin, known for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties making it an ideal component for radio and telephone casings. But it's the televisions that have been causing the problem,' Dorian thought out loud, as he always did when solving a puzzle. Magpie stood horrified beside the door. A television in the corner of the room flickered on.

'It's been taking people's faces, not surprising as television is a visual media. So this box is some sort of television, but smaller, easy to carry around. A portable television! But what good is that to you?'

'Oooh, I like this one,' said a woman's voice from behind Dorian. It was the woman from the television, talking to Dorian.

'What are you?' Dorian asked, realising that it wasn't the actual woman. It was something inside the television, somewhere in the electronics.

'I am the Wire,' it said simply.

'Where are you from? You're not of Earth. What do you want with the human faces?'

'Very good, I am not of this Earth, indeed. I am from a planet, a long way from here. I was executed but escaped as an energy form through the communications device of one of my executioners. He was illegally recording my death you see. So I managed to find myself here.'

'But what do you want? Why are you taking people's faces?'

'Why does anyone want anything? Power and greed.'

'So the faces are energy? No, that's not enough. Behind the faces – their brains! You're feeding of the electrical energy of people's minds!'

'Well done, that is correct. This one is smart. But that will not help you,' The Wire announced as pink and purple sparks jumped around the television set. 'I think you'll make a grand feast!'

Dorian took a step backwards, but the sparks arced towards him, latching onto his face.

'Aaaargh!' Dorian screamed as the Wire glued itself to him. It felt as though his entire being was being sucked into the television screen. He couldn't move his arms or legs, not that it would have helped him – he had nothing to defend himself with.

'Magpie,' the Wire said as Dorian began to lose consciousness, 'keep this one around in case I want a snack.'

Then Dorian dropped to the floor, unconscious, but he still had his face.