Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Vincent. But even then it's whatever.
The Fourth "Great and Bountiful Human Empire". That's what the Doctor always referred to it as. "Planet Earth at its height", he said. Satellite 5 brainwashing the entire human race, breeding generations of ignorance and apathy, mindless slaves serving a tyrannical race of bloodthirsty Daleks. Oh yes, such a great empire. Then came the Doctor and his friends to plunge us into a living hell. First he killed the Mighty Jagrafess, and left the human race to fend for itself. Our society, our world, everything we lived and died for was just stopped.
We had become worse, but the Doctor was not done. Oh no. He wrecked havoc again when he returned 100 years later to see the damage he had caused. He and this "Bad Wolf" entity saved our entire planet from the Daleks, but not before they managed to take the lives of over one-third of the people on Earth and leave the planet desolated.Did the doctor help humanity? Of course not. He went about his merry way, leaving what remained of humanity in ruins. Society collapsed yet again, and with no one to control the human race, violence became inevitable as nations tore themselves apart. For over 400 years we have killed each other in order to dominate what remains of our race.
I will never forget the stories that my grandfather told me as I grew up. Every day he would tell stories of aliens and a "Doctor" who brought death and destruction wherever he went. Yes, the Doctor: the bane of humanity. My grandfather cursed him and his blue spacecraft. Everyone did, except me. Sometimes I felt like the only kid in the world who believed in this Doctor. Until the day my grandfather died.
10 years prior…
A young ginger-haired boy and his grandfather walked toward their home in Moss Side. Thankfully they weren't too far away, just a few more blocks to go. The boy observed a scene all too familiar to him. His friends were playing soldier on the remains of crashed warships, while fully armored British soldiers patrolled the area, always on the alert, their fingers already on the trigger of their rifles.
The boy clung to his grandfather for any sort of comfort or illusion of safety there was to be had. His grandfather always made him feel safe. He was a tall and rather burly man, though his strength had long since left him. His head was shaven, and his skin was etched with the myriad of scars he had received from the years of war. His left eye was a ghoulish white color.
The war-torn veteran hurried the frightened child along.
"Hurry along now, lad. You're nine years old now. Time to be a man."
The young boy began to let out a few silent sniffles, but fought back any tears. His grandfather squatted to the boy's level and raised his head so that they faced each other.
"Chin up." He smiled. "Now come on, there's dinner waitin'!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, there was an explosion. The child couldn't see from where, but he clung to his grandfather and began to cry. The old man grabbed his grandson and carried him in his arms, darting as fast as his weakened body could take him. From the corner of his eyes he could see soldiers in gold trimmed body armor firing at everyone in sight.
It was the Davros Empire, loyalists to the Daleks who had ruled over humanity so long ago. In their eyes, the fate of humankind was best left in the hands of their former masters. Humanity would have at last been at peace and harmony, with no need to think or worry about anything. There would have been no troubles, no strife, and perhaps fewer lives would have been lost. After all, what good is free will when humanity constantly chooses to exploit and slaughter one another? The loyalists, in naming their empire after the creator of humanity's rightful masters, vowed to find a way to bring back the Daleks. To sacrifice free will was a small price to pay for the greater good.
"Those crazy sons of-Aaahh!"
He was cut off by the sharp pain of a bullet going through his right leg. The old veteran's strength faltered, and he fell face first onto the ground. The child rolled out from underneath his grandfather's arms. Tears filled his eyes as he shook his grandfather's shoulders.
Please, Grandpa. Please get up. I'm scared!
The veteran soldier grabbed his grandson's shirt, and held it with a tightened grip.
"Run." He growled.
The boy trembled with fear.
"I said run, boy do you hear me?! Get out of here!"
He couldn't do it. He was too scared to move, too scared to do anything. It was too late to do anything anyway. Three Davros soldiers, clad in a humanoid form of Dalek armor, surrounded the two. One of them made eye contact with the wounded old man.
"For the greater good." the soldier said in a monotone voice. With one shot from his rifle he ended the old man's life. The child grabbed his own hair and screamed to the top of his lungs, his face burning red and tears streaming down his face. Another voice came from the distance.
"Fire!"
The boy closed his eyes, awaiting his inevitable death. What he got instead was the sight of three Davros corpses and a group of British soldiers grabbing him and sprinting toward the nearest safe zone. Only one soldier carried the boy, while the remainder provided cover fire. Everything was happening too fast. Explosions, gunfire, corpses, Grandpa… He couldn't take it anymore, and everything faded to black.
"Great and Bountiful Human Empire". There was nothing great about it. My name is Vincent Monroe. I am a mercenary currently spying on a strange blue phone booth that appeared from seemingly nowhere. Wait. That's it! That must be the spacecraft from the stories, which means that…
"Oh, Doctor." Vince gritted his teeth as he loaded his rifle and sneaked closer to the spacecraft. "You've got a LOT to answer for."