Notes: the characters aren't mine (except for the female Sutekh follower), and the story is! I've been wanting to have the Doctor meet Carl Kolchak and work together on a happening for a while now, but didn't pin down a plot until recently; naturally, though, Jamie McCrimmon and Tony Vincenzo have to be a part of things! So here's this; from Sutekh's point of view, the events of "Pyramids of Mars" have already happened, but this is the Second Doctor in Season 6B, so he has no idea of those events, as they are in his future. Also, for Carl and Tony, this takes place after the events of season 1 of Kolchak: the Night Stalker.


It was a dark night in the heart of Chicago as a bunch of figures, dressed head to toe in violet robes, darted one by one into the depths of an abandoned building. They were unobserved and swift as they assembled before a man. This man was ordinary by appearance—and, indeed, for most of his life, had been ordinary. But, recently, the man had found himself the host to a foreign spirit—a creature that was using his body as a puppet to speak and act through, looking upon the robed minions.

"What news do you bring?" the possessed man asked.

"We believe we have found the keys, Lord Sutekh," the lead robed man replied, a sneer on his lips. "But we must make sure."

"There is no time to be sure!" Sutekh hissed, speaking through the unfortunate puppet. "I am weak and limited while I use these mortal puppets—and they don't last long. This one is going to collapse soon; you must find me another host that I can use until the night after next." His voice turned dangerous. "And you must find the keys before the night after next. I will not wait another month!"

"We understand your frustrations, Lord Sutkeh," the lead robed man insisted.

"No, you do not!" Sutekh spat. "You have never died! You do not suffer, trapped behind the door of Duat! I must have that door opened so that I can escape in my own body!" The puppet caressed a medallion around his neck. "Were it not for this medallion, I would not have a link to the world of the living at all. But it is not enough. I cannot reach the full limits of my power like this."

"We're doing the best we can," the leader said. "We got you this far to find the keys you need to open the door. Just trust us to do the rest."

Sutekh hissed in frustration.

"Know this," he vowed. "If you fail me, you will be my next puppet. Do you understand me!?"

"Absolutely," the robed man sneered. He turned to the other robed followers. "Do more research. Make sure those are the real keys before we take them, and not some replicas. We can't afford to be wrong."

"You cannot afford to be wrong," Sutekh corrected him. "But fret not. I will provide you aid."

"Really?" the cult leader asked.

The puppet raised an arm, and about a dozen mummies now lumbered into view.

"They shall be my eyes and ears as you proceed, and they shall also be soldiers to use against those who oppose you," Sutekh said. "With them, you have no excuse for failure. Now, go!"

A second person in a robe—this one, a woman—now stepped forward.

"Will you not be joining us yourself, Lord Sutekh?" she asked.

"No. I must find another puppet—one that is more suited to my majesty," he coldly replied.

"You've been through so many puppets already!" the cult leader protested. "And you also leave the rejects behind! People are already talking about the coma patients being found in the streets—the authorities are getting involved, and they may end up finding us! What will you do then!?"

"By that time, I will have returned to my true form, and nothing else shall matter! All shall kneel before the might of Sutekh the Destroyer!" The puppet clenched a fist. "Even that meddlesome Gallifreyan." A hiss of anger filled the air. "I will see that Time Lord broken, lying at my feet as he watches me take this world he so adores, and he shall also watch me destroy his home world, Gallifrey!"

"Just remember; we've got an agreement," the cult leader said.

"Yes, yes, you will be spared," Sutekh said. "As long as you help me in all stages of my revenge—restoring me is only step one."

"I remember our agreement," the leader said. "Just make sure that you don't forget your part of it."

The puppet's response was a sneer.

"Do not insult me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the cult leader said, as he departed the hideout with his followers.

The puppet waited for them all to leave before leaving the hideout himself, looking for another host.

This false life would end soon; once he was restored to his former glory, Sutekh would reign supreme. And that foolish Time Lord would live to regret what he had done.


Carl Kolchak was running late. The seasoned reporter had been holding an ear to the ground ever since word had started coming in about seemingly healthy people in Chicago being found comatose on the streets. Medical professionals had done their best to determine the cause of their condition, and nothing as of yet had been found.

Foul play was beginning to be brought up as a possibility, though no links were being found to anyone as of yet. And Carl was determined to find out what could be behind this.

But pondering over the possibilities, as well as trying to get a look at the hospitalized patients, had put him behind schedule. And now, Carl was careening through the alleyways of Chicago in his classic Mustang, aiming to take a shortcut to work to avoid the wrath of his editor, Tony Vincenzo.

He'd been making good time via his shortcuts, and probably would have succeeded in his endeavors had it not been for a last-minute snag—as he turned into an alley, he found the way blocked by a large, blue box with the words "POLICE BOX" painted at the top.

Carl slammed on the brakes, the front bumper of his car stopping an inch from the police box. Not wanting to deal with any potential traffic tickets, and not wanting to waste any further time while already late, he threw the Mustang in reverse, flew out of the alley, and careened away, all the while wondering why a British police box had suddenly appeared in a largely-unused Chicago alley.

And only seconds after Carl's hasty retreat, the police box doors opened to reveal a rather shabbily-dressed man with an untidy moptop of hair. Though he looked human, the two hearts that pulsed in his chest proved otherwise; he was a Gallifreyan Time Lord—the very same Gallifreyan Time Lord that Sutekh had vowed revenge against, only the complication was that he had no idea, as it was one of his future selves that had encountered Sutekh. As such, he was blissfully unaware that he was in the same city as a being that loathed him beyond comprehension; for the moment, his biggest concern was the sound of screeching tires he had heard outside the police box.

"Odd…" he mused. "I thought I heard something out here just a moment ago. Ah, well; it doesn't matter I suppose. Jamie, come out here and see this!"

The shabbily-dressed Time Lord was soon joined by a stocky, much younger man in a sweater and kilt. This man also looked human—and actually was; he was a piper from the Scottish Highlands of the 1740s that the Doctor had rescued.

"So this is Chicago in the future, aye, Doctor?" he asked, his voice thick with his accent.

"Yes, Jamie; we're here in the year 2015, free from any influence whatsoever of the notorious Al Capone. Now we can enjoy our holiday!" the shabby Doctor said, a grin forming on his face.

"Ye said we were going t' go to 1945's Chicago t' see the post-war celebrations," Jamie pointed out.

"…So we're off by sixty years; there's no need to complain about it!" the Doctor huffed. "I told you we needed to get away from Al Capone's era of Chicago, and we've done that! That was the most important thing."

"Mm-hmm," Jamie said, folding his arms. "Yer timing was off. Again."

"Now, Jamie—Prohibition is long over and you can go on as many pub crawls as you like while we're here without any fear of speakeasies or mobsters," the Doctor said.

"Aye, I like that!" the Scot said, with a grin. "Shall we find a pub?"

"Later, Jamie; I promise," the Doctor said. "There's so much to see while we're here! There's the Sears Tower—ah, but they call it the Willis Tower in this era, of course… There's Navy Pier up by Lake Michigan…"

"Can we fish?" Jamie asked.

"Oh yes," the Doctor said, with an eager look in his eyes. "I'm not sure about the waterfowl laws around here, alas; we shall have to check on that. But if waterfowl is off of the menu, then we can, at least, feast on some fish. Now, then; before we get to the fishing, there are other things to see. The Field Museum, for instance, has a nice collection of artifacts from different eras-"

The piper let out a groan.

"Now, you stop that. Scotland is not the only important part of human history," the Doctor chided him.

"It should be."

"Oh, I see you're going to be difficult today, aren't you?" the Doctor sighed, but still giving him a fond smile. "Let's go for a walk, then; perhaps a nice walk will get you to open up your mind a bit."

Jamie smiled in spite of himself as the Doctor ruffled his hair. He wasn't able to explain why he had somehow clicked with this alien from another planet and time; somehow or other, they had simply grown closer and closer with each stumble into adventure. Though they had been separated once, they were together again now, enjoying one another's company immensely. And neither of them wanted that to change.

It was mainly just idle chatter between the two of them as they wandered through the back alleys of Chicago; it was in one of these alleys that the Doctor stopped in his tracks. Following his gaze, Jamie saw that there was a man lying on the ground, staring unblinkingly up at the sky.

"Doctor!" Jamie exclaimed. "That chappie! Is he…?"

"No, Jamie; he's alive," the Doctor said, as he checked his vital signs. "Alive, but… in some sort of strange coma! Completely unresponsive to any stimuli, and yet… Breathing on his own."

"What could have caused that?" the Scot asked.

The Gallifreyan scratched his head.

"I don't quite know, Jamie," he admitted. "But this poor fellow needs help; and we must get him some at once!"

"Aye," Jamie said, taking out the smartphone that the Doctor had given him as a gift some time ago. "Who should I call?"

"Dial 999. No, no—wait! It's different here! …Ah, yes, 911; that's it. After we're certain he's in good hands, we shall have to do a bit of detective work and see if we can find the source of this bizarre coma."

"Aye, right," the piper said, dialing.

So much for a peaceful holiday


Carl Kolchak, in the meantime, had finally reached the Independent News Service—quite late. And, sure enough, as he barreled into the office, Tony Vincenzo regarded him with an exasperated look.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up!" Tony chided.

"Sorry, Tony; something came up," Carl said. "I was trying to see if I could get a look at those coma patients—"

"Carl, will you forget about those coma patients?"

"Forget?! Tony, these are seemingly healthy individuals, dropping into unresponsive states, and yet their breathing and heartrates and everything else you can think of are all completely normal!"

"And you think another one of those monsters you're always chasing has something to do with this!?" Tony asked.

"You never know," Carl said, with a shrug. "And I didn't think you believed any of my stories, anyway; why the sudden interest?"

"I have no sudden interest in your wild tales!" Tony assured him. "What I care about is you getting here on time, like you're supposed to!"

"Don't worry, Tony; I'll be here," Carl said.

It was then that the TV, which had been set to a local news channel, suddenly flashed a "Breaking News" banner.

"We've just gotten reports in that another mysterious coma patient has been found in a Chicago alleyway—" the reporter was saying.

"Oh, great, another one?" Tony asked. He winced as he felt Carl barrel past him again, heading for the door once more. "Carl-!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Tony; I just need to check up on this!" the reporter called, giving his editor a wave.

"Carl, you just got here!" Tony bellowed, as the reporter dashed down the hall. "You can't just go…!" He stared, blankly, at the doorway, as he realized that Carl had done exactly that. "KOLCHAK!"

Minutes later, the sound of the Mustang pealing out of the parking lot was heard by all inside.

"Oh, mama mia…" Tony groaned, facepalming.

It was quickly shaping up to be another one of those days—and the day had only just begun.