Stepping Stones
On A Mission
It was time, he decided, time to finally face his demons, for he had been evading them for too long and now, now he had to pay the price for his cowardice. After all, if he had just stood up to them, met them head on, from the beginning, no one would've died. His companions may still be alive, and they may have grown old already.
His sudden resolve to right his wrongs, as far-fetched as a wish it may seem, lead him to that abandoned town. It was the year 2010, and all he heard anyone talk about was a very popular football tournament. He wasn't one to dwell on sports, but something, something, compelled him to just keep tabs on the games. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, which, he supposed, was good.
He spotted a figure walking across the square, their whole manner of moving suspicious. Their back was hunched forward, the head covered by a hat, their face was half covered by a bandana and their eyes constantly scanned their surroundings, searching for a possible enemy. He decided it wouldn't be wise to just waltz up to the man and start asking questions – he gave off a bad vibe, it was approach me and I'll shoot you type of vibe. No. He would go for the stealth approach. Even with a never ending supply of energy, he was, when needed, a formidable spy.
With silent footsteps, he shadowed the man, crossing a street seconds after him, turning a corner only seven paces behind, until they arrived at a bar. It didn't look particularly shady or out of place, it blended perfectly with the ones around him. Anyone would just overlook it, not thinking of what shady characters may lurk inside simply because it didn't appear to harbour any criminals or delinquents, or anything of the like.
The man practically rushed inside, and he hastened to follow, he couldn't risk any exposure, although he pondered on how to blend in if he walked in immediately after someone else had entered. He had to time his entrance right, he had to act accordingly and he needed to be virtually invisible.
Resisting the urge to whistle, therefore making it obvious his apparent innocence was false, he pushed open the door, careful to not make a grand entrance, but, unfortunately for him, old habits die hard. Luckily, this time, it wasn't very grand at all. He took two steps in, and the door swung shut behind him, closing with a fairly loud click. Only a small group in a table next to the door turned to look at him. He stood in front of the room, chest puffed out and head held high. Then, he walked straight to the bar and sat at the chair, faking nonchalance as he asked for a glass of milk. "I've got to keep my figure, y'see."
He sat there, with his back to the other customers, and listened to them. For a town that, at first sight, looks abandoned, this bar must have been something. As he sipped at his milk, he kept an eye out for any suspicious behaviour, and an ear out for the right words. He saw many drug dealings, all hidden from view, as well as signs of prostitution, but that wasn't what he needed, nor wanted.
The only reason he'd travelled to that run down town was because he'd heard of someone, someone who could help him on his mission. That someone had, if the rumours were correct, several useful connections to different companies; both interplanetary and terrestrial. They may have a lead for him to follow. And he needed a lead, any lead.
"Peith, now 'e's someone ya hafta look out for. 'E's got several shares in 'is companies and they all give 'im great profit, righ'. I 'eard 'e's the one ta go to if ya need to find someone. Anyone, if ya wanta find anyone, 'e's yar man," a drunken middle aged man was conversing with his mate and those words are just what he needed. The accent was a bit over the top, but maybe it was the slur given by the alcohol.
Peith, peith: the name was familiar, and he hadn't spoken of it, but he may have heard of it once, long ago. It wasn't a common one, even with the absurd names babies were granted in this time, no. He was on the right track, so far, and he just needed to locate the being. And for that, he needed that man. He finished his drink, leaving some money on the dirty table, and he stood, listening for the same voice to find the owner. By coincidence, it seemed to be the same man he'd followed to the bar, except without the bandana or hat.
"I 'eard 'e's gone-"he strode over to the drunk and pulled him up, dragging him to a dark corner. No one noticed, because no one cared; they probably assumed they were doing something, maybe drug dealing, and he didn't care what they thought, as long as they didn't interfere.
"That man, Peith," he demanded, "where can I find him?" His sneaking around pretence was dropped, he found a possible lead, leading to another lead, and he didn't need to eavesdrop on others any longer.
"Why do you care, sunshine," the other man taunted, "what's a guy like you gon' need 'is 'elp for?" His face was red, maybe because of the alcohol, and posture said he thought himself superior and better than his interrogator.
Running on low patience, and having absolutely no time for time wasting people like this, he put on his menacing face, pulled him up against the wall, and spoke with a low threatening voice; one which had his opponent running off with their tail between their legs. "Where can I find him?"
The drunk stuttered, "d-down on 42nd street, ta the righ'. It's on the corner, ca-can't miss it." At hearing this, he dropped the shivering man, who immediately slumped, and walked out, this time making a dramatic exit, unnoticed by most. The drunk he'd left behind smiled grimly as he pulled out a small device and spoke into it, his voice normal with a slight American accent.
"Boss, he's on his way to Peith. Uh-huh. I'll be on standby."
My first ever Doctor Who fic!
Okay, I lie. I had written a pretty long one a couple years back, but I lost my pen drive and everything saved in it. Nevertheless, this is a new one, and I really have no idea how I came up with it (like always).
I'm also thinking about a couple other ones, some fan-fictions that will, sort of, tie up loose ends. Personally, I think there are a bunch of things from the 10th Doctor's series' that were left hanging. Okay, the viewers can make it up, and it must've happened in an 'off-screen' episode, if you know what I mean. But still, I have this thing about loose ends or imperfections like those: they drive my round the bend. So, expect to see a couple fan-fictions about them; you'll know 'em when you see 'em.