Previously on Doctor Who : The Fractured Vortex...

The White Guardian's Task

The world here was white. Completely and utterly white. It wasn't just colour however. It was light. Everything seemed to be made of what you would call light though unlike any you've ever seen before and neither warm nor cold, but merely existing. There were no walls except for the floor which was simply a flat and blank something on which to be. A bright mist not experienced anywhere else hovered inches from the floor that simply was for things to be on. Everything was white and this was how it was for many eons in the White Void, but not today. Today, a woman dressed in white who called the White Void home was speaking to a stranger who did not belong. He wore a black hooded jacket, looked pale and tired.

"So, do you understand what to do?" she asked him quietly though her voice boomed and echoed with great strength.

"Yes," answered the Master softly. His voice did not carry. It was heavy and weary. "But I still have a lot of questions to ask."

"Such as?" said the woman in white. Her face lined, and her eyes looked heavy but her expression unwavering in the light that bathed and blurred her edges.

"Why me?" he asked. His head had been down, listening obediently to the White Guardian's dictations and instruction, but was now slowly lifting. Feeling and strength were returning to
him. It first returned to his fingers and he stretched them and tested them playfully. The White Guardian observed him quietly and hesitated before answering him.

"You are one side of the coin," she said simply, though her voice amplified even louder this time as though this information held more gravity and importance. "The Doctor is the other. The Time Lords of Gallifrey had a name for the two of you - The Enmity of Ages. One can not exist without the other, unless nothing else exists. If we lose either you or the Doctor, then all of creation might well follow."

"What about the drums?" asked the Master as he looked up to the White Guardian's face for the first time. His eyes widened and his pupils adjusted to the brightness.

"It has ceased to exist and the link now severed," answered the White Guardian, taking no notice of the Master's strength returning. She was not oblivious to it. She seemed not to care.

"The drums are...gone. Good. Well I thought...What about Rassilon - is he still alive?" he asked carefully.

"He has been returned to the Time War," she said.

"You're avoiding answering me," he responded almost immediately, though his voice no longer heavy. A malicious grin returned to him, one he wore with much pride so many times. "I was back in the Time War and now I'm here. So answer me, does he still exist?"

"If you should take up this task, your paths will cross once more," she admitted, though she did not show any guilt or ill-intention of any kind. She merely did not wish to cloud his judgement with such information. Not when she had such a great and dark task for him.

"Good. I hate to leave my unfinished business alive," replied the Master smiling, his hands now on his hip as he twisted his head to ease a painful crick in his neck. Then he stretched his back and arms, asking, "What about my body?"

"Your hunger has ended and your body healed from all ill effects."

"Shame. I was beginning to enjoy projectile lightning," added the Master sarcastically as stared down at his palms. He then mimed shooting energy out of his hands towards the White Guardian and accompanied it with self-made sound effects. He smiled a wide smile, as though murder and chaos amused him. The White Guardian did not react which served only to make him laugh once more. "Could have used it at parties and stuff. I get very bored." He made a face as though finishing a twisted joke but still the White Guardian did not respond the way he wanted her to. He made a face and rolled his eyes at her.

"If it's a weapon you seek, your wit and intelligence will suffice," she said, her voice drowning out the Master's actions. "Even against Rassilon," she added.

"Well, I always did well at school you know," answered the Master sardonically but still his attempts did not bring about anything from the White Guardian. Then his playfulness evaporated instantly, his eyes flashing deadly intent and asked her, "How do you know I'll cooperate?"

"Because if you don't, then you will be returned to the end of the Time War, where you will meet your final end," she answered as if a threat. The Master glowered and narrowed his eyes observing her. "But that's not the only reason. I have seen your true self."

"Really?" chuckled the Master as he cocked his head to one side.

"You wish for redemption," she replied simply. "After everything you've done."

"Is that so?" replied the Master dismissively, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. He laughed.

"I see the truth of it all young child of Gallifrey," answered the White Guardian. The Master's laughter was swallowed up in the wake of her echoing voice. She would not allow the Master to dictate this conversation. "You wish to know. You wish to know how everything would have turned out had it not been for the circumstances beyond your control. You wish for a second chance at life."

"I'm a Time Lord," he replied. "We have thirteen chances at life. Death is but a door for us. Myself, I've had lots of doors. Some revolving. Made my tummy all upset sometimes."

"But you now know that everything you were before may not have been truly yourself. You were the work of Rassilon. You wish to know what would have happened if you truly made yourself."

The Master pondered for a while, taking it in. "Well, I guess that's sort of true."

"So will you accept this task?"

"Yeah why not," he answered nonchalantly. He swivelled around gesturing to the world around him. "There's nothing for me to do around here anyways. It's all fog."

"Good. Then you-"

"Ah, but one more thing though," interrupted the Master, his grin widening as he cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing at the woman in white. A strange deranged delight seemed to ooze out of him. "Just a teeny weeny little thing before I go do your bidding and whatnot."

"Speak and the White Guardian shall answer," she replied serenely, emotionless and utterly still.

"No, no. Hah. No. I don't want to speak to the White Guardian. I want to speak to you," growled the Master pointing and waving a finger in her direction. "The body, the person, and the host you're using."

The woman said nothing.

"Who are you?" asked the Master assertively.

"I cannot answer something you already know," she replied, the expression on her face unreadable, though a hint of a smile traced her lips. However the Master did not know what it meant. The Master taunted her in return, smiling his wide smile, teeth bearing fully in front of her.

"Ok, how did you end up here?" asked the Master, his hands stretching outwards to the world. "How did you end up like this? How did you end up as the new White Guardian? Did we miss out something in the Classified Ads?"

"I traded my body so it would be the new host," replied the woman almost immediately. She seemed to have anticipated the question, or seen it whilst it was still forming in the Master's head.

"What for?" insisted the Master, a finger waving dismissing the answer. The White Guardian did not speak immediately. For the first time an expression began to spread upon her face.
One filled with grief more than sadness. She blinked and her eyes shut, time stretched till she opened her eyes once again before she spoke.

"To save the Doctor," she said. Her voice no longer booming and imposing. It was fragile as though a touch would break it. "To save my son... The Man Whose Name Dare Not Be Mentioned. Not even by me."

"Well, seems you're doing it again. Saving him I mean," refuted the Master, a grin spreading on his face once again. The nasty grin that stretched on for ages.

"No," she insisted, her voice stronger though not echoing across the white void surrounding them. "This time it is not by my will that the Doctor be saved, but that of Time. It is merely a curse of the world that such an irony would exist."

"No need to talk about life's ironies," replied the Master waving a hand away. "I know them far too well. I'm on a mission to save the Doctor, so if you don't mind, I'd much rather not harp on it. I prefer it called a cruel twist of fate's dagger, lodged unfortunately in both my hearts."

"You saved him from Rassilon," she persisted. "What difference does it make now?"

"It wasn't my intention to save the Doctor," lied the Master defensively. "I only wanted to kill Rassilon."

"Lies are your greatest weapons, but it will not work on a Guardian of Time such as myself," she said, her voice echoing again and her expression now lifted. Her eyes turned cold and hollow and she straightened herself. "With that self-sacrificing act you sought to redeem yourself. I see the truth of it all. The truth of you. Another irony I should think."

"Whatever," dismissed the Master once more. He did not like the idea of others visiting his intentions and thoughts. That was why he had taken such great lengths to fully master the mindscape and spent much of his life studying psychic abilities and hypnotism. He wished to never have his true motives discovered by others. That, and the constant drumming.

"Are you ready?" she asked him assertively, turning them back to subject.

"More or less," he shrugged.

"Take this," she said, as from nothingness but light, she presented a white glowing ring that rested in the palm of her hand. It shimmered and blinded the Master so much so that he had to shield himself from the light at first, before the intensity subsided and the ring finally formed into a solid object of pure white. The Master looked unsure at first but then moved forwards to collect it from her. He took it between his thumb and finger and brought it closer to observe it.

"A Time Ring?" he said finally. "This brings backs memories. I had a prototype you know."

"This is no ordinary Time Ring. It will bring you to wherever you need to be in time and space," said the White Guardian.

"Shiny."

"Use it well," she said finally. The Master put on the ring and knew their exchange was now over.

"Guess I'll go now...Need me to give the Doctor a note? Tell him his mum's alright? Oh wait, I probably can't. There's always that sort of rule isn't there? How about a cheery hello? Get him to pick up some bread? Milk? Turkey? No?" asked the Master sarcastically. "Ah well. Buh-bye!"

And with a great flash of white light, he vanished in terrible echoes of his maniacal laughter that resonated throughout the universe. The Master survives. The Master always survives.

This time however, he has to save the Doctor.

But darkness and danger has been lying in wait for us all.

Death is but a door

Singapore, UNIT Base 51
'Serenity Valley'

"Where did you find him?" growled General Anthony Adama as he stared carefully through the plasma shielded window examining the new subject. They called him Subject Zero, and at the moment he was just sitting there, meditating. No cuffs, no restraints. There was no such need. Apparently the subject simply broke them every time, but did not try to escape. They called him Subject Zero...He wasn't sure subject was the right word for it. They were fifty floors underground, every thick concrete wall was reinforced with titanium bars underneath and the fact that there was a plasma shielded security barrier every few hundred meters in the facility, Adama preferred to think it was more appropriate to call the subjects here as prisoners instead. Nobody besides authorized personnel who's entered in has ever managed to get out besides in a body bag. If you were lucky.

"Mexico," answered Professor Parkman. He referred to his chart which he balanced on his bulging stomach, scanned it with his tiny little eyes and wrinkled his bushy walrus moustache at it. "Our reports state he had fallen from space. Fortunately he smashed into an unpopulated area, though when UNIT forces arrived, he was able to eliminate them all with his bare hands...which were at the time unattached to his body."

Adama snorted derisively.

"We were able to finally apprehend and detain him after several hours in which he stated his name, date of birth and next of kin, though no such records of him exist. We've therefore called him Subject Zero, though he prefers to be called-"

"Wade Watson," whispered Adama.

"How did you know?" asked Professor Parkman surprised. "This is strictly classified."

"I know," drawled Adama as he turned and bore his menacing eyes into Professor Parkman's. It felt like his gaze could pierce his skull and reach into the far depths of his mind, and the touch of deadliness behind it did not escape the Professor's thoughts. The change of mood was instant and intense that the Professor's breaths grew heavier the longer Adama stared down at him. "I know because I helped make him."

"W-What do you mean?" trembled the Professor. Each word uttered by Adama now weighed heavy and lethal. "What do you mean 'make'?"

Adama took out a cigar from his coat and lit it carefully. He needed it if he were to continue because he didn't have any alcohol on him. It had to do. He took several long puffs, still staring at Wade who did not acknowledge any of them. He just sat there. Meditating. It was most unnerving. Wade was only ever quiet when he was serious.

"Not too long ago, UNIT were getting very tired of aliens just killing all of our boys," muttered Adama slowly, trying to make the cigar last. "Time after time they'd come, and time and time again we'd send in our troops. Once in a while, we get lucky. But mostly, those young men go back home dead. And if we're really lucky, we get to tell them how they died. If not, we'll end up lying to their families."

"I see..."

"So we set up a secret UNIT funded project to help not just our soldiers, but for the whole of humanity. One day the aliens will come, even live amongst us and we had to be ready or we'd be wiped out," said Adama. "I was in charge of enhancing the biology of humanity, leading a team of the world's best eugenicists of the time. Our objective was simple. We had to make humans stronger, faster, anything it took to ensure our survival against the alien threat. We were enhancing people, Professor. Turning them into something better for the future. Learning from our encounters with aliens and preparing ourselves by subjecting people to evolve into a higher state of human."

"Were these people...volunteers?" said the Professor hesitantly. He did not know if he wished for an answer, but he had to ask. His body was betraying him, shaking and taking tiny steps back. The General stood still, indifferent and unmoved by the horrors he was about to share.

"Some were... Some didn't have anything else to live for... Mostly, they may have been too young perhaps."

"My God..."

"Serums of enhancements, one after another we tested them. And after many months of trials, all of the successful biological enhancements we injected into an orphan whom you now call Wade...Unfortunately for us, loading in everything we could think of resulted in Wade losing his all of his memories and drove him to insanity. He turned savage and when we tried to contain him, he escaped, killing almost everyone and destroying the entire facility. We tried to track him down. As you can imagine, he was a great threat as well as being a great investment. But tried as we might, there was no trace of him. We expected cities to be destroyed or at least some sort of minor devastation with human casualties...but nothing. We assumed he may have died, though we did search for a body. In the end, that was mostly that. Everyone who was part of the project mysteriously disappeared and nobody spoke of it again. But who'd have thought I'd see him here? I wonder if he even remembers me. More importantly, does he even know his true powers? Imagine what we could do with a weapon like this. He could have taken Fallujah on his own. Perhaps even Canary Wharf. He'll be a very good addition to the team..."

"W-wait," stammered the Professor. "I thought we were supposed to be the good guys! I'm not going to be a p-part of this. This is a crime against humanity."

"Against?" growled Adama, his deadly eyes returning its gaze upon Professor Parkman. A flash of rage streaked as he stepped forwards and grabbed him with both arms by the coat. Adama pulled him up off the ground, shaking him aggressively with astounding strength and spat out his cigar as he ground his teeth.

"You experimented on humans! Please put me -"

"Against humanity? Why don't you tell that to my son? Why don't you look him in the sockets and whisper into his metallic Cyberman head the crimes against humanity?"

"N-no. What are you doing? NO!"

The lights went out. The General's eyes glowed red. His skin transmuted from a healthy pink to a steel shimmer of scales, and his teeth and claws now razor sharp to a point and black like the darkness surrounding them. That was all Professor Parkman saw before he died. A day later, all personnel had been replaced and all information regarding the facility became classified. Only known information is that the rebuilt 'Valiant' and her new sister the 'Valkyrie' currently take residence at this facility when not on duty.

Black Vs White

"You've replaced your lost pawn then?" asked the Black Guardian, with feigned sincerity and curiosity. Very little escapes his knowledge, for he creeps up in the hearts and minds of everything that has even just a glimmer of darkness. There is nothing he cannot turn to his nefarious use, no knowledge he does not wish to learn. He continued with his act nonetheless. "Oh my... the Master? That's quite a surprise. I did not think you would take such a dangerous gambit. Our game has taken a decidedly more interesting twist now you have a new host."

"I'm an excellent judge of character," she replied pleasantly though her eyes flashed dangerously at him. "I think you'll find my assessments to be right on the money. You are however mistaken if you think he is merely a pawn."

"Yes," answered the Black Guardian contemptuously. He pressed his fingers together and pondered wisely in his shroud of darkness. "But is he really the person to fight for the Spirit of Light in Time?"

"The light aims to help," answered the White Guardian simply as she bathed in the shimmering light behind her. Her gaze still fixed upon him. "Sometimes with the Doctor, he heals people in need; sometimes execute dangerous enemies. Either way helps. The Master is the same. He may be evil and corrupt, but within our game...Who better than the Devil himself to contend with Hell?"

"You've become a wonderful shade of grey if you don't mind me saying so," answered the Black Guardian, his words trailing in the air maliciously.

"I'm afraid I'll be taking that as an insult," she replied tersely. "Especially since you have not shown me any of your new pieces. Hiding them all in your shroud of darkness."

"And you blind them from me with your light. Let us show them together then."

"As you wish," she replied.

The cloak of black unravelled like smooth gaseous silk. The glaring light crumpled like parchment. In an instant, everything was gone and all the pieces stood revealed.

"My, my...what a wonderfully interesting game we've got this time," whispered the Black Guardian, as he made his first move upon the board.

TO BE CONTINUED.

One man must face his past.
To save our future.

Doctor Who: The Nightmare Child