So, basically, my friend and I challenged each other to write a brief fandom-y story in under/around 20 minutes. We each picked 'a' character for the other to write and a random mood. I somehow ended up with ALL twelve Doctors and the mood of fear. This is the result, just a short one-shot. (I didn't go back and edit it like crazy as I usually do, ha.) Hope you enjoy reading. :)
He had been running for hours now. But they were still chasing him.
As he rounded another corner of the shiny, shiny hallways, he skidded in the wet sand underfoot. Slamming down on the ground, he tried not to groan and quickly slid himself up against the wall. Panting from exertion, his limbs trembling with fear, the Eleventh Doctor closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
The noise. The noise was coming again. It was an electronic, repeating sound, something that was in a language he couldn't detect. It was punctuated with beeps and low, mechanical growling noises.
He skidded to his feet, and kept running.
He had to get back to the TARDIS. When he had materialized here mere hours ago, the hunt had begun – and without knowing it, he was the designated prey. Those mechanical, stomping droids were the hounds, and he was the hare.
The Doctor was rounding another corner when he was slammed to a sudden halt, face-first against a solid wall of metal. He was too exhausted from running to feel shocked. "Hello," he said tiredly to his reflection in the droid's shining belly. Raising his eyes to meet the steely, frozen optics of the droid, he spoke again. He was too tired to fight anymore. "Okay. Okay. You win."
Two hand-like projections detached from the droid's triangular-shaped body and gripped his arms. It beeped again, and shockingly, spoke English. [[The cycle has been broken. Eleven will follow.]]
"Eleven?" the Doctor repeated questioningly. His arms were twisted around behind him and the droid began pushing him forward. He walked on through the tunnels as it guided him, and the three other droids came and surrounded him as if he were a prisoner.
Well, he was, but still.
A light was coming from the end of one of the tunnels. The Doctor squinted at it, wondering how he hadn't run into it before. The light was a biohazard kind of yellow-green, electrical and buzzing.
The droid pushed him forward. Tentatively, his boots skidding on the wet floor, the Doctor stepped into the light.
He gaped at the source of the light. All down the narrow hallway stood human-sized canisters, each emanating their own eerie light.
The droid gave him a shove forward when he hesitated. Something here was wrong. It was very, very wrong.
His head turned, trying to observe one canister in particular as they passed. There seemed to be a raised letter in the fronts of the glass tubes, like an inscription carved into the glass itself.
No. It wasn't a letter. It was a number. 1.
The Doctor finally registered the human-sized shadow curled up inside the bubbling yellow gel.
His mouth fell open, but the droid snapped his head forward. The metal claw stayed there, gripping his neck.
His eyes slid from side to side, taking in as much as he could. He saw the numbers on each canister. He saw the multicolored outfits, all darkened to an ill shade of green inside the gel. 4. 6. 7. 9.
His head dropping low, the Doctor's eyes flicked rapidly over the floor in front of him. His mind started pumping out thoughts, a thousand at a time. What did they want with him. These were his past regenerations. They called him Eleven. There were twelve human-sized canisters. All glowing green-yellow. Two at the back were dark. Evens were on one side, odds on the other. The gel was yellow but didn't –
The Doctor stopped walking. Two at the back were dark. When had he noticed that? The droid had stopped in front of it.
Realization beginning to dawn, the Doctor lifted his head. The glass stood before him, humming, ominous and empty. There was an inscription on the side.
11.
The droid twisted his arms again, so that the Doctor flipped around to face it. Behind him, the Doctor felt the hissing breath of the glass canister as it split open, ready to receive him. The droid's hands retracted and pushed forward, moving him backwards into the canister.
The light on its mouthpiece illuminated. [[The cycle has been broken. We are restoring the cycle.]]
Through the bulk of the droid's silhouette, the Doctor saw the other canister, on the other side of the hallway. On the evens side. It was the number 12, and it was pitch black on the inside. The Doctor gasped with fear and tried focusing on the face, but it was too dark.
The droid was too strong, and the Doctor was already weak with shock and fear. His shoulders slammed into the back of the canister, and the front sealed shut.
Near his feet, thick yellow gel began oozing through small circular gaps in the sides of the canister. It filled surprisingly quickly.
When the gel reached his mouth, and he was ready to die, the Doctor touched the edge of the glass.
Across the narrow hallway, the 12 canister slowly lit up. The silhouette inside lifted its head, and the Doctor's head fell back.