Chapter 1.
In space, the blue box spiralled out of control, diving toward a blue and green planet from Earth. Inside, the Doctor gripped onto the console, grinning gleefully in anticipation for what was to come. Surrounding him was the console room the TARDIS: a gloomy dome shaped room with dimmed coral coloured lighting, an appropriate shade for his destination, Earth. Of course it was not his first time on the planet, but each time he had been there it had never failed to be interesting. In his current incarnation, he had short, cropped black hair with a slim, muscular appearance. His accent was unlike any of his predecessors, a northern Manchester type accent gave him a more abrasive demeanour in contrast to the debonair, mannered characteristics of Doctors past. In fact, if it couldn't be detected in personality it was certainly apparent in his appearance. Black battered leather jacket left open with a black form fitting v-neck short sleave shirt with black denim jeans and black leather lace up combat boots under the trousers that stopped above his ankle.
With great intensity, The Doctor pulled a few levers, raced around the console, pressed a button here and there but something was wrong. The TARDIS shook violently and it threw the Doctor to the ground. He looked frantically to the monitor on the console once he picked himself up. He narrowed his eyes at the monitor, "What could be throwing me off course like that" He thought to himself that something or someone on Earth was aware of his extraterritorial presence. Another shake threw him back into the railing, almost throwing him over onto the floor below. The console sparked and smoke began to seep out of it. He knew he had to act fast. He dug into his internal breast pocket of his leather jacket and retrieved his sonic screwdriver; he aimed it at the console and looked to it in frustration. He shook the screwdriver and exclaimed, "DAMN!" This particular incarnation disliked not having things work the way he had anticipated.
There was one last hope, he got down onto his knees and opened the grating in the floor to reveal the internal circuitry. He dug his hand in and started twisting some cables. He noticed that the energy beams running through the transparent cables were crimson read. He knew that the system had gone critical and something had to be done. He swalled nervously. He couldn't change course as the ship was caught in a gravitational pull. From what he could tell, the assailants were attempting to drag him into the earth so the ship can be destroyed. The only option he had left was to cut the power and hope to escape their sensors that way. He dug his hang further in, beneath them was a switch designed specifically for the power reboot. He could feel it beneath his fingers; another grin of confidence crossed his face. But something went horribly wrong.
The Doctor suddenly felt an extreme surge run up his arm. He felt it enter his body and run through every neuron in his body, or at least it felt that way. He screamed, retracted his hand and rolled back over the floor of the TARDIS. He began to shake uncontrollably, his head turned in spasms. His eyes were filled with fear.
He muttered, "I…I…I have to." He slowly and shakily rose to his feet and took a deep breath. He took one last look at his surroundings of the TARDIS where pandemonium was breaking loose. The console was sparking, smoke was everywhere. He widened his arms and closed his eyes. Suddenly, his body was engulfed in an energy beam – he was regenerating. The surge from beneath the TARDIS would have been enough to kill him. His body was able to sustain it but only temporarily. The final gasps and screams of the ninth Doctor could be heard as his figure and build underwent its metamorphosis. As he came out of it, the console finally exploded and some of the supports from the ceiling fell in. The newly regenerated Doctor fell to the ground, possibly from the sheer exhaustion of his change. His clothes were now torn and even more battered. The new man raised his head. He had longer hair, flopped down almost in a bowl shape. He was slimmer than his predecessor with a more accentuated jaw and cheeks. He stood up, wide eyed and mouthed. He ran his tongue around his new mouth. "Mmm, new teeth…" he exclaimed. His voice had also changed to resemble a more Estatuary accent. He looked around the TARDIS, shocked at the devastation. The column in the middle had stopped moving and the grinding engine noise had ceased but the lights were still on. The Doctor looked to the flickering on the console and the wall panels, seeing them blink with their last gasp of life. "Dying but functional nevertheless" he though to himself quietly. He walked up to the console and pressed a combination of buttons where the remaining lights dimmed significantly, the room was dead silent. The TARDIS was set for regeneration mode.
He concluded, "Well you can't stay like this" as he walked toward the door, opened and stepped out into what appeared to be an alley. It was night time and outside of the alley he could hear lots of traffic and evidence of nightlife given the laughs, talking and cheering he could hear. He felt weak and disoriented, he shook his head rapidly. He thought about what needed to be done. He firstly wanted to regenerate the TARDIS and give it a make over from the damage caused by the attack. While this was happening, he wanted to find out who caused the attack. He dug his hands into his pocket for the TARDIS key; he pulled the door shut and twisted the key in the opposite direction after pushing it into the lock. To regenerate the ship, it needed to be powered down and then finally, twist the lock in an anti-clockwise direction. Once he withdrew the key and stepped back, he tucked the key into his internal pocket. The ship then suddenly lit up in a gold type of light and looked as though it was disintegrating, almost like it was falling apart like a jigsaw puzzle. The thousands of pieces then ascended and vanished in the sky. This made the Doctor smile. He began to walk out of the alley when suddenly; he fell to his knees and gasped, struggling for air. He dragged himself along the harsh concrete ground, used a dumpster for support to pick himself up and stumbled out of the alley. The Doctor walked awkwardly and ended up lunging everywhere; he bumped into walls, shop windows and crashed into a table and chair outside a café. The Doctor was thankful that no one was sitting there.
To his peril, he crossed the road, dodging between cars that were beeping at him. His facial expression almost made him looked possessed or intoxicated on medication. Once he made it to the other side of the street, he collapsed into the gutter into a puddle of water, he wept a little at his declined state.
Very rarely had post regeneration trauma been this costly on his body. However, he considered the fact that the TARDIS itself was also undergoing metamorphosis. The Doctor had a psychic link with it. With it absent on the planet, he considered the fact that perhaps a part of him had gone with it leaving behind a shell of a man. He stood up, lept onto the sidewalk and collapsed once again. He could hear footsteps running toward him; he was rolled over onto his back, looking to the night sky when a bearded, elderly man looked down at him.
"Geez, there's still three hours until the countdown and already you're hitting it. Are you ok" he shouted in his thick Scottish accent.
All the Doctor could do was merely sigh and gasp, "Where…am I? Who…am I?" The Doctor didn't even know what was happening to him or even have a realisation of his surroundings any longer.
The elderly man looked to his left and right, shouting "HEEEELP, call an ambulance – this man needs help!"
The Doctor felt helpless and wounded. Though he no longer felt like the Doctor, he felt like a stranger, an unidentified man. He didn't bother talking as he came to the realisation that nothing he could have to say would make much sense. But to make things worse, he felt himself getting weaker and wearier. His eyes were getting heavier and his throat was getting drier. He wondered to himself if he was dying. To an extent, he wanted to die given how much pain his body was in and how little energy he had remaining. He could no longer pick himself up from the cold concrete. All he could do was watch the good Samaritan wave his arms about, shouting and crying out until everything turned to black…and then suddenly, his surroundings were dead silent.