I do not own Tron or Doctor Who.
A box appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. It rezzed into being with an alien grating, whirring noise, up in the air. The box spun like a top on an invisible axis, it hurtled through the sky, plummeting toward the beach.
When the box crashed, Tron rose an arm up to cover his face as sand went flying. The box ground to a halt. In the small crater it had created, miraculously, it was standing upright, if lopsided. Tron could see that there was writing inscribed on the front, in the complex language of the Users.
'Police-Box' He read with the delay of inexperience, the phrase was nonsense to him. He marveled at this intruder, infringing on his solitude and regret, it was the bluest thing Tron had ever seen. He hadn't seen very many blue things, and anything even remotely so blue had come from the 'real' world.
He tensed, not knowing what kind of threat it posed. Had the Users sent it to destroy him once and for all?
Then a door on the front of the box swung open.
Two strange men stumbled out, a bit disheveled looking, brown and bleach blonde hair stuck up in all directions. One had a suspender strap that had slipped off his shoulder, his shirt was partially unbuttoned, and the raggedy old coat he was so fond of, was missing.
The man was still grinning, entirely pleased with himself. The other looked like a cat that had been thrown into a drier, he scowled at the taller of the two, they were almost the same height.
"You are the worst driver! After all these years, you have no idea how to even pilot that thing!" He yelled, teeth bared like an angry wild animal. The Master looked around. They were in a wasteland, fields of gray rock extended into the distance to their left and to their right.
In front of them however, was a body of dark liquid, was it water? It might have been acid or hydrogen, stretched as far as The Master could see. In the distance behind the pair were bright lights… and the silhouette of what might have been a city.
"Doctor, where The Void are we?" He ground out.
"Oh hello there." The Doctor wasn't paying attention. He had caught sight of something, a person, laying on the beach not ten feet away. The waves lapped at his legs and he was looking like the sea had just spat him out, like a great fish who had accidently swallowed a stone.
Or like Jonah in the story Tron had read out of one of the old books Flynn brought into the system worlds ago. The sand was coarse and gritty, like wet cement under The Master's shoes. The creature, whatever it was, looked up at them with an unreadable expression.
It was dressed in a black material that reminded him of a wetsuit, tiny points of blue light decorated the suit, glowing faintly.
"Stay away from that thing. You don't know if the locals are friendly. It could eat your face off." The Master warned, with no small amount of glee.
The Doctor waved his hand in the air, dismissing the comment. He knelt in front of the program.
"Is everything alright?" The Timelord asked. This person wasn't looking so good. He had dark circles under eyes wearing a look The Doctor knew all too well. It was a look he witnessed every time he saw his refection.
The look of someone so very old and so very tired, who had seen and done far more than any living creature ever should. The man had marks on his face, silvery gashes with rough edges marring smooth, pale skin. The Doctor might have called them scars.
"Doctor, we aren't keeping it. We both agreed that if I'm traveling with you, you won't take on anymore pets." The Master cautioned.
"I never said anything about keeping it!-him." The Doctor corrected himself. "I only want to help." He assured them both, with a childish stubbornness.
"Are you Users?" Tron asked, a reverence in his voice. They dressed like Users, they were just as confusing, but they spoke differently than any User he had known.
"What's a User? Is that a common species on this planet?" The Doctor wondered, curios. "We're Timelords."
The term Timelord held just as little significance to Tron as the term User did for The Doctor.
"They would have sent you to delete me." He explained, detached and disinterested. He was only stating a fact. "I'm corrupt, glitched. I can no longer be useful to them."
The Doctor frowned. Delete? Glitched? As in, like a computer gadgety thing?
"Delete you? Just because you're injured?" Unrestrained horror colored his face. What sort of terrible monsters would kill for such a reason? And how could he stop them? "Well, that just isn't nice. Why don't you come aboard? If you're broken maybe we can fix you. The Master is brilliant with machines." The Doctor gave him a reassuring smile that seemed to say, You'll see, everything will be alright.
Said Master grinned a wide, excited grin. Was this being mechanical? Was it code? Suddenly he was very very interested. Was it an android? Was it like the Cybermen? Or was it more like the Daleks, with a flesh creature at its heart?
He couldn't wait to take it apart. Bit by excruciating bit, he would find out what made it tick. Then maybe, if he had the patience, he would put it back together again.
He spoke in an uncharacteristically friendly manner, expression softening .
"Yes, why don't you come inside?"
Um, any rhyming was unintentional, sorry about that.