So, um, basicly, this is my very first story! Well, not quite since I own several accounts but, er, oh well. Oh, and by the way, this chapter's a prolouge. Y'know like the trailers at the end of Doctor Who episodes.
Story: It's a sequel-ish story to the christmas special, The Next Doctor, and Journey's End. It probably won't make any sense if you haven't seen them yet, and it will reveal, possibly, many spoilers.
Summary: The 'human' Doctor and Rose are on Pete's world living an romantic, average life. Or so the 'real' Doctor thought when he left them in the parallel universe; for with the Doctor there's always trouble. The Doctor, Rose, Parallel-Donna (That's the Donna from Pete's world), Pete and the Preachers must save the universe from another cyber-invasion. Contains Cybermen, sinister little 12-year-old girls with curls, lots and lots of glorious death and the remains of one giant robot that was left from christmas day,1851.
Spoiler: I'm giving an tiny spoiler so that you will keep reading my story (because, let's face it, I'm rubbish at writing). The title may be a clue to see who the real villain is in this story. Oh, by the way, the answer isn't obvious, so don't go for the most straight-foreward answer.
They're men that stalk the shadows.
The beggar pulled his blankets over him and shivered. It was almost Christmas and he was still on the street; like he was for the last few years. But that didn't matter to him. Right now he was being haunted by the ghost of the smile the woman had made when he told him that terrible story. He was half-ashamed of himself; a simple rumor had creeped the living backside out of him.
Hollow, yet they march in unison.
He knew what the story ment, but no-one had seen them in years. They all disappeared a while ago. The beggar told himself that to try and re-assure him but it didn't seem to work. Whatever he tried, he wouldn't stop shaking.
An everlasting body.
The beggar was alone on the street. The only light that he had was the flickering lamp-post that he was slumped below. No-one was anywhere near him; that ment there was no-one to ask for help if he was in trouble. He was alone on the cold, foggy, winter night with only a mug for company. Or so he thought.
Empty eyes.
The poor man looked into his mug. By begging he had earned a good 60p. That was enough to get him at least lunch. He looked at the coins in the mug. They were only round pieces of metal, yet they were so valuable.
A heart that is cold as the North wind itself.
The coins clanged together against themselves and the mug. At first, the beggar thought he was shaking but he noticed that his arm was dead still, like it was for the last few years. He wondered if it was an earthquake, but then again, that was very, very unlikely. He could make out a faint marching sound. A strange thought filled his head. Could it be them? The marching began to get louder and the rattling of his coins began to get louder too.
A man of steel.
The beggar stood up, using all the strength that was left in him; which, sadly, wasn't much. He could see the thin outline of a many tall men marching towards him through the thick fog. As he gathered his sheets quickly he noticed that there was strange thing behind him. The poor man couldn't even scream as a very branch-like arm with fingers and a death-grip held onto his shoulder.
"DELETE."
As he whimpered, he remembered what the small girl had told him when they had met. He remembered what she had called them.
Cybermen.
Ha! That made you want to read on didn't it? ....or mabye not. Oh well. R&R please.
Oh, wait, I fogot to say. Merry Christmas everyone!