ɸ the confrontation ɸ
"You could have said, Excuse me, do you mind coming with us?" the Doctor said to a nearby tackler as they bound him up. "Hello? What's your name? I'm the Doctor, by the way. I'd shake your hand but it seems that I'm tied up at the moment."
The man remained silent but another came forward. This man seemed more important than the others, but this was to be expected of someone who dressed as this. The people who dressed the silliest were the ones of highest stature, the Doctor reflected. They seemed to be attracted to the clothing that screams 'Hey! Look at me! I've got more frills on than you do!' The man seemed to have a limited color supply, ranging from beige to dark browns and a very tiny strips of red and violet, which were wrapped around his body in a hodgepodge put together way. All in all it was a very lovely… dress, The Doctor assumed. A mishmashed assembly of feathers poked out of the most random of places and gave him a very molted-bird feeling about him. He was armed to the teeth, literally. Dozens of teeth swathed around his robes, as if he felt as if he didn't have enough in his mouth.
"You must excuse my attire, Doctor….?"
"Just the Doctor."
"Right…right. My name is James St. John, and I am dressed as the Magistrate De'houn, of the nearby village which you appear to be trying to endanger."
"Me? Endanger? Never!"
"Why else would you ignore protocols? The warnings? Surely you must have heard them when entering the atmosphere." James retrieved a device from his inner robes. Pressing a button, his clothing seemed to shimmer and pulsate with a pixel-ish glow. The clothes were rearranging themselves!
"Oh that's much worse than before, now you just seem too… beaurocratic." The Doctor finished lamely as he watched the clothes rearrange into a very formal suit and tie. "What protocols?"
James eyed the blue box. "Obviously our devices aren't equipped to consider tinker toys as space ships," he casually commented.
"Hey! She does fine! It's what you do with the size that matters!" the Doctor said defensively.
"Open it up. Now." James commanded.
"No. There's no one else on board, you have my word."
"Your word means nothing to me, and I won't ask you again."
"Then you won't have to hear me refuse again."
James motioned to the sky. The TARDIS disappeared.
"Oh! Arm-ese! I haven't seen that in ages, let's see if I still remember how to…" The Doctor paused and remembered that his arms were tightly bound together behind his back. "Well, another time, another place. I don't suppose you could let me go and give her back? I'll be out of your merry way… no? I suppose not, it's never that simple. Look, I'm sure we can all talk this out peacef—"
The group of men disappeared as well, and Mort still could not believe his eyes.
ɸ
He was not a bad boy, despite whatever his mother chose to call him. Mort was suspicious about the way the magistrate was acting. Why not just send out an idle man from the village to get the sheep? What was so important that he had to go himself? Mort decided to tag along, at a distance of course.
Mort saw everything from behind the crest of the hill. From the man stepping out of the blue apparition he saw earlier to the odd changing of Magistrate De'houn and now, the disappearance of everyone. Except the sheep but who cares about the sheep? Men had miraculously appeared and then vanished again without moving! Perhaps they were ghosts of the afterlife? It was the act of the gods, and the magistrate was at the center of it, Mort was certain.
He ran down to the place where they last stood, and there was nothing. He wasn't expecting to find anything, but when men could do that, what else could happen? He turned around quickly when he heard a sudden intake of air, like someone taking a huge gasp of air suddenly. A man, clad in dark colors and with clothes he was not familiar with, stood there.
"You're in trouble, boy," he said, and as he reached out to grab Mort, everything went black.
ɸ
Prat Oleman pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. This one was getting on his nerves. It was in the way that the man sat, as if he had some faith left in this world. There's not that many people in this universe that could sit there and not sweat. It's as almost as if I were the one being detained and questioned. I just hope to the gods that we didn't restrain a person of importance. "What were you doing there again?"
"I'm on holiday."
"Then why didn't you check in here at the station?" There it was again, that look as if I'm the one that hasn't followed procedures.
"I didn't know you had to. I just decided to take a holiday, and did."
"Just like that? No booking? No calling? No Payments?"
"You say that as if a bad thing. Obviously spontaneity is the spice of one's life."
"Not here. There are no walk-ins. This is by appointment and only that if the person has been heavily and rigorously screened." The charlatan! Whoever heard that spontaneity was anything BUT the spice of life?! It is the spice of frightening people who are unable to plan anything in advance. "So what you are telling me is that you have no reservation to come here, yet you plopped right down on the planet expecting full service?"
"Full service? No. I had planned to see behind the scenes. See history. It's so much more exciting as present than to read about it in the books as past. What year is it by the way? "
Clearly this man is making me a fool. Prat covered his eyes with one hand and gestured for the guard with the other. "Take him away and put him back in his cell; I have no interest in talking with this man anymore. If St. John wants me to interview him, he'll have to do it himself."
