Of course the chief electrician was dead, poor sot. The Doctor grimaced as he bent over the human, middle aged, overweight, the sort of regular man who came to work at his silly department store, just figuring he would keep the lights on and the elevators running and not be bothered. Likely had a wife somewhere, maybe a kid or two, and a liking for too much beer and football down at the pub. The sort that didn't go to work and expect he'd have his head mashed in by a faceless mannequin.
Why this store, though, and why this electrician? Henrik's was one of those annoying shops that catered to the younger set, the sort of twenty-first century fashion that made the Doctor wonder if they wearer meant to look as if they had just rolled out of bed in whatever they had fallen into in. The idea of paying seventy-five quid for a raggedy hoody? Fashion sensibilities aside, this Henrik's store had a lot of things going for it that the Nestene could use to their advantage. It was an old building, lot of metal girders, great for picking up signals. Mannequins galore, enough to get a small army together, a faceless, expressionless militia of tattily dressed thugs to wander the city. And that was the last key to why this location. Right in the heart of one of London's shopping districts, the perfect place to launch an Auton attack if the Nestene wanted.
In the floors up above he could hear the sounds of the store winding down, the announcement over the loudspeakers the store was closing. Good, the place would clear out. That was convenient. He patted the device deep in his giant leather coat pockets. If he could strategically place this up on the roof it would cut the signal for this block at least. Dangerous, yes, and certainly destructive, but far better than allowing an Auton army to rampage through the streets of London, besides it would buy him time to find the consciousness itself. All he had to do was wait for the customers and staff to clear, do a final sweep through the building to rid it of any security lingering about, and jump back into the TARDIS and be on his way. Simple as that.
With all of his nine hundred years of experience he should have known it would never be that easy. Above the floors that housed the store was office space, mostly professionals, doctors, lawyers, a dentist, all closed by the time he had wandered down to the basement to find the chief electrician. He had taken off to check out the roof access, ears pitched to listen for the last employees to file out before he made his way upstairs. The door to the stairwell was locked, unsurprising as he doubted the owners of the building were terribly keen on random people wandering up there. The dead bolt was solid as he tried to pull on the heavy, steel door. Not a problem. Out came his sonic screwdriver, a bit of jiggle and finding the right setting, and he could have the dead bolt open in just a jiff…
The high, clear voice of a young woman calling out in the background made both his hearts stop. Damn! He turned to the noise automatically, his hearts stopping. The store was supposed to be closing, and some girl was mucking about. He paused, considering. He could just leave whoever was stupid enough to come wandering down there that time of the night, go plant his device and fetch them on the way out again. But he had no idea if the Autons were up and restless. They'd killed the engineer. Likely they would kill her too.
He had plenty enough deaths lying on his conscience, thank you very much, including a now dead chief electrician. Didn't need to add to the list. With a muttered vulgarity in some language that he was certain hadn't ever been heard on Earth, he ran for the sound of the girl's increasingly panicked cries, hoping that he didn't get to her too late.
He snuck in through the fire doors into the main basement, scanning the dim area with sharp eyes. He caught sight of her crouched against one of the far walls, a single blonde head in a forest of white, faceless plastic ones. Creepy buggers, Autons, single-minded in their focus, like early robots following simple binary commands in cheap, plastic bodies. The ability to multi-task wasn't exactly one of their strong suits. So it wasn't particularly difficult for him to squeeze around the mass of them as they surrounded her. She stood terrified, face screwed up as if prepared for the worst.
He simply reached out and grabbed her hand.
The girl jerked, eyes snapping open to him as his fingers touched hers, and he gave her one single command. "Run!"
She didn't think, she didn't hesitate; she simply did as he told her, and held on to his hand for dear life.
He banged through the fire exit; the heavy doors clattering open as the girl followed behind him, running for all she was worth. On their tail he could hear the disturbing, inhuman sound of plastic shuffling across the cement floor as the Autons gave chase. Plastic mannequins they might be, but they could move faster than they appeared to. His hand slammed on the button to the employee lift, the doors opening fast enough to allow him to nearly throw the girl in while he followed behind. Even then the fastest of the Autons caught up, and attempted to grab them through the closing, heavy steel doors.
To her credit the girl didn't scream at the wiggling, white arm reaching for the Doctor's face. He snagged it, giving it a yank, the arm popping easily off its metal post. The doors finished shutting as the elevator rose, well out of the danger of the Autons for now. Doubtful they could even figure out how to work the elevator enough to get up to them, but just in case…
"You pulled his arm off?" It was the girl, standing against the far wall, panting as she stared with wide, shocky golden brown eyes at the plastic appendage he still held.
Perceptive this one, "Yep," he grinned, tossing it at her blandly. She caught it, unsure of what to even do with it, but looking mildly disturbed. "Plastic."
Not that it was clearly any reassurance to her. "Very clever, nice trick!" She was sounding on the verge of hysterics now. The Doctor knew that reaction in humans well, particularly the female sort. Many of his companions had displayed it, that turn up in tone and pitch as their feeble, human brains finally wrapped around whatever concept challenged their singular world view. Show them something they weren't ready for, like a living, plastic arm, and a human was likely to lose all cognitive reasoning, if not bodily function.
"Who were they then," the girl demanded, waving the now still piece of plastic. "Students? Is this a student thing or what?"
Really, did humans just look for the most obtuse answer on purpose? "Why would they be students?" What sort of students dressed themselves up in plastic just to scare a shop girl, anyway?
"I don't know," she admitted honestly, but vaguely.
"Well you said it, why students?" Honestly, she had to have a reason. Did university students dress themselves up in plastic and go muck about in town in twenty-first century London?
"Cause," the girl replied defensively. "To get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students."
Apparently university students did dress up in plastic and run around in twenty-first century London. What a horrible thing to do! Oh well, at least the logic of her argument made sense, and certainly every university student he knew about on all the various worlds and in all the various time periods loved to pull stupid pranks to scare the locals. At least the girl had enough sense to reason it out before she lost her head. Shows she at least didn't drop all cognitive reasoning in the face of danger. Looks like she had a bit of a head on her shoulders. The Doctor grinned at her, impressed.
"That makes sense, well done!"
"Thanks," she flushed; relieved she at least now understood what was going on. Pity he would have to dissuade her of that.
"Their not students," he admitted. He hated blowing up her happy, safe little ball of perfectly reasonable logic but he did, popping that balloon with only a little regret. Time to expand this girl's realm of understanding.
She didn't look as if she believed him, which wasn't the first time a human had given him that look. "Whoever they are, when Wilson finds them he's gonna call the police."
"Who's Wilson?" He doubted this Wilson would know how to deal with Autons any better than this girl did.
"Chief electrician," she supplied.
Oh…him. Clearly she hadn't found the body. "Wilson's dead."
Perhaps he shouldn't have dropped it on her so matter-of-factly like that. Her mouth dropped as the elevator doors opened and she was almost too stunned for a moment to follow him. He forgot sometimes other people weren't as used to death and dying as he was. Had this girl ever even seen a dead body? Somehow he doubted it.
"Who are you, then," she shrieked after him, in that way human's had when they were trying to make sense of something they didn't believe could happen. "Who's that lot down there?"
He could answer her, but what was the point. She was a girl, a kid, little more than a human teenager, who likely got a job at this place selling clothes because she didn't have anywhere else to go. She came to work everyday, did her job, and went home to her boyfriend and her telly without ever thinking that there was something else out there, other possibilities, that there were worlds where plastic was living and consciousness could be shared across wavelength signals.
"I said who are they," she demanded louder, her voice ringing off the concrete corridors. He should just pat her on the head and send her on her way, tell her to be a good girl, have a nice life, and run like hell. Instead he stopped and confronted her, the girl with the dyed blonde hair and the large, cinnamon sugar eyes.
"They're made of plastic," he reiterated. "Living plastic creatures. They're being controlled by a relay device on the roof, which would be a great big problem if I didn't have this!"
With a flourish he reached into the transdimensional pockets of his leather coat, easily snagging the explosive device he had slipped in there earlier. She frowned at it quizzically as he continued, opening the exit doors that led them to the service entrance behind the store.
"So, I'm going to go up there and blow them up! And I might well die in the process!" He could die, he theorized, it was a possibility. But then almost all of his adventures in this current incarnation seemed to always possess the vague threat of his demise. If he were a psychologist he would say it was survivors guilt, the need to put himself in as much danger as possible to make up for all of those he lost. But then, he never did put much stock in psychologists; all were a load of nutters anyway.
"But don't worry about me, no!" He bustled the girl out of the door, despite her confused protests as she clutched the white, plastic arm to her. "Go home, go on! Go and have your lovely beans on toast!"
The girl stuttered and spluttered as she stumbled backwards into the alley, clearly at a loss as to how to respond to any of this. He had to get her out of here and quickly if he wanted to get the job done before the Autons made it up the stairs and out the front of the glass windowed store.
"Don't tell anyone about this," he cautioned flippantly, already calculating which route to the roof would get him there most quickly. "Because if you do, you'll get them killed."
With that, he shut the heavy door on the girl's pretty but bemused face.
Which stairway should he try, the one at the north end or the south? North was closest, but then had that dodgy bit in the middle by the dentist office. South was a straight shot, but it was the one that led directly to the basement and might be filled with Autons now. He should have made sure to close that one route back off before he ran to grab…what was her name again? Perhaps he should have asked.
He jerked open the door again, finding her still standing there, as if trying to sort out if she should run or call the police. "I'm the Doctor, by the way," he offered with a manic grin by way of greeting. "What's yours?"
"Rose," she replied simply, clearly at a loss as to why he was even asking.
"Nice to meet you, Rose." Such a lovely name. "Now, run for your life!"
He slammed the door shut again; seriously hoping the girl took his advice. Rose…yes, a very lovely name.
How fast could he make it up the steps again?