A man who was supposed to be dead picked his way through the rubble of the factory that had once manufactured ATMOS units. It had been blown nearly to the ground after UNIT had bombed the factory in an effort to combat the Sontarans during their last attempt to invade the Earth and turn it into a breeding planet. Not that the man wearing the the expensive suit, who was supposed to be dead, cared much about the Sontarans. He cared about what his insider source had told was left in the in the man was really hoping had survived the firefight.
It had.
He found his way down the stairs, riddled with pockmarks from bullets and scorches from laser blasts and chips of concrete from the walls. At the bottom, was a long hallway with a thick metal door at one end. Before, the lights would have flickered on, triggered by movement, but now all was dark and quiet. There were still bodies of UNIT soldiers lying where they had died, red berets still on their heads.
The man reached the door and snapped his fingers. Another man, carrying a large gun and wearing a red beret himself, kicked at the metal. There was a loud, hollow clanging and the door crumpled inward to reveal a large room. The man in the suit pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and entered, followed by the UNIT soldier. Or rather, by the man whom everyone thought was a UNIT soldier.
In the small circle of light cast by the torch, both men could see a coffin-shaped stretcher on wheels, long enough for a person to lie down on. Beside it, and connected to it with a myriad of wires, was a long, low square that was a few feet high.
The man in the suit smiled. "Seb, find me the remote, if you please." His voice was polite, but it was most certainly an order, not a request. Colonel Sebastian Moran did as he was told and handed the control pad over to his boss. "Thank you, dear."
The man in the suit with the slight Irish accent manipulated the controls until a motor whirred and the lid began to rise. Inside was a foul-smelling, milky, turquoise-coloured liquid.
"Is this it, sir?" Moran asked quietly; his boss was known for an… unpredictable temper, to say the least. And he was acting on Moran's information so if went badly, it would be Seb's head. Literally.
"Indeed, it is. You did well, Colonel. This is a Sontaran cloning chamber. Well, was the Sontaran's, but now it's mine."
Moran nodded like he completely understood the situation. Of course, he didn't at all, but it wasn't terribly important. He had found out the chamber was likely still in the basement and had passed along the information; just following orders.
"Alright, Seb, call in your men and start getting this loaded into the truck. It's almost useless to us here. We'll take it back to base," the man said, walking back toward the door and the hallway. Then he stopped and looked the man who was not UNIT in the eyes, "And be careful with that liquid; treat it like your own blood…which will be used to replace every drop you spill."
The man with the Irish accent and the expensive suit, who was supposed to be dead turned his back on Moran and left the factory, leaving no sign at all that he had been there. He was pleased at the find; he had contacts who would be mighty interested in it. And, of course, it posed certain benefits for himself.
