Hi! I hope you like this one. Torchwood and Donna are back!
Gasping, the Doctor woke into life. There was darkness all around him, briefly illuminated by the bright flashes of light that surrounded him. He was covered in mud, half buried in a French field. There was a flash of orange flames, accompanied by the screams of dying men and debris that was flung high into the air. The explosion nearly deafened him.
Aching, he crawled to his feet, shaking as the ground beneath him shuddered. Staggering, he ran down a muddy hill, his face briefly illuminated by sparks and explosions in the distance. Something caught his trousers – barbed wire – which cut across his leg as he tripped, rolling through mud, down a steep hill.
He forced his eyes shut as water immersed him. Blackness surrounded him, seeping into his lungs and mouth and nose. Then, suddenly, he wasn't. A large, warm hand grasped him by the hair on the back of his head, pulling him out of the muddy lake.
"Wo, wo, woah!" the Doctor squirmed, struggling as he was pulled to his knees. "Let me go! Who are you?"
The Doctor wiped the mud from his eyes. There were several men in front of him, head to toe in military uniform. As a mine in the distance blew, scattering men into the air, their sharp, cold faces were illuminated. They pointed guns between the Doctor's eyes.
"Ok . . . Just . . ." the Doctor stuttered, urged them to lower their guns . . . Then he realised. A red band was strapped around their arms, accompanied with a white circle and a black swastika. "Oh . . ."
"Sorry, can you make this quick. And I swear, if you're some flipping recorded woman tryin'a sell me some crackpot insurance scheme, you can shove the whole flaming thing right in your . . ." Donna Noble screamed, trailing off her sentence as she looked up to realise that her mother was giving her glaring looks, mouthing the words: 'Shush, it's Strictly!'
"Well, I was going to ask whether that was Donna Noble, but judging by the attitude I'm guessing I've got it right," the voice at the end of the line giggled – Bad Wolf.
"What did you just-?"
"It's the tango any second know. Keep it quiet," Sylvia Noble insisted. Donna glared.
"Donna, I need you to go into a different room – away from any family," Bad Wolf instructed.
"Why? It can't really be that important," Donna frowned.
"Please. Just do it," Bad Wolf insisted.
"I'll be down in a bit. Like you care!" Donna teased to her mother, then left the room into a corridor. "Ok. What do you want?"
"Listen to every word I have to say," Bad Wolf clearly instructed.
"Hold on . . ." Donna thought, "Have I heard your voice before."
"No!" Bad Wolf snapped. "You might have heard me on a recorded message before; that's all. But never mind that; I have something for you to do."
"And what's that?" Donna asked, listening closely to the next words that Bad Wolf spoken.
"Have you heard of Black Demon Industries?"
"It's weird to just look at it," Martha sighed. She stood in the park, slightly dampened by the light rain that sprinkled over her and Mickey. The Tardis was in front of them, scared and dented.
"After so long . . ." Mickey muttered. "Has it changed?"
"Yeah, I was thinking that," Martha agreed. "What about him? Do you think the Doctor's changed?"
"He must've. The last time we saw him . . . I've never seen him like that."
"It was like he was giving in," Martha sighed, dazing into the distance. Slowly, she retrieved a key from her pocket, momentarily watching it in her hands, before slotting it into the Yale lock of the Tardis.
"You kept it," Mickey noticed, gesturing to Martha's Tardis key.
"Well, I guess I never could let it go," Martha replied. With a twist, the blue door unlocked. She pushed.
The bigger-on-the-inside of the Tardis was revealed to Martha and Mickey: the blue and green lights, the hexagonal console, the glass floor and the doors that led deeper into the machine. But it was a wreck. The floor had cracked, and in several places was missing chunks. A section of the console was torn off, and now weakly swung, only connected by a few trembling wires. Blocks of metal scattered over the floor, creating a jungle of machinery and smoke.
Mickey coughed, spitting out the smoke he'd inhaled. "Jesus! The Doctor's really let this place go!"
"Doctor!" Martha called. "It's Martha Jones; your old companion! And Mickey! Hello? Are you in here?"
"I don't think he is," Mickey said after an unanswered silence. Martha dropped her head. Mickey watched as she wiped her eyes and sniffed. "Aah, babes," Mickey cried, hugging Martha. "He'll be here somewhere."
"But what if he isn't?" Martha asked. "After all this time and he's not even here."
"It's the Doctor! He'll have got in some sort of trouble; that's why the ships so damaged," Mickey concluded.
"Well, it's the best explanation I can think of," Martha agreed. She cocked her head to a side. "It's a bit different in here. Like it?"
"A bit . . . Underwater."
Martha laughed. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Look, even the controls are different," Martha pointed out, stepping towards the Tardis console. "I'd started to remember what some of them did."
"I didn't even try. I just left the skinny space guy to do all the work for me," Mickey joked. As he stepped towards Martha, his foot caught on a piece of fallen equipment. He recovered his balance, but in the commotion, pressed a button at the console.
Immediately, the Tardis was filled with the repeating rhythm. It was oddly hypnotic. Martha looked up, clearly recognising it. Mickey did too. One two three four . . . One two three four . . . On went that beat of four, pulsing like a heartbeat. "But . . . It can't be!" Martha gasped. One two three four . . . One two three four . . . "The sound . . . It's from the Archangel Network . . . It's Harold Saxon . . . It's the Master!"
"JACK!" Gwen Cooper screamed. "Jack, can you hear that?"
The beat of four rippled through the Torchwood Hub, playing through the speakers and computers. "Yeah!" Captain Jack Harkness replied, typing at a computer in a panic.
"What is that God damn beating?" Rex asked.
"The rhythm used by the Archangel Network to hypnotise the world," Jack replied.
"I remember that!" Gwen gasped. "But that was the Master! You told me it was the Master. Is this the Master? Is he back?"
Jack squinted at the computer screen, taking down the location. "I dunno, give me a minute."
"Where's it coming from? I've checked the radio, internet, TV – how come we can only hear it in the Hub?" Rex asked, stepping by Jack.
"Like I said, give me a minute," Jack insisted. He paused. "What? The drumming beat is being subsonic frequency, emitted from somewhere in London . . . A park somewhere. I'll get CCTV . . . Oh my God!"
"What is it Jack?" Gwen worried.
"It's the Tardis. The sound is coming from the Tardis," Jack gasped.
"But if we can hear this, who else can?" Rex thought. Jack and Gwen looked worried.
"What's going on? What are you doing?" Oswin panicked. She watched in horror, confused as Bad Wolf dropped the telephone. She opened her mouth, where the eerie beat of four emerged. "What's that sound?"
Bad Wolf didn't reply, yet the drum beat rung out of her mouth.
"What's that sound?" Donna asked, only hearing the beat of four on the other end. "It's . . . I've heard it before . . . It's . . . It reminds me of . . ." Vespiform, Pompeii and Sontarans, all flooding into her head. "Argh!" she screamed, crumbling to her knees. "My head! What's happening to my head?" The Library, Adipose, Ood.
"Donna? Donna, what's happening?" Sylvia asked, stepping out into the corridor. "Donna!"
"My head! What's happening to my head?" Donna cried. Midnight, Racnoss, Daleks. "It's burning up!"
"No, no, no, no!" Sylvia cried, holding her hands to her mouth in panic. Suddenly, she realised what she had to do. She rushed to a phone, press speed dial and waited. "Hello? I need Torchwood!"
"Jack, it's Sylvia Noble!" Gwen called, picking up the phone.
"What's happened?" Jack asked, instantly serious.
"It's Donna."
Jack realised what she meant immediately. "Rex, stay here. Gwen, with me," he instructed.
"Why do I stay here?" Rex cried, annoyed.
"You're the newest!" Jack called, stepping through the circular door as it rolled to a side. "Gwen."
"Oh," Gwen gasped, turning back to Rex, "get us a pizza. Not one of your rubbish American ones – something I can actually digest."
"Hey! That's my country mate!"
"This is England, mate! God bless Wales . . . I miss Cardiff."
"Yeah, but London has better Wi-Fi," Rex shrugged.
"Stop flirting and come on!" Jack called.
"Great," Gwen sighed, "another nagging American."
"Right, cos you're so funny," Rex said sarcastically.
Gwen winked back at him, then ran off with Jack.
Jack and Gwen emerged out into a car park, where the Torchwood van waited. They jumped in, Jack burst the engine into life and stormed away. Torchwood had moved from Cardiff to the centre of London, where their van emerged out onto the streets. They skipped lights, swerved corners and speeded through the traffic – bounding on their way to save Donna.
Really hoped you liked this! Please review! I've got some good ideas for the next chapter, so I hope you enjoy it (things don't look good for Oswin . . . Or do I mean Clara?)