Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. But if anyone wants the bread maker my now-brother-in-law gave us as a wedding present, you can have it.
Kazster: I's sneaky like that. :D Royslady51: I'm reasonably sure that suggestion was taken directly from the "Creepy Stalker's Field Guide." I will do my best to open up some free time to read your new fic. As it is, some people are already upset I didn't get this posted fast enough *cough*hibraheza*cough* Dreamcatcher49: A lot of it has to do with the fact that, after his involvement in having The Doctor arrested, the Tylers were a bit recalcitrant in keeping Mickey up to date on where Rose had gone and if she was OK. No matter what's happened, he cares for Rose, and he never really got to speak to The Doctor himself. He still had unanswered questions about this new Time Lord's character. Mauve Guest: Well, all that was starting at that particular moment was a long-winded, pompous speech. But, you do get to meet this episode's baddy. Enjoy! Blue Stone Shining Wolf: Aaand as requested, the sinister-ness commences! Lady Dunla: I love Donna, as well. I was a bit put off by her in her first episode, but when she returned she won me over rather quickly. By the time her story ended, the way it ended, I was thoroughly pissed off. TK: Let's just say Rose is good at dodging cameras. Has a sixth sense for 'em. :D Also, your villain for the episode awaits below, and see the response to Dreamcatcher re: Mickey. I make typy enough today. Need food. Hibari Heza: Yeah, I try to post earlier, but this whole "being an adult" thing is highly overrated. At least the FAFSA is much easier to fill out than it was when I was an undergrad. Then again, in those days, I had to detail my parents' income, as well.
"And so, it is my privilege to introduce the new Head of Operations for Torchwood, Peter Tyler," Graham Chamberlain introduced. He'd been speaking for nearly fifteen minutes, reciting all the achievements and advancements made by Torchwood over the last nine years. He was an incredibly charismatic speaker, and it made Rose's skin crawl, just a little. She was never over-fond of the man, for obvious reasons, but listening to his droning affectation of magnanimity had been a prolonged exercise in self-control. Finally, he was done, and Rose brightened immediately, clapping along with the assembled crowd as her stepfather took to the podium.
"All right, settle down," Pete insisted, smiling, "First, I must thank Mr. Chamberlain for his exemplary stewardship. I have the great fortune of assuming responsibility for an organization that has grown by leaps and bounds. Much of the credit must also go to the capable, dedicated professionals who work here. I pledge to give you the space and autonomy needed to do your jobs to the best of your ability. Let us be reminded of the importance of our mission, and may we all execute our duties with honor and expediency in the name of Great Britain. Cheers!" With that, everyone raised their glasses, including Rose, and toasted their new boss. No one seemed to notice Graham Chamberlain's absence as the dancing and shameless schmoozing commenced.
Donna was slumped in a chair behind the coat check counter filing her nails. She hadn't seen any new guests in the last half hour, but she still had another half to go before her official break. After calling nearly everyone she knew to distract herself with gossip and repeatedly shooting down the simpering Lynda's attempts to strike up a conversation, Donna had nothing left to do but primp a bit. She could hear the faint hum of chatter and occasional echoes of laughter emanating from the great hall, and, at the moment, she was listening to Pete Tyler make his speech. 'Good on 'im,' she thought. She might actually consider turning her temp job into a permanent one with him in charge.
When she heard the voices in the hall grow suddenly louder, she glanced up to see the slight form of Graham Chamberlain slip out one of the hall's side doors. As it shut behind him, the cacophony of applause in the great hall was muted once more, and Donna watched carefully out of the corner of her eye as the former Torchwood Head of Operations darted surreptitious glances around the brightly lit lobby before straightening his tie and walking calmly toward the east side of the building. Still appearing to be concentrating on her nails, Donna watched him disappear into the corridor. Her interest piqued after an hour of mind-numbing boredom, she threw her nail file into her bag.
"I'm goin' on break," she announced, bouncing up off the chair and breezing past the stunned Lynda.
"But… you can't. It's not time," the blonde stammered uselessly after her. Donna smelled a rat, and no one could stop her once she set her mind to something.
"Is for me. You can handle this. Watch my bag, would ya? Back in a mo'," she said cheerily. Donna marched in the direction Mr. Chamberlain had disappeared, knowing her associate would never have the gumption to follow her or to go tattling to the event organizers. As she neared the corridor that led to the lifts, she shifted her weight to her toes, making sure her heels didn't rap against the granite flooring. Deftly, she crept forward, pausing around the corner from the bank of elevators until she heard the melodic chime of a lift car arriving. She waited a few more seconds, hearing a man walk across the polished granite before his footsteps became muffled by the floor of the lift.
It was then that Donna peeked around the corner, just in time to see the stainless steal doors shut on the middle of the three lifts. She walked out from her hiding place, calmly running her hands over the frumpy gray tweed uniform skirt they'd made her wear, and stopping to watch the floor counter above the lift doors count – down. To her mind, there were only two reasons for the man to go sneaking off during the festivities. Well, three, but she knew for a fact he'd finished cleaning out his office that day. He could be meeting up with some bird for an illicit rendezvous, and the prospect of catching him in the act thrilled Donna to no end. He'd made a tactical error in flirting with every secretary in the office but her. Not that she wanted to sleep with the manipulative weasel, just that she burned for the opportunity to tell him off with righteous indignation.
Alternately, and far more disturbingly, he might be slinking off for more nefarious purposes. Her limited experience with Mr. Chamberlain suggested a personality more than willing to undermine or outright sabotage the organization for the purposes of making Pete Tyler look bad, and as she watched the floor counter sink lower and lower into the subbasement, she became increasingly indignant on the Tylers' behalf. After offering her granddad a job, and a sense of purpose, after her grandmother had passed; treating him not only with dignity and deference, but allowing him to spend hours on their back lawn with his telescope, Donna considered the Tylers family. No one messed with Donna's family.
Finally, the number settled on SB14 – subbasement 14 – and remained there. Donna pressed the call button for the lift and waited, stewing in her outrage, for the car to arrive. She had a broad and vivid imagination, not to mention a particular taste for scandal and intrigue, so during the handful of seconds it took for one of the lift cars to reach her, she'd formulated at least a dozen possible plots, from destroying Torchwood records to unleashing a horde of seductive robot assassins. Assuming Torchwood had those. She always imagined they did. Wilf's fascination with aliens, paired with her familiarity with the Tylers and, now, the enigmatic Torchwood, was rubbing off on her.
The lift on her right chimed its arrival, and she was through the doors the second they opened. When she discovered that the buttons for subbasements 10-14 required a proximity card, she slammed her palm against the button panel. Then, she had a moment of inspiration. Thinking quickly, she pressed the button for the fifth floor, her floor. Owing to the advanced automation system located throughout the building, IT staff were allowed access anywhere in the tower, and that moron Chet was constantly leaving the lanyard with his ID and prox card at his desk. She'd used it once to get into an executive washroom. Donna grinned triumphantly, hoping all the way up to the fifth floor that Chet had been just as big a dummy, today.
The lift doors glided open on SB14, and Donna stepped out onto the utilitarian concrete floor. She was standing at the junction of three corridors, all lined in cinderblock walls painted a sterile white with a broad red band near the ceiling with 'SB14' stenciled in. Placards placed on the corners adorned with the honeycomb styled 'T' emblem pointed in the directions of various divisions. Looking around carefully, Donna approached one of the placards to get an idea of where she was. Departments such as 'Small Arms Testing,' 'Long Range Weapons Testing,' 'Specimen Storage,' 'Secure Storage,' and 'Quarantine' all appeared like likely candidates. Trouble was, as much as she'd lagged behind Mr. Chamberlain, there was no telling where he might have gone, whether she might inadvertently run into him, or if he'd long since left.
For lack of any better option, Donna selected the corridor to her left at random, trying her even best to remember all the turns she made to return to the lift. This floor was utterly vacant, and the silence beyond the rhythmic click of her heels on the concrete was unnerving. Each door she passed, she took a peek inside, listening for any sign of occupancy, before continuing on. Eventually, she reached what appeared to be a locker room of sorts, and she spotted a white lab coat hanging from a peg at the end of a row of lockers. She quickly darted in and slid on the coat, taking an extra hair tie from her wrist and wrapping her hair up in a bun as neatly as she could to look more 'sciency.' She doubted Chamberlain would recognize her, as little attention as he paid her, and she hoped her disguise would work if she ran into him unexpectedly.
Cautiously, Donna slipped out the door and into the echoing hallway. She hadn't a watch on her, nor a mobile, but she knew her 'break' had now lasted considerably longer than the designated fifteen minutes. Feeling just a bit rebellious, she smiled to herself and continued examining room after room, occasionally with the aid of Chet's nicked prox card. She hadn't found a hint of Graham Chamberlain, yet, and given the slightly higher number of right-hand turns she'd taken, she suspected she might be circling around to one of the other corridors that had split from the bank of lifts. Just as she was turning yet another corner, Donna heard the telltale ping of a security door unlocking, and, looking around frantically, she spotted a door marked 'Haz-Mat Supplies' and darted around the bend on her toes, slipping inside just as she heard footsteps in the hallway beyond.
Keeping the door ajar ever so slightly, she knelt down and peered out into the hallway. After only a handful of footsteps, she saw him. Graham Chamberlain; with his narrow shoulders, lean build, patrician facial features, and dark hair going grey at the temples; approached from her left, passing within a foot of the room where she hid, and the predatory look of satisfaction in his eyes made Donna suddenly regret following the man. Whatever he was doing down here, it was no good, and Donna stayed exactly where she was for several minutes after the sound of his footsteps had faded away. Eventually, around about the time her leg started falling asleep, she decided the coast was likely clear. Slowly, she rose to her feet and eased the door open.
As she stepped out into the barren corridor, she glanced left in the direction Mr. Chamberlain had come from, and right toward the corner around which he'd disappeared and she'd arrived. A huge, screaming part of her brain told her to go right, to escape, and leave well enough alone. However, there was another, small part of her that pulled her to the left. Whether it was plain curiosity or a sense of duty, Donna wasn't sure, but it was strong enough to arrest her instinct to flee. Looking left once more, she spotted the door out of which Graham Chamberlain had likely exited. It had only been a few seconds before he'd reached the cupboard where she was hiding, after all, and the reinforced blast door she saw ten feet away did have a security panel outside it.
Swallowing hard, Donna stepped cautiously toward the massive blast door. The placard outside said 'Quarantine 12B,' and she stood before the interlocking carbon-reinforced doors for a solid thirty seconds before taking her acquired prox card from her pocket and placing it over the security panel with a trembling hand. After two heartbeats that felt like an eternity, the access panel gave a cheerful ping and the light flashed green as the door slid open, heavy on its track. Gradually, the bright fluorescent lights inside turned on, illuminating an incomprehensibly complex control console extending along the length of the right wall and a pair of sterile-looking stainless steal tables along the left, displaying all manner of manual and electric tools. In the center of the room stood something Donna had never seen before.
While her brain told her to run, to get out and go find help immediately, her feet moved her forward, toward the strange object. In stood within a ring of metal-lined holes in the floor that emitted a faint blue light that reached matching ports in the ceiling. As she drew nearer, the hairs on her arms stood on end in response to some manner of static field, and she stopped. Donna examined the thing closely. It could, perhaps, be a robot assassin, as she'd posited, but it certainly wasn't a seductive robot assassin. It didn't look human at all. It sort of looked like a giant, metal pepper pot, only with two semi-transulcent cylindrical nodes up top and three metal 'arms' pointed limply at the ground, one of which ended in a plunger. The strange bit, however, was the phial she saw suspended in the air above the object.
There were no wires or prongs holding the glass tube in place, but it rotated slowly in the air, allowing the thick, red liquid inside to slosh around, coating the insides of the phial. She stared at it, mesmerized, for several seconds. She'd once spent a week filling in for a receptionist at a clinic, and her first reaction upon seeing the dark red liquid was that it was blood. If so, what had originally struck her as plain old 'weird' was quickly becoming macabre. It was in those seconds that seemed to stretch on for days that Donna heard the noise. Something, somewhere in the room, was ticking. She tore her attention away from the robotic – whatever – to take a closer look at the control panel on her right.
The expanse of buttons and switches and monitors meant less than nothing to Donna, but she walked along its length, inspecting everything closely and searching for the source of the noise. When she'd made it halfway down the console, the beeping suddenly increased to a frantic pace and sparks began to erupt along the length of the instrument panel. Donna jumped back immediately, and the lights inside the room went out. The only illumination came from the beams surrounding the metal thing and the intermittent burst of sparks, until finally the mass electrical short slowed and with one last burst from the section nearest the wall, the pale blue beams of light were also extinguished. In the abject darkness, Donna heard a small sound of glass shattering, and her heart sank.
For a moment, all she could hear was her own breathing, and she was too startled to move an inch. Then, without warning, the two cylindrical nodes atop the metal dome of the mysterious mechanical creature lit up, and Donna saw the red liquid dripping over the metal casing, the surface beneath it illuminating wherever it spread. Stunned, she watched as the blood, or whatever it was, seemed to gradually be absorbed into the copper colored surface. Heart pounding away, she began edging around the creature on careful feet, glancing frequently to the tiny red light that marked the door's security panel. At least that was still working.
"VORTEX ENERGY DETECTED," the harsh, mechanical voice surprised Donna, and she almost lost her balance, "INITIATE CELULAR RECONSTRUCTION." There wasn't a chance in hell she was waiting around to see what happened next, and Donna darted for the door, fumbling frantically for the prox card.
"HALT! WHO GOES THERE?!" the creature nearly shrieked, and Donna slapped the card on the control panel. As soon as the light turned green, she squeezed out the slowly opening doors. She tumbled to the concrete outside, immediately scrambling for the security panel and pressing the emergency door close button. Behind her, a short beam of light burst through the closing doors and struck the opposite concrete wall, scoring the painted brick. As the blast doors shut, Donna ran.