Corcoran had always secretly suspected Morehouse had a dungeon underneath his home where he kept all his business rivals and enemies, but to actually see it made his heart leap into his throat, his stomach drop, and his bowels threaten to loose. Knowing that he was the one to be locked up was not helping matters either.
The dungeon was not large, only two rooms, both lit by torches in cast iron sconces. The larger room was bare stone furnished only with manacles on the ceiling and floor. The second and smaller room, where they were eventually herded, had manacles all around on the walls. At the "insistence" of the Daleks, Corcoran and the Doctor were made to strip to only their drawers before they were shackled to opposite walls. They were not even given the luxury of sitting as the chains were just short enough that their bottoms would just float over the stone. Such a position would cause too much stress on their shoulders, however, so they elected to stand.
"So then, what's your plan?" Corcoran asked the Doctor acidly.
"Oh, there is no plan," a new voice cut in.
Corcoran knew that voice. That was the voice of the man who broke his leg, or at least the ringleader.
"Well, well, well," the lead man chuckled, coming into a little better light. "We meet again, eh, Corky? I told you we'd be back, and now we're going to finish the job. First we're going to break your arms, just like I promised."
"And who is this 'I'?" the Doctor interrupted.
The lead man did not turn, but one of his two goons did and did not even blink before punching the Doctor in the stomach. He groaned but resisted the urge to slump too far.
"We're your executioners," he spat. "But we may as well have a bit of fun beforehand."
"Unchain me," Corcoran threatened, "and I'll show you fun."
The ringleader merely grinned and started away, his thugs following.
"Cowards!" Corcoran shouted after them. "You won't do it because you know I would win in a fair fight!"
The men only laughed as they left.
"So then, how do you propose to get us out of this?"
The Doctor sighed, still reeling from the punch. "I don't know. If I had my sonic screwdriver…but I don't." He coughed and was silent for a minute or two. "I really don't know, Corcoran, and I am sorry to have dragged you into this. This…this is my feud and I brought you into it. And now, you'll never see your wife or daughter again."
Corcoran frowned. "I never expected to, really." The Doctor glanced at him. "They're gone, Doctor. When I finally got home from the war, I found my daughter murdered and my wife was missing. I've been desperately searching for them, but to no avail. Not even a clue as to where she might be or even what happened. My death…will be mourned by no one." He let out a breath. "And what about you?"
"Hm?"
"Morehouse touched a nerve with you, too, Doctor. What was he saying, about the Last Great Time War? You and these 'Daleks' or something?"
"Yeah."
"Where did he say you were from? Gal…Gal…"
"Gallifrey."
"Is it a long way from here?" Corcoran meant it as a joke, but quickly regretted it when he saw the Doctor's expression.
"It was a long way from here. Now it's gone. My people, the Time Lords, fought a war with the Daleks." He sighed and shook his head. "It was so…bad. I was never so scared in my life; and in all my regenerations since, all my travels, all my daring escapades, none have been able to even come close to what I felt during that time. I watched my family…and all my friends…the home I loved go up in flames, all the tune of 'Exterminate!'"
"If it's too hard to talk about it, I won't pry," Corcoran told him sympathetically.
"No, no. Well, yes, it does still hurt. In nine hundred years, this is a pain that never really goes away. But everyone I have ever told has been sympathetic. Oh, I brush it off, say 'I'm fine; I'm always fine.'"
"But you're not fine."
"No. However much I refuse sympathy, I am so grateful that someone understands, or at least pretends to. And then Morehouse…he knows and understands, but cares nothing about it." The Doctor took a shaky breath. "He truly is a heartless man." He nodded, more to himself than anything. "He truly is Dalek. I can see how and why they came into business together."
Corcoran forced a laugh. "If I hadn't seen all this for myself, I would have dismissed you as a mad man."
"But I am mad," the Doctor chuckled, feeling a small sense of life trickling back into him. "I'm just a mad man with a box, travelling throughout all of time and space."
"Oh? I don't recall any sort of box, just your little metal…what did you call it?"
"Sonic screwdriver."
"Aye, just your sonic screwdriver." Corcoran found himself grinning and the Doctor could only return it. "What the hell does that thing do anyway? I mean you just…" The detective futilely flicked his hand around in the manacle and tried to do a bad impression of the whirring sound the sonic made. It was so bad they both ended up laughing. The Doctor did a bad impression of Corcoran's bad impression and it went back and forth until their ribs hurt from laughter.
"Oh! Oh, my hearts! My lungs! I can't…I can't breathe!" the Doctor gasped.
"Speak for yourself!" Corcoran sputtered. "How many hearts do Time Lords have?"
"Two!"
That set off another round of gasping laughter. To any outsider in any other place, they may have been mistaken for severely intoxicated men, not men on death row laughing for the sake of laughter and trying to drive away the fear. Indeed, this was the laughter of dead men.
"You will cease laughter!"
Corcoran and the Doctor looked up as the three "executioners" entered the room, followed by a couple of Daleks, but they could not stop laughing.
"Cease laughter!" the Daleks ordered. "Cease now!"
Indeed, the laughter by now was hardly more than desperate coughing and gasping for breath as if after nearly drowning. When at last they caught their breath, the silence that followed was not a pleasant one. It was not so much that the laughter had gone as it had been forcibly sucked out of the room.
"Exterminate the human," one Dalek ordered.
The thugs moved toward Corcoran whose eyes had gone wide with fear. The Doctor lashed out, rattling his chains, but could not reach far enough.
"No! Noooo!" the Doctor snarled. "Don't you dare harm him! Take me! Take meeee!"
"Stop!" the Daleks commanded.
The thugs had just unlocked one of Corcoran's wrists but they stopped as ordered and waited for instructions. The Daleks looked at each other, their caps moving back and forth, the eye pieces up and down as they communicated some silent message. After a moment, they looked back at the thugs.
"Leave the human," the second Dalek commanded. "Bring the Doctor."
Corcoran's wrist was locked back up and the thugs turned to the Doctor. While they were distracted, Corcoran bunched his abs and kicked out at the thugs, grunting at the impact to his leg. Taken by surprise, all three stumbled, two into the wall, one into the Doctor. As one of them stumbled back, Corcoran lashed out again and managed to fumble one of the thugs into a grip between his legs. The Doctor, catching on, tried to do the same but the remaining thugs danced out of the way.
"You will cease this behavior!" the first Dalek said. "Release the human!"
"Release me first!" Corcoran demanded.
"Detective…" the Doctor hissed.
Corcoran had to act fast; his leg couldn't hold out much longer. As if sensing this, the ringleader brought out his gun and hit him on his wound with the butt. Corcoran cried out and released his captive. As he cried out, the third thug punched him in the face. Blood started dribbling from his nose and he slumped partway down the wall, coughing. As the three men gathered around him to deal more damage, the Daleks approached.
"You will cease! Wait to torture the human. Take the Doctor."
The thugs seemed reluctant, but they did as they were ordered.
"Think about that for a while," one of them growled.
The Doctor was released from the manacles on the wall, the thugs threatening him will all manners of horrendous tortures if he tried anything also.
"Silence!" the Daleks screeched excitedly. "Bring the Doctor!"
