Anger. That was what The Doctor felt. That was what boiled inside of him. It felt like there was a volcano inside his chest, set to erupt at a moments notice. He pointed his sonic screwdriver at the Dalek in front of him. With a warble, the metal monstrosity screamed, it's optics temporarily blinded. The old Time Lord continued to run, straight past it, careful not to drop Handles on the floor. He did not have the time to waste to pick him up if he did.
He was always angry when the Daleks arrived. He promised himself each and every time he wouldn't be, that he would stay calm. That he wouldn't be filled with bile and rage. That he wouldn't curse them and the planet Skaro. That he wouldn't hate them, for everything they had done. For what they exemplified. For their very presence here. Hate made him just like them.
Yet still, when he watched them kill, watched them senselessly exterminate everything in their path, just for being non-Dalek... he slipped into it like an old glove. He told himself he hated what they did. What they were capable of. That was a lie. He hated them. And Davros.
He dodged around the corner as the Dalek regained its sight. He heard it's battle cry, a word he had grown to loath and fear. He planned to be gone by the time it could fire upon him. For all their technology and advancement over the years, they were still as slow as molasses.
The hall ahead was littered with the dead. Even if they were not present, the walls alone told him a great battle had occurred here. They were scorched nearly black. The TWCA soldiers lay in twisted piles on the ground. Some were still smoking from laser fire, while others pulsed and jerked with the remnants of Spoonhead electricity.
The Great Intelligence's foot-soldiers were present along side them. Most were blown to pieces, their skeletal limbs scattered along the floor. Daggers of glass lay along the tiles, courtesy of their shattered faces. He even noted one had been killed so suddenly, it had only half-transformed, it's lower body still human, beneath a metal ribcage.
Numerous Ravaged were among the dead. It was difficult to tell just how mangled they were, as they had been in poor shape to begin with. They had been in no way equipped for any fight. Most of them had crude melee weapons or simplistic fire arms. For them, it had been a complete slaughter. They were barely a match for the TWCA if they got the jump on them.
When it came to the Daleks, fighting them was suicide. It wasn't as though Morbius cared. These creatures were just cannon fodder to him. He didn't care that most of them had once been people or that they were throwing themselves into a fight they had no hope of winning. He had already taken their lives from them. They were just a means to an end.
A pair of Daleks sat with the corpses, smoking and sparking. They had been killed, with the blinded one down the hall being the only survivor of the violent affair.
The violence, the death... the smell of the fire and the sounds of the screams... it felt like he was right back there. Right back in the Time War. Back in Arcadia, or Lujhimene. Everyone was killing and being killed... just like back then.
He shook his head as his hands began to shake. He needed to stay on task, and get up one more floor. He had been forced to zig-zag around the fighting, or when the stairs had been destroyed, bouncing through the floors to opposite stairwells.
This was taking longer than he would like. He didn't know how far Morbius was behind him. He had to assume that he was right on his tail. Morbius was insane, there was no doubt about that. However, he was more focused on regaining the future he thought he deserved. A future where he had never been stopped all those years ago on Karn. A future with no Doctor.
The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, pointing at the door to the stairs. He ran it along the seams, and with a click, the light on it turned green.
The laser outside let loose it's baleful roar, the floor beneath his feet shaking. Davros had done the same thing to the city of Londo during the war. He used his ship to burn it to ashes after it refused to bend to his will. He was doing it again. It was all happening again.
Except this time, Sarah Jane was here. He had willingly put her in danger once again. For all he knew she was dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft. Or she had been killed by Spoonheads or The Great Intelligence. Or Morbius had finally found her and finished the job. They filled him with guilt and revulsion.
He should have left her behind. Just so she was safe.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Sarah Jane was no ordinary woman. She was smart, cunning and strong. She was capable of things other companions he had been with in the past were not. She was Sarah Jane. She had protected the Earth by herself and defeated the Trickster. He needed to have the faith in her that she deserved.
That was always the problem with having the duty of care. One worried, no matter what they knew the person to be capable of. He tried not to let fretting cloud his mind. She had Jack too. The un-killable Jack Harkness.
The Doctor bounded up the steps, the sounds of battle echoing from far below and up above. He could hear the combat on the other side of the door in front of him too. He took a breath. He knew not what was between him and the piece of the Epoch Lens, but he would need to go through it. And figure out exactly which vault it was located in. He was kicking himself now for not questioning Charles further.
"Will you be able to tell me which vault has the gun part in it, Handles," The Doctor murmured to the head.
"My sensors show nothing inside of the vaults. Something is blocking them, or the vaults are empty," the head gargled, its only eye lighting up for a moment.
"Well, they aren't empty," The Doctor murmured under his breath.
"There is only a two, point, eight, six, seven percent chance that they are." Handles agreed.
He opened the door, and stepped into the next hall. Floor fifty-six. His target was here, somewhere.
On what appeared to be the apex of the combat. This hall was choking with smoke, and stank of flames. The sounds were ear-splitting: gunfire roaring like a symphony of death. The guttural yells of the mutant ravaged mixed with the calm, electronic voices of the Spoonheads.
No Daleks were present, but these two factions were more than enough. At the far end of the hall, the Spoonheads were fighting in mass. This hall's defenses had been triggered, something that had become a rarity on most of the lower floors. The Doctor guessed the soldiers had either not had the time to trigger them, or the robots had disabled them.
Here however, had become a maze of metal walls that had sprung from the floor. As with those downstairs, some were the size of men, while others were lower. Spoonheads crouched or covered, firing in his direction.
Not at him, rather the contingency of Ravaged ahead of him. It was obvious Morbius had sent his best soldiers here. Almost all of them were wearing some form of armor, and carried laser weapons. He noted they were all at least partly created of the "stronger" species; Juudon, Ice Warriors, Ogrons and Sontarans were the most common. Other men, in dark cloaks were present as well. They were part of his cult, their faces painted to appear like his scars. The Doctor assumed they were either new devotees, or Morbius had traveled across time to find what few worshipers of his remained. Either way, they were morons, one and all.
They were making slow progress, moving ever closer to the Spoonheads, but the robots had the numbers. They Ravaged may have been killing two robots for every one of their own, but there were more to fill the space. Morbius' head-first tactic was failing him.
The Doctor couldn't help but wonder, how did Morbius even know were to send his strongest men? It couldn't be chance or coincidence. How was it possible that he knew where the Epoch Lens was, when even The Doctor, the man who hid it, did not? Someone was helping him, but who? And how?
Then he saw him, turning from cover, his laser pistol barking death down the hall. His grey coat was scorched, torn, and full of laser holes. He could see the stains of Morbius' vicious work on it.
"Fight harder you cowards!" He heard him yell over the battle. "I gave you life! You will fight for your master!" No one had noticed The Doctor yet, and he was already getting an idea on how to get passed the Ravaged. He just had to thin their numbers a bit.
He looked down at Handles, thumbing the settings on his screwdriver.
"I never disabled your anti-hacking defenses, did I?" The Doctor whispered to the robotic head.
"No. You have only removed my offensive matrix," Handles returned.
"If I were to extend the power to about... say... ninety-five percent higher than what it currently is... would you survive?"
"I would serve as more of a conductor. Ninety-seven point six percent chance of survival." The Doctor nodded briskly. He was becoming attached to the head. He would hate to lose him now.
"I'll come back for you afterwards," The Doctor nodded.
"There is a fifty-six percent chance of that outcome," Handles prodded.
"Trust me, I will. Just don't be angry when I toss you." The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the head, its whine uneven and out of tune.
"You have voided my warranty," Handles chimed, to The Doctor's surprise. Warranty? Cybermen didn't have warranties.
"Handles did you just make a joke?" The Doctor chuckled.
"Perhaps," was his single reply. Now The Doctor knew he had to go back for the head, if he was going to start cracking wise.
"Sorry 'bout this," he said, before flipping the head over in his hand. He then tossed it under-hand. The metal projectile arced into the center of the Ravaged.
With a single press of his screwdriver, The Doctor activated Handles. Normally, his anti-hacking software would just give someone a slight shock. The Doctor had boosted it however.
With a loud crack, it erupted with blue lighting, chaining out from the head. The Ravaged shouted in fear or pain as the lightning hit them, flinging them off their feet or slamming them into walls. It was enough to stun, but not kill. Although, The Doctor did wonder how much of a mercy to the Ravaged that truly was.
Morbius, ever aware, had managed to leap safely out of the way. A few others had escaped, but they were surprised and disoriented. His perfect opportunity.
The old Scotsman charged into the breach, running as fast as he could. He dodged passed walls and Ravaged alike, ducking as one shot just passed his head. He lept over one of the lower walls, bowling over a raising soldier in his path.
He heard Morbius shout a curse in ancient Pthumraian, and felt the shot sizzle passed his right shoulder. He had more important things to worry about.
Like the small army of Spoonheads ahead of him. They were already beginning to aim at him with their wrist guns or palm lasers. Before him was the no-man's land between the fortifications of the Spoonheads and the Ravaged. He obviously had not thought this through.
He aimed the screwdriver at one Spoonhead, disabling its wrist gun, then a second, its bulb-head flickering out. He skittered to the left as plasma and electricity bombarded him, this time aiming the sonic at the nearest vault door.
With a distorted beep, the door shuddered open. He dove through hitting painfully on his stomach. This room was simple; containing only a heavy metal chest with a key-pad lock on it. He half wondered what was contained inside.
But he didn't have the time to think to long, as his nemesis was right behind him. Morbius slammed into the door jam was a yell, returning fire at the Spoonheads. The Doctor saw a bolt of plasma rip down the side his arm. With a pained scream, Morbius shot one finial time, before stumbling into The Doctor's room. He fell to his knees, sucking his teeth in rage and pain.
The Doctor could see his coat was torn, and he had a black, smoking burn on his bicep. It wasn't deep but it looked beyond painful. Morbius looked up at him, his facial scars knitting back together before his eyes. The Doctor aimed his sonic at him.
"You're going to get us both killed, I hope you know that," he snarled breathlessly.
"I was hoping for just you," The Doctor snapped back. Morbius' glowing eyes narrowed, before he shook his head.
"Put that damned thing down. You're no good to me dead. I can't erase you if I kill you. Besides," he gritted his teeth, "I'm not getting through that out there without you." The Doctor snorted derisively. Did he really think he was going to help him?
"I'm not getting you through that hall!" He half laughed, "If we both die, it solves my problem. No Morbius." He was willing to sacrifice himself, and the rest of his lives, if it meant he didn't acquire that gun.
"If I don't find it, then I'm sure my partner will. Believe me, he is far worse than I." Morbius appeared almost bitter. It sounded less like a partnership and more like someone was controlling him. Maybe his threat was empty but could he gamble like that?
"Besides, The Great Intelligence knows it's here. Do you really want The Legion getting their steel hands on it?" Morbius finished. Legion? What was he talking about?He couldn't possibly mean Cybermen. What did they have to do with The Intelligence?
The mad Time Lord obviously read his confused expression, a smug smile stretching across his face. "Ohh.. you don't know, do you? Oh, that's rich!"
"What? What are you talking about?" The Doctor demanded. Morbius did not relent.
"Oh, come now. You really aren't that dull. Can't you tell?" Was he truly alluding to the Cybermen somehow? That was absurd. The Doctor didn't reply. He would feign complete ignorance to even an idea. Morbius loved being the smartest one in the room. It made him gloat and talk. The Doctor had suspicions, remembering the silver Spoonhead in Killcrest Manor.
"Oh, come now. If you can't riddle it out, I'm not going to tell you. But I will say, if they kill us, they'll have two of four. We'll have done all the work for them. It's only a hop and a skip to the last few. Do you really want anyone... "he now rolled his eyes indignantly, "except you of course, to have that power?"
The Doctor knew he was being manipulated. Morbius was just luring him into helping him. His allusions to the Cybermen were probably lies, as was his partnership. He was a psychopath after all. Once one commits genocide, a few lies are nothing. The Doctor knew from personal experience.
Then again, he couldn't take the chance. What if even part of what Morbius was saying was the truth? Then there were the Daleks... Morbius was banking on his kindness. That he would put the lives of the innocent over his own. It gave him no choice. They would need to work together. He couldn't let anyone find thr Epoch Lens. Morbius was right.
"Alright, we'll put our rivalry aside until we reach that vault, lest the Daleks get it," that was his largest concern. The Daleks possessed some De-Mat technology, but nothing even close to the Epoch Lens. God forbid...
"Well now, did that hurt?" Morbius sneered, "but at least I can count on your ridiculous altruism." The Doctor was just as disgusted by Morbius so the feeling was mutual.
"Alright then, do you have a plan? Besides berate your own henchmen and split open your face?" The Doctor shot back. The hall outside shook as a rocket streaked by, eliciting painful screams from the Ravaged.
Morbius just looked at him as though he wanted to sock him in the face.
"My men are useless in actual tactical situations. They are only good for shooting and dying, so we can not rely on them." Morbius shrugged.
"Of course, you can't, you made them out of corpses," snarked The Doctor.
"If you hadn't destroyed my cult, I would have fully functional, intelligent, mercenary slaves on my side," Morbius shot back.
"Pardon me for dismantling an empire of evil," The Scotsman shook his head. They were wasting time discussing ideology.
"Hmmmmm..." the madman was now looking over at the box, "I wonder what our little hoarder friends were keeping in here." Before The Doctor could say a word, Morbius shot the pad-lock with his pistol, utterly melting it. With a swift kick, he opened the box.
The Doctor recognized the gun inside. It appeared almost like a ray gun, but it was covered in a thick second-skin of wires and coils. The barrel came to a cross-shaped point, which spun when fired.
This object was called the Prehiphery Omega. There was only one in existence, built by the one, the only, Clockmaker.
The Time Lords had locked it away before the war and before the Clockmaker's disappearance. Once the conflict with the Daleks escalated, it was eventually pulled out for use. It promptly fell into the plungers of the Daleks. The Doctor knew not what had happened to it from that point onwards. It had been assumed that the mad Time Lord had recovered it, along with all his other inventions. Obviously, they had been mistaken.
It was a curious item, most often called a portal gun. That was inaccurate, like calling a potato a fruit. It did create a hole along a surface such as a wall, door, or floor. However, it wasn't just creating a way through; it was distorting time inside the hole forward or backwards, until it finds a stream where the barrier didn't exist. It, quite literally, circumvents time to penetrate even the impenetrable.
"My, my, my, what fun," Morbius cooed, holding the gun up, examining it, "what ever happened to the old goat?"
"He disappeared, a long time ago," The Doctor replied. Morbius nodded, with a chuckle.
"Things from the past never stay gone, not forever." the madman returned, "This should help us." With that he turned to the wall, aimed and fired.
It made no sound, but the violet shaded ball splattered along the wall. It spread out, making a shimmering, man sized hole into the neighboring vault. He saw Morbius grin, looking back at him with malicious light in his eyes.
The Doctor followed his enemy into the next vault, immediately seeing the enormous gun contained within. This cannon was obviously derelict, missing most of it's pieces. Masses of wires hung out from multiple holes in the sides, and there was a massive, burned hole in the side. This was a Dalek siege gun, that would rain down death from a distance. It was obvious it no longer worked, although he imagined there was a treasure trove of deadly technology inside.
Morbius seemed to frown at the state of it, before turning to the door.
"The Spoonmen should be right outside, get ready," Morbius was practically twitching with excitement. It was disgusting how much he enjoyed the fight.
"If we go through that wall over there," The Doctor pointed to the left-side wall, "we can just avoid them." He knew he wouldn't go for it but he wanted to try.
"Yes, but where would the fun be in that?" With that single statement, Morbius pulled the trigger. The violet portal appeared, revealing the entrenched Spoonheads.
They didn't see Morbius and The Doctor until the first shot was fired. The laser hit the nearest Spoonhead in the neck, instantly sheering off its glass head. Another, in cover near by, turned to face them, but The Doctor was quicker. His screwdriver warbled, the robot's wrist launcher exploding, catching its partner in the blast.
One of the others returned fire, shooting wide of Morbius. He replied with a shot from the Prehiphery Omega. The purple portal appeared beneath its feet, sending it tumbling to the lower floor. The Doctor aimed at another that was charging them, sending its gun flying from its hands with an electromagnetic shot.
Morbius now charged through the breach, firing his pistol. Two shots hit one in its chest, while a third shot destroyed its partner. The Doctor followed his enemy out, his screwdriver wrecking another gun in a shower of sparks. A shot flew passed his shoulder, the Doctor spinning about, aiming at its face.
He watched as its head-light went out, its sensors blinded. Morbius finished it, with a pair of sizzling holes to the chest. Morbius whipped around, ducking beneath a Spoonhead stabbing at him with a drill. In response, he tackled it around the waist, and flung it forward with a ferocious yell. It went flailing into the nearby window, crashing through it. Its electronic screech faded as it fell, disappearing from sight.
This drew The Doctor's attention to the outside. More lights were hurtling down from the sky, and he felt the collision as they hit the floor below. More Daleks, but they weren't from Davros' ship. Was there another Dalek ship out there?
Morbius was distracted by the few Spoonheads remaining. This was his chance. He would have no other.
The Doctor rushed down the Time Lord from behind. He ran into Morbius hard, shocking him, and tore the Prehiphery Omega from his grasp. He ran as fast as he could, a hail of gunfire following him. He skidded around the corner, into the next hallway.
This was just like the last, lined by vaults. The hall's defenses were up, but this battle was over. All the TWCA guards were already dead, likely killed by the Spoonheads that he and Morbius had been fighting. He didn't know which vault contained the Epoch Lens part, but he needed to figure it out fast.
The floor beneath him suddenly shook, as the laser started once again. He started to run, but it was too late. He was thrown to the floor as the burning, teal, beam ripped through the center to the hall up ahead, charring a path in his direction. He started to crawl backwards, as the deadly, melting ray inched closer and closer.
Just before it reached him it stopped, leaving him wide eyed, his hearts pounding. He had just gotten incredibly lucky. The hallway was now destroyed, the floor melted and wall scorched. Some of the vault doors were melted and destroyed; he half hoped one of them was the one containing the Epoch Lens piece. If it was destroyed, his biggest problem was solved.
Before the knew what was happening, Morbius was on him in a flash. He grabbed him by the back of his jumper throwing him forward, painfully across the floor.
"What was your plan after letting me die? Hmm?" A heavy kick hit his ribs, nearly doubling him up. Morbius yanked the Prehiphery Omega from his hands, and started down the hall.
But the Doctor was not about to take this laying down. He managed to grab ahold of Morbius' leg, and threw him to the floor with a yell. The Doctor staggered to his feet, getting passed the rising Time Lord.
The pair raced down the melted hallway, fighting the whole way. Morbius tried to throw The Doctor to the ground, but he shoved him into the wall. His trip attempt was met by Morbius trying to push him to the floor. All he managed to do was push The Doctor back. His gun aimed at The Doctor's legs, zapping a sizzling shot. The old Time Lord jumped over it, and Morbius shoved him as he landed.
The Doctor pushed his hands in the madman's face, with Morbius grabbing the back of his neck. Morbius finally hooked The Doctor foot with his own, throwing him to the floor. The Doctor tried to grab Morbius as he fell, but instead hit flat on his face. The maniac ran on, barely looking back.
The Doctor immediately stumbled to his feet, giving chase. He wasn't about to let him get away, not now. He saw the Time Lord stop, and turn, aiming the Prehiphery Omega at one of the vaults. He squeezed the trigger, purple flames writhing a gateway through. He disappeared within.
The Doctor was right on his heels, skidding to a sudden stop, and blindly entering the portal. Morbius already had the metal box upon the pedestal open, the lock laying molten on the floor. He held its contents up to his eyes, thrust in the air.
It was a small object similar to the jeweler's loupe, though instead of glass it was filled with an oblong gemstone. It seemed to glitter when the light hit it, light reflecting off it, creating glimmering patterns where ever it pointed.
His grin was insane, his malicious eyes filled with an evil glee. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the Time Lord, who only snorted with derision in return.
"Give it here," The Doctor's Scottish tone growled aggressively.
"Highly doubtful. You know..." Morbius now aimed the lens at The Doctor, his chest painted by the funneled, rainbow of lights, "this universe is much, much darker without you in it. So much death... destruction, conquest and genocide..."
"I've saved this universe time and time again. Without me..."
"I have a body. I can see it... transcending that cobbled together pile of refuse I called a form on Karn, to something far more useful. Without you I am... whole. A monster no longer."
"You will always be a monster Morbius, no matter what you look like," The Doctor shook his head, leveling him a glare.
"We're all monsters. Some of us just admit it. Now... out of my way old man. I can't kill you but I can hurt you as much as I wish."
"Come now gentlemen, need we be so barbaric?" A new voice came from behind them. Both men turned, gazing at the robot outside the portal. As it strolls through, it's skin shifted.
It became a form he had long since revealed. It had been some time indeed since he had seen the older man, with the cold eyes and top hat. He knew it was only an illusion, but it had perfectly created his hooked nose and sneering demeanor. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, just as he had all those years ago on Trenzalor. He stood before the pair, his face serious, countenance ever condescending.
"Good evening Doctor, Morbius," his proper tone started, and he nodded to both men coldly, "This chaos has gone on long enough. I believe it is time we have words, don't you?" The Doctor looked over at Morbius, then his old foe, The Great Intelligence. This night was just getting better in spades.