Clara saw the screen go blank suddenly, immediately running towards the door to look through the window. She stood on tiptoes and saw two soldiers surrounding Ashildr, one pointing a gun and the other shining a torch directly at her. She saw the smaller guard behind Ashildr handcuff her roughly and prod a machine gun into her back. She watched as they practically threw Ashildr down the dark corridor out of view, noticing that the shorter guard turned to look back directly in her direction. He held his gaze for much longer than just a passing glance before disappearing into the shadows.

She turned away from the door a little unsettled, putting her phone into her right pocket, and paced back towards the boulevard. A tall young blonde man in a light green suit, light grey shirt and grey shoes approached her. She noticed he had a sparkling expensive looking silver watch on his left wrist.

"Do you know the woman that got in the door?" he said, in a strong Australian accent.

"No," said Clara, lying, trying to ignore him.

"I saw you put a key inside her hand," he said, proving she was lying. "You need to get me through that door," said the man, pointing, trying to obstruct Clara walking away. "I am a very influential man."

"I'm sure you are," Clara said sarcastically, pacing off towards the centre of the boulevard to plan her next move, "find me a man that isn't."

"My name is Francis Grenello," he said smugly, "you should know who I am."

"Umm, afraid not," said Clara, dismissively, trying to shake him off.

He folded his arms, unimpressed. "How do you not know who I am? The Grenello family, founders of TMG?"

"I'm really not from round here," she said, under her breath, leaving him stood behind her. "You do love a three letter acronym around these parts though, don't you?"

He ran to catch her up, walking quickly next to her, pointing backwards. "If you are in any way related to the woman that got inside then we should stick together, I could be good oil to you."

Clara groaned loudly, stopping. "I am really not interested, OK? Find someone else to harass." She had dealt with hundreds of men trying to get her attention, and was skilled in getting rid of them.

"Do you really not know?" he laughed, surprised. "TMG... The Marmor Group?"

Clara shook her head, pacing off again, "please... leave me alone."

"Ever wondered where they got all the marble from?" he said, still following her.

Clara slowed down ever so slightly. "Maybe," she said quietly.

"How's your Old Earth Latin?" he said. "The... Marmor... Group?"

"Marmor?" Clara said, thinking, allowing the TARDIS translation circuits to work. "What," she looked at him, curious, "marble?"

He nodded at her, flashing a perfect set of white teeth widely.

"So hang on, you're something to do with the frankly insane amount of marble that is in here?" she stopped, turning around to acknowledge him.

"My family helped to build this place," he looked up and around. "If I could just get in there..." he pointed back towards where Ashildr had gone through the door, "I could get us out."

"Really?" said Clara, raising an eyebrow.

"Really. We get into that service tunnel," he pointed with his left hand, flashing his expensive watch, "we're gone."

Clara folded her arms and thought for a moment. "OK," she said. "Seems as good an idea as any right now." She looked down at the floor, before sighing.

"So who is she?" he asked.

"That's Me," said Clara.

"No it's not, because you're here," he said, a puzzled expression covering his immaculately maintained eyebrows.

"No," Clara sighed, putting a hand to her head quickly, "it's not me, obviously. Her name's Ashildr, but she calls herself Me-"

"That's a bloody stupid name," he laughed.

"I know, right?" said Clara, nodding in agreement. "The sunglasses, they're actually mine, the Russian man stole them as we were coming in here."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"My name's Clara, but you can call me..." she paused, wanting to say 'The Doctor,' or the word she hadn't quite figured out yet, "oh, never mind, I'm Clara Oswald," she sighed.

He held out his right hand, displaying his shopping centre tattoo. "Well, g'day Clara, I'm Francis, pleased to meet you."

She shook his hand gently. "So what are you doing here?"

"I'm quoting for the next expansion, should have really left before midnight but decided to stay on, can't beat the atmosphere here on Black Friday," he said. "What about you?"

"We were just here buying some new clothes," said Clara, flatly. "Didn't even realise it was Black Friday. I mean grateful for the discounts and everything, but would have come yesterday if I knew this was about to happen," she smiled.

"So how do you know Sheila?" Francis asked.

Clara laughed. "Ashildr, a-shield-duh," she said phonetically. "Just call her Me."

"So how do you know Me?" said Francis.

"Well, we just met... by that door," she joked, pointing between herself and Francis.

"What are you? Sisters? Friends?" he smiled, looking her up and down, raising an eyebrow, "girlfriends?"

"We have quite a... complicated relationship," said Clara.

"Oh..." he said, smirking. "Like that is it?"

"No," said Clara, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes, "it's not... like anything. We're not related, not friends and definitely not seeing each other... although I did once tell a man I'd fight him for her, but we'll swerve around that issue for now. I'll give you the short version," she paused for breath, lilting her head between each point, "she tried to kill someone I know, I tried to save him, I died after she killed me and then I ended up coming back from the dead and somehow we've ended up travelling together..." she paused slowing down, "buying... clothes."

"And that's the short version? That is... complicated," he laughed. "Bloody oath!"

"Yeah, we really need to decide how we know each other..." said Clara, "do you think we could pass as sisters?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Totally," he pointed at his face, "similar eyebrows. She could easily be your younger sister."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "But I am definitely the younger one, by," she cleared her throat, "quite a substantial margin." She half smirked.

"So what's the deal with the sunnies?" Francis asked, indicating his nose.

"The sunnies?" Clara asked, confused.

"The sunglasses," he clarified.

"Oh yeah, they are not just sunglasses," Clara said, "and I really need them back. They don't work for anyone apart from me," she paused, "and Me."

"What do they do? Why do they want them?" Francis asked.

"That I don't know, but trust me they're very useful in a situation like the one we've conveniently found ourselves in."

There were several muffled loud bangs in the direction Clara had come. She and Francis both turned to look backwards.

"That," said Clara, nervously, "or rather they were gunshots. We need to run."

"Or we could hide," said Francis, backing away. There were more shots, the repetitive sound of an automatic weapon and vague screams in the background.

"Hmmm, I hadn't considered that," Clara nodded, "I usually just follow the man running. Now I am the man running," she pondered. Clara became acutely aware that a large amount people were now running away from where the noise had come from.

"Whatever we are doing," Francis said, a look of fear creeping onto his face, "we need to do it now."