The Corsair's workshop was rather a pain to get it at the best of times. It was in a side room near the bottom of the Citadel, the elevator ride being excruciatingly long. From the elevator, one went to a corridor. The corridor branched off to seven paths, the right path being either the fifth of third path depending on whether or not the date was an even number. Today it was the fifth path. From the fifth path, there was a custodial closet. From the closet there were a set of stairs leading downwards to a hatch. It was that hatch that finally opened up to the workshop.
Opening the hatch, The Doctor popped his head into the workshop, looking around. The place was a grotesque mix of Da Vinci's workshop and the lair of a mad scientist. Crude exo-skeleton units hung from the ceiling, which itself was a mess of twisting cogs and pumping pistons. Seemingly useless jets of steam went off in all directions. All along the walls and floors were dozens of diagrams, all detailing impossible machines and odd, unknowable sciences. This was an enormously ugly workshop, thought The Doctor.
Perhaps the most important detail present was the smoking robot carcass lying in a pile in front of him, a giant pipe protruding from its back. It was tinged green, with a flat head and great big bolts coming out of its neck.
"Corsair!" The Doctor called out wearily, not at all surprised with what lay before him.
He had walked in on stranger things created by his friend. The Doctor entered the lab fully, stepping around the fallen robot. The smell of sulfur and crude oil assaulted his nostrils, causing his face to scrunch up.
"Corsair!" he called again. From across the lab, a desk shuddered violently. Out from underneath it popped up the head of The Corsair, his arm joining shortly after to run the spot on his head where he slammed it.
"Ah! Hello, my friend! What... What are you doing here? Wait!" The Corsair popped out from behind the desk, dashing over to The Doctor. "Let me guess... You're here because.. I called you! Whatever for, though? Hm.."
The Corsair began pacing, the act itself becoming an elaborate dance as he avoided the various diagrams etched into the floor. He was wearing a white dress shirt, torn and stained with substances The Doctor could not immediately place. On top was an equally fettered waistcoat with all but one button missing. On top of all that, he wore a large, white apron that draped down to his knees, which were covered in standard black trousers and knee-high boots.
"You were being.. thrown around by something." The Doctor motioned to the smoking heap behind him. "I'm assuming that." The Corsair leaned off to the side, looking at the wreckage.
"Yes, yes." He said. "That." The Corsair scurried over to the robot. "That's where my giant pipe went. Thank you."
The Corsair placed a foot on the torso of the robot, planting himself firmly in the center. He grasped the pipe with both hands and began pulling. After a moment, and a large amount of effort, the pipe broke free.
"Now, back to business. Come, come. I am working on a revolutionary new species!" The Corsair let the pipe rest on his shoulder, and began whistling a jaunty tune.
"Was that it, then? You just needed me to remind you where some bit of piping was?" The Doctor sighed. "I am quite busy."
The Corsair didn't answer, surveying his notes on the walls with a wonder so evidently genuine, one would think he was seeing this all for the first time.
"Corsair!" The Doctor exclaimed. "You seem to have everything under control, obviously you didn't need my help with the robot, so..." at that, The Corsair turned.
"That? No. I just thought to call you while dealing with it. Save us all... what's the word? Time! Yes. Shelley over there was just for fun. Read a movie. Watched a book. It was all a blur. I lived. I died. I lived again. No matter."
"I'll just take my leave, then." The Doctor sighed. "Some of us have to get back to reality."
The Corsair ran over to the wall, tearing down some of the diagrams of "Shelley" down off the wall. Underneath was a chalkboard, inane Gallifreyan scrawl filling it. He erased it all with his hand, fetched a piece of chalk from his waistcoat, and began writing.
"Ree..Al..Eh..Tee." he wrote as he spoke, underlining the word repeatedly. "Back to the big bad.. no wait, don't tell me.. Big wolf? No. Double U word... War! War." The Doctor crossed his arms.
"Some of us have obligations."
The Corsair scoffed, continuing to tear down diagrams and write. "To who? Whom? These always cause me such strife.." The Corsair erased "Reality", opting to write "Who" and "Whom" over and over.
"To reality!" The Doctor said.
A moment of silence.
"Also, it's "whom" in this case."
"You're speaki- Thank you." The Corsair started erasing all the "Who"s he had written down. "You're speaking in squares, my friend."
The Corsair hesitated, as if not entirely understanding what he had just said. He kept speaking, regardless. "Am I not real? No, wait. Maybe. Maybe I'm not. No. Yes. Wait!" He stopped writing, running back to The Doctor and pointing at him. "You perceive me, that is, myself as real, don't you? And I think I'm real, too. Most of the time." The Doctor furrowed his brow.
"Besides, you can't go soldiering about with an empty ammo belt. Now come, I've something wondrous to show you."
The Doctor didn't have it in him to argue. The Corsair dragged him along by the sleeve, leading the Doctor down a set of stairs to another part of the lab.
"You know your place is a garish mess, right?" The Doctor asked, resigned to his fate.
"Ah, my friend! It is all about commitment to the aesthetic!"
They reached their destination, a small table with some sort of dead bird creature sitting on top of it. Above it was a large emitter, wires running off it in all directions. They all met at a control panel attached to the table. The Corsair stopped and turned to him.
"Your arm is trembling." The Doctor realized this, and forced his arm to stop shaking.
"Are you nervous? I have something for that. A spray of sorts. No wait. Tension. Pupils. Shoulders. Yes. Hm. Come, come."
The Corsair ran over to the table, motioning The Doctor over. He fetched a pair of cables from under the table.
"Here. Hold these just over the specimen, please. Thank you. Speaking of tension..."
The Corsair ran off, returning quickly with a pair of goggles, pulling them on. With his foot, he hit a switch behind him.
"How is our Lady President?" Electricity crackled along the ceiling, pouring into the emitter.
"Like this? And what do you mean?" The Doctor asked, holding the cables in place.
"Yes, just like... tension, you know, between two.. No wait. Yes, just like that. Two people." The Corsair flipped switches as he spoke.
The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. What are we even doing?"
This entire lab matched the archetype of a mad scientist. Though The Doctor trusted his friend, he could not help but feel uncomfortable. The talk of any sort of tension was not helping matters.
"There is no.. tension." He added.
The Corsair rubbed his hands together, regeneration energy starting to pulsate off them in golden waves. "There is this wonderful potlatch tradition on Earth... you know the one..? Thanks.. Thank you.. give me.. Thanksgiving! Yes, they have this dish.. a combination of three bird species? The Turduckin? Why is it always dead? So we are making a live one today! Right here!"
The Doctor blinked a few times, unable to muster a proper reaction. "And you're using.. regeneration energy on this..?" He finally asked.
"Yes! Like using a high-powered orbital strike on a flea! And Your body language and sudden shift in demeanor tells me everything I need to know. Shush."
The Corsair grasped two of the wires and began pouring energy into wires and began pouring energy into them.
"A lot of you people think me anti-social. No, no, no. I can write warm fusion in my.. gah... hold the wires close.." The Corsair grunted, continuing. "I have.. bent stars to my whim. People? Social constructs? Can you really tell me that gender is a legitimate..well anything? I don't even know how to classify myself anymore! It's all so... boring, my friend."
The wires in The Doctor's hands began filtering through them on to the bird.
It began to twist and write as life was being poured into it. The Doctor hoped it would not have an inclination for world domination. That would be rather inconvenient, and a new galactic power in the form of a Turkey-Duck-Chicken hybrid was not something he was particularly enthused to deal with. The Doctor averted his eyes as the light became too bright.
"When the stuff of life is yours to play with... and... hah!" The bird sprang to life, arching its head at the Doctor and letting out a rather ugly screech.
Startled, The Doctor dropped the cables. The Corsair smiled, a glint in his eye making apparent his pleasure.
"Yes. As I was saying..." The Corsair circled the table over to The Doctor. placing an arm around his shoulder. "With mastery over the science of life, my friend... people. People! People are easy!"
The Doctor cracked a smile at that. The bird jumped up to its feet, inching towards The Doctor. It screeched again, this time The Doctor offering it a smile.
"Hello there, little one." Fascinated with the bird, The Doctor didn't realize The Corsair had let him go, the arm on his shoulder missing. "What are we calling you th-"
The Doctor was cut off by a sudden discharge of energy. He threw himself backwards, the table lighting up yet again. He whipped around, starting at The Corsair who was standing in the corner, a smoking pulse rifle in his arms.
"Could I convince you to stay for dinner?" He asked with a smile.