All Other Destinations
From Eroica with Love/Doctor Who cross-over
By Sindeniirelle
PG-13
Dorian/Klaus, Ninth Doctor/Rose
This story features the Ninth Doctor and companion Rose Tyler, as well as a new K-9 unit. In the Doctor Who canon, it takes place in the new series after the episode "Father's Day" but before "The Empty Child." Spoilers for the first season of the 2005 Doctor Who series.
From Eroica with Love is property of Aoike Yasuko, Princess Comics, and DC Comics. Doctor Who is property of the BBC and possibly others. No profit was made from this story.
Episode 01: Prologue to Tomorrow
"Alright then, Doctor? Where are we now?" Rose asked, looking up from the TARDIS'control panel as the slight shivering of the walls and floor came to a stop.
He was busy poking at the various collections of machines that somehow, all piled together, formed the control panel to their time-and-space travelling mechanism. She still couldn't really bring herself to call it a space ship. Afterall, from the outside it only looked like a blue police box.
"Doctor?" she called again, brushing a long strand of silky blonde hair back from her face. "Hello, Doctor? It's me, Rose, you're only friend in the universe, remember?"
He looked up at her, blinked for a moment, and then broke into one of his cheery smiles. "Oh, sorry about that, Rose. I've just been a little…"
"Distracted?" she gave him a questioning glance. "I noticed. Mind telling me why? I mean, before we run outside and find ourselves tangled up with all sorts of murderous aliens and exploding planets and whatnot."
"Ah…no?" he asked lightly, giving her a rather sheepish, apologetic grin.
"What, so you can't trust me now?" she asked incredulously, placing her hands on herhips. "After I saved your life?"
"You save my life? Oh, is that how it went?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, remember the walking mannequins that nearly destroyed the Earth?"
"Oh. Well. I saved you from being burnt to a crisp," he replied.
"And took your time about it, too!"
"So we're even."
"But I bought you chips," she pointed out.
"You're right. I suppose I do have to trust you, then," he said it with an odd amount of sincerity, as though buying the chips really was equal to saving her life.
"Well, you trusted me enough to take me along, helping to save the universe and all that."
He sighed. "I have a bad feeling…its going to be dangerous, this time."
"You keep saying that, and I'm still here," she pointed out. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad, can it?"
"I felt a…a ripple in space and time. You didn't feel it, did you? It felt like…something caused by one of my people."
"One of…another Time Lord? But wouldn't that be a good thing, then? You wouldn't be the last of your people anymore?" she asked.
"I don't know…depends," he shrugged.
"Depends on what?"
"On whether he's friendly or not," the Doctor answered, with his familiar grin. "And sanity is always a nice touch, too. Ah well, let's go have a look, shall we?" he clasped his hands together in excitement. "We should be on Earth sometime during the Cold War…and just in time to rescue some friends of ours."
"Friends of ours," Rose repeated. "But I haven't even met them yet."
"No, neither have I. That comes later." He looked at her for a moment, and she looked at him. "…It's a…time…thing," he explained vaguely.
Rose merely sighed, hiding a smile as she shook her head and followed the Doctor out of the TARDIS and into whatever new adventures he had waiting for them, whenever, wherever…
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The Louvre.
A medieval fortress, the palace of the kings of France, and a museum for two centuries. It was beautiful. And big. Covering nearly forty hectares of land in the heart of Paris, 60 000 square miles of exhibition rooms, and more than six thousand European paintings.
Good thing art-thief extraordinaire Eroica knew his way around.
Infact, he felt like a kid in a candy store.
Hm. I wonder if the museum curators have realized that Vermeer is a fake yet? He thought, slipping past a large oil painting with a brilliant smile playing childishly across his lips. I guess not. And the original is SO much brighter.
The dashing young art thief smiled at the thought, and tossed a shimmering wave of golden curls back over his shoulder. He had spent the last month with his band of thieves sneaking around in the shadows of some important NATO mission or another, just waiting to lend a helping hand if needed to a certain handsome German Major…(or just the opposite, which was, in fact, much more fun!) of course his beloved Major had been more difficult than ever.
The golden-haired thief had no doubt that eventually, when all of his efforts paid off, the results would be well worth the angry snarls of 'pervert!' 'degenerate!' and 'idiot!' he had come to put up with from the German. In the mean time, however, he felt he deserved a painting.
Leonardo Da Vinci's Saint Jean-Baptist, to be exact. Eroica may have been an atheist, but it was still a lovely painting. Just screaming to be rescued by the Earl of Gloria.
He wanted that painting.
He was going to get that painting.
It was just that simple. After all, he deserved to own all things beautiful. Even more so since he had started lending a helping hand to NATO in their admirable job of defending the free world. Even if his motives were self-centred, it was still playing the hero. Right?
Eroica allowed himself to smile again, thinking of his darling Major.
Dorian paused for a moment and frowned ever-so-slightly. Here he was, racing through the most famous museum in the world, seconds of precious time before the guards caught him ticking away, and he was so busy thinking about Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach that he had almost run right past the room with the Da Vinci!
And God only knows what a blunder that would have been…Dorian sighed, eyeing the painting carefully for a moment…could the master art-thief Eroica possibly be slipping after all these years?
Hell, no!
Afterall, it was only natural to get a little distracted by a man as dashingly good-looking as his beloved Major was. And he had been doing the 'art thief' bit for a long time now. Dorian sighed, wondering if he wasn't missing something bigger in the grand scheme of the universe. But then, he was young, beautiful, rich and always got what he wanted, didn't he? What more could he ask for?
"Let's see…pressure sensitive alarms should have been taken out with the main power by Bonham and the boys five minutes ago…so…here goes." He took the heavy ornate frame firmly in his grip, eyeing the beautiful figure immortalized by oil and canvas, shining locks of auburn hair, softly shimmering flesh.
"And you love it don't you, darling?" he grinned. "The hours of attention, their eyes on you all day, envious, lustful, knowing they can never possess you. I understand perfectly. And I hate to ruin it for you, really I do. But," here he lowered his voice to a silky whisper and leaned closer to the canvas, so that his breath brushed the famous display of colourful oil paints, "Come home with me, darling, and I'll make you forget all the others."
Eroica's laughter bubbled up rich and golden, a genuine laugh for the first time since he had returned from his last saving-the-world-successful but not Klaus-seducing-successful NATO mission.
How splendid! There was nothing quite like a little burglary to chase the blues away. Gripping the ornate frame in his hands, Eroica pulled the painting from the wall of the Louvre with one incessant tug.
Instantly, the lights flooded on and a alarm began ringing in his ears so shrilly that the Earl thought his head might split open. The thief's mouth formed into the smallest of frowns.
"Oh, drats."
Truth be told, it didn't really bother him all that much. Why should it? He was Eroica, after all. Whatever he wanted, he always got. No one could really stop him. The guards might suspect him, but they would never see him. They might chase him, but they would never catch him.
Holding the painting in a tight grip, Dorian raced back down the main hall, dodging behind a large double door that was slightly ajar, just as a pair of guards raced into the room, flashlights shining, truncheons at the ready. Eroica, meanwhile, hid quite comfortably in the shadows until he was certain the museum security had gone on to the other rooms and galleries.
Finally, he slipped out through an open window. After all, the alarms were already going off, and his men were right there ready and waiting for him as he dropped the priceless canvas into the waiting hands of several expert thieves.
Seconds later, he was safe in the back of spacious limousine, and the Eroica gang was quickly disappearing into the night.
When the guards reached the room that had once held a priceless painting by Leonardo Da Vinci, all that was left for them to find was a small white card reading Many thanks, From Eroica with Love, that smelt of roses.
Back in North Downs, England, at Castle Gloria, champagne bottles burst open and thieves cheered. Poor James, the Earl's loving but penny-pinching accountant, nearly had a fit when he saw the carousing band downing the contents of a dozen or so vintage bottles. "My loooord! Please! You can't just drink that—think of how expensive it was!"
Luckily, Bonham was there to come to the rescue. "James, go count some money, why don't you? Or write up some invoices or something."
The younger man looked up at him through messy waves of black hair. "Wh—"
"Come on, James," Bonham continued in a carefully lowered voice. "Haven't you seen how depressed the Earl's been lately? Let him enjoy this."
Bonham spoke quietly, but not so quietly that Dorian Red Gloria didn't catch it. "What's this? Depressed? Surely you aren't talking about moi?" he blinked, tossing a shimmering wave of curls back over one shoulder. "You should know better, both of you! Honestly—'depressed' isn't in my dictionary!"
"Yeah…but…" Bonham tried, he shifted uncomfortably. "It's not quite that…it's just…you've been different lately, m'lord. I'm not meaning to pry into your personal life more than a friend should, but—"
"So don't," Dorian took a delicate sip from his champagne.
"But—! You've seemed so lonely lately. You don't go out and have fun like you used to. I remember a time when you never stopped laughing. And now…there are times when you don't think we're watching that you look…well…you look downright sad," Bonham said quietly.
The Earl stared at them blankly for a moment, and then laughed loudly. He was a good actor, it would have fooled all of his men but Bonham. Bonham sensed that there was something forced behind that laughter, that not-quite-so-care-free-as-it-once-was smile.
Evidently, James, for all his stinginess and whining, noticed something was slightly amiss as well, for he wasted no time in piping: "You should stop pining over that machine-crazed maniac, already!"
"The Major is not a maniac!" Dorian replied automatically, emptying his champagne flute in one swift motion.
"He did chase you down the autobahn in a leopard tank, m'lord," Bonham reminded him gently.
The Earl's mouth twitched into a fond half-smile at the memory. "He does love his toys, doesn't he? Tanks, and helicopters, and submarines..."
"But he doesn't love you!" James whined, unpleasantly cutting off the Earl's fond recollection. "You should just forget about that arrogant German once and for all! Please!"
"The Major is just a little stubborn," Dorian frowned. "I'm sure that he will come around eventually. Besides I am the Earl of Gloria, I am not 'pining'over anyone. He is meant for me. It's only a matter of time before—"
"A matter of time? A little stubborn?" Bonham exclaimed. "It's been years now, and so far he's shown nothing but utter contempt for you—"
"Enough! I don't want to talk about this right now," Dorian added in a softer tone. "I'm tired. I shall be retiring for the evening."
Bonham and James watched him leave, loyal faces heavy with concern. "What do we do now?" James asked, whimpering slightly at seeing his beloved lord so uncharacteristically distressed.
"It's part of his nature to keep hanging on to hope like that…I doubt anything we say or do could change his mind now," Bonhom replied, shaking his head sadly. "But I just pray…I don't know. Maybe too much hope has the same effect on a man as despair."
"God…" the little accountant murmured, wringing his hands together nervously. "I hope not."
"Besides…I wouldn't call it contempt…exactly," Dorian murmured, closing the handsome oak door of his master bedroom tightly behind him and falling with the elegant grace of a dancer to a lush feather mattress, his golden locks running over the pillows beneath him. "…it's not contempt!…No, those quiet looks he gives me, like on the Michelangelo when he stopped to help me walk…The Major is a wonderful man, deep inside…I know he is!…I will somehow get through that great wall he has built up all around himself…I will…make him see that he is…mine."
Dorian Red Gloria was the sort of person who just inspired loyalty in those around him. No, even more than loyalty. Devotion, love, worship. He was beautiful, and graceful, eloquent and cordial, amicable and effortlessly charming. No matter how many strapping young men he flirted with he always seemed to glow in a golden halo of purity. No matter how many times he teased or flaunted himself there was always something innocent, childlike and sincere in his expression.
Growing up, everyone had always loved him. Well, most everyone. There were always the few who couldn't stand to see someone as utterly free and self-assured as the flamboyant young aristocrat, with his fabulous golden bracelets and shimmering capes and cloaks, but that was their loss and he had never much dwelt on it.
Teachers had adored him, his father had doted on him, and he had always been surrounded by more friends than he could remember names for, just because he had that sort of warm, charming, personality.
He was a narcissist, self-confident, slightly eccentric, perhaps, full of life, always smiling. Slightly spoiled? Maybe. He always got what he wanted. He always got who he wanted!
Until he had met the Major. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach of NATO Intelligence. "Iron Klaus," who had an inherent disdain for the Earl's flashy, egotistical-though-charming character, and coldly rejected the very thought of his advances.
But Dorian Red Gloria had always gotten what he wanted. There was no chance that he was going to give up on getting the one thing that he wanted most.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
It felt like it should have been a Friday, when it was a Monday. Major Eberbach felt lost, tired, and strangely restless and exhausted at the same time, irritated, although he could not have answered why. For once there was no annoying degenerate aristocratic thief snooping about to harass him. Indeed, Klaus had not caught sight of Eroica in weeks. It was strangely annoying not to have anyone around to blame his exasperation on.
He cursed under his breath, and flicked his cigarette into the muddied puddles of rainwater that gathered in the cracked cement. The October sky was grey and heavy with storm clouds and the smell of rain.
Doing his job had never seemed so much of a chore. After all, he was one of NATO's finest, protecting the free world and all that, but somehow, lately, it just didn't feel like enough. Not that there was anything else he would rather be doing. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach was not the sort to idle around listlessly! No, the very notion of not working was enough to drive him mad. Not to mention that he dreaded the thought of returning to the Schloss Eberbach estate for the hostile confrontations with his father, all concerning his lack of a wife and heir.
He cursed again, running a hand harshly through his long dark hair, glaring at no one and nothing. He wanted to shoot something. Badly.
His shoulders were tensed, almost painfully, but his limbs felt tired and heavy. Groaning silently, the Major closed his eyes for a moment, the lids felt heavy and were reluctant to open. The beginnings of a headache were gathering dully behind his temples.
"You look like crap," his Chief had told him, the moment he had arrived at the NATO Intelligence office in Bonn. The Major's glare would have sent his Alphabet's fleeing to Alaska, his superior merely snorted. Klaus noted with some tiredness that he had not even the will left to shout any of the various German curses that were running through his head.
When he reached his office, he sat behind his familiar desk, and summoned agents A,B, G and Z. The young men huddled in his office, nervous expressions flitting across their faces. It seemed that no one was in a hurry to go to Alaska. He knew that he probably looked as annoyed and angryas he felt. Although why he still wasn't certain.
Chalk it up to boredom, he told himself finally. I really want to shoot something.
"S—sir," Herr B stuttered, shifting uncomfortably under the Major's chilled gaze. At least his agents were still petrified of him. "Um…maybe you just…need to takea…a…a vacation," the agent offered meekly.
"I am IRON KLAUS!" the Major thundered suddenly, his fists slamming into the table with enough force to cause a tremor to shudder through the entire room. "I do NOT need a vacation! What I NEED is a God-damn job! How long has it been since our last mission? What are the Soviets up to now? Herr Z—progress report. Now!"
"Uh—th—there's nothing much, Major. But the Chief gave me this. Said it was sent down from the—the higher ups," the young man told him, procuring a thin folder rather nervously. His expression said all to clearly that the Major would not like what he was about to see. And, Z thought, gulping silently, the Major seemed, if it were at all possible, even more high-strung than usual, with a certain glint in his eyes that seemed to say 'I want to snap someone's spine in two—don't tick me off.'
The Major snatched the folder from him, almost tearing it in two, and scanned the contents quickly. A moment later, green eyes flashed menacingly and Klaus Eberbach gripped the corners of his desk until his knuckles whitened.
A, B, andG quickly scurried out of the small office, cowering and leaving a wincing agent Z, who steeled himself for the Major's enraged roar.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" Slamming the folder down on the desk, the Major looked absolutely murderous. "Is this some sort of sick joke? Do those idiot higher-ups think that they can relegate THE Iron Klaus to this sort of—of—farce! This is even more idiotic than the case with that wimpy boy and his alleged ESP. Did you look at this, Herr Z?"
"Uh…well…"
"An alien?" the Major snorted in contempt and disgust, jerking a cigarette from the pack lodged securely in the pocket of his uniform. "I don't fucking believe this…"
Z hazarded a glance at the photographs gathered by one of NATO's other Intelligence units. They showed an average-enough looking man in a dark leather jacket, short black hair and, the young agent noted, perhaps slightly large ears. He certainly didn't look very remarkable. "You mean…an illegal alien? Is that really a job for NATO Intelligence? Unless he's a spy for the other side, I mean…"
Major Eberbach sighed tiredly, taking a deep drag off his cigarette. "You're a good German boy, Herr Z, but unfortunately our superiors aren't as intelligent. The file states that this man…supposedly called 'Herr Doctor' may be a…" Major Eberbach growled low in his throat, grinding his cigarette mercilessly into apile of smouldering ash in the tray on his desk. "An extraterrestrial." He dripped the term from his tongue like acid. "Of all the damn nonsense…"
Z looked at the Major for several long moments, afraid to blink, or move, or breathe because the Major looked genuinely angry enough break someone's neck, and the six-foot Iron Klaus was only too capable of doing just that.
Finally, because his commanding officer had begun to stare into space with a look of pure vehemence and loathing (probably directed at the absent superiors who had allotted the 'alien doctor' mission to their department) the young agent coughed ever-so-slightly to remind Klaus of his presence. And hopefully not be banished to Alaska for the next million years because of it.
"Um…a…a space alien, then, sir? That science fiction stuff is all the rage right now…"
"This is pure idiocy. This sort of farce has no business in a military operation. We're here waiting on pins and needles for the other side to drop a nuclear bomb on our heads and the higher ups are worried about aliens? I'm going to talk to the director about this nonsense," Klaus scowled. "Orders are orders, but this is ridiculous!"
With that, the Major took the file in hand and marched out of his office, slamming the door with enough force to make Z jump and shudder. Klaus was always sort of angry, but he was rarely this angry. This was Eroica-level anger, and the agent shuddered to think what it meant for their Chief…
The Chief looked up in feigned surprise as Major Eberbach slammed the file folder marked 'Doctor Who?' down on his desk. The rather heavy-set operations director drummed his fingers along the edge of the desk, looking up at his imposing and quite dangerous subordinate rather nervously. "Is there a problem, Major?"
Klaus merely glowered at him with a look that would have curdled the devil's blood, too angry even to yell. And for Major Eberbach, that was downright murderous rage. The Chief coughed slightly, and paused to open the file, allowing the scattered black and white photographs to tumble out. "This is a serious matter, Major. This man is a real mystery. We can't find any information on him in any government or military database, even his name is unknown—he simply goes by the codename 'Doctor.' He often disappears for months—even years—and no one sees a trace of him, like he vanishes off the face of th—"
"Don't say it. Don't even think anything so bloody ridiculous!" the Major growled.
"Excuse me, Major, but we have had numerous other intelligence units working on this case for several years now, since before the Cold War began, actually. They've uncovered some very interesting pictures. Look carefully at this…" the Chief pushed a few choice black and white photos across the table, facing Eberbach.
Klaus studied them silently for a moment, hands still clenched in rage at his sides. It took him a moment to really focus on the pictures. The first one appeared to be a photograph taken during the Great War. A group of soldiers stood around an old battered army jeep. Someone had marked one of them with a red circle, and peering closely at it Klaus saw what might have been a face similar to the one of the mysterious 'Doctor,' but the picture was old and small and blurry. He snorted derisively, it was hardly enough to impress the likes of Iron Klaus.
The next photograph showed a collection of people in fancy attire leaning over the bow of a ship marked 'TITANIC.' Again, one of the characters was circled by red marker and bore a disturbing resemblance to their 'Doctor.'
There were a dozen more photographs. Snapshots from a lecture given by Albert Einstein in Berlin in 1915, the Doctor among the gathered listeners. Photographs from the Russian Revolution, the assassination of the American President Kennedy, the conference of Versailles, the student riots in Paris in 1968, the Korean War…the Doctor seemed to exist anywhere and anytime. Despite himself, Klaus felt his brow creasing in concentration and an unsettling chill ran down his spine. He quickly brushed the disturbing feeling away and straightened, fixing the Chief with his usual chilling glare.
"I am sure that many people in the world and throughout history have looked similar, especially as ordinary looking as this man is…I am sure that there are probably many men in the world who resemble this 'Doctor' of yours," Klaus sneered.
"Maybe so," the Chief shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "But that is not your decision to make, Major. Besides, even if he isn't from another planet, his disappearances are troublesome, he could still be a spy for the other side. We've received reports that he seems to have some strange objects…gadgets, our spies have said. He could have some secret technology the Soviets are using, or are planning on using. In any case, this 'Doctor' is worth looking into, whoever he is."
The Major snorted.
"I trust you will have no trouble finding us this man, Herr Eberbach?" the Chief asked, his tone threatening.
"…of course I will follow orders," Klaus replied coldly, "Even if they are utterly ludicrous. After all, if I was incapable of doing something as simple as catching this man, I would not be worthy of being a Major or an Eberbach."
"Glad to hear it," the Chief said, although his tone was laced with trepidation.
"There's something else, isn't there?" Klaus asked, green eyes narrowing menacingly as though daring the operations director to add anything possibly more humiliating to the farce of a mission.
"Um, well, we had an inside man ready to meet with you. He claimed to have information on the Doctor, information we greatly need. However, we came up against a bit of a snag. It seems that the Russians discovered him to be a traitor, and well…" the Chief trailed off, obviously not wanting to go into anymore detail than necessary. "But we still think we might be able to get the information. Word is he kept a journal or folder or something. So we need it…stolen."
"Mein Gott," the Major breathed, hands clenching into fists again as he saw where the conversation was leading. "Don't tell me…"
"Since Eroica has proven to be a reliable contractor for NATO in the past, and works well with your team—"
"Don't tell me that perverted fop works well with my team! That man is a nuisance and disgrace—he endangers every NATO mission he involves himself in! Besides, I'm sure our NATO professionals are more than capable of—"
"This mission will require breaking into some of the most advanced security systems we've come up against to date," the Chief continued.
Damn the idiot director, he's getting some perverse sadistic pleasure out of this, I know it! Klaus shouted internally, gritting his teeth, his jaw tightened and he felt as though a blood vessel in his temple was about to explode. There was nothing on Earth more aggravating then having to actually work with that damn perverted-Godless-sensuous-hedonistic-degenerate-gorgeous-idiot-thief Eroica!
And at that moment, the door to the Chief's office swung open and, like a dazzling explosion of sunlight in the barren depths of a black cave, there stood the Earl of Gloria himself, wearing one of his familiar border-line insane smiles.
Well, speak of the Devil and he shall appear…the German winced as Eroica, as flamboyant and ostentatious as ever, waltzed into the Chief's office. He was wearing a smooth white silk shirt, billowing in wispy folds of lace and ruffles, accented with large gold bracelets and a long necklace of pearls. He wore a pair of tight black pants and his long mane of rich golden curls fell ina cascading halo down past his waist.
"Why Major, darling, how wonderful to finally see you again!" the Earl crooned, "It must be destiny at work, don't you think?" he asked, batting long golden eyelashes.
Klaus could feel his blood boiling, it was more infuriating then anything else, having to put up with the Earl's foppish antics. Why the idiot felt the need to flaunt himself and exhibit almost every bloody stereotype—
"Isn't it just wonderful that we'll be working together again? I think it's positively lovely! You know I do so miss these missions together—"
"We do not EVER have missions together. YOU get in my way! Besides, it's just a game to you, isn't it?" the Major snarled, quickly brushing past Eroica and thundering out of his superior's office.
"Just a game…?" the thief echoed, following on his beloved Major's heels and not the least bit put off by the German's frosty attitude. "Well, Z did tell me we were hunting for an alien." Eroica grinned madly, biting back a giggle he knew his darling would not appreciate.
"Herr Z is not permitted to tell you such classified things! The only thing you need to worry about is stealing what we tell you to—"
"Oh of course darling, of course…"
"DON'Tcall me that!" the Major growled threateningly.
"Actually, I think it's all terribly exciting…and just imagine if it were true?"
"It is not true so just…shut…up!"
Dorian pouted slightly, twisting a golden curl around his fingers as the Major's Alphabets scattered busily around them, all trying to look as hard at work as possible. Little G gave Dorian a sympathetic smile and ducked hurriedly away as the Major turned back to the Earl.
"I'll get you the necessary information, the layouts of the grounds we'll need to infiltrate and what security we can expect," he said grudgingly, returning to his own office.
Dorian nodded, he did not seem in any way put out by the fact that they were going to invade enemy territory with the threat of death or worse hanging over their heads. In fact, how many times had he cheerfully run headlong into danger, risking life and limb, for Klaus' sake?
The Major shook his head quickly, emptying it of such thoughts…After all, there was no cause to be worried. The mission was simple. They would be fine. There was no reason to worry. No reason at all.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
As soon as Eroica and the Major had left his office, the Chief sighed deeply, and shakily clutched the edge of his desk, his rubbery fingers taken in a seize of violent trembling as a shiver ran up his spine and a cold sweat broke out along his brow. Fumbling in his jacket pocket, the old man pulled out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his forehead, even as his breath began to hitch and his chest convulsed painfully. A dull ringing rose in his ears, becoming more and more painful until the man thought he would pass out altogether.
When it subsided, another man was standing in the office, just slightly behind him, so that the Chief could not see him. Nevertheless, he felt the other man's presence—it sent shivers running up and down his spine and he felt vomit burning in the back of his throat.
"I—I—I—didit a—as you—commanded…" the Chief choked, gasping for air as his throat constricted, his entire body overtaken with violent tremors.
He could feel the man behind him smile. It was not a pleasant feeling, it sent a fresh ripple of cold terror down the Chief's spine.
"Puh—please don't make me…do this…there's still time to…ulp…ca—ca—call it off…"
"NO," a voice, as loud as thunder, harsh and grating hissed. "THEY MUST DIE."
"I—Idon't care about the thief—God knows—he's been wanted by Interpol for years now…but…the Major…really is the best field officer…we've got… as much as I hate the man…don't want to see him…die…this way…urg—"
The Chief's words were cut off in a low gurgle of pain, the lines on his face contracted, his skin turning red and then purple. He clawed at his throat, but to no avail, as though invisible claws were wrapped tightly around him, choking the life from his body with a frigid metal grasp.
The Chief's body twitched and convulsed, he was staring up at the empty white ceiling, and somewhere he thought he heard the low murmur of faintly mechanical voices singing against his ear.
"Those two…"
"Both…"
"…the Doctor must be…"
"Lured out…"
"…Trapped…"
"…and the girl…"
"All will die…."
"All worlds will end…"
"The Big Bad Wolf..."
"And Time itself…will…"
Faintly, he seemed to hear the terrified scream of Agent G, and something like a far off explosion, the heat of a fire, and everything went black.
To be continued in Episode 02: Stealing the TARDIS