"Why doesn't anyone ever follow my instructions? How hard is it to follow, 'Remember where we parked'?" the Doctor asked.
"It's not my fault. I told you not to take the Tardis in the first place," Nardole whined.
"Doctor, I remember exactly where we parked, because I told you the rack was for bicycles, not boxes," Bill said.
"It's not there now. So, where is it?" the Doctor said. He held up the device he cobbled together using an egg beater, a hairdryer, and a Mattel electronic football game. He turned in a counter-clockwise direction until the game bleeped and the beaters whirled. "This way!"
The Doctor ran down a narrow alleyway, his coat tails flapping behind him. The others jogged to keep up.
"Doctor, what's that noise?" Bill asked.
"You mean the exploding sounds or the sounds of Daleks discharging their weapons?"
"Daleks?" squeaked Nardole.
"Both," Bill said.
"Whatever it is, it does not sound right?"
"You're right. We better go," Nardole said. He turned to run, but the Doctor snagged the back of Nardole's jacket before he could get away.
The Doctor lowered his voice and said, "I mean, Daleks usually precede the discharge of their weapons with, 'Exterminate! Exterminate!' It's their way of saying, 'Whee! I'm having fun!'"
The Doctor crept to the end of the alleyway and peeked around the corner. The others cautiously joined him.
"The second not right thing…since when do Daleks need target practice?" the Doctor whispered.
Bill whispered, "At least its mannequins and not people."
"To be more accurate," the Doctor said, "Those mannequins are being controlled by the Nestine Consciousness. Which leads to the third not right thing…The Daleks are losing."
"The Daleks are losing?" Nardole said, sounding confused. "Not that I'm complaining, but that's not right."
"Exactly what I have been saying. Please keep up," the Doctor said. The Doctor stood up straight, smoothed out his jacket and tucked his Tardis detector into one of his jacket's interior pockets. He strode purposefully out of the alleyway and towards the action.
"Doctor! Come back!" Bill and Nardole hissed. They looked at each other, then back to the Doctor. They cautiously followed several steps behind him.
As the Doctor approached, nine mannequins formed a ring around the last Dalek, each mannequin with its hand laser pointed at the Dalek in the center. The firing stopped. The only sound was the wind and footsteps on the gravel.
The Doctor wondered why the Dalek did not exterminate the ring of plastic people standing around it. It could have easily taken them down in a matter of seconds, including he and his companions. As the Doctor stepped between mannequins to join the Dalek within the ring, he soon realized why the Dalek did not fire its weapon. Perhaps it had something to do with the lack of laser and the large crank where its plunger should have been.
The Doctor inspected the Dalek, while the Dalek's eyestalk inspected the Doctor. "Not very talkative, are you, Dalek?"
The Doctor bent down for a closer look at the crank. It appeared to be made of the same metal as the Dalek casing, except for the handle, which was stained wood.
"Are you the Model-A of Daleks? Or, are you just winding me up?" the Doctor said.
Nardole and Bill breached the ring and joined the Doctor. They eyed the stationary mannequins and the silent Dalek.
"What do you think? Should I give it a whirl?" the Doctor asked.
"No," Bill and Nardole said.
"Stop copying me. It's creepy," Bill said.
"We're surrounded by Nestine and meters away from a Dalek, and you think speaking in unison is the creepy bit?"
"I agree with Bill. It is a bit creepy. Especially if you've ever been to Midnight," the Doctor said. "Here goes something."
The Doctor grasped the wooden handle and cranked the Dalek. From somewhere within the Dalek plinked the hurdy-gurdy tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel". On the notes for "great fun", before the typical surprise, the Dalek's domed head flipped open and a clown head on a wobbly spring ejected from within the Dalek's body. The bulbous head and pointy chin made the head balloon shaped. The hair on the clown's head was bright green, the color of a perfectly manecured lawn of apple grass. It's face was white as fresh snow, except for the pointy, red smile and the black rings emphasizing the crystal blue eyes. Below the head was a tiny body with outstretched arms, as if threatening to give the Doctor a hug.
"I'd like to change my answer. That is creepy. I never did like clowns," Bill said, her heart racing.
Nardole, equally surprised, chuckled nervously and said, "I don't know. Some clowns are good for a laugh."
"Not this one," the Doctor said. If he was surprised by the clown popping out of the Dalek, he did not show it. He found nothing funny about it, as evidenced by his stern expression. He tore the paper from the clown's puppet hands, and said, "The situation is worse than I expected."
The piece of paper taken from the clown-in-the-Dalek's puppet hands read, "I know you're looking for your ride. This is where it doth hide." The address below the message was not too far, only three blocks away.
Bill and Nardole had to convince the Doctor to take the bus three blocks instead of walking. Although he enjoyed riding public transportation, he didn't exactly trust it considering the last time he rode a bus, he ended up stranded on another planet. The Doctor finally caved after considering if Bill and Nardole ended up on another planet without him, he would hate to have missed the fun. He complained for most of the trip, and complained some more when they arrived at their location safely and still on Earth.
The address led the group to an abandoned, dilapidated warehouse surrounded by a chainlink fence. Many of the windows were shattered and the metallic structure was rusted in several places. Knee-high weeds forced their way through cracks in the pavement and wavered in the gentle breeze. The Doctor pulled out his sonic, but was disappointed that the gate had no lock and swung open for anyone who wanted to explore the derelict warehouse.
Inside the warehouse was a different story. They entered the side door, which was also unlocked, and entered a pristine, clean factory inside. The bright overhead lighting gleamed off the white walls. Most of the interior was occupied by a maze of conveyor belts. Riding along the rattling tracks were hundreds, if not thousands, of blue police boxes identical to the Tardis.
"Stay close," the Doctor said, watching the blue boxes shuffle about on the conveyor belts. "There is some kind of temporal difference between the inside and the outside of this warehouse."
"Is the Tardis here?" Bill asked.
"Yes. She's here alright," the Doctor said.
"Ugh. It's gonna take us a while to find it," Bill said, her wide eyes calculating how to find the real Tardis in a room filled with imposters.
"Not really," the Doctor said.
"This might help," Nardole said and pushed a button. The jangling, rattling of the conveyor belts slowed to a halt.
"Still, there must be over a thousand to go through before we stumble upon the right one," Bill said.
"Bet you a packet of crisps he can find it in under ten minutes," Nardole said.
"You're on," Bill said, and shook his hand.
The Doctor raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The squeak of the Tardis door echoed in the room.
The Doctor pointed and said, "There she is. Come along."
Nardole grinned and said to Bill, "You owe me a packet of crisps."
"Ten minutes?" the Doctor scoffed.
"Just giving you a bit of wiggle room," Nardole said.
"That's like giving Saturn room to hula hoop. Pfft. Ten minutes. I can use the remaining time to feel insulted," the Doctor said. "Come on."
Once inside the Tardis, Nardole helped the Doctor enter the set of coordinates printed on the note.
"Okay, Doctor, what is going on? What was with the jack-in-the-box Dalek, and who hid your Tardis in a room full of other police boxes?" Bill asked.
"The Clown having a bit of a laugh," the Doctor said.
"A clown?" Bill asked.
"Not a clown. The Clown. Just like I am the Doctor."
"Okay," Bill said, chuckling, "Who is 'the Clown'?"
"You know how clowns are supposed to be funny, yet many people have an irrational fear of clowns?"
"Yeah. I'm one of those people."
"It's not irrational. It's because of the Clown. He cultivated that fear. He was the inspiration for the Joker in the Batman comics, and the creature in Stephen King's It. All because he takes some of his jokes a bit…too…far."
The humor drained from Bill's face. "But, who is he? Who is the Clown?"
"A classmate from the academy on Gallifrey. I don't think I can call him a Time Lord, because I don't believe he actually graduated before he stole a Tardis and ditched class," the Doctor said.
"Didn't you steal this Tardis?" Nardole asked.
"Where do you think I got the idea?" the Doctor said, "You would think they would have improved security after the Clown."
"So, we are going to find the Clown?" Bill said, swallowing hard to suppress her fear.
"He got my attention. I need to see what he is up to, and if it comes to it, put a stop to it," the Doctor said.
The Tardis landed in a large parking lot. Apart from the Tardis, the only other vehicle in the lot was a solitary, small car. It looked like a Volkswagen Bug, but almost half the size. About the length of a Smart Car. The mini-bug was painted bright orange and speckled with polka dots in all kinds of other colors. The mini-bug's doors opened upward, like a Delorean. The Doctor, Bill, and Nardole stayed near the Tardis as several clowns unfolded themselves from tiny car and formed a wall of clowns, all resembling live versions of the Jack-in-the-box Dalek clown.
"I think we're outnumbered," Nardole whimpered.
"Is that car the Clown's Tardis?" Bill asked.
"Bigger on the inside," the Doctor replied.
"Are all circus clown cars Tardises?" Bill asked.
"Don't be daft," the Doctor said, "Most use localized teleport systems."
"Huh," Bill said, thinking about the answer, until her fear of clowns returned and she cowered behind the Doctor and Nardole.
"Will the real Clown, please step forward," the Doctor announced.
All but one of the clowns exposed their true Zygon selves. The remaining clown…The Clown, said, "Doctor."
"Clown."
"Should I be concerned the clowns turned into sucker monsters?" Bill asked, concerned.
"No need to worry. It's only Zygons. Ever since the Zygon Invasion…Inversion…Invitation? One of those…There's a good chance some of your friends are really a Zygon," Nardole said.
"Are you one?" Bill asked.
"Me? No," Nardole said, smiling. He dropped the smile and in a mysterious tone, said, "Or, am i?"
"Will you two shut up a moment?" the Doctor barked.
"Sorry," they said in unison. Bill mouthed to Nardole, "Stop that."
"What do you want, Clown?" the Doctor asked.
The Clown snapped his fingers and imitated the Doctor's voice, "There it is." Then, returning to use his own voice, "That's all it took? Where's the fun in that? Where did you learn that trick, Doctor?"
"There's a lot you can learn in a library," the Doctor said. He amped up the Doctor sternness of his voice, "What do you want?"
"Why so serious, Doctor? You used to appreciate my jokes."
"Do not confuse appreciate with tolerate. Perhaps I'll start with a simpler question. Are the Zygons part of your next prank?"
"What? These guys? Nah. I'm just giving them a lift to Spoxee."
"What's Spoxee?" Bill whispered.
"A resort in the Zoople System," Nardole whispered back, "Like a nude beach where all life forms are free to be themselves."
Bill nodded and returned her attention to the Doctor's and the Clown's conversation.
"What about the Daleks?" the Doctor asked.
"Imitation Daleks. Built from purified spare parts after the Time War. What did you think of my Me-in-the-Dalek?"
Ignoring the question, the Doctor asked, "And the Nestine?"
"They arrived to help clean the plastic from the oceans, if you can believe it. They took a break for a bit of laser tag."
"Now then, I will ask you a third and final time…What do you want?"
"What I always want, Doctor! To have a little fun! This time…This time is my last hurrah. I pulled one prank too many. I went a bit too far with one prank. Now I have been issued the death sentence."
"Nope. Not interested," the Doctor said. He turned around. "Bill. Nardole. We're leaving. Back to the Tardis."
"I thought you wanted to know what I want," the Clown said, his hands raised above his head.
"No longer interested. Good bye."
"You find out there's a price on my head and you turn your back on an old friend?"
The Doctor ignored the Clown, snapped his fingers, and the Tardis door opened.
"I thought I would go out with a small pop rather than a…Big Bang?"
The Doctor swiveled around and said, "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would, Doctor. I would go to the ends of universe for a good laugh. Well…the beginning. If they aim to take the life out of me, I'll take the life out of this party," the Clown said, roaring with laughter.
Bill asked, "Doctor? What does he mean?"
"He aims to prevent the Big Bang. Back in the Tardis! Now!"
Nardole whimpered, "I fail to see the humor in that."
Inside the Tardis, the Doctor orbited the control console, throwing levers, mashing buttons, and twiddling knobs. When Nardole attempted to help him, the Doctor firmly, but gently pushed him aside.
"Where are we going?" Bill asked. She gave Nardole a hug to comfort his hurt feelings of only trying to help.
"Racing the Clown to the starting line. I aim to get there first," the Doctor said.
"Isn't the Big Bang the beginning of everything? Won't you both just appear at the same time?" Bill asked.
"The Big Bang is not the beginning of everything, only the beginning of the portion of universe you are aware of. There are other Bangs, some bigger and some smaller. If the Clown is going to prevent the Big Bang that created everything you are aware of, including the Earth, I need to be there before he can prevent it."
"Is it really possible to prevent the Big Bang?" Nardole asked.
"It is if you are a Time Lord and paid attention to the lessons. I don't know if the Clown paid attention or not, which is why I need to stop him from trying," the Doctor said. He threw one last switch and the Tardis stopped. All was quiet. The only sound was from the breath of the Tardis's three passengers and a faint, nervous creaking from the Tardis herself.
The Doctor flipped a couple more switches to create an atmospheric corridor between the Clown's mini-bug Tardis and the Doctor's police box Tardis. The Doctor pushed open the Tardis doors and stepped into the nothingness. He shut the door and gave the other's a look that instructed them to stay put.
The universe was darkness that seemed to go on forever. The Doctor knew it was not complete darkness in every direction. He was aware of other pockets of the universe much further away where the light had not yet reached them.
The Doctor marched across the nothingness to the Clown's car. He rapped on the window with his knuckles. The only light came from the glow of the Tardis's windows. A sing-song voice from within the car asked, "Who is it?"
The Doctor, with his patience wearing thin, sighed and said, "You know it is the Doctor."
"Doctor who?"
"Please, open up," the Doctor said.
The Clown turned a crank to roll down the window of the car. He sat in a seat next to the window and rested his elbow on the opened car window frame. "Since you said, 'please'."
"Please, do not prevent the Big Bang. That would cause the greatest paradox this portion of the universe would never know."
The Clown smiled and tilted his head, "It would, wouldn't it? You want the Big Bang? Here."
The Clown handed the Doctor a metallic can with a screw top lid. The Doctor took the can and turned it to read the label.
"Diet peanut brittle?"
"Let there be lite," the Clown said, and laughed at his own joke.
"I'll give you that one. That is pretty funny," the Doctor said, and chuckled briefly. "What am I supposed to do with this? Open it and springy snakes pop out to startle me?"
The Clown cleared his throat, and in the voice of a professional announcer, said, "Warning. May contain peanuts. May contain Charles Schultz. May contain absolutely everything, including springy snakes, considering it may contain the Big Bang trapped inside, waiting to come out." The Clown laughed. He grinned at the Doctor, displaying his off-white teeth. "There's only one way to find out. Open it, Doctor."
The Doctor raised the can to his ear. He gave it a light shake and listened to the contents rattling around inside.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," the Clown said with mock concern.
The Doctor held the can at arm's length, towards the Clown. "What's really going to happen when I open it?"
"Here, let me show you," the Clown said. Before the Doctor could protest, the Clown snatched the can out of his hand and twisted off the top.
The Doctor flinched, his eyes involuntarily shut. He expected to go more than deaf at the release of a possible Big Bang, which should have enough energy to peel the paint off the Tardis. Instead, he heard an airy pop!
"You did it. You managed to stifle the Big Bang into a tiny pop," the Doctor said. His head dropped in defeat at not being able to save the portion of universe that will never be.
"Don't be daft. That was me breaking the vacuum seal," the Clown said.
Vacuum seal? the Doctor thought, then recalled memories of the lecture on Stabilized Containment of Microcosmic Propulsion. Though it typically occurred within a vacuum, there was no seal around the vacuum. That wasn't right. And, even if a scaled down smaller bang, he should not still be alive.
The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at the Clown, who had taken a chunk of peanut brittle from the can and munched on it. The Clown titled the can towards the Doctor to offer him a piece.
"You shouldn't shake it, because it busts up the pieces, creating sticky crumbs at the bottom of the tin," the Clown said, giggling.
The Doctor took a piece and nibbled the corner. Realizing how tasty it was, he bit off a larger chunk.
"Surprise, Doctor," the Clown said. "Bang."
"You aren't going to prevent the Big Bang, then?" the Doctor asked.
"Hardly. You know I never paid much attention to the lectures. No, the Big Bang will still happen in a moment from now. I just delayed it a bit to tell you, 'Thank you.'"
The Doctor sighed again and said, "You know that by delaying the Big Bang, now I'll have to adjust the clocks in the Tardis." The two had a bit of a laugh. The Doctor took another piece of brittle and munched on it before asking, "Thank you for what?"
"For all that you do and stand for, Doctor. I have traveled around, listening to people tell stories of all your acts of heroism. You may have only tolerated my jokes, but I have always, always, admired your attitude, Doctor. Even amidst the most serious of situations, you remember to have a bit of fun. You continue taking care of the universe and everyone in it."
The Doctor bowed his head and said, "Thank you for teaching me to laugh at myself and to appreciate the wonders of the universe. It has been a pleasure knowing you."
"And, you, Doctor. Goodbye."
The Doctor entered the Tardis and closed the door behind him. He handed the tin of peanut brittle to Bill.
"So," Bill said, fishing a small piece of brittle from the can, "everything is okay?"
"Not yet," the Doctor said.
"Here you go, Nardole," Bill said. She handed the can to him and said, "I owed you some crisps. Now we're even."
"Oy!" the Doctor said, "I was just offering you a piece, not the whole tin."
"Oh. Sorry."
The Doctor strolled to the console and casually began operating the controls.
"Are we going somewhere that sells crisps?" Nardole asked, turning his nose up at the brittle and passing the tin back to Bill.
The Doctor did not answer. He just flew the Tardis in silence.
After stealthily infiltrating the records archive of the Shadow Proclamation, the Doctor used his sonic on one of the terminals to pull up the record for the Clown to see what crime he committed that deserved the death sentence. The Doctor laughed so hard, tears trickled down his cheeks. He tilted the monitor so that Nardole and Bill could read. Through his laughter he managed to say, "Here. Read this."
Nardole chuckled and said, "Yep. That'll do it.
Bill looked from the report to both the Doctor and Nardole as if they had lost their minds. The Tardis translated the record for her, but she was still confused. "I don't get it. The Clown only squirted a Judoon with a flower? I mean, it's not that funny of a prank, but he doesn't deserve the death sentence."
The Doctor wiped away his tears as his laughter slowed to a soft chuckle. "No. He doesn't. But, I'll soon remedy that."
Falsifying Shadow Proclamation records is a crime worthy of a death sentence, but the sonic screwdriver adjusted the Clown's record without a trace.
The Clown parked his Tardis on Spoxee. The doors on either side flipped up, but before he could exit his vehicle with his hands up, the Judoon had his clown car surrounded.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the Clown begged, "I'm sorry for what I did. Please, don't kill me."
The Judoon commander stepped forward and said, "Apology unnecessary." The commander raised a device that resembled a large sonic screwdriver with a black casing and pointed it at the Clown. The Clown closed his eyes tight.
The Judoon commander pressed the end of it to the Clown's raised thumb and held it there until it emitted three bleeps. The Judoon barked, "Judoon do not execute for unpaid parking fees. Fines have been collected. Here is your receipt." The commander tore a slip of paper from the device, and crammed it into the Clown's raised hand. The Clown opened his eyes.
"Have a nice day," the Judoon barked. He and the other Judoon officers marched away.
The Clown did not lower his hands until the Judoon were out of sight. He looked at his receipt, which stated the value of forty-two credits had been collected. The Clown broke into a high pitch laughter and said, "Well played, Doctor. Well played."