I know… It's been months. But, here, I whipped this up especially for you!
They all stare about themselves for a moment. Each person in the pit terrified of the newcomers, yet glad they're here as well. For the moment of still, all fighting stops, and all eyes turn towards Ten. It seems as though he knows what to do.
"Alright," he says, striding carefully forward. Christina and Jeff are both still battle-ready, and with everyone else on-edge, the last thing he wants is to start another brawl. He addresses everyone. "Here we are then. The last tributes. All here together."
Jeff raises his weapon, and steps forward. "Makes the job easier, then—"
Ten stops him. "No, no. Don't you see? We can win the games, right here, right now."
"What's he going on about?" Amy whispers to River. River holds a hand up, telling her to just wait.
And Ten continues, "It's simple. Don't you see? If we all just refuse to fight—What can the daleks do?"
Eleven steps up, too. "None of us have to die. No more death. We could try to turn the tables. Just refuse to fight."
"It's that simple?" asks Jack.
Everyone stands silent, shocked at how much weight that question carries.
At last, Nine spoke, "Of course it isn't. The daleks will find a way to continue the games. We can't win them."
Ten shakes his head. "Don't let the deaths be for nothing. Come on!"
"Right, then!" Eleven says. He turns around on the spot to face everyone. "This is it! Our only way to fight back is to stop fighting. Can we all do that? Just this once, can we all try to get along? If not for yourselves, do it for someone else. Fight back for those who can't. And, if the daleks try to force us—We'll just have to remain strong, together."
"Alright." Amy steps forward. "For Rory."
Nine steps forward as well. "For Sally."
Ten steps forward and nods. "For Rose."
Jack agrees. "For Rose."
"For my TARDIS," Eleven says.
And the rest joined in, too. Either afraid to speak, or finding it not necessary, but, wither way, completing the alliance. They all have made the decision. It becomes final. The last few tributes have banded together in one alliance. Surely the daleks haven't forseen this. Surely it will work.
But the hopeful thoughts don't last long. Because, in the few still moments of hope, in the fw moments of 'maybe we can win,' a howl breaks through the sky. The howl of a great wolf. And, a moment later, another howl joins the call. More and more, until it becomes apparent. A threat is coming. A catalyst to create the play that the daleks crave in their game. And the reaction is on it's breaking point.