Anonymous Prompt: There is a planet plagued by a virus that turns everyone into zombie like creatures and the doctor (the tenth) has to stop it alone. But when he gets there, he finds one with a familiar face he saw so long ago on Bad Wolf bay...
Warning: This ficlet contains strong language and violence

He hates guns, always has. But, he'll have to admit, they're very effective at driving a point. So as the bloody (literally bloody, mind you) ugly creature lunges at him again a with skin-crawling screech leaving his mouth, the Doctor doesn't hesitate but simply shoots the damn thing straight between the eyes.

"Fuck you, bastard," the Doctor grunts as the man's corpse crumples to the ground. That's the seventy-fifth one he's killed—well, killed again—that day. Stupid creatures. Doesn't anyone know what the words 'bugger off or I'll shoot you in the fucking head' mean anymore?

He wipes the blood splatter from the dumb wanker off his face with his coat sleeve before tossing the used cartridge from his pistol on the ground.

"Made me use my last bullet, you did," he finds himself talking to the corpse. (He's been doing that a lot lately, since, well, he's yet to find any soul to talk to who's not trying to eat him.) "Now I've only got my two blades, and a grenade. Thanks a lot, buddy."

The Doctor walks up to the man's still form and kicks the body over. His eyes look him over and focus on a nametag pinned to the corpse's shirt.

"Say there, Paul," he says. "That's a nice uniform you got there. Well, it would have been, if you'd not tore it up a bunch and bled all over it. But anyway, what were you? A security guard? I bet you were. And, I also bet that a security guard, like yourself, would carry around a weapon, am I right?"

The Doctor bends down to search now-deceased-Paul's belt and grins to himself when his hands close around the man's handgun. Zombies were stupid predators in that they only used their brute strength to kill instead of noticing that they had guns and knives on their host bodies.

"Hope you don't mind if I take this," the Doctor smiles, straightening up and waving the gun a bit. "Ooo, it's got a full cartridge too! Thanks, Paul, means a lot."

Paul says nothing.

Dusting off his tattered coat a bit, the Doctor gave a small nod to Paul before stepping over his corpse and heading back up the rubble pile. Mound 44, if he recalls correctly. He'd been naming landmarks in the divisions of this damned city after he got lost a few weeks ago. Mound 44 was basically a large heap of broken cars and corpses, and was the second largest mound in District 6 of the city. He's killed quite a few zombies on this Mound.

"Excuse me, Lucy," the Doctor grunts as he steps on the cracked skull of the fallen used-to-be-woman he uses as stair step. He reaches the top of Mound 44 after a few minutes and starts to make his way across to the building that the mound falls upon. Mince's and Hendler's Alien Examination and Acceptance was the edifice's original name, but the Doctor just called it Base T now.

Clambering through the shattered window, the Doctor hops down into the office on the fifth floor, where he had made his makeshift home. Well, where he kept his home anyways.

"Hello, dear," he calls as he saunters up to the cracked blue box settled beside some upturned desks. "How was your day? Mine was okay. Not a lot of trouble at work this time."

He settles down on the dusty floor beside his ship, grunting a bit with pain from his sore limbs. He begins telling the TARDIS of what's happened so far since the last time he's visited her. He knows she can't respond back, but sometimes he imagines he can feel her hum a bit. He likes to imagine he's not so alone.

-DW-

The Doctor hadn't ventured into District 7 yet. It had always been a safe-zone for the walking corpses (if zombies even have safe zones), too overrun with man-eaters (or time lord-eaters) for him to get very far into the territory. Today should be no different, but he's down right fed up of waiting for the blasted things to come out and decides it's his turn to go for a hunt.

Gathering his gear, and giving a quick goodbye to the TARDIS, he climbs out the window and heads toward the uncharted district. It's about a two mile journey, so it takes him about a half an hour and six kills to reach the cut barbed wire fence that serves as his divider.

"Alright, fuckers," the Doctor growls as he takes one of his long daggers form his belt in one hand and pistol in other. "Who's ready to go to hell?"

Raising the dagger, he strikes it against the fence. The clang ripples through the air—a warning. He waits a few seconds before smacking the fence again, four times in all. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

He can hear screams in the distance and knows his call has been heard. A smile slowly covers his face as he repeats his four knocks against the fence. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

He can see them coming. A jawless man makes a sprint toward him, only to fall with a bullet to his head. Two more creatures try, and meet the same fate as their predecessor.

"Ha! Is that the best you can do?!" the Doctor laughs as he jumps away from the advancing undead. He hops up onto a pile of crushed cars beside the fence, still continuously rapping his four beat call on the chains.

"Come on, bitches!" he shouts as he shoots a round into one of the more stupid zombies that had started to climb his pile. He keeps on this way until his gun runs out of bullets. Then, after hurling the empty pistol into a creature's face, he jumps down from his standpoint and makes a dash for the nearest building. The creatures scream after him, following almost immediately. The rumor that zombies were slow, mindless creatures was a complete bullshit. Some of these things could outrun him if they were hungry enough.

He makes it to the building and quickly slams the thick door behind him. Blood splatters over him as his action breaks off the arm of one of his chasers that had gotten very close. He can hear the creature's wails outside, followed by pounding as it and its 'friends' try to force open the door. (Okay so they were a little dimwitted, but still fast as hell.) It wouldn't take them long to barge through.

The Doctor backs up, drawing out his other dagger as he prepares to face them. Maybe this time one of them will succeed in actually killing him. He wouldn't mind much.

"Come on," he growls. He's about to open the door to let the creatures in so he can have some fun, when he feels something wrap around his ankle. Spinning around, he slashes his daggers through the air, hoping to decapitate his attacker. The blades simply collide with thin air.

"The hell—" he starts before he looks down to see pale, cowering form of his enemy. A woman with bleached golden hair covered in dust looks up at him. Blood is dripping down the side of her gaunt face from a head injury, but her honey colored eyes shine as they meet his dark ones.

The Doctor drops his daggers and staggers back until he collides with the wall behind him. His breathing becomes ragged and his eyes widen as he stares at the woman lying before him. It can't be. No… it can't be her.

She's reaching out to him, relief covering her bruised features. She's trying to say something, but only succeeding in coughing out blood. He can't think clearly and just stares at her. The other creatures outside are still pounding against the door and something inside him tells him he should run—but he can't.

He takes a step towards the woman and opens and closes his mouth wordlessly before finally choking out, "Rose?"

A sad smile covers her face, blood trickling out of the side of her mouth as she nods faintly. No… no, please no. He falls to his knees in front of her, no longer trusting himself to stand.

"Rose?" he murmurs again. "You… You can't be. You can't be here. Not—Not you too. Oh, Rassilon. You, you can't!"

He can feel tears in his eyes and he reaches out to touch her outstretched hand—it's cold. Rose smiles, and then coughs again, staining her blue lips with crimson blood.

"No," the Doctor sobs. "Not you too."