CHAPTER 4: Face to Face

Artificial light bathed the halls of the complex, creating a "morning" environment within its closed structure and returning it to a steady flow of activity. As masked personnel wandered to and fro, a door slid open against one of the walls. Straightening his jacket, the Doctor stepped out from his room into the bustling hallway and heaved a most satisfied sigh - one that came from an incredibly well-rested body. He looked around, raised a licked finger to the air to gather his bearings, and marched forth, whistling merrily as he did so.

He rounded a corner and was practically bowled over by a frantic, hurried, and somewhat dishevelled shape. Gathering his balance, he examined the culprit.

"Rory!"

His hair was a mess, his face one of worry, and he appeared to still be in the midst of his search. The Doctor, of course, was oblivious to all of it.

"They gave me a bed!" he exclaimed. "A proper bed! With a mattress and sheets and one of those squishy pillows that keep the shape of your head! Honestly, I've no idea why you humans are always so highly strung - a few hours in one of those bad boys and you're right as rain!"

No reaction. He studied Rory. "Are you alright?"

"Amy," he heaved, almost tumbling through his words. "I tried to find Amy during the night... I searched up and down... I couldn't find her."

"Well, searching up and down can safely eliminate all ceilings and floors," the Doctor replied, still wrapped up in his good mood. "So well done on that one."

"Doctor!" Rory's voice became urgent, demanding. "I'm serious!"

"And I'm just trying to be amusing. Misplaced does not mean vanished, Rory - are you sure you checked every room?"

"Yes." A pause. "I think. Maybe. This place is confusing - it's hard to tell."

The Doctor nodded. "Good thing we ran into each other then. Well, it's more you running into me. But never fear - I saw what room Joseph put Amy in, and despite the rabbit-warren layout, I know how to get there. Come along, grumpy sacks." He started walking, and a stunned Rory had to shake himself back to reality in order to keep up.

"So what did you find?" the Doctor asked.

"Sorry?"

"You've been up all night by the looks of it. Searching from room to room - you must have seen something interesting. Something that can help explain what's really going on here."

"No, nothing." Rory paused, and remembered. "But there was this one room..."

"Yes?"

"An old man. Old and weak. He was hooked up to some kind of life support system, gasping and wheezing for breath. Riddled with tumours. He was on the very verge of death, but those machines... they kept bringing him back."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? Helping the sick?"

Rory shook his head. "There's treatment, and there's torture. You might call yourself the Doctor, but believe me, this wasn't any sort of medical help, and that man was way beyond sick. It's like he... he was being forced to live."

Before the Doctor could respond, a door opened in the distance and a limp figure fell to the floor, wavy red hair spilling forth like a frayed curtain. Rory's eyes went wide.

"Amy!"

He rushed towards her, the Doctor in tow, and he bent to hold her in his arms. Her head lolled on her neck as she looked around listlessly, clearly disoriented. The Doctor crouched to her side, produced his sonic screwdriver and gave her a quick scan, looking at the device for a verdict. "She's been drugged."

"Dizzy..." Amy mumbled.

"What happened?" urged Rory.

Amy furrowed her brow as she tried to recall. "Someone... someone came into my room. During the night. Held something over my mouth... and then... I can't remember. I woke up here."

"Who came in? Did you see?"

She shook her head. "Too dark... I couldn't tell..."

The Doctor's mouth tightened in determination. "I think there's someone here who can." He stood up and straightened his jacket before looking down at Rory. "Stay with her."

"Why, where are you going?"

The Doctor was already moving. "To have a word with Mister Joseph Boss Man."

Amy tried to lift herself from the floor. "Let me come with you. Please."

"You're in good hands there," called the Doctor over his shoulder. And to Rory: "The best."

Rory nodded in response as the Doctor rounded a corner, striding up the hallways and past the bustling crews of masks and uniforms. White lab coats, hazmat suits, janitor uniforms... no matter where he looked or who he passed, each person was fitted with some kind of mask or helmet. At the most all he could see were eyes, and each pair appeared to be looking at him very carefully. Suspiciously. He tried to keep his own gaze straight ahead as he continued on his path.

Behind him, he heard footsteps - soft, irregular. The Doctor looked behind him to see a frail Amy staggering towards him, arms outstretched in desperate longing. "Doctor," she gasped, "Please..."

He went up to her and allowed Amy to support her weight on his shoulder. "I said stay with Rory," he said. He shook her head. "Never mind, you're here now. Come on, nice and easy. I've got you." The Doctor put an arm around her waist as he helped Amy take careful, deliberate steps across the floor. Clearly, she wanted to be a part of this confrontation - to face her possible attacker in spite of her own weakness. Perhaps that was a good thing, the Doctor reasoned. Perhaps.

"Someone came in..." Amy gasped.

"Yes, they did," the Doctor replied. "And we're going to sort it out. You and I. Look, we're here."

They were facing a door which they both recognised from their earlier visit as belonging to Joseph's office - this time, however, it was slightly ajar. A small red light blinked on the nearby card reader, and the Doctor looked through to the open crack into the room beyond. Through the vertical sliver he could see what had happened to the once-immaculate room, and after taking a moment to assess the risks, he slowly pushed the door open.

Destruction greeted them. Books were thrown from their shelves and strewn all across the floor. Chairs were upturned. Loose pages were torn, crumpled, and shredded from a violent hand; on one of the walls the Doctor could see bloodied scratch marks. Cushions were torn open, their fillings spilled from corner to corner, and fragments of the carpet had been ripped up. Total mayhem. And save for the breathing, total silence.

The Doctor cautiously led Amy forward. At the far end of the room, at that heavy oak desk, was a single chair, its back turned towards them. And even though it was facing away, it was clear that a single person was sitting in it, breathing deep, rapid breaths. The breaths of someone who'd just run a marathon, or had torn up their own office in a seething, furious rage.

"Joseph," the Doctor ventured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Joseph, is that you?"

The breathing continued. Fast. Forceful.

Then, a grunt.

"Joseph, it's the Doctor. I've got Amy with me." He tiptoed closer. Slowly. Carefully. "Can we talk with you?"

Another grunt.

"What's happened here? What did you do?"

The chair moved as its occupant shifted in the seat. "Doooo...?" The voice sounded confused, agitated. Deep. Again, the Doctor inched closer, his feet drifting through dozens of loose book pages. He could feel Amy's hand trembling in his own.

"Joseph, you're not well. I'd like to help you."

"Helllllllp...?"

The chair moved again, a little more this time. On the arm rest, the Doctor could see a hand, the tips of its fingers bleeding and raw. He gulped, now unsure of their safety. He stopped moving, and took a moment to assess his next move.

"Helllllllp...?" That guttural voice was practically clawing its way through each sound, yet sounded almost unsure of how to speak. "Doc...toooor... wannnntsssss... toooo... hellllllp?"

Amy started to pull away, finding some reserves of strength to help save her. "We should go," she urged.

Angrily, violently, the chair turned around, and the occupant immediately stood and crouched on the desk, as though ready to pounce. The Doctor and Amy recoiled in horror - the once immaculate suit had shreds torn into it, tattering the cloth and smearing it with the blood of its wearer. Hair that was once tidily combed now hung wild and greasy down into equally wild eyes. But it was the face that terrified them the most - the face, identifiable as that of Joseph Edwin Banks, but hanging limply from the bones beneath. Each feature - eyes, mouth, nose, ears - seemed to be partially melted, sagging. Deformed. Like an ice cream left out in the sun.

Hot, angry breath seethed through gritted teeth. "DOC...TOOOOR... WANNNNTSSSSS... TOOOO... HELLLLLLP?" he barked viciously.

Sparked into action, Amy now found the strength to start urgently pulling on the Doctor's arm. "Let's go!"

Remaining as steady as his nerves could allow, the Doctor reached his free hand into his jacket pocket and produced his sonic screwdriver, aiming it at the spectacle before him and scanning it up and down. "Joseph," he said carefully. "If there's still some part of you there, you need to listen to me." He flicked up the screwdriver, but a loud, deep roar from Joseph prevented him from inspecting the results. Amy screamed. "Doctor! Now!"

"Yes..." the Doctor whispered, still processing the horrific sight - still working through what Joseph had become. "Yes, we should go."

Instantly, they both turned and ran towards the open door behind them, just as Joseph pounced off his desk and landed on all fours, using his arms to immediately push him to his feet and propel him forth at a maddening pace. The Doctor and Amy crossed the threshold and quickly pushed the door closed, and the Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at the card reader, causing it to lock with a satisfying click and an electronic beep. As it did so, the door moved as Joseph's powerful force thudded against it from the other side, and Amy and the Doctor backed away, their eyes locked on its movements as angry growls accompanied violent pounding.

"Doctor, what was that?" Amy asked, breathless.

"That," he replied, "is some kind of violent shadow of..." The Doctor trailed off. A pause. "Surely not. But obviously he did. But why is this...?" His mind jumped back and forth as he mentally arranged the pieces that were now falling into place.

The Doctor turned to Amy. "You heard what Joseph said to us earlier. About the Ood. The duplication process at the energy flow doesn't work properly - copies emerge fine, but once they're shipped here they become unstable. Violent, unhinged. And I'd say that what we saw was pretty unhinged. Joseph - the real Joseph, wherever he is - has copied himself."

Amy shook her head. "But he said he'd never copied a human before. Rory asked him, point-blank."

"Well then," said the Doctor with a shrug, "I guess you've met the first CEO in the universe who never lies."

He led her away from the door, still taking a pounding from the other side. "There's something about this place," he mused. "Duplicates only turn violent once they're in this particular building, but why? Something in the ventilation system? Something in the coffee? And why now? That Joseph was fine yesterday, but now... I don't get it - what is it about this specific location that makes them-"

"Doctor!"

A familiar voice called out from down the hall. Ahead of them, he could see Rory, already walking towards him and Amy, but helping along...

Amy?

The Doctor's eyes bulged. "What?"

Rory approached them, clutching Amy to his side and looking just as confused. "What?"

And once all four were eye to eye with each other, Rory looked at Amy standing next to the Doctor, and the Doctor looked at Amy standing next to Rory. Amy and Amy, the exact mirror images of each other, were frozen in disbelief, but both managed to move their mouths just enough to form one simple word, and they said it in unison:

"WHAT?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment as everyone tried to make sense of the situation. "Amy?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes?" they both answered. Rory's Amy looked at her duplicate. "I'm Amy."

"No, I am," replied the Amy standing next to the Doctor.

"You can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm me. I know I'm me."

"So do I. I've always been me. Amelia Pond from Leadworth, engaged to Rory Williams - that guy right there - and had a TARDIS crash-land in her backyard when she was seven."

"But... but those are my memories. You're not me! And you're not engaged to him!"

The Doctor put a hand between the pair. "Okay, settle down, Amy. Err, you too, Amy." They both cast an annoyed look at him as his brow furrowed in concentration. "Right, so... a duplication. That's obvious. Same looks, same memories. And it's obvious that's the reason why someone came into your room in the night; they wanted another you. But why - what's the reason? Joseph has already duplicated himself - he already knows how the process works on a human, so it's not as if he needed you as a test subject."

"I'm not some kind of lab rat," said the Amy at Rory's side.

"Sorry," Rory cut in. "But which one is the real Amy here?"

"Me!" each Amy replied simultaneously.

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose between two frustrated fingers. "Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Amy - both of you - you're coming with us while I figure this out. I need to get to the energy flow - I need to see it for myself, to learn more about it. Maybe that way we can understand how it works, why duplicates fail at seemingly random intervals, why they fail in this particular location, why Amy was copied at all... and why is it suddenly so quiet in here?"

The four held their breath as they looked around at the Doctor's question. Indeed, the normally bustling facility had dropped to a near-silent level, the only sound coming from the reverberating echo of the Doctor's last word. As it faded down the hallway, they could see various members of staff had stopped dead in their tracks, frozen. A masked janitor had paused mid-mop, while a scientist writing on a clipboard was captured mid-word. Cautiously, the Doctor left Rory and the two Amys and ventured towards the inaction. As he got closer he could see that each individual was indeed still, but not altogether frozen - they were still breathing, slight muscle twitches on visible patches of skin suggested that they were gradually regaining control of their limbs... and their eyes. Their eyes were still moving. As the Doctor moved, each set of eyes followed him, step for step. Not allowing him to escape their gaze.

The Doctor stopped to face a twitching kitchen-hand. The mask over his mouth softly bellowed and deflated with each breath, a long strand to the side fastening it to his head with a simple knot. Despite himself, the Doctor's hand slowly ventured upwards to that strand, his fingers closing delicately around it as he gave it a soft pull, causing the knot to untie. The mask fell freely to the floor, revealing what the Doctor had barely allow himself to entertain: facial features that had begun to sag downwards, hanging off from limp skin.

The facial features of Joseph Edwin Banks.

Instantly, the Doctor pulled his hand away. He looked down at the rest of the personnel lining the hallway - they were starting to regain motion now, with some clawing at their faces to remove the masks that were apparently beginning to frustrate them. One by one, the Doctor could see it unveiled: sagging faces, all of them belonging to the same man. Everyone - from janitor to mechanic to the CEO himself - was a duplicate, and every single one of them was looking straight at the Doctor.

Genuine fear ignited his heels, and the Doctor bolted back towards both Amys and Rory. "Run!" he bellowed, and as the four of them fled, the entire hallway of volatile duplicates started to move freely, their sagging mouths opening in roars of rage as they turned and gave pursuit. The Doctor led Rory and the two Amys around a corner, down another hallway, then instantly stopped when they realised that it too was filled with duplicated personnel who were beginning to turn hostile. "Back, back, back!" gasped the Doctor, and they sped down into a T-junction, looking for the best way to go.

Seeing an open door, they immediately rushed towards and through it, and once inside, Rory's hand thumped down on the button that caused it to slide shut. With no windows to be seen anywhere, he recognised it as his own sleeping quarters, his bed sheets still cast off and strewn as he had left them earlier in the night. He shook his head in bemusement. Figures, he thought.

The Doctor put a finger to his lips, silently shushing the group. He pressed his ear to the door as he assessed the action outside. A horde of irregular thumping footsteps got louder, then softer. Guttural, primal barks faded away. The stampede, it seemed, had passed them by.

A sigh of relief, and the Doctor turned to face those among him. "Everyone okay?"

They all nodded, though despite the near-death revelations, it was clear that an uncomfortable cloud still hung between the two Amys, with neither one willing to give an inch to the other.

Rory motioned to the door, to what had just happened beyond. "Those people," he said, still panting. "They were all the same."

The Doctor only nodded in the affirmative.

"They were all him. All of them. But he said he'd never cop-"

"Yeah, people lie," interrupted the Doctor sharply. "What they say and what they do are rarely the same thing."

Taken aback, Rory could only look at the Doctor, and immediately he regretted his tone. He put a hand on Rory's shoulder. "Look," he offered. "I'm sorry about getting you into this. All of you." He addressed each Amy, in an effort to ensure that the real one - whichever one that was - was included, and that there were no ill seeds planted towards the duplicate.

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair. "An entire base filled with malfunctioning copies of a single man, all of them angrier than a maths teacher on exam day. God, I'm so thick - I should have realised by now. Of course everyone's wearing masks - that line about preventing illness was pure codswallop. A remote facility where everyone's face is your own; you'd go mad looking at yourself all day. Makes sense to have it covered up. But there are still so many other hows and whys we don't know yet. I mean... okay, every single being in this place is out for our blood, so how-"

"Not everyone," said Rory.

"What?"

"Not everyone's like that. There's the old man I saw. Remember?"

The Doctor's face went through a multitude of expressions as he gauged what this could mean. "Of course... the old man. He looked different, right? He wasn't like them?"

"Believe me, he's the total opposite of them."

"Then he just might be the key to all of this. We need to find him." The Doctor looked at Rory square in the eye. "Can you be incredibly awesome and amazing and come with me while a swarm of rampant, violent Josephs hunts us down?"

He shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really, but it's nice to think so. Now come on. We need to see a man about a horde."

CHAPTER FIVE COMING SOON!