"How do I look?" Tyro exclaimed, bursting out of the changing room, leaving the door swinging behind him.
"Erm," his accosted shop assistant hesitated, "Well, when you said you wanted casual, smart and formal, I didn't quite realise you meant all at the same time."
Tyro just stared at her blankly.
"Why not?" He slid past her, towards a full length mirror, grinning as he saw his outfit, and his new face, for the first time.
The first thing he noticed was that his chin was a lot less pointy than it had been, bit of a better bone structure around the cheeks. And stubble! He felt the side of his face and under his chin with one hand. Good length, he noted.
Relatively pleased with his new facial appearance, Tyros' attention shot down to his feet, and the clunky combat boots. Practical, he'd thought as he's thrown them in to the shopping basket that the young girl was following him around with.
Given the lack of options on the trouser front, the Time Lord had opted for combats, with a grey camouflage pattern. Choosing these had taken the most time, mainly due to the shop assistant insisting he tried jeans.
"What have you got against denim?" She had snapped, after a frustrating half an hour.
"Nothing personally." He had replied nonchalantly. He knew there was more to it than that though, something ingrained within his head steering him away from the garments. Never mind, he had thought. He could worry about that later.
Of the many shirts he had seen, he had picked a red and black check pattern one, the reds very pale and pastel, the blacks varying in shade. On top of that, he had chosen a very smart silver waistcoat, buttoned completely down the front, with a single pocket on the left breast.
"Not bad." He commented, to himself mainly. "Given what I had to work with. He felt around his neck again. "Missing something though." He quickly glanced around the area in which they were standing, full of accessories, belts and jewellery. Immediately he spotted the perfect accompaniments to his new outfit.
The shop assistant rolled her eyes as he pulled the label from the yellow and black checked neckerchief, and tied it around his neck, covering his shirt collar.
"Buttons!" He exclaimed suddenly, flying around to the other side of the display which housed several packs of small buttons, each with different designs. Tyro grabbed the first one on the top row of pegs, and ripped the cardboard and plastic packaging open.
"Don't worry." He said, noticing the look on the girls face, as he threw the rest of the packet in to the basket. "I'll pay for all of them." Carefully he slid the pin of the badge he had chosen through the pocket of his waistcoat, a yellow smiley face now grinning from his chest.
"Anything else sir?" The girl asked impatiently as the odd stranger admired his choice of clothes in the mirror once again.
"Yes!" He shouted, a little too loudly, before dashing away, knowing exactly where he was heading.
By the time she had caught up with him, Tyro was looking carefully at two packs of headphones that he held in his hands. His hands, which some point between leaving the changing area and now had acquired some black fingerless gloves.
"Which ones do you think?" he asked, holding up the two choices. One set were small white earphones, the other large retro looking silver domed headphones.
"Well, the white ones are a little more…subtle." She said, choosing her words carefully.
"Well, that decides it then." He stated bluntly, throwing the smaller pack to the floor. "Who wants subtly?"
The shop assistant watched in amazement as Tyro ripped open the tough plastic clamshell packaging with his teeth, throwing the plastic case in to the basket before placing the headphones around his neck and feeding the wire underneath his neckerchief, leaving it hanging freely.
"Do you not have anything to plug it in to?" She asked.
"Of course not." He shook his head. "But never know when they might come in handy."
"Right." She sighed. "So, is there anything else I can help you with sir?"
Tyro looked to her, and then to the overflowing basket she was holding, full with different coloured check shirts and waistcoats.
"Think I'm done." He nodded, "Should probably…ah." He stopped mid-sentence, feeling his new trouser pocket, not quite sure why he expected there to be a wallet in there. "Slight problem."
The girl looked back at him angrily. She had just spent the past two hours running around after this guy, and now it turned out he had no way to pay for the vast amount of clothes she'd been dragging around after him. She was about to start an angry rant at him, but very quickly had bigger things to worry about.
The electrical display exploded in to a wall of flame, sending un-expecting customers flying to the floor.
"Get down!" Tyro shouted, as a laser blast shot across the shop floor towards them. As another display erupted behind them, he lunged in to the assistant, but all to late as a blast struck her directly, her scream ringing through Tyros' head as she hit the floor.
"What the hell was that!" Suress screamed as his new face formed, now slumped back in to the Archivists' chair. His hair remained dark, but it was much different than before, not long but very wild. "Thought you were going to help me!"
"I did." The Archivist hissed.
"By forcing me to use the only regeneration I have?"
"I told you, we will change that." He replied calmly. "Besides, if you are going to find Tyroankandra you could not have done it as you were."
"And why not?" Suress challenged.
"He was your friend; you were much to attached to him. Do you imagine he would have bought the renegade back to be executed?"
"Attached to him!" Suress laughed. "You really think that? Ridiculous. I would disintegrate him myself if I had to"
"Point proven." The Archivist smirked. "Now you will be able to complete your mission, without your," he corrected himself, "your old, personal feeling jeopardising it."
The old Time Lord turned away, a sickly grin forming. He had been forced to come up with the plan on the spot, but so far it seemed to be going perfectly. With Suress now fearing for his life, he would be forced to do whatever the Archivist told him to. This new man was open to being moulded, the fear and anger that surrounded his regeneration the perfect catalyst.
"Now how do I find the renegade?" Suress asked, getting to his feet, grimacing a little as a burst of regenerative energy left his lips.
"With this." The Archivist pulled a small device from an pocket inside his robe and held his palm on it. Instantly, a white cabinet shimmered in to view in the middle of the room. "I have kept this hidden, slightly out of temporal sync, for emergencies. " He explained, pushing the door open and leading Suress inside.
"A Type 90." the young Time Lord muttered, admiring the large black console room.
"Designed as an enforcement capsule." The Archivist continued. "Used to track down those breaking the First Rule and bringing them to justice. It will be more than enough for you to find and stop your young friend."
"Tyroankandra is no friend of mine." Suress snarled. "I shall find him for the sake of Gallifrey."
"And yourself." The old man reminded him sinisterly. "I can only help you if he is stopped. Otherwise, your future will pan out as you feared."
"I will not fail." Suress vowed, as the Archivist left the console room.
The newly regenerated Time Lord hissed with pain for a few moments, before admiring the controls of his new capsule. Everything looks perfect and new, and it seemed to have various features Suress had never seen before. The Archivist was right, this was the perfect enforcement ship, and now Suress was going to use it to bring Tyro to justice.
No, no, no!" Tyro said sadly, turning the young girl over on to her back, laser fire still blasting overhead. He felt her wrists, and then her neck, but knew it was pointless. He looked over to the toppled basket of clothes she had been lugging around for him and knew that this was his fault. Although this was the first time he had set foot on Earth, and he wasn't completely sure of the time period, he knew enough Earth history to be certain laser weapons were not common place. Something was after him, and this young girl had died because of that.
It was then he realised that he didn't even know her name. They had spent the last two hours together, during which she had been wearing a name badge, but he hadn't even taken the time to read it. He gently slid her eyes closed, completely oblivious to the screaming around him and tried to look for her badge. He noticed a pin still attached to her shirt, but nothing else. He stood up, taking a deep breath, before noticing some broken plastic by his feet. He bent down and picked them up, piecing the shattered bits together the best he could.
"Hello, my name is…Leanne."
He bit his lip sadly, looking down to her body.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, placing the broken pieces in his waistcoat pocket. "No more, I promise."
With that he turned away, aware once again of the barrage of laser fire lighting up the now empty shop floor. He didn't see any other casualties, so hoped they had found somewhere safe. It had only just begun, he knew that, but was already realising why the Doctor was well known for almost never returning to somewhere he had visited. Tyro couldn't look back to Leannes' body, it was too painful. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to have the lives of whole races on your conscience.
Tyro ran across the shop floor, ducking and diving through racks of clothes. Suddenly a mannequin exploded in to thousands of plastic pieces next to him.
"Don't know who you are," he shouted, perched behind a rail of large winter coats, "but let's stop this now eh? I think they have a coffee shop upstairs, could always talk it over." A rack of clothes next to his burst in to flames as a response.
"Ok, that's a no then." He quickly scurried through the corridor of clothes, popping out at the other end, where he finally caught sight of his attacker.
Stood in the large doorway of the store, between two security scanners, was a large silver robot, standing about seven foot tall. Its head contained one large red eye in the centre, which was pointing straight at him. The body was covered in tough armour, each arm ending in a four barrelled laser blaster.
"Of course." Tyro noted, quickly rolling out of the way of another laser blast. "Can't drink coffee. No hands. How insensitive of me." He cocked his head to one side. "No wonder you want to kill me."
The metal assassin held both arms out straight, each barrel of both weapons lighting up before eight laser blasts shot towards the young Time Lord. Tyro could see the busy shopping centre behind his attacker. Someone had set of the alarm after the first explosion, and it was now or less empty, everyone having been evacuated. At least that was something less to worry about, Tyro thought. The machine was only here for him, and had already had one more kill than the Time Lord was happy with.
Quickly, Tryo ran straight at the robot, a laser shot narrowly missing his arm. He didn't stop, however and ran straight through the security sensors, a loud beeping joining the alarms.
"Must remember to take those tags off." He noted, watching as the robot turned slowly on the spot. "Interesting." He said, rapidly scanning the wall. "A slow assassin. Handy."
As he passed through the doorway of the store, Tryo pushed a button on the wall, and listened as the shutter began to descend from above him. By now, however, his attacker had the Time Lord back in its sights, laser arms outstretched.
"Hurry up!" Tyro shouted slamming his fist in to the button. Instantly, the shutter began to fall, narrowly missing Tyro as he rolled out of the way, the silver metal now separating the Time Lord and the machine.
"Well, that should by me some time." He sighed, before noticing a red patch developing, spreading rather quickly.
"Oh. Who'd have known he had a blow torch too." He cursed, darting away from the store, trying to work out what to do next.
Lorendria woke from her sleep suddenly, startled by a noise that she couldn't quite hear. It was very rare nowadays for her to get any proper rest, the vision wouldn't let her. She rubbed her eyes, and realised that she had been crying.
"It's started." She said sadly, resting her head back on the pillow, eyes wide open.
Tyro was starting to realise that he wasn't the most resourceful Time Lord. He'd bought himself almost a minute before the robot had burst and smashed its way through the barricade, but in that time he had come up with exactly zero plans on how to escape. Well, that wasn't quite true. He knew he could just get back to the TARDIS and leave, but then some poor human would have to deal with a killer robot. He had very quickly decided that he had done enough running away recently.
He was running now, the mechanical killer following very slowly, but keeping near perfect aim, each shot hitting the ground where Tyro had been the moment before. He had worked out a pattern of weaving from side to side that the robot didn't seem to be able to counteract. Right now he was very grateful that it was an early model. He had heard of robots that moved quicker than the eye could perceive, and knew he wouldn't have stood much of a chance against something like that. This one seemed to be very slow to react to any movements Tyro made, something he was planning on taking full advantage of.
Running around a corner, slightly rethinking of choice of shoe on this slippery floor, Tryo smiled to himself as he spotted a set of escalators up ahead. Gaining speed, he headed towards one, conscious of the robot clunking around the corner behind him.
A plastic plant burst in to flames as Tryo reached the foot of the escalator, springing on to it, missing the first two steps and landing on the third. He looked back, to thee his pursuer slowly adjusting its aim to compensate for the new angle, when he noticed that rather than getting further away, he was getting closer to the ground floor.
"A fifty-fifty chance." He muttered. "So much for optimism."
Seeing no other option, he begun to run up the moving staircase, which seemed to be doing its best to take him back down.
"Never did like machines." He snapped, bounding two steps at a time, but still not making very much progress.
By now, the robot was on an escalator itself, and seemed to be trying to prove to Tyro it wasn't as stupid as he had thought, by stepping on the other one. As the escalator carried the machine upwards, groaning slightly with the weight, it fired again, narrowly missing Tyro as he lunged upwards another two steps.
The upper floor was becoming visible now, and from Tyro could see, it seemed to be focused on toys. A few feet away from the escalator stood a small cart, abandoned, but still laden with various cheap plastic toys. Looking up he saw a large model of an old aircraft, suspended from the ceiling by clear wire, he presumed. At last, a plan was coming to him.
Avoiding another slow laser blast, he finally dived off of the escalator, which he had come to resent as a massive hindrance, and headed straight for the toy stall. He scanned it quickly, remote control cars, mechanical cats, small wooden puppets.
"Perfect!" He beamed, grabbing a frisbee from one of the shelves, poking his head out of the stall he was now using for cover. The metal head of the Cyclops like robot was now coming in to view as It ascended. Not having time to think properly, he grabbed a kite from a display, unravelling the string frantically and tying it through one of the many holes that surrounded the diameter of the plastic disk. He ripped the kite from the string and discarded it, tearing off another piece of the string with his teeth. This was tied around a traditional U-shaped magnet and in turn attached to another of the hole in the frisbee.
Tyro stopped for a second, and he decided this plan really was insane, but it was the only one he had and he'd already wasted time on it, so decided to follow it through.
"Worst case," he said to himself, "I die. Again. Wasn't so bad last time."
He grabbed the demonstration remote control car he had spotted earlier, and tied the remaining end of the kite string to it.
"Now or never." He coached himself, taking a deep breath as he held his arm back, focused on the ceiling. "Just hope these arms are big enough."
With a mighty cry he flung the Frisbee powerfully in to the air, watching as it span, quickly looking back to the machine that was once again preparing to take aim. He heard a clunk as his makeshift weapon hit the point in the ceiling where one was the wires was attached by a metal hook. He breathed a sigh of relieve as the magnet took hold, giving it a gentle pull to test the strength. He picked up the remote control unit, and looked at the ridiculous contraption he had made – the remote control car, set on the floor attached to the frisbee which was now stuck to the ceiling hook via the magnet. Perhaps, he thought this was just about crazy enough to work.
Holding the control in both hands, he flicked the control switch marked "FORWARD" on harshly. Nothing happened.
Panicking, he rapidly flicked the control back and forth, before realising he hadn't switched it on. Turning the handset over, he switched the power on, and once again hit the forward control.
The small blue car screeched forward, with no resistance at first, but slowing suddenly when the slack on the string ran out. Smoke started to stream from the small tires as Tryo continued, very conscious of the laser blast scorching the floor beside him. Looking up, he could see the ceiling hook trying to move, a crack appearing around it. Poking his head around the cart, Tyro knew he was almost out of time. The robot would be off the escalator any moment. With one final burst of determination, he pushed the level like switch as hard as he could, the motor of the little car screaming desperately.
Then it happened. The car shot forward, the crack caused by the forward movement now large enough to let the hook fall free, the nose of the large model aircraft plummeting downwards. This stress, in turn, pulled the second support hook free from the ceiling, followed by the third.
All at once the might plane fell from its place suspended in the sky, cashing straight down on to the escalator, and the robot below. There was a terrible sound of metal hitting metal as the staircase gave way, collapsing in a twisted heap, taking its metal passenger with it.
Placing the remote control down, Tyro cautiously left his cover, peering over the edge where the escalator had once joined with this floor. The scene looked like some kind of bizarre indoor plane crash, the remains of a metal arm poking from under a broken wing.
Casually, Tyro rode the escalator back downstairs, pleased he could just enjoy the ride this time. His legs were brand new, after all. He'd been hoping for a chance to break them in before having to do anything too strenuous.
Tryo walked back towards the row of photo booths, dragging the battered and inactive robot behind him with one hand, and carrying his shopping basket in the other. He had felt very cold leaving Leanne there, but knew her friends and family would take care of her now, say their goodbyes. He had already done enough. He couldn't even leave any money for the clothes. Part of him said it was his reward for stopping the killer robot, but he had to remind himself that it was his fault it was there in the first place.
He slid the curtain open, and entered his TARDIS, propping the robot body up in the corner.
"I'll work on you later." He addressed it. He had always known he couldn't leave it here. In the wrong hands, the technology could change history completely. It was also give him a chance to try and work out where it had come from, although he had a good idea.
"Straight in to the vortex, I think." He said to both himself and the TARDIS, flicking a few switches. "Will give me some time to work out what to do next."
As the TARDIS started to dematerialise, a klaxon started to sound, a red warning message appearing on the monitor. Tyro quickly dashed round to read the output.
"Will you stop that noise!" He shouted. "It's a problem, I know. But with you doing that and that baby crying, I can't hear myself think."
He paused for a moment.
"Hold on." It struck him. "A baby crying?"
With that the internal door of the TARDIS, leading to the corridor and other rooms, opened, revealing a very distressed looking dark haired young lady. She held a small crying baby tightly to her chest.
"What the hell is going on?" She screamed, as the TARDIS threw itself and its three passengers, in to the Time Vortex.