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Miss Rubens sat at her desk, looking through files and scrolling through her laptop – it was a busy day preparing for the launch of CyberSocial. Light spilled in through the large windows, a glistening grey from seventy one floors up the CyberTech Tower. Everything in the room was spotless and metal and in the perfect position. Even her pencils were lined up in order.

Someone knocked at the door.

Quickly and efficiently, Miss Rubens closed her laptop and placed it in her desk drawer with several other files. "Come in!" she called, combing her ginger hair out of her eyes.

The door opened, and in stepped a tall, black haired man in a suit. He had a look as though he was always a bit confused. "Erm . . . I have the latest reports from the Ethics Department," he said, holding out a large folder, stepping towards Miss Rubens.

"Mr Blakemore, isn't it?" Miss Rubens recalled with a smile, taking the folder and placing it on her desk. "I've been hearing stories from Human Resources – your concerns for the CyberSocial project."

Mr Blakemore stuttered a little, "Well, there are some aspects of the project that concern me." He quickly added, "Well, not as much as those clouds over the city!" joking to lighten the mood.

With her eyes still fixed onto Mr Blakemore, Miss Rubens sank back into her chair, "Please elaborate."

Mr Blakemore swallowed in fear. "It all started when I looked into the figures. Every year, we spend half a million pounds on salaries, but if the current number of employees is correct, we only pay them with two thousand pounds a year. I doesn't add up! It's probably just a major clerical error, or we're paying people way below the minimum wage."

"A clerical error, I'm sure," Miss Rubens replied dismissively.

"But there's more," Mr Blakemore interrupted. "There's a whole set of programs on CyberSocial that were never created. I've checked with IT, and not one person claims to have written or authorised it. No-one can understand it – even though we have the best in Britain working on this project – or find a way of getting rid of it. We tried wiping it from the system but it just popped back up again the next day. Then, a day or two later, I asked the IT guys again, and it was like they'd forgotten the entire thing! I doesn't make sense."

Miss Rubens shook her head. "I'm not an expert on the IT side. You should speak to someone else."

"And I have," Mr Blakemore insisted. "I've asked every Head of Department but nothing's been done. And when I speak to the staff, they just forget the next day. The only thing I'm left to believe is that this project has been hijacked. All the staff must be involved . . . And then I realised that the first time there was any record of you was five years ago. You only began to exist when the project was created." Suddenly, Mr Blakemore pulled a gun from his back pocket and aimed it at Miss Rubens. "Who are you and what have you done with the project?"

Miss Rubens chuckled. "You've worked on this project since the start – I never expected things to come with this."

"Exactly. I've put my heart into five years of this, and another ten years working with CyberTech; I want to know whether I've been working for an illegal, immoral purpose," Mr Blakemore snapped.

A sinister grin split across Miss Rubens' face. She stepped out of her chair, so that she was close enough to reach for Mr Blakemore's gun. "Go ahead. Fire," she teased. "It won't stop us. The Cybermen control this corporation and will continue to do so."

"Cybermen? Who are they?" Mr Blakemore asked, his hands shaking. The metal rattling of the gun.

"We are CyberTech. We made the company. We made CyberSocial. And we will take the world, no matter who gets in our way."

Mr Blakemore fired.

No bullets were fired.

Mr Blakemore watched in confusion as a silver insect crawled from the barrel of his gun. It scuttled up his arm and up to his face. Within moments, an army of Cybermites were crawling up Mr Blakemore's body, scuttling inside him. Upgrade in progress.

"Urgh," Miss Rubens groaned, stretching out her back and shoulders as she watched Mr Blakemore's transformation. "Finally. I don't have to keep hiding now. Visual update in progress." She moved her hand to the bottom of her neck, where she pressed a small metal circle that bonded with her skin. Her whole body changed, as though her very skin was made of pixels as she changed. Transformed -

- Into a Cyberman.

Alec threw open the door to the appartment, looking onto the wide-eyed and wide-mouthed gasp of Claire as she stood, covered in winter clothing, in the coldness of the corridor.

"Where is he?" Claire demanded, stumbling into the flat pushing past Alec as she searched the flat.

"He's gone," Alec replied, closing the front door and joining Claire in the living room. "He left with Sasha about an hour ago."

"And they left you alone?" Claire asked in concerned, placing her bags to the side of the sofa.

"Yeah," Alec shrugged.

"It's half ten," Claire gasped, removing her coat as she flopped down on the sofa.

"And?" Alec shrugged again, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa.

"It's late! And your sister abandoned you for a mysterious man that left her still smoking in a hospital bed. That doesn't ring I'm-a-trustful-and-responsible-member-of-the-community," Claire argued.

Alec raised an eyebrow, "I think 'abandoned' is a bit of an over-reaction."

"He's a bad influence, that Doctor bloke. All that deception and time travel."

"I'm not denying that."

"Exactly!"

"But she trusts him," Alec counter-argued.

"And do you?" Claire asked.

Alec was caught off-guard. His answer was replaced with an expression of half-confusion and half-sorrow. The truth was that even he didn't know any more. After months, the Doctor had suddenly arrived and hadn't even said hello.

"Oh . . . Sorry," Claire muttered.

Alec drew in a deep breath. "No, it's fine. I must be manstruating," he joked, his smile quivering. "Delivered your presents to the Mbatha's?"

"Yeah. I gave them their presents earlier so they can put them in the stockings for their little ones."

Slowly, Claire slid along the sofa beside Alec. She looked in his brown eyes with hers, equally reddened. With one hand, she rubbed his shoulder. He swallowed, resisting the urge to spill his tears over her and barely succeeding.

"You know you can always talk to me?" Sasha reassured him. "Anything at all. Just text or give me a call. I understand you can't tell Sasha everything, but you should at least try to tell someone. I'm here. Auntie Claire."

Alec giggled to himself a little, masking whatever it was that threatened to transform him into a blubbering infant. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Auntie Claire to the rescue," she smiled, pulling Alec in for a hug.

"This never happened," Alec joked, hugging her back. "Is my present in one of those bags?" Alec asked, moving out of the hug to gesture to Claire's bags.

"Yep," Claire replied. "A secret, of course. You'll have to wait until Christmas morning."

"What did you get for Sasha?"

"Shush. Secret," Claire teased. "Something I think she'll need and want at the same time. I hope she'll like it."

Claire stirred her cup of tea, slowly stepping towards the sofa. The fabric crunched a little as she eased herself down beside Alec – he'd fallen asleep. She placed her tea on the floor before clicking on the TV – anything to end the silence.

Softly, Alec coughed, spluttering and heaving. "How long was I asleep?" Alec coughed.

"Through the night," Claire replied.

"Oh, Jesus," Alex groaned. "My legs have gone dead."

"Feeling better then?"

"Yeah. Can you smell smoke?"

"Yeah, the flat's a bit singed. I tried making Christmas pudding. Bad idea."

"My sister's gonna kill you."

"Possibly yes."

Sasha stepped into the TARDIS. She stopped. A nauseating wave of déjà vu and sicking realisation of the surreal bigger-on-the-inside concept trapped her where she stood, her mouth limply open. There was something about the deep blue and orange lights that burrowed further into her eyes than usual, and the whirring mechanisms that echoed through her head.

"Come on. Use some pace, Sasha," the Doctor ushered, pushing past her to get to the console, flicking switches as he spun around it. "No time like the near future."

"Yeah. Sorry," Sasha muttered. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled deeply. "Ok. Tomorrow morning. London. The CyberTech Tower. I'm ready."

"Good. A bit quicker next time please," the Doctor rambled, swiping a lever, sending the TARDIS on a sharp jolt sideways. "There's some clothes down the corridor. Left, walk, left, right, forwards, down, second on the right."

"Christmas Eve," Sasha grinned.

"Yes. Keep up."

"I am. It's just getting used to this again. Time and space. I love it," Sasha grinned. The Doctor raised an eyebrow to her. "Left, walk, left, right, forwards, down, third on the right?"

"Second on the right," the Doctor corrected her.

Sasha laughed. "Sure. I won't be a minute. Let's go save Christmas!"

I hope you enjoyed that! If your concerned that there's not enough plot yet, don't worry, it'll start to kick in from the next chapter onwards - I just wanted to reintroduce characters and lay some groundwork. THANKS FOR READING!