A giant locked gate in front of her. How could she resist? Emma Willow reached for her camera. The midnight rain had stopped, so now the clear puddles reflected the flash of the camera as it took a picture of the gates. Perfect, Emma judged, tip of her tongue out into the open. She swiftly hung her camera onto her back and retreated from the gates. One step, then two… and ran into it. Just before burrowing her forehead in the dark iron balusters, she jumped, hands gripping the gate tight, and pulled herself up. Emma threw her legs over the wet upper edge of the gate, and let herself fall down the other side.
She found herself in a place akin to the jungles of Borneo suddenly. Her entire focus now shifted from wanderlust to not tripping over dozens of roots that had burst through the dead grass years ago. About a hundred meters in front of her, it rose up: Merville Manor, a mansion built on the outskirts of Greenwich. It used to accommodate orphan children, she had read online. Plans to tear the manor down had finally pushed through. Soon this jungle house would make place for a brand new suburbian quarter, with paperboys and desperate housewives. The whole deal. Emma took out her camera and skipped towards something that once was the terrace where children played together and their supervisors sunbathed while on break. Another flash, another picture. She had now reached the wooden front doors: two behemoths, once painted purple, but after a long and fierce battle with sunlight and time, now flaked away and faded pink. Click! One more picture.
The door screamed a high pitch as she pushed it open. Unlocked! That made her night a whole lot easier, Emma thought. She reached into her pocket and brought out a small but powerful flashlight, immediately switching it on with one-handed practiced ease. "Let there be light," Emma whispered, and glanced around the spacious hallway. From the corners of her eye, a silhouette lit up on both sides of her. She squeaked, heart pounding so loud she thought she could hear the echo ring through the hall. Emma instantly pointed her flashlight to her left. A rusty suit of armour glared back at her. Okay. Just a suit, then. The thought of leaving the suit behind her back didn't comfort her, though, so she took a step forward, feeling her feet dragged to this armour stand by the never ending incentive of curiosity. Her hand reached upwards, touching the metal of the close helmet. She wanted to open it, if only for the reassurance a small child finds when opening their closet and peeking under their bed before going to sleep. That same reassurance, she tried to find when slowly opening the visor of the knight's helmet. Because why would anyone be here, in an abandoned mansion doomed to be demolished? But against any and all reasoning, behind that open visor, through the darkness inside the helmet, two green eyes peered through, small crow's feet suggesting a smiling person wearing the suit.
"Boo."
Emma flinched, and in doing so, tripped over the dusty carpet behind her. Mid-fall, the suit of armour reached forward and took hold of her wrist. The metal of the knight's hand felt ice cold against her million-a-second heartbeat.
"What—?"
A cushioned voice came from the helmet. "Wouldn't go that way if I were you." The knight pulled her up and pointed at something behind her. Emma glanced over her shoulder without thinking, only to return to him with a frown. Who was this person? A freelance journalist like her, perhaps?
"Why are you here? In a suit of armour nonetheless?"
"Now isn't a time for questions. What's your name?"
"That's a question." Emma replied
"Oh, okay, so you're that kind of person."
Emma sent the green eyes in front of her a smug grin.
"Emma," she replied, giving into the mystery man.
"Alright, great. Hello, Emma. We are going to turn around and run back outside as soon as possible. Do you hear me? ASAP."
"You have got zero authority over me, Lancelot."
"That suit of armour nearing us with a battle axe might have, though."
"What?"
"This is where we run."
The knight grabbed hold of her wrist once again and pulled her back into the hallway. WHAM! The door closed right in front of them, echoing through the hall.
"That's not supposed to happen. I thought I regulated the timing!" The knight turned back, shoving the hostile suit of armour away right before it tried to bring down the battle axe to splice their skulls. "In my defence: I really did think I regulated the timing," he mumbled as they slid into a side chamber. "Close the door, please, Emma." And she did as she was told.
A moment of extreme silence. Both the knight and Emma held their breath, waiting for even the tiniest of signs that the suit of armour knew their location. The knight carefully, without producing any sound, started unlocking his hands from his gauntlets. After a few seconds, though, Emma broke the silence, asking a question with burning curiosity.
"Who are you?"
"Shhhh."
"But why would—?"
"Hush means hush, Emma."
"Don't tell me to—!"
A single knock on the door. The suit of armour absolutely knew of their location. Another knock, this time more powerful. "Well. So much for playing hide and seek," the knight whispered. He reached for the helmet and pulled it off. "Hold this, will you?" He handed her the helmet, and she took it, too busy staring at him to resist. A man's face, with a chin that compensated for the lack of definite eyebrows. Drips of sweat tangled together on his forehead, shielded by a goofy quiff.
"I'm trying to get to my jacket's pocket. There's a tool in there that will deal with the suit of armour. What are you even doing in my house, by the way?"
"Your house? This house has been abandoned for over forty years!"
"That's just not true! I've been here on and off for the past three days."
"And that gives you ownership of it?"
"Not really. But I found the deed in 1976, and I like to believe that counts."
While this stressful conversation happened, the two retreated further and further away from the door, until their backs were pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. The door was punched again, this time with even more power. A loose screw shot out of the upper hinge of the door, colliding with the man's armour. "Oh, dear. Seems this door will not hold for much longer."
"That's a shame."
"Well, it is a really nice door."
"I meant it like that's a shame the evil thingy will be able to come in and put an axe in my skull."
"Evil 'Thingy'?" The man chuckled.
"So, how's that stripping coming along?"
"Almost there."
"Because I don't think we've got an 'almost' left."
In that moment, the door burst open, crashing to the floor in a large cloud of dust. Through the cloud stepped the suit of armour, raising the axe over his head as he slowly stepped forward.
"Now please, Lancelot!"
"ALMOST THERE!"
"WE DON'T HAVE AN ALMOST ANYMORE!"
The suit of armour loomed over them, battle axe touching the ceiling of the room. Then, as Emma screamed and the Doctor shouted her name, the suit brought the axe down on Emma.