(Author's Note: I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. I've actually got all the chapters done, I just have to edit and post them, so you guys won't have to wait too long for the next one. Who knows I might even just binge post it. Anyway, here's hoping you enjoy this rather... disturbing chapter. It's about to get messy. This is dedicated to my friend MiricatBlackwood. Thank you, you always take my broken pieces and give them back in the right order. Much love to you my oldest, most trusted friend)
"Exterminate!" the electronic voices screamed. Sarah Jane ran around the corner, a pair of deadly blasts scorching the wall where she had just been standing. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to beat it's way out.
The Daleks were right on her tail. She dare not turn around. She did not want to see the terrors behind her. Not how close they were. Not their eye stalks tracking her. Not their guns adjusting for her speed. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fearful face. They loved it when their prey ran. When they could see the fear. If she was going to die, they would have to shoot her in the back.
The dreary metal hall shook, and she stumbled, barely keeping her footing. Another explosion. She had to find The Doctor. He couldn't be dead.
A door on her left opened. She heard the servos in the legs clunking before they came from the dark. The cold metal men with the heads shaped like handles, hands grasped for her, their black eyes soulless.
"You will be upgraded," it droned, and she veered to the left.
"Catch heeeer!" the Dalek voice further behind her screamed in metal fury, "She must be exterminated!"
"Non-compliance detected! Delete! Delete!" The Cyberman agreed.
She ran. Ran for all she could, down a hall that stretched forever. Electric shots, and green rays of death melted, and scorched the walls, and floor. Another bend came, and she turned, her enemies nearing her.
This emptied out into a darkened room. She could only make out one object of note, a shining mirror made of silver.
A figure blocked her path, though she could not recognize him. He was old, with a beak of a nose, and a length of neatly cut grey hair. He adjusted his waistcoat, and removed his top hat, an evil grin curling across his cruel face.
"So glad you could join us Miss Smith. Welcome to the end of the Time Lords."
He fell out of focus slowly, darkness shrouding everything. She stirred, awakening upon the couch. Just a nightmare... that was all... that was all.
The Doctor watched as Sarah Jane stirred. She was beginning to come out of her hazy sleep. That was always an odd moment to him, that second between wakefulness, and sleep. It held secrets of the subconscious that were normally not remembered in the minds eye. He wondered what secrets her head unearthed in those small moments between times.
She was awakening just in time. The planet's first sun had begun to rise in the north, painting the sky orange, and red. The second would begin it's ascent soon, joining it's brother in the skies. He hoped the day would be more productive than the night was, and less bloody. Two people were enough.
The Doctor had been good on his word. He had not left Sarah Jane alone all night, despite that he wanted to rip this house to pieces looking for the remaining pair of door keys. He couldn't leave. If something happened to her while she slept, he would never forgive himself. He would rather protect her, and end up staying here longer, than leave her, and get out earlier, possibly with her corpse.
Of course, this also meant that he did not sleep. He was already feeling fatigued when he sat down, and now more so. The rest had done him some good certainly, but it was not the same as actual sleep.
He had spent the night contemplating their predicament, as there was no internet to distract him. Too bad too... he was really looking forward to watching season two of In The Thick of It. The problem was, it all came back to what he did not know. He did not know who their killer was. Sarah Jane had furthered that, as now her idea had wormed it's way into his head. Perhaps she was right, and the killer was not one of the guests, and instead something lurking in the shadows. It only added to his growing paranoia. No one but Sarah Jane was trustworthy to him. Anyone could be an enemy.
Everything came back to the safe in Pierce's office. He couldn't think of another place where a key could be contained. He knew Drucille knew the code. He could tell she was lying to him when she said she didn't know the code. It was not a wonder her acting career hit the skids if she couldn't even lie convincingly.
He hadn't pushed her, not yet, but it was coming to that time. That safe could be the way out of here. Even if there was a single door key there, than it was worth it.
After that it would be about finding the final one. He was not sure where to start. However, he would figure that roadblock out when he reached it.
"Good morning, Doctor," Sarah Jane yawned. Sitting up sitting up sluggishly. He snickered at her appearance. Her hair was a mess of matted loose strands jumbled about by sleep.
"Oh good Lord, no. I can't let you go off looking like that," he murmured. He took his hands, smoothing her greying brown locks back into place. She scrunched her face, giving him that same odd look again she so often did. Annoyance perhaps? No... probably gratitude. Yes that was it.
He finished, giving her a tap on the cheek. Pretty as a picture.
"Are you done?" she asked shaking her head.
"Yes, you're welcome," The Doctor smiled. She rolled her eyes with a light laugh.
"I could have done that myself," she said.
"And now you don't have to! You're welcome!" he exclaimed. She didn't have to thank him so much.
"Did you sit there all night? You must be exhausted!" she suddenly realized.
"I'm fine, fit as a fiddle. I don't need to sleep. When we get out of here I'll just take a few cat-naps, and..."
"You know I've seen you actually sleep, right?" she interrupted with a chuckle, "I know you say you don't but I'm not like your other doe eyed pals. That cat nap stuff doesn't fool me." He didn't answer. Better to keep the mystique.
"What do you say we go, and check on our other friends shall we?" he asked, "maybe set about getting out of here?"
"I would like that very much. Not that Pierce hasn't been a wonderful host," she said sarcastically.
As the pair headed back up to the den, The Doctor prayed they had done as he had asked. He did not want to find a room full of corpses. The guilt would kill him.
They approached the doors, and The Doctor wrapped on it three times with his knuckles.
"Room service!" he shouted. He waited a few tense seconds, then heard the shuffling footsteps. Good, at least someone was alive in there. That was somewhat promising. He hoped he didn't get shot the second that door opened. How unfortunate would that be?
The pair of doors swung open, the sight of a tired looking Silas greeting him. His fine jacket was disheveled from sleeping in it, and his eyes ringed with dark circles.
"Hello Doctor, good to see you," he greeted. Behind him, the Time Lord could see Drucille was also awake.
"Glad to see you too, Silas," Sarah Jane greeted politely.
"And alive, that's the important bit," The Doctor added.
"Did you find a way out of here yet? I know you set off for it last night..." Silas probed.
"Not quite but I'm on the right track," he replied. He kept it vague, in case this was an assassin attempting to find out if a loose end was about to get away.
"I hope we do... no one else needs to die," Silas added, his mouth a straight line. Stress, and grief; that was what that showed. Or a mockery of it.
"Let's wake up the natives shall we?" The Doctor smirked, slipping past Silas. Sarah Jane followed him through, giving Silas a comforting pat on his shoulder.
"Alright everybody!" The Doctor yelled, clapping his hands obnoxiously, "wakey wakey eggs, and bakey! Up, and at em, humans, and robot assassin alike.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you," Barlow grunted, peeling himself off the couch. He looked over at Ricard, who lay on the floor in a mess of covers. He visibly rolled his eyes, giving the young man a kick. "Come on you lush, get up."
Ricard didn't move, and The Doctor eyed the covered man suspiciously. He walked over to him, passing a stretching Genevieve, and ripped the covers off of him. If it made him angry he didn't care, he needed to be sure he wasn't...
He was greeted by empty eyes staring at the ceiling. Pierce's young nephew's face was still contorted in a mask of terror, eyes wide, and mouth agape. There were no obvious injuries, no burned holes like Varrillo, and Pierce, but The Doctor could see the signs. He was an old hat at murder, unfortunately.
Ricard's eyes were overly bloodshot, and he could see small spots of blood in the whites. Petechial hemorrhaging. His skin was blotchy, and red in some places, and his nose was a bit bloody. All signs of strangulation.
His neck was the real tip off, covered in a coat of purple, and black bruising. The Doctor noted the shape; not in the shape of fingers, or some sort of garrote. The wounds were thick, and rectangular. They reminded him of some type of clamp.
Those were hands alright, just not those of a human. However those were consistent with the hands of some robots, or cyborgs. The Doctor touched the side of Ricard's neck, and felt the bones give. Broken, probably crushed. That took force. Granted, Ricard wasn't particularly strong, or even fit, but that was overboard.
Their opponent was smart. It could have fired off it's gun, and killed Ricard cleanly, but it would risk waking the others. It opted for something quiet.
His thoughts on this assassin were starting to shift. He first thought that it was killing in isolation to avoid being overwhelmed. However, if it caught Ricard unaware, and no one else was awake (which he was leaning towards, as any awake party would have likely been killed with him) it could have eliminated all of them while they slept. That begged the question; why didn't it. He could see two options here; Ricard was the real target ,and the killing was going to stop, or this was a form of psychological warfare. It was trying to scare, and demoralize it's opponents, and target. It wanted them off their pins.
That was the more likely option, and it bespoke of something far more sinister. If this was the case, it was more than a simple assassination. What sort of game was someone playing here, and the motive behind it? What if all of these precautions preventing them from leaving, were unknown to Pierce as well, and he had been caught in this just as they had, but he just happened to be the first victim?
The Doctor let out a frustrated sigh. Normally, investigations became more clear to him the longer they proceeded, not more foggy. He was realizing something even more horrifying, he knew absolutely nothing. Not whom their attacker was, not who the intended target is, not even the motive.
An even more terrifying thought suddenly crept into his head... what if this was Pierce's doing? What if it was suicide, and he planned to take them all with him? He tried to shake that one out of his head; the others he could understand, Pierce wanting to see them dead, but he, and Sarah? He doubted the old pirate miner was a complete sociopath.
"You had a watch schedule set up, did you not? Who was awake with Ricard?" The Doctor asked. No one was supposed to be awake alone, in case they were the killer.
He looked around at the other guests. No one looked sad to see Ricard gone. They all looked more afraid for themselves. He couldn't blame them. Not really.
"I was," Barlow blurted out.
"Then it looks like we have our killer," Silas accused immediately.
"Shut it you great git, I fell asleep," Barlow scoffed.
"Even I have to admit, that's quite convenient that the only person who could have seen what happened to Ricard, was 'asleep', The Doctor said, standing.
"You'd best be careful, old man," Barlow threatened, "if your going to accuse me of something, you'd best have proof."
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just pointing out, that it looks bad for you."
"Almost everyone else in this room has more reason to want him dead than I do, even if our little homicidal manic is a robot." Barlow sneered.
"Besides... where were you?" Genevieve broke in, "you were the only ones who left. Every time you two disappear someone dies..." she did not have the cruel edge to her voice someone usually had with such a statement. It was more fear, and mistrust. He did not blame her.
In a way he was to blame, and he could not deny that. If he had stayed, waited to find that key until morning, he would have been there. He would have been awake. Maybe the killer would not have struck with him up, or he could have stopped it, there by finding out who was doing this. He couldn't deny his part. All evil required was for good men to do nothing. And that was what he had done.
"The door was locked. We couldn't have gotten in here," he reasoned.
"Doctor... where are Winston and Felicia?" Sarah Jane abruptly cut in. Everyone stopped their argument looking around. The Doctor kicked himself. How did he not notice that they were missing? Stupid. So stupid.
"Where did they go?" Silas asked no one in particular.
"Maybe they've been kidnapped," Genevieve gasped.
"Don't be so naive, it hasn't taken anyone yet, why would it take them, of all people. The people in this room are worth far more, than those two will ever be," Drucille shot down.
"Not in morals, obviously," Sarah Jane sniped.
"Bloody hell... I heard them… Over heard talking about going to the kitchen last night, but I thought they meant in the morning, not in the middle of the night," Barlow informed. He was not making himself look good here.
"Are you with holding anything else, Barlow? Anything else we need to know?" The Doctor asked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Barlow shouted stepping forward aggressively, "do you think I did that on purpose? Just go ahead, and say it! You think it's me!"
"I'll tell you exactly what I think..." The Doctor shouted right back, anger spilling over. He was interrupted by his companion.
"Stop it! Both of you! We don't have time for this! We need to get to the kitchen, and see if those two are alright!" The Doctor nodded, taking a deep breath. As usual, Sarah Jane was correct.
"She's right, we can sort this out later," The Doctor agreed.
"We'll finish this later..." Barlow replied through gritted teeth. The Doctor was not afraid of his veiled threat. Barlow was child's play.
The group rushed through the house, straight for the kitchen on the second floor. The Doctor hoped the pair were alright. He had been up all night, we should have heard something if they were in trouble.
They came upon the room in question, and he opened the door.
A long rectangular room, it was obvious that Pierce had sunk a pretty penny here. All the appliances were state of the art, and top of the line. His microwave alone probably cost seven thousand dollars. The Doctor was sure it didn't cook any faster than his.
The counters were made of granite, and everything had it's place. The knives were in their block, all the pots hung on the wall. Even the butcher block was spotless, even though it's scars betrayed use. The cabinets were made of pine, and all closed neatly. Everything about this place was well cared for. Even the floors were spotless...
But for the body laying upon it. The Doctor's hearts sunk as he saw Winston laying on the floor. He was unrecognizable; the plasma shot having hit his head. All that was left of his debonair face was a disgusting, melted mess, glued to the floor by the sheer heat of the blast.
Across the way, was another door, leading to a pantry. It was ajar slightly, kept open by a high heeled foot sticking out. The Doctor stepped over Winston carefully, moving reluctantly to the pantry. He knew what he would find, and he did not want to see it. He pushed the door open.
The pantry was stuffed with food; enough to feed a small army. Boxes of bread, and dried fruit sat aginst one wall, and a shelf of cans, and tins dominated another. He noted where another shelf had been, and was now moved haphazardly against the other, this one containing excess vegitables.
He did not see right away why it had been moved, but realized it quickly. There was an odd indentation in the wall, shaped like a human hand. It was larger however, and thicker, too big to be an actual person's.
Near by the indentation, was Felicia's delicate hand. Severed from her body, it was stuck to the wall, shriveled black, and melted. She lay beneath it, her liquid eyes staring blankly up, a terrified expression still marring her face. Her stomach was a melted mess of cauterized flesh, obviously the wound that killed her.
What was that indentation, he wondered. It was obvious she had been putting her hand into it when someone took her life. What did she know that no one else did? That looked like it could be some sort of secret door. A way out, perhaps? Or something else?
His thoughts were interrupted by Barlow's snide voice behind him.
"This doesn't look good for you Doctor, this doesn't look good at all."