With every step he took, Paul felt the sharp pain of his broken rib as it slowly healed, made worse when Paul gave himself a decent thwack to the chest to realign the broken rib better.
Stupid, he knows, but he found that it helps heal quicker when his body didn't need to realign the rib itself.
Hurts less, too, if you could believe that.
Oh, but don't be fooled, he's still at the whims of nature, cut his head off, it can't just reattach to his neck, be cheery then.
His father often worried about him, being one-quarter and all that, how it might affect his healing capabilities, but Paul wouldn't let him worry.
Didn't appear it made much a difference, anyhow, but Paul had been careful.
Besides, as he's told him countless times, getting hurt's part of the job.
Wouldn't be an adventure if he didn't get at least a couple of scraps and bruising.
So long as he keeps his head and limbs intact, he should be fine.
It'll still hurt, though, but that's why medications like painkillers exist, and believe Paul, they are much more important than one thinks when it comes to those like him.
The steps creaked as he gotten to the bottom, there the darkness loomed, the air still, nothing stirring, but Paul knew that someone was down here with him.
"I know you're here," he called out to the unknown, "don't waste my time, please. I'm a very important man, indeed."
He heard back a low, "Is that so, Doctor?"
It didn't sound like anyone he knew and Paul asserted that he was, but enough about himself, he wanted to know more about the person down here with him.
"So, what was your plan?" Paul wanted to know what the plan was originally.
He heard back, "Truthfully, I didn't believe it could've been you, that I was almost ready to abandon it."
The plan would've had Paul encapsulated during the party, the guests wouldn't know what happened to him, they'd be too drunk to notice.
However, the culprit hesitated because they thought it wasn't the Doctor.
Not the Doctor they're aware of, anyway.
Only after the conclusion of the party, did things change.
"But I'm sure, since you are the Doctor, then I shouldn't bore you with the facts, correct?" Paul heard voice becoming gravely as he heard movement throughout the cellar.
A look in Paul's face, he mocked, "You don't seem to change your tune very much, do you… Mr. Thornton?"
He heard a soft chuckle before hearing, "I'm a simple man seeking what is rightfully mine, is that not the same for you?"
Shaking his head, Paul insisted, "Not if it meant taking lives unconditionally. How?"
There's movement, Paul listened as there's footsteps coming towards him in the darkness, but it stopped short of him, but he didn't feel anyone's presence, and he heard back, "Calling the kettle black, Doctor? Dare I ask you the same? Whose face did you steal, hm?"
Accusingly, the voice lambasted the Doctor for doing the same thing, but trying to act saintly about it.
"I assure you, I was born with this face," Paul insisted that he didn't steal anyone's face, this was the only face he came with.
A chuckle.
"Am I supposed to believe you, I've heard grand stories about the Doctor, but he had different faces, am I to believe that you didn't take someone else's?" He heard the voice question.
Tilting his head, Paul said with a dry, "I expect you to believe me, Mr. Thornton. You knew what happened the last time we met."
He felt a sharp pain in the back as something struck him, his tongue numbing as he fell off the staircase onto the cold ground, he could see outline of feet.
"Oh, I remember. I remember it quite well. You know, Doctor. I didn't lie. I really was thankful for your help," he heard the voice as he's forcibly hoisted up from behind.
His feel dangled above the cold ground as something restrained him, bringing him through the darkness towards the centre of the cellar.
As his mind caught up to him, Paul sees a figure step forward, a torch lit for him to see.
His dark eyes seemingly vacant, the man smiled at him.
There's a dull look in Paul's angel eyes, he already knew, and the man caught on, as he stepped into the light of the torch, revealing himself clearly.
It's Arthur Williams.
But not.
Paul already figured him out.
His gut feeling had him go back to the TARDIS and pull up everything about the man, including the incident that his father and mother took part in, how a fire destroyed the former home of one Harry Thornton the Third.
While it seemed audacious, Paul knew to trust his gut, and it resulted him figuring everything out.
It helps that his parents told him the story and his travelings gave him perspective.
But, there's a minor blank in his knowledge.
Something quickly got rectified when he felt himself being hoisted upright as someone from behind hung him on a hook that dug into his spine and the sharp pain caused him to groan audibly.
His hands were hooked as well, right through the palms, someone making sure if he tried escaping, it would be painful.
As the pain shot up through his body, Paul sees movement from the side of him, and standing beside "Arthur" was none other than Hammond, who was said to have passed away unexpectedly.
Seeing the condition of "Hammond" Paul knew instinctively that Hammond did die of his heart attack, whether it was intended or not's still in the air, only someone thought there's better use for his corpse.
Paul couldn't help but point out the flaws of this scheme, bringing up if he was never invited to the party, he wouldn't known that one of the Mr. Thorntons survived.
"He told me you have a habit of figuring things out. I thought it was poppycock, but I must admit, he wasn't wrong. You would've gotten a whiff once it came out that my maid had disappeared and come here to investigate, anyhow," Paul sees "Arthur" pointing at him as he brings up how the Doctor always finds out about something, even if "Arthur" kept everything secretive, Paul would find another way of unearthing them.
What happened to Ethel was a tragedy, but her screaming set off the fake Arthur's creation, she saw too much, anyway, and that wasn't something he wanted to escape these walls.
"You'll have to forgive him, he only means well," sighs the fake Arthur, as he pointed towards the disjointed Hammond as he turned his head towards Paul, vacant stare in his dark eyes.
The pains of working with a creation with an oxygen-starved brain, but the fake Arthur planned on working to rectify the issues surrounding this, it'll only take some time, of course.
His curiosity piqued, Paul insisted the fake Arthur tell him about the man, in an effort to know who could've known him that well to tell the fake Arthur that he'd show up, multiple times it'd seem.
"Some merchant who sold me the book, I don't remember his name. Dead by now. To be honest, I thought he was selling tall tales, but everything that happened, well I couldn't help but think about everything else he told me," the fake Arthur informed Paul that the merchant who sold him the infamous book that would lead to his unearthly changes had warned that someone like the Doctor would eventually show himself, as he done prior.
Scoffing, the fake Arthur then swatted the air as he mustered that now comes to the reason why he went through the effort capturing Paul.
"It was fair, you know, I shouldn't have done the things I did, maybe he had a point. Yet, despite our constant bickering, disagreements, attempted homicides, he is my brother," the fake Arthur informed Paul that he wanted the Doctor as a vessel for his brother.
It caused Paul to shout, "He's dead, we killed him!"
The pain of the hook digging into his back made it difficult for him to keep up the vigor of shouting as he felt the stinging sensation run down his spin.
Stepping forward, the fake Arthur goes, "Oh no, see that's where you're wrong, Doctor," the fake Arthur smiled at him.
There's a brief moment of silence and there's subtle changes in Arthur's movement, when he spoke again, his voice's different, distinct, "Hello, Doctor."
