It's a Horror Show, Come on Round

Martha

"I can't help but notice that you all seem to be very solid," said Amy, "You know, for ghosts. Almost like people who have covered themselves in weird, glowing paint. Or something."

"Yes, they're very solid," Martha muttered to her, "As are their swords."

"So maybe shut up?" Donna hissed. Amy had a very good point, they were certainly the most un-ghostly ghost pirates Martha had ever encountered in her limited experience, but she wasn't sure that pointing it out to them was going to do much good. Not when they were already being held prisoner, fully at the mercy of Blackbeard, one of history's most bloodthirsty and ruthless pirates. She'd actually prefer to be back in the prison hold of Calico Jack's ship – at least then Clara had some sway with Anne Bonny, and Rackham himself had paid Amy quite a lot of attention. These pirates, on the other hand, were expressly interested in the allure of their promised treasure, and nothing else besides. It was all treasure, treasure, treasure with them. And Rose wasn't helping, not now she was slowly regaining her ability to talk.

"Her alcohol retention is remarkable," said Clara, "She's still pissed."

"Did someone say piss? I need a piss…" Rose slurred. She staggered along at the back of the group with a flintlock dug into her back to stop her from running off, but Martha doubted she'd noticed it was there. As far as Rose was concerned, they were having a very fun adventure, they hadn't been kidnapped three times, almost drowned, or almost been cooked alive and eaten. And Martha's mind was still fully occupied with concern for the baby, and a growing desire for that to be her last outing on the TARDIS – perhaps ever. She hadn't wanted that kind of life for a long time, and slowly but surely the danger and fear were overtaking the mystique and wonder of travelling the stars.

"Not much further now, I wager," said Blackbeard, "I hope you're enjoying the last night sky any of you will ever see." Martha was suddenly struck by the very real possibility that she might get murdered that evening, without a resolution to any of the bizarre clues they'd found. It wasn't just the 'ghost' pirates, but also the various inaccuracies Amy, the pirate fanatic, had been pointed out. And it seemed much too convenient for them all to wash up together on the coast of that same island, in the same bay, none of them drowning after the William had been sunk. It hadn't been easy escaping the sailors on the beach, but finding that hidden treasure chest? With a ticket reel and a laminated map? How did all of those things click together? Then again, perhaps they didn't. It could just be one of those things, or examples of refuse drifting through the time vortex. The corpses had all been real enough, after all.

"What happened to Calico Jack, then?" Clara asked their pirate entourage carefully.

"Dead, the lot of them. Their ship sunk to the depths," Blackbeard said.

"Now Clara'll never get her leg over Anne Bonny," said Amy.

"Hilarious, just make fun of a dead person, why don't you?" Clara snapped. Clara had a point, and Amy stopped talking. Their topics of conversation dwindled under scrutiny of their roguish captors; no longer could they really speculate about the Doctor or time travel or the strange objects they had discovered, including the laminated map Blackbeard was using. By the way he was limping, Martha would guess that he had a real-life peg leg, and she'd actually gotten quite used to watching certain amputees waddle around with their artificial appendages.

Following the map they finally descended on a narrow path cut through thick jungle trees, right towards the base of the looming mountain itself. Again, it was surprisingly easy to find, just like everything else had been. They merely walked down quite a blatant path towards a passageway, carved straight out of the rock. It didn't even have an actual door, just a rather artistic cave in the mountain face.

"Aye, here we are," he said, rolling his Rs in that typical pirate way. "And you maids can go first."

"Oh, really?" said Donna, "Are you sure? We'd hate to spoil your fun by getting to the treasure first."

"You're to make sure we're aware of any traps," Blackbeard said. So they were basically crash test dummies, for booby traps. Of course there were booby traps. Why wouldn't there be booby traps?

"Woo!" shouted Rose, "Let's go!" she stumbled forwards. Martha grabbed her on her way.

"Don't go in there, are you mental?"

"Martha," Rose told her firmly, "There's a party in there," she leant in very close, meaning Martha got a waft of vomit and liquor in her face, "I'm going to the party."

"Oh, just let her," Amy dismissed Rose completely, "She obviously wants to kill herself, or something." Rose couldn't even walk in a straight line as she approached the cave entrance. The pirates cocked their flintlocks.

"Go, the lot of ye," Blackbeard said, waving his gun.

"Rose, be careful," Clara said, going after Rose second of all. That prompted Martha to go next, leaving only Donna and Amy trying to worm their way out of entering the dark, creepy cave. Unfortunately, without their powers, they couldn't manage it. They weren't as enthused about the whole thing as Rose, nor were they as concerned about Rose's wellbeing as Clara and Martha, but they were worried about not getting shot.

Still, Martha made sure not to overtake Clara or Rose at the group's head, and she also watched her step very carefully. She had the excuse of a baby to look after if anybody tried to question why she wasn't putting herself in the most immediate danger. Plus, since she was the doctor, if she was the one who got injured it would be much harder to deal with.

"Could you walk a bit slower?" Clara asked Rose, who just staggered about messily, "In case of tripwires, or pressure plates."

"Yeah," Amy agreed, "The last thing we need is to get shot with poison darts, or for spikes to start coming down from the ceiling…"

"Have you been watching Indiana Jones again?" Donna asked her.

"…Maybe." They tiptoed through the long, stone tunnel as it stretched on and on. Far behind them, the glowing pirates began to follow; it would be much too dark to see them if they weren't so vividly fluorescent, but there they were, miles back and out of earshot. "I still think they're too solid," said Amy, "One of them kicked me. Can ghosts kick people?"

"No," said Martha, "They usually just… wail, and stuff. Rose and I saw some the other day, they were being drawn to the woods by this… witch doctor. It's a long story, but they're never particularly coherent."

"So what's your point?" said Clara, "They're not ghosts?"

"They're following a laminated map," said Amy, "And I have this ticket reel, it all-" The ground rumbled underfoot. "Shite… Did one of you step on something?" They all checked for pressure plates they might have mistakenly triggered, but unanimously came up short. Nevertheless, the rumbling increased in intensity, and they finally heard shouts and screams behind them: the floor was collapsing. Only, it wasn't collapsing underneath them, it had begun collapsing way back at the beginning of the tunnel and had just caught up with the pirates. All briefly frozen in place, they watched Blackbeard and his ghastly crew take the plunge one by one, the floor crumbling quicker than they could escape.

"Run, RUN!" Martha shouted, pushing those in front of her to get them to start moving. The running was par for the course though, and tested them all much less vigorously than the previously challenges they'd faced – like worming their way out of pirate captivity, or or burning down a camp of cannibal naval officers. All they had to do was keep moving, fast, and they'd hopefully be okay. The only one struggling was Rose, who was still ridiculously, raging drunk, and had to be half-dragged through the quaking tunnel by Clara; at least she'd stopped calling her a pervert, though.

The pirates all disappeared into whatever abyss lay beneath the rigged floor, but the collapse continued advancing. Just how deep was this tunnel, exactly? Where did it go? To a dead end? Were they really, truly doomed?

Apparently not, because there was a sudden right-turn and material of the ground changed; it went from unsteady to a much firmer rock, slightly uneven but hopefully more stable, and grey while the previous stone had been brown. They stopped to catch their breath and saw the falling ground catch up with them, but it dropped off immediately when the rock changed, in a perfect, straight line.

"Finally…" Rose slurred, "Drink!"

"Drink?" Martha asked, "What do you mean, dr-? Oh my god…" Rose threw herself against an object standing upright against the wall, an object with Martha very plainly recognised as-

"Is that a vending machine!?" Donna shouted. Yes, thought Martha, it was definitely a vending machine, with a big, flashy advertisement for a soft drink called "Grog" on the front of it – pirate-themed, of course. Rose started hitting it violently, and though her super-strength hadn't returned, she still hit it hard enough to trigger the internal mechanism. A can clattered down the chute and into the dispenser, though Rose lacked the coordination to actually get it. Martha, in the end, went to pull it out for her, finding it to be unpleasantly warm. The vending machine obviously wasn't working.

"This just gets weirder," said Amy, "A vending machine? Down here, in this cave, inside a mountain on a deserted island?" Rose cracked open the can and declared that whatever Grog was, it tasted like 'shit Dr. Pepper.' She kept drinking it, though, complaining about its status as non-alcoholic pop.

"Maybe the fluids will help sober her up?" Clara suggested, "It's a miracle she isn't dead, quite honestly."

"It's a miracle none of us are dead," said Donna.

"Except for all those pirates back there," said Amy, "They're probably dead. And the ones who got killed in the shipwreck. And if they are ghosts – which they're totally not – then they're definitely dead."

"Maybe vending machines were just… invented way before we thought they were…?" Martha suggested.

"Along with advertisements, commercialisation, and fizzy drinks?" Clara questioned her, "Knowing the history of vending machines is the kind of useless shit Thirteen would know…"

"Stop mooning over that woman," said Amy, "Just have some patience."

"Well, what would the Doctor do?" Martha asked, looking at Donna directly.

"Probably just keep going," Donna said. And he probably would, too, since the passage continued. So, with Rose now temporarily satiated by her can of Grog, they moved on.

"What do you think's down here?" Martha asked.

"Vending machine warehouse?" Clara suggested.

"I'm starting to worry that the five of us have too much sarcasm," said Amy, "We can't all be the sarcastic one."

"I guess we'll just have to fight it out, then," Clara said, "Extreme rules match."

"Ha, ha."

"Maybe it's a mine?" Martha said.

"And they're mining for what? Thin air?" asked Amy, "Cans of Grog? Laminated paper? It can't be a mine, there's no mining equipment."

They rounded another corner, but things somehow only got weirder; it was all questions and no answers. They were faced with a turnstile, operated by a ticket booth next to it, a ticket booth inhabited by a skeleton. It just stood there, perfectly upright, wearing a hat that made it look like a train conductor.

Then, in a very robot voice, it said, "Tickets… please…" And, lo and behold, Amy was still in possession of the blue ticket reel they'd found in the treasure chest.

"Frankly, this whole thing is ridiculous," said Clara, putting her hands on her hips. "What, exactly, do we need tickets to enter?" Amy was already tearing five tickets off the reel though, handing them out. Rose was very adamant about not wanting a ticket, until Amy promised that there was alcohol of some description on the other side of the turnstile and she could only get it if she gave a ticket to the skeletal attendant. Donna approached first, very tentatively because the robot skeleton appeared to be armed with a very large and real-looking cutlass.

"I've, er, got a ticket here, mate?" she said, holding the ticket out towards the skeleton with her arm outstretched so that she could keep her distance.

"Access… granted…"

"So I just put it in here, then…?" she held the ticket towards the slot on the side of the turnstile. The skeleton neither spoke nor moved, leaving Donna to just guess. The ticket was pulled in by an analogue mechanism and the turnstile clicked so that she could push it once, and then Donna had crossed the barrier. They all copied her, Martha having to help Rose force her ticket into the slot because she couldn't quite manage it on her own.

And yet, things were only set to get even weirder. The turnstile was not just a strange relic, but a precursor to one of the strangest things Martha had ever really seen. They left the long corridors and entered a vast cavern, the stalactite-covered ceiling hundreds of feet above them, like the entire mountain itself was hollow. And filling it was what she could only describe as a theme park. She could see roller coasters, a Ferris wheel, dodgems, a big plastic map – like an indoor, pirate-themed Disneyland. But it was completely empty, the attractions all desolate and rusting.

"No, but, this – this literally doesn't make any sense!" Martha complained, "Those bodies in Nassau, the dead body in the forest out there, were definitely real corpses. We were on a real ship that really got shot to pieces and ended up in the real ocean!"

"Maybe it's…" Clara began, "Well, things get pulled through time, don't they? Maybe… an entire island got pulled through time…? From the future? They did all say it just appeared out of nowhere." Martha couldn't lie, there were lots of clues that everything was fake, but also a myriad of evidence that the threats facing them were real. Clara's idea was the only reasonable explanation for this they'd heard so far, but could an entire island really be pulled through time?

"The Daleks took nearly thirty planets out of space-time and dumped them in the Medusa Cascade," Donna said, "Maybe the same could happen to an island. Atlantis disappeared, after all."

"Atlantis was a spaceship," Martha said, "Not an actual city. And there's still the issue of our powers and Clara's mind-thing not working. Why would that happen with some stupid theme park brought back from the future?" Nobody had an answer to that question yet.

"I wanna go on the roller coaster," Rose said.

"I don't think it works," Clara told her.

"Where's the food?" she mumbled, staggering towards the nearest map. It had all the rides marked on it as well as a food court, which was relatively close to the entrance and to their right somewhere; at least it was in the opposite direction to the roller coasters, because Martha also doubted anything in there actually worked. Food did sound good, though…

"There probably isn't any food," Donna said, but Rose was already wandering off towards the food court, leaving them all resigned to follow. It was almost creepier in there than being faced down by the Queen Anne's Revenge, or kidnapped at gun-point by Anne Bonny and Mary Read, if they even were Anne Bonny and Mary Read.

The restaurant in Rose's sights was built inside of a big, fake shipwreck, a sign on a large hole in the side – which served as the entrance – denoting it to be called The Galley. Not the most original name. Strangely, the ship seemed to be bigger on the inside; while not grand, the interior was certainly large, complete with a balcony level and a stage as well as dozens of completely empty, plastic tables, made to look like ship wheels with the seats made out of barrels.

"Not skimping on the aesthetic, are they?" Amy said.

Rose would have made a beeline for the kitchen, which was somewhere at the back, near an empty bar, if music hadn't begun to play from the direction of the stage. It was of poor quality, full of feedback and obviously coming out of speakers, but the curtain on-stage rose to reveal an entire band – of robot skeletons, just like the ticket master. Maybe it was a theme park built for robot skeletons? They moved jerkily with their instruments.

"Are they playing the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean?" Clara asked, frowning at the ensemble; the skeletons even had a saxophone and a cello, despite Martha being unable to hear a saxophone or a cello in the actual music which, yes, did sound distinctly like the main theme from Pirates of the Caribbean, with a few bum notes. "Eurgh, that's uncanny…" Rose applauded the musical skeletons while muttering to herself about how much she wanted some chicken nuggets.

"This is like those awful animatronics they have in America," said Amy, "Hate those things. Don't know how people can relax with creepy, robot animals staring at them." Martha knew vaguely what she was talking about, but had never seen animatronics like that herself – aside from that very skeleton band.

"Hang on one bloody second," Donna began while the skeletons continued making their obnoxious sounds, "You said they were giving us a lift to 'Pirate Land'! When we were locked in the brig!" She shouted this very angrily at Rose.

"Woo!" Rose exclaimed, enchanted by the skeletons, "Pirate Land!"

"Did you know about this!?" Martha demanded, "Did you bring us here on purpose!?" But Rose was in no fit state to answer. "Just what the hell is going on!?"

The skeleton music began to slow, as did their mechanical movements, making it even more painful to listen to. The recording was clearly completely broken, all the machines now malfunctioning; it was quite a sight. More of a sight, however, was the infuriated woman who appeared from off-stage with an umbrella.

"Blasted things!" she shouted, smacking one of them around the head with the umbrella, so hard that the head came loose and went flying, clattering one of the tables, "I'm trying to create an atmosphere and you lot are ruining it!"

"Oh, shit," said Clara.

"What?" Martha asked her. It seemed like Clara recognised this woman, who beat all the skeletons quite severely, making one of them drop its trumpet. They were well and truly broken. Annoyed, she straightened her hat, shook her head, and then posed while leaning on the umbrella with one hand.

"They really do know how to mess everything up, don't they? That's what I get for using unreliable technology. I was supposed to descend from the ceiling, there's a whole rig backstage, and everything, it's all very theatrical… I suppose that's all gone to pot now… anyway," she cleared her throat and stood up straight, indicating their surroundings with her umbrella, "Allow me to welcome you all… to Missy Land!"