The 10th Professor's Adventures: Episode 1 - The Re-Awakening

The 10^th Professor's Adventures: Episode 1 – The Re-Awakening

    Through the mind of a regenerated timelord could be seen as something horrific to those who don't know about the secret of regeneration. It is like a raging river, moving around and bursting new banks and making new pathways and passageways, making new connections and new boundaries. Trying to make sense out of the chaos would drive someone mad if they could see the process unfold within the mind of a timelord. So, as the Professor began to stir inside a darkened corridor of his TARDIS, his mind was barely able to keep itself together as he slumped to the floor, the throbbing in his head, the feeling of shocks and age fading slowly from his body as he moaned in slight pain. Around him, the TARDIS was morphing anew, the TARDIS reinvigorating and changing itself to match her owner and friend's new face.

    Eventually, the Professor slowly began to rise from the floor, shakily holding himself up by his hands and his knees, his body aching and shaking from the shock, as he eyed around the corridor with his brand new eyes. Shiny Bluish Purple, like a jewel, in the low light. He tried to speak, but his voice had not been given to him yet, the chair in which he sat on fallen apart when he fell, cracked and burnt from the regeneration energy. The Professor slowly crawled his way over to the wall, using the roundels to try and climb his way to his feet, his legs feeling like jelly, his knees weak.

    This was the process for a minute or two, before finally he heard a noise reach his ears. The TARDIS, His TARDIS, echoing a thrum towards him like a concerned question. Needle hands slowly opened out of panels around him, two very thin but strong metal hands, slowly helped her friend finally up to his feet, as his eyes blinked again and again, getting used to seeing anew.

    “Th.....” He tried to force his voice, focusing on the words. “....Thank you, o....Old friend.”

    The TARDIS thrummed, a sigh of relief for her friend, as the TARDIS corridor began to get brighter for him. It was not long however, that he would return to the floor, his knees giving out again, and his mind beginning to ache and throb, quickly losing consciousness to the TARDIS whirling in fright.

    The Professor. A Timelord from Gallifrey. Long ago, the timelords were once seen as almighty gods, on the same level as those of the Old Ones which came to the universe as the bubble formed around a singularity which became the big bang. The Timelords were once as curious and full as chaos as Humans, in their morphed and twisted history that the Professor was taught in his youth. A race that evolved from their wars with the Archons, the Vampires, the Racnoss, and other species that enveloped the Dark Times, and became more than their station as simple politicians. Observers of the universe. Watchers of Reality. Sworn never to interfere again, due to seeing the aftermath of their own conflicts. Every word of it was a lie. A Lie they told themselves to make themselves better at night, A lie that became doctored fact for all of Gallifrey to follow lest face punishment or worse.

    What drove the Professor away from home, at the age of 143, was the drive. He was still in academy, seeing the universe above him every night in the stars and the sky, and he just got bored. The history became repetitive in his head, the marching on with no end, he couldn't stand it any longer. So he, with one of his friends who had the same feelings he had concerning leaving, stole a Type 50 Scientific and Exploratory TARDIS and fled to the stars. It was with this friend, that he found a crack in the walls of the bubble containing our universe....

    The Professor stirred from his slumber again, his head aching and pounding still, but now with this unknown strength within him, he began to drag himself along the wall, using the roundels as climbing holes, his feet feeling like stone as he grabbed onto the wall with both hands, lifting himself up to his feet now of his own accord, breathing heavily but now upright, and this time on stable footing.

    “This infernal headache....” He spoke in a hushed, growl tone, his throat still not perfect with his new voice, but now he could speak. He slowly put his hand to his head, taking step after step as he eyed around the corridor. He was back in his TARDIS somehow, the sounds of the TARDIS moving, even as a low hum, pounded in his ears like hard drums. “I...I was...I must have...” He turned, seeing the destroyed remnants of the chair scattered before him. “I must have clawed my way inside and fainted....”

    He grabbed his head in pain, as his mind began to burn. “I'm....It's not done yet, I'm not ready yet, it's not....Time...I..Console room, I have, I have to set...Set the...” He took one more step before he found himself back on the floor.

    No one knew exactly what or why he decided to move away from just studying the Multiverse. Was it just the mounting sorrow, of seeing the unknown masses hurt in another fight between superpowered beings? Was it a single crying child among the ruins of a battle between armies? Whatever the case, He chose to help. To use his journal to log and catalog not just universes but sentences and stories of those who fall through the cracks. Those who stories are not written down, so that they are not forgotten. The unknown needs hope. It's why he chose the color green, in his aging years. A Color that stands out yet fades in nature in certain shades. To brighten the shine and days of those who need help, those stories not yet told within the multiverse. His own lives, to make sure others weren't forgotten.

    This was the last straw in a straining relationship with his friend. She studied the multiverse with him, but while he could stand it no longer, she knew the impossibility of the task he wanted to tell. Her journal was filled with pictures and drawings of what she had seen throughout their travels, and she had seen and was tired of the pain and suffering that mirrored the Happiness and Love they had seen, but unlike her friend, she knew this could lead him to growing insanity, or deaths so painful and tormented....so, together, they made a pact and tried to submit their research, as a deal between themselves. Either they would become heralded scientists, or The Professor would be born.

    They didn't realize the Scientific Council of Gallifrey could be so harsh and spiteful in their denial letters.

    The Professor awoke again from the pain in his mind. Reliving his life, feeling his mind stitch itself back together ached, no matter how many times he had been through this pain before. His eyes focused now on an open door in the corridor, grabbing one of the legs from the destroyed chair, trying to return himself to his feet, stumbling ill and dazed. His voice had gone silent, knowing what came after, but he could not worry about that now. He took step after step, walking slowly as he reached out for the solid white door, and pushed it open with his weight. Before him, the TARDIS Wardrobe. After being both Male and female, the size of the room shrank and grew with ease. Sometimes, the room would just be simple piles of clothing, other times it would be a massive warehouse of clothing, a wide variety of styles and colors before him. To him now, it felt more like a charity shop, or a clothing store without the counter, as clothing, everything from socks and shoes to coats, scarves, and capes, and everything inbetween was in a proper place in the room.

    “You Spoil.....Spoil me, you know that, old girl?” He said, the haze filling his mind again, as he began to walk into the clothing racks, to find something new, his mind switching to autopilot.

    The war came suddenly to some, and gradually to others. The War to end all wars. The home universe burned with every moment in time under siege and yet not at all, two completely different timelines running side by side within one universe. It was why the Nestine lost their world. And why others were converted into battlefields, while planets like the Earth stayed perfectly intact. The damage to Time was too great for some worlds to handle and they simply combusted into flame. The Professor, now quite a few years into his second incarnation, watched from the sidelines, never daring to re-enter home. His hearts burned over the decision, but he could not risk it. He had gained another friend, a friend from another universe, a parallel universe, and was not going to subject her to his pain, the pain his universe was going through. After all, The Timelords were only recalling everyone inside the bubble, surely he would be safe in the void?

    The sounds of marching boots and clanging chains. That's what he could hear as he was brought before Lord President Rassilon and War General Omega. His running had run out. Somehow or someway they had dragged him back home, and because he would not offer his research to help with the war effort, he was a traitor to the Timelords. He was facing complete destruction, as he heard the two men speak before him, in hushed whispers. Military Courts during the Time War were quick, you were brought before the two and either killed immediately or turned to something more useful to the cause. Around him, guards began to line up, single file on each side of him, as Omega turned his new mask upon The Professor in chains, and for a moment it looked like the mask was smirking.

    Then came the verdict. Forced Regeneration and Immediate Drafting into Omega's personal Battalion. All the memories left, all he could remember left of his second self....was screaming pain.

    As the Professor grabbed at clothing around him, he could still hear his memories in his head. The screaming agony of Forced Regeneration. Every molecule in a timelord's body, one by one, forcefully altered and changed by using one's own regeneration energy. As he eyed down at his previous incarnation's clothes on him, he quickly threw off the coat and cricket jumper, kicked the shoes to the wall, and ripped off the socks into two pieces. The rips and tears in them almost gave him a sort of injured look, even after his change. He stared at the cuts on the old, dark green jacket and looked up to the ceiling. If he could have seen the lightbulb over his head ding, it would have been brighter than the sun, as he looked to the nearest rack of clothing and ripped out a purple button up shirt, dusting it off and eyeing it over, pulling out a grayish-purple victorian vest and holding the two together, looking at them as his eyes began to glow. He took off deeper, his mind becoming clearer by the moment.

    He could remember the burning planet before him as if it was yesterday. Just another battle, just another battlefield destroyed and burnt to ashes, but seeing that, just one more, it awoke him again. For too long, he was used as Omega's tool, as the whole battalion was, and Omega was nearing his plan to become a king of his own making. His own revenge against the timelords, as if the time war could get any worse. But that's what you got when you recruit every timelord back to Gallifrey. The Timelords would win, but who was in charge seemed fuzzy, even day by day. Power grabs were constant. The War was eating itself apart, and he wanted no more part in it. He can still hear the orders being echoed from the communicator, as he cut off power to them. No more. No one was going to take power away from him again. The TARDIS, His TARDIS, was to be protected. She was just a victim by her people's madness as he was. That was the night, he began working on the backup systems, a way to escape into the multiverse and never again be forced home. Never again become someone else's pawn.

    No one told him about the end of the War. By that time, he had gained and lost another friend,a Half converted Human into a Dalek, who was more human than even most humans. It was her that told him to go home, no matter how much it hurt. He found nothing. Wreckage. Burning Dalek ships around empty space. Heartache can kill, when too much is experienced all at once. Here he was, a man turned into a war machine, a monster, by his own people and yet seeing that sight made him change. The heartache too great. The pain too great.

    The Professor slowly walked in front of the mirror, fixing up his outfit, dusting himself off, as he looked over his new face. His hair was somewhat long, with the tips curled up. The nose was a bit too big for his liking, but he had a sort of overall strength in how he stood. He opened an accessories drawer underneath the mirror, pawing through it like he was searching for gold, until he pulled out a calculator watch and a small box from it. He smiled slightly, putting the watch on and hiding it with the sleeve of his dark green tweed like jacket, before finally eyeing the box. Opening it, it revealed a Ribbon tie, light green loops with an emerald set in the center of it. Taking it out of the box, he walked in front of the tall mirror, and stood in front of it, putting on the ribbon tie. Simple black pants and ankle boots joined his new clothing choices, as he took there, fixing himself up again, before a slight smile reached his face.

    “I don't like going back home.......I Stay away from home because of what happened.....But for once......thank you.” He eyes up at the ceiling. “You're right.....I had to go back again.” At that moment, the TARDIS began to blare red lights, the cloister bell began to ring, as his mind, still not fully healed, began to piece it together. “Oh....Oh no....Regeneration of a timelord, no matter if inside or outside the doors, if they show any signs of Regeneration sickness....WE'RE CRASHING!”