The 10th Professor's Adventures: Minisode 2 - Mysterious Shadows

 The 10^th Professor's Adventures: Minisode 2 – Mysterious Shadows

Written By: MichaelWhovian

    When one is a scientist, surely one would build themselves a lab, especially if that person needs to prove what one is seeing on their travels. That is why the Professor, very early on, converted the secondary room of the Type 50 TARDIS into that laboratory, and over the years added to it to go deeper and deeper into what he was seeing and observing. Of course that meant that he had to do a bit of collecting over the years but that was necessary to learn in his case. When the TARDIS eventually had to develop into corridors, he kept his lab close, next to his study.

    Like most things, the War changed him. The Laboratory was preserved away, forgotten about because his 4^th and 5^th selves decided that being a hero was more important that learning. Be stubborn, be a fighter, Just keep pushing yourselves until you fall to bits from overexertion or injury.

    So, When the Professor found himself back in his laboratory, with the book of 50s music and it's history, it took him a bit to get readjusted, but thanks to the TARDIS, it was temporal sealed, like he never left. Setting the book down onto the counter, he began to open the front cover. Inside, the inside cover and the first page were covered in this odd substance, like Spider Web, but black as slime and almost burned to the touch. Pulling up an old chair, the Professor sat the book up on it's bottom edge, letting the slime slowly collect onto a sort of metal tray, watching with slight fear as the book melted with it, turning into more of the substance as it collected on the pan.

    “Mental energy, pure mental and kinetic energy collected and grouped together into a substance.....Like Slime, but this is far too potent, perhaps....” The Professor thought, as he took a small metal rod from the table, and lifted a bit into the air. The substance stretched out, leaving a spider web like pattern, shaking a bit from the slight shaking in the Professor's wrist. “A little heavier than I thought...” He spoke to himself, dropping it back to the tray. “Like a cross stitch.....A Vampire couldn't have done this, this is far and away much more powerful than them.....Great Vampire?.....No, Still.....” Eyeing a bunch of vials in front of him, he takes an empty one, scooping a bit of it inside and quickly corking it, hanging it next to a few others inside this sort of steel case before closing it.

    “Black Slime.....Must be, yet modified....Could it have been the journey here, I wonder?” The Professor watches as the substance began to roll upon itself, like an ocean and it's tides, rolling tighter, and tighter, before falling to bits again, and disappearing, along with the plate it was on.

    He sighed, eyeing where the tray was, all that was left of it was the vial he put away, and this shiny rectangle mark on the counter where it was sat, like it had burned away the grime and returned it to it's shine. “What has the power of that magnitude......A Spirit?.....A God?......I have seen quite a few things in my time, but that's new.....Exciting, Terrifying new....but New none the same...” At that, he slowly pulled out his journal, and began to note down the substance, as again that laughter echoed from before, that deep, horrible laughter.

The 10th Professor's Adventures: Episode 4

The 10^th Professor's Adventures: Episode 4

Written by: Michael Whovian

Part 3

    Sometime later, Cynthia began to stir. In her ears, she could hear the jingle of chains, the coldness of metal against her wrists, and she felt like she was floating. As she opened her eyes, she almost became sick again. Old dungeons, at least over a hundred years old, with branches, straw, stone, and other such materials scattered across the cobblestone floor. Mixed in, were bits of fabric, helmets, jewelry, and other such mementos of the people who have faced the horrors above, and left down here as a memory. As her eyes began to focus more and more in the low light, she could hear this voice echo close to her.

    “Forgive the mess....” The voice echoed in her ear. “We usually do not have guests past sunrise in such a very long time...You are the first in a very long time to even see this place in the morning. You should be thankful.”

    “Thankful...?” Cynthia could barely speak, moving her head to try and get the quickly growing, throbbing pain to stop. “You kidnapped me-”

    “Did I say, you could speak, Human?” A black glove, with the fingertips cut out, the red nails almost cutting right into her jaw as she is grabbed. “Do not think yourself as more than an asset for me. Timelords need their companions. Knowing yours, without you, he'll coming running to save you, and then, the feast shall begin.”

    “F...Feast-” Cynthia forced the word from her throat, as she could feel the cloaked figure smirk.

    “Yes.....The feast of a Timelord.”

    The old man shook in fear as he eyed at the intruder to his home. The Professor, for the past several hours, has been working, as under his arm he carried what looked to be a hose, a stretchy inner-tube, two metal shovels, and an old hubcap. His eyes, unlike the night before, were full of anger, even though he had calmed down, he just couldn't fully shake the full amount of rage he was feeling. Now, however, he was back in the old man's home, looking down at him like a teacher to an unruly student.

    “Where is the Villa.” The Professor's tone had completely changed. His voice was darker, more authoritative, as his eyes burned into this old man.

    “Villa, Villa, sir, I don't kno-”

    “Don't. Lie to me. Not Now.” The Professor looked at this old man, with anger. “I know your town's secret. And the attempt to remove it to keep yourselves safe.”

    The old man's eyes grew wide, as his body began to shook, as he faced this much younger man to him, as he clasped his hands together, shaking, trying not tear up from the memories. “We only wanted it to stop....I wouldn't watch my town throw away their humanity to a beast, it had haunted our town since the beginning! We tried, We tried big families, and had to write them as illness, we had to....we had to do so much, sir, and then the new town directives came, and we couldn't.....A few members fought, a small fight occurred, the people were sent in.....”

    “And in one night, all of them disappeared. One. Night.”

    “They took it as a sign, the adults back then, sir.......They said what we needed to do, we....we couldn't risk it.....They couldn't risk it, but I had grown up, seeing what they had sold their souls for....I only wanted to bring us back, give them back their souls!” The old man teared up, tears streaming down his face as his old hands shook, clasped together.

    “So that's when you burnt down the Inn.”

    “What else could have been done? I had to scare others away, I couldn't let them keep using innocents for our mistake!”

    “Did none of you ever try to actually go up there?!”

    “WE TRIED! WE TRIED EVERYTHING! They gave up hope when they built the motel, they were selling themselves to using others so we could survive!”

    The Professor watched this man, this old man, as nearly 40 years of guilt and sadness and god knows what else pour from him, as he shakes on his couch, barely able to keep himself composed. He took another breath, as his expression softened, slowly lowering himself down to one knee and taking his hands. “Sir, I am sorry, for bringing this up for you. I understand you wished to save them.....That you saw the horrors of this town and wished for them to be over, but it was never going to be over by just one fire, to stop a horrific solution to a horrific problem. They have taken my friend, sir.”

    That's what made the Old man finally raise from the sofa, as this wave of fear washed over him again, this realization coming over his face. “No....Nonono, It can't be happening, No- I told you to leave!”

    The Professor pulled from his pocked the wax sealed envelope, showing it to the shaking old man. “They took her, because they want me. I know what you have done is because of fear, and anger, and grief, and you never wanted to face it, well now is the time to, Sir. I am not going to let me friend become a snack by whatever is kidnapping people. However, I don't know where I am going, do you understand me? This nightmare must end, and it must end now. I know one decision cannot even begin to heal the pain in your heart, but you have to tell me where it is!”

    The old man looked to this young faced individual, the anger replaced with determination and resolve, as his hands shook. Finally, he slowly bent down, slowly pulling out the old travel catalog from under the sofa, staring at it. “We....We made this, a couple years before I did it....” He said, shakily sitting back down, as he placed it on the table. “I couldn't......They kept wanting to add more, and more, and endanger so many others, I had to save us.....” The Professor watched as he turned to the back of the catalog, which held the map. The town, when drawn out, wasn't that big, probably was a few families, grew to about a couple thousand, from how it looked. Even on the map however, he could see, leading off of the main street, which was more of a plus sign, with two streets intersecting each other, was this marked dirt path, leading to what was, politely called, “interesting and historical ruins”.

    The Professor slowly stepped back, covering his mouth slightly, as the old man shook. “That's it, Isn't it?” The Professor asked.

    He nodded. “Not many....people left in the town....who remembers the days right after the burning of the Inn....I, I kept myself locked away, had to, I....I couldn't face them, I had to come to terms with my own inaction first.....”

    The Professor took the catalog from the table with his free hand and arm, eyeing it over, before returning his gaze to the old man. “Fear and Anger makes one do things normal people would find repulsive and evil. I fought in a war. A War you would never even understand or begin to comprehend. I was forced to follow orders, see things I wish I had the ability to go back and change the past, to stop myself. I can't. A Person's life, is stories. Stories made up of the truth, exaggerations, and outright lies we tell ourselves to keep going. You cannot hide yourself away anymore, sir. You did what you thought was right, and at least that should be remembered. Never forget your past. Lest it comes back to bite you.” With that, the Professor headed off out of the apartment, holding the catalog and the hardware items, as his mind began to work.

    It was nearing dusk, as the Professor approached the backside of the Villa. While following the map seemed to help his direction, it is not a matter of misjudging where he was going, he still felt like he was getting lost. In his mind he knew that if he just walked in, it would be a trap. All that would happen in this case, if he were to follow the classic way of thinking, charging in with fists in the air, would be him pinned to the floor becoming a feast for a vampire. No, he had to be better, he had to even his chances, however he could. So, he began his plan. Finding a direct line to the back of the white villa with black windowsills, the old wood being pristine kept, he gave this smirk, as he stood right in between two trees, right at the same spot, about 15 to 20 feet apart.

    Laying his tools on the ground, he put the shovels into the dirt, burying the heads completely into the ground, and leaning on them slightly, seeing them almost easily pull up the dirt. Quickly, he pushed the dirt back, tying the garden hose around the two shovels, and stretching it as hard as he could so he could tie the ends of the hose to the two trees. Anchors. He almost grinned as he looked at what he was doing. Heading back, he began picking up rocks from the forest floor, checking them to see if they were heavy enough, before picking up the inner tube, and tying that to the shovels, just under the handles, and pulling them. The shovels barely moved at all, but the inner tube stretched out. Finally, he put the hubcap in as a basket, and eyed at his shooting range. A Slingshot. A Powerful slingshot. It wouldn't do much good against those thralls, but that wasn't the point. This was a distraction, as he eyed at the windows on the backside of the house. He almost couldn't help but smirk, as he began to load in the first rock into the hubcap.

    The loud smash that echoed through the villa was the first sign that perhaps this feast was not going to go to plan. As the Thralls watched from their posts, rock after rock soared into windows on the right side of the home, and bounding down the corridors and hallways, almost piling them up in some sort of twisted game of horseshoes. Their minds, mush however, could not register any problem, until they could hear the door behind them creak open.

    “WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE?!” The voice behind the door screamed.

    They straightened up, one of them not noticing that a rock had hit and broken one of his fingers as they stood, before marching out of the corridor, hearing more and more glass smash.

    The voice behind the door yelled in rage. “FIND HIM! I DON'T CARE HOW LONG IT TAKES!”

    Finally, with all of the Rocks flown through the windows, leaving them as smashed as possible, The Professor readied his final projectile. Listening for the main Villa door, he flipped the Hubcap around, and pulled back on the slingshot. Firing it, it flew, barely hitting the window, but jamming it in one of the broken square holes of the bottom window. He smiled a bit, as he heard the door begin to open, taking off around the side. Just on cue.

    He could see them. The mindless drones, walking out in single file like a marching army. 4, maybe 5 of them, as they begin to head around the other side of the villa, all broken and bruised from their attacks from the windows and from Cynthia's attempted escape. The Professor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as he got closer and closer to the door. He could hear them marching away, as he grabbed onto the old wooden door. Over a hundred years old, and it was kept in pristine condition. Well.....Until he sent rocks and a hubcap into the windows. When he could barely hear the marching, the Professor hurried inside, closing the doors and pulling down the bar to lock the door shut. At least now, it was just them inside. One Timelord, and one Vampire. With a human as captive.

    The Professor turned around, facing the foyer. Beautifully crafted, from the ornate staircase and railings stretching down to the floors and across the second story balconies. Tapestries, depicting artwork and Earth battles from at least the Civil War to the early 20^th century. Beautifully kept rugs, Victorian era, spread across the dark and shined wooden floors. A House fit for royalty, or however the vampire saw themselves. As he took a couple steps, making sure to dodge the massive chandelier above his head, made out of glass and brass that shone out like fire, his eyes were almost captivated by the craftsmanship of the interior.

    “For a Vampire, they know how to made their homes beautiful.....” The sounds of his shoes clicking against the floor echoed through the foyer, as he eyed around the different pathways. If there is a dungeon, then it must be nearby, The Professor thought. His eyes traced the rooms, the corridors, every path he could take....at least now, with him being inside the spider's web, Cynthia's life is safe, for now. Why bother with a snack when the main course walks right inside?

    “Come into my Parlor, said the Spider to the Fly....”

    “I don't know.....” The cool, cold voice makes the Professor freeze. “Doesn't feel quite right.”

    His eyes slowly moved around the room, listening to heels impacting against the wooden floor. “I was wondering when I would get to hear the Mistress, or Master, of the house. Forgive the ruckus, I didn't want your pets getting involved. Nice work. If it didn't involve killing.”

    “Thieves, Vagrants, and those who disrespect the rules put in place over a hundred years ago. It is not my fault, that they don't wish to follow the law.”

    “Your Law. A law which has trapped innocent people in this town for almost two hundred years.”

    “For their own benefit. They stay, and they are safe from what comes from the sky. All I ask is blood in return.”

    “It's horrific.”

    “It was necessary. They moved onto my lands nearly two hundred years ago, and as such they became my vassals, plain and simple.”

    The Professor slowly walked to the bottom of the steps. “They didn't have a clue what they were signing up for. It's not right!”

    “....Not Right, Timelord?” He feels a bit of anger in the voice. “What's right would be you as one of my servants, after my feast. What's right would be you suffering every single atrocity your kind afflicted on us during the war. WHAT'S RIGHT.....Is you bowing before me for mercy.” He hears the footsteps getting closer and closer.

    “Forgive me then, for I'm not like most of my kind.”

    “You're brave. Stupid, but a lot more brave. Many would have tried to flee by now, do you honestly care for a little human that much, to put your life, the life of a Lord of Time, in danger to save her?”

    His face slightly scrunches, glaring around the room. “Any day.”

    Slowly, a gloved hand, black lace protecting a pale white hand, appeared on the second floor balcony. As the Professor quickly looked up, the master of the house began to walk out of the shadows. Long Crimson hair. Bloodshot red eyes, pale skin like the whitest snow, a long black dress with lace on the ends, with patterns in it like roses and other flowers, and small high heels. The Professor turned his head slightly away from from her, as she slowly walked to the top of the staircase.

    “Let me guess.” The Professor spoke. “You've read their stories and myths to make all this?”

    The Vampire smirked, showing her perfectly sharpened fangs. “Who knew these flesh could make such wonderful cover stories for us, all this time?” Slowly, she began walking down the foyer stairs. “However, to make the process complete I had to....adapt. I was once called by the ancestors of the current people of that town, Lady Reinhardt. A Simple name, would you not agree?” Finally, she made it to the first floor, walking right up to the Professor without a single drop of fear on her face. “Now, Timelord....What do they call you, I wonder?”

    “They call me the Professor.” He slowly turned to the vampire. “How, How did you find yourself here?”

    “Because I fled, as you must have.” She almost chuckled. “Really, is that so hard to wrap your mind around? The endless war between our People, trapped in stalemate, did you not think many of our kinds would not flee away to survive?”

    “Even abandoning your great ones?”

    “YOU DESTROYED OUR GREAT ONES!” The hard punch to his gut was unexpected, as he stumbled to the floor, her eyes immediately burned with rage. “They burned them, hunted them like they were nothing but bugs, insects. Our Great ones, the leaders of all, KILLED by puny little SALVAGERS! All you Timelords do is take, and take, from the other races of the universe, modify what you don't understand and CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN!” She slowly took a couple steps closer to him. “We adapted to confront you. Became what the universe saw us as. Twisted us into. Ever since, the war has become a standstill. Clones, androids, Cybernetic enhancements, anything for a Timelord to keep on fighting.....On our side, Cloning.....Like the human form of trenches....”

    “....The war that never ended....And the universe adapted around it....”

    “Now, there will be an end.....” She slowly smirked. “I was just going to feast on you...But now you've made me ANGRY, Timelord...I wonder, without any of your gadgets or trinkets, or even your machine, how you could stand against one of us...” At that, she lunged for him, on the floor.

Part 4

    The Professor rolled out of the way as he heard her hit the ground. As fast as he could, he darted for one of the corridors as fast as he could, hearing laughter behind him as he hurried as fast he could.

    “PROFESSOR!” He could hear her say behind him. “What's wrong? Scared of a vampire? Where is that instinct to kill, to destroy?” Her laughter echoed down the corridor, as he turned the corner and dove into the first room he could find.

    Hearing the commotion upstairs, Cynthia began to struggle in her restraints. He knew by now he may have come for the rescue, walked right in and is probably either becoming her feast at this moment, or is trying to think of a way to save her. Stalling, as she could hear more commotion, people hitting the floor. At those sounds, she began to kick and squirm on the chain, as the stone holding them began to shake.

    Old Stone is a brilliant building material, or was, when needing to build underground. It was able to be stacked up and held together with the dirt to the point that it is like glue and mortar held together. Stuck together and unable to move. The problem is, is that when Age is introduced to that equation, the strength begins to break down. It is why some dungeons become gigantic sinkholes ready to just collapse in on themselves. Added in Cynthia's own strength and skill, and one stone holding her up became like a plug to a raging dam. As She yanks the stone out of the wall, hitting the old straw flooring, dirt began to rush into the hole left behind, pushing a couple more stones and letting in more dirt.

    “Uh oh....” was all Cynthia could muster from her lips as she took off for the staircase out, as more dirt began to pour into the room.

    The Professor went silent. His ear to the door, as he began to hear the muffled footsteps from outside. The room he has found himself in, was more like a trophy room, old and antique weaponry from not just earth's history but from multiple world's histories, all hung up in either respect or some sort of showing off. However, it probably was meant as more as a flex of power, since she probably doesn't have any guests around. His eyes traced around the room, looking for anything to help. Blunderbuss, some old sonic blasters with the ammunition completely missing, some sort of cutlass- Wait....The Professor slowly moved over to the wall on his right, trying all he can to be quiet as he slowly examined the odd sword on the wall. The blade was far too thin, the technique to cut something that perfect and that thin is not from Earth. The hilt was wrapped with pure silver, with dials and buttons along the hand cover, and a small trigger like device inside, made for the ring finger. Galaxy grinned a bit as he slowly removed it from the wall. A Taran Electric Saber. He had never seen one in such pristine condition, nor one even this close before, but holding it, his hearts began to slow. He at least had something against her, as he took it with one hand.

    “Alright then...” He spoke to himself, as he made his way back to the door. “If you wish to fight, then let's make it even...” As he stepped out of the room, he could still hear the echoing footsteps from the vampire's heels.

    “Tell me, Timelord...” He could hear her voice say. “Have you ever seen bloodshed?”

    The question changed the Professor's expression, as his mind slightly wandered, raising the saber in defense. “I have. I've seen a war that had wrecked and nearly destroyed not just the universe but time as we knew it.”

    “All that death...and destruction...drives at the very soul and mind of anyone.”

    “That doesn't give you the right to use these people as your personal food source...”

    “I told them to leave. They begged me. They couldn't cross the mountains, they had long since run out of food. All I have done, Timelord, is show them kindness.”

    “Kindness?! Taking someone every day for your own meal?!”

    “I live. They live on my lands. The world pays no attention to them.” The Professor freezes as he can feel her behind him, as he readies the saber. “This small town could be burned off the face of the earth, and no one would care...and yet you come running in like a knight in shining armor...”

    “Everyone's story deserves to be told.” The Professor turned to face her, holding the saber in his right hand, as she smirked.

    The vampire took a couple steps closer to him, before they both began to feel the house begin to shake. The groaning of the wood, the cracking of the old plaster walls, as the house began to tip to it's side. The Professor, acting quickly, stabbed the saber into the floor and hung on as the Vampire fell back and slid for the wall, as one of the doors near him swung open, revealing Cynthia, using the rock and the old chains to hand onto one of the old door hinges, having this grin of a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

    “Let me guess?!” The Professor spoke, hanging onto the saber. “Used your strength to pull the rock free, and dirt started rushing in!”

    “That obvious?”

    “You've made a sinkhole, Cynthia! The dirt keeps filling into the dungeons, leaving a hole for the house to fall right into, and if it's tips enough the roof comes crashing in on our heads!” He held out his hand, taking her's, and began using the saber to climb up the left side of the corridor. “We have to open the window! A Sinkhole will not destroy the vampire, only leave her plans half foiled!”

    “You just said, the roo-”

    “Rocks can't destroy vampires, Cynthia! Otherwise you'd have stories of random peasants storming Dracula's castle with any river rock they could find!”

    As they began to climb higher and higher, using the floor as a sort of straight rock wall, Cynthia hanging onto the Professor as he tried all he could to keep hooked onto the floor, his eyes couldn't help but see where the great beast herself was. His hearts quickly dropped and he began going faster when he looked. The Vampire looked pissed, her eyes were burning with rage, using her fingernails to climb after them, cutting into the floor as pieces of the walls and the ceiling began to fall.

    “But how?!” Cynthia asked, trying to use the rock and her chains to catch on something above them. “How could one rock cause all this?!”

    “You pulled the pin in a balloon. Like a dam, the rocks held back the dirt. Without one rock, the dam flows in, the forces them push more rocks, more dirt comes in, leaving the hole behind. What you have done is effectively destroyed the villa, which was part 2 of the plan, but skipping the important bit.”

    As They reached the foyer, they could see the chandelier tilting on it's hook hung from the ceiling. The low amount of sunlight was reaching inside, thanks to the broken windows, and from the Professor could tell on the other end of the hallway, the hubcap was reflecting some of it right into the chandelier. A Magnifier. He grinned a bit, looking around for anything as the Vampire began to get closer.

    “Professor, I know you don't like being rushed, but there is a VAMPIRE eyeing us like we're thanksgiving dinner, could you please HURRY?!”

    His eyes looked to Cynthia, before looking at the saber. Silver. Sparkling silver, or something similar to give off a clear reflective surface. He closed his eyes, yanking Cynthia against the floor and stabbing the saber into the sunlight.

    The Scream was horrifying, loud, and immediate. The sunlight hit the Vampire like a beam, sending her sizzling back, almost like she was on fire from how direct the sunlight was, as the Professor struggled holding himself and his companion against the wall at this awkward angle, as he could hear the scream getting worse and worse, the noises of fire and the smell of smoke beginning to permeate into the house, as some of the lesser reflected beams of light caught tapestries and sliding rugs on fire, landing on the walls causing embers to fly off, catching more and more on fire. When the Professor's eyes opened, it was like staring into an inferno, fire spreading everywhere, smoke pouring out of smashed windows and rising up, which thanks to the tilting of the house, kept them above the smoke.

    “WE NEED OUT OF HERE, AND FAST!” The Professor cried, as he could feel the house tilting more, causing bits of the ceiling to come off, an entire section of house crumbling and smashing down the hole where the vampire was. If she was still down there, or if she too was part of the inferno, it was unclear. Whatever that scream was, all that could be heard now was the rushing of the flames. The professor, taking the saber with one hand, stuck it between the rock and the chain, twisting it around once, and then throwing it. The chain and the rock caught the old wooden door, as part of it fell away, and the two swung, like a grappling hook, right onto the grass outside.

    The villa, for how big it was, the sinkhole was growing around it even bigger. Roof tiles and stones began to crash into the structure, as the fire raged on to the outside. The Professor quickly worked on unlocking Cynthia's cuffs, as they watched the villa tilt more and more higher, before finally, just as he said, the roof was unable to take the strain of the awkward angle and began to crash and destroyed the villa. In the span of a few minutes, thanks to old wood, old furniture, sunlight, a hubcap, and a mirrored surface, a vampire and her home were destroyed, at least, that is what the Professor hoped anyway, as he began to peer into the sinkhole, seeing the smashed up home, bits and pieces spread everywhere.

    “Well.......That's the end of the Horrible Secret.” The Professor spoke, watching the smoldering ruins and the smoke rise high into the skies above.

    The Professor helped Cynthia to the TARDIS, dodging and weaving the celebrating townspeople as he couldn't help but form a smile across his face. It was almost like a parade, people dancing in the street, doors wide open, music blaring out of open cars, it was like a block party on steroids.

    “What will happen to them, Professor?” Cynthia asked.

    “Well, they will never fully forget what they have done, or what they had to do to survive all this time under vampire rule.” He spoke, turning to her. “But, in some ways, they now have the chance to change the town, to finally put in new roots, and new ways of thinking. I think everyone will be just fine. Just fine indeed.”

    The two smiled to each other, as they watched the street party get into full swing.

    “What about the old man?” Cynthia wondered.

    “He'll write down his stories, he'll tell the full history. He lives with a lot of guilt, Cynthia, for what he has seen his entire life, but now he has a chance to survive. To live a life not haunted by the great beast overlooking the town.”

    “So...That's it, then?”

    The Professor smiled, opening the door slightly. “That's it. Come along now, Cynthia, We better let them make up their own rumors and legends about what happened. I love that part.”

The 10th Professor's Adventures: Episode 3

The 10^th Professor's Adventures: Episode 3

Written By: MichaelWhovian

Part 1

    Digging through a library to read, when one travels in the multiverse is almost redundant in a way. If stories are written accounts of universes calling out to people, with details altered between retelling, why not visit the universes themselves? Sometimes it is not so simple. Stories are written to entertain, to flourish and brighten the minds of anyone who reads them, from a comic book about superheroes to a romance novel and everything in between. It is why the Professor collected novels, books, comic books, anything he could for a library, for sometimes he is feeling the need for a good story or two in his journey, across the universes, the parallels, the alternates.

    The Professor was on one of these hunts for a story, as he dug through row after row of books, a look of annoyance and concern on his face, as he turned around for the next row of books. “Where....” He spoke to himself. “Now where did I put my copy...” He looked around the section of books, the sign hanging above the bookcases, made of copper and engraved, reading NONFICTION as it shone in the simple roundel lighting. After a moment or two, he sighed, pinching his nose.

    “Professor!” The voice of his companion echoed through the halls outside the library door next to him. Being the least interesting for him, Non-fictions were kept next to the door, however over the years they were more or less replaced by biographies and auto-biographies, kept in the same section for easy recovery. He sighed again, as he heard her call out again.

    “In here....”

    The door creaked open more, as Cynthia stepped in, still wearing her biker-like attire, or she changed back into it recently. It has been a couple of days since the Professor welcomed her back onboard, and ever since he's been trying to figure out a place for them to go, a fresh new step, as he kept eyeing through the rows of books.

    “What are you doing?” She asked, watching him.

    “It's not here....”

    Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “What's not here?”

    “My Book on Rock and Roll Music, it's gone......I must have misplaced it, it should be here....”

    She looked at him, almost annoyed. “A Rock and Roll book, really?”

    “I was planning on bringing us to the 1950s, I was hoping I still had it....”

    Her ears perked. “50s? Wait....Earth, in the 1950s?”

    The Professor nodded, before giving a smile, looking to her. “Ah, well, Perhaps I can guess the coordinates, and land on A Earth in the 1950s. Come along then! First trip jitters, drop them, maybe I can find that book somewhere eventually.” Taking Cynthia's hand, he leads her off, as slowly, a book slowly begins to reappear on the shelf, right in it's proper place, perfectly preserved as if it was always there. HISTORY OF ROCK IN THE 50s, emblazoned on the spine, and a laugh echoed within the library.

    “When we land,” The Professor spoke, working the console. “We might need to change. Now, I have gotten better at flying the TARDIS since we last met, but that doesn't mean we could get pulled off course, TARDIS getting a distress signal, any number of things!”

    Cynthia hung onto the console, watching him work the controls. “So basically, Nothing has changed, then?!””

    He looked to her, giving an innocent grin. “Thought you might need a bit of a cheering up, maybe make you feel better.”

    As the TARDIS twisted and turned, Cynthia couldn't help but form a smile across her face. In a way, she missed this, the hectic travels, the guesswork on where they would land, the different worlds and universes open to them just at their fingertips. However, what she did not remember as often, is the lights turning red in the console room.

    “Oh no.” The Professor quickly pulled over the screen, as he worked on the console, flicking switches as he checked the coordinates. “Ok, so, that's not going to work....”

    “What, what is it?”

    The Professor looked to Cynthia, with a slight smile, however one filled with a tiny bit of fear. “Remember how I said we might catch a distress signal, or something could pull us off course?”

    The TARDIS began to roll, as they hung onto the console for dear life, spinning down the time vortex like a top out of control just before it crashes to the ground.

    Fear. That's all the man could feel. Fear and anxiety, as he was being dragged towards an old wooden door at the end of the corridor. On either side of him were two other men, their eyes stoic and cold, as they simply marched him to what he felt was his doom. This man, with his simple white t-shirt, black sneakers and blue jeans, tried everything he could, clawing and pulling at the guards but it was no use. He eventually was thrown into the dark room, skidding against the hardwood floor, hearing the door slam against the frame.

    The deadly silence reached the man's ears, his hands quivering with fear, his eyes peering into the dark, as the sounds of his breathing echo in the silent room. As he stood, his knees ready to send him right back down, he peeked at the only thing he could see, window drapery, old, older than this man of just 22 years, elegantly made- he quickly turned, hearing movement behind him. Sounded like footsteps. Could someone be in the room with him?

    “Hello...?” He spoke into the shadows, but nothing echoed back at him. He surely heard footsteps on this hardwood floor, behind him, he was sure of it. “I...I'm not a thief, I didn't mean to come in, I was just in-”

    A pale white hand grabbed him by the throat, slowly lifting him off of the ground. The nails painted crimson red, and filed to points, the hand so pale it almost gave off light of it's own.

    “A wanderer sneaks into my home.....” He heard a voice, right behind him, passing his right ear. A Cold, heartless voice passing over his shoulder sending chills down his spine.

    “I...I was-”

    The grip got tighter around his throat. “Did I tell you, you could speak, especially when you are a thief?” He could feel those nails, as pointed as daggers, begin to turn on his throat.

    The Guards stood at the door, stoic, dressed in modern clothing but wearing steel chest-plates and boots, probably meant to protect themselves. Their skin was pale, but fleshy, and their eyes still retained some color, but their pupils were dilated, the irises wide. Behind them, they heard a scream, a blood-curling scream, cut short somehow. A minute or two later, the door opened, and a third guard, the man, with the same afflictions, slowly walked out, however his skin still clung to him the most.

    “Tomorrow and be silent.” The voice echoed from inside the room. “You are lucky I hungered...” The Door slammed shut.

    The TARDIS began to materialize in an alleyway. A Simple Alleyway, between two buildings of a small main street, a small group of houses surrounding the town and the buildings, the shops and the businesses. As it materialized, the lights began to fade back to their normal state, as the Professor looked to the screen. All it read was two words. “Emergency. Help.” Sent from some kind of machine, but what, the TARDIS couldn't pin down.

    The Professor slowly scratched his chin, as Cynthia began to rise from under the console, clawing onto it as if it were a rock face and she was dangling from a cliff. “Professor....” She spoke in a shaken tone. “What happened....”

   "We seem to be in some kind of rescue mission, maybe perhaps not. I can't tell exactly, but it would seem someone needs our help.” The Professor dusted himself off, making a grin as he headed for the doors.

    “Help? When- Professor, slow down!” Cynthia quickly hurried over to him as he reached the doors.

    He sighed a bit. “Yes, sorry, let me explain a little better. Someone sent what seems to be a blanketed signal, possibly for their own universe. Somehow, someway, I picked it up, and we landed. From how bumping the landing is, We may be in a Parallel, a universe quite similar to mine, or yours, it is unsure, but it is a parallel. That's why the lights kicked on, it was a warning for us, and lucky for us I made it so we wouldn't crash.”

    “Which is why the TARDIS flipped over onto itself before we landed.” Cynthia said, crossing her arms.

    “Ok, well, I didn't expect us to be taken this direction...” The Professor looked to her with a smile, before quickly peeking out the doors. “Oh my.....”

    “What?” Cynthia asked, following the Professor out. “Wha- Woah....”

    Before them, sat an almost abandoned town. The main street stretched either direction, modern cars sitting on the sides of the road, but not a sound echoed in the streets. From what they could hear, the windows flashed with movement, people cleaning and working, wearing modern clothing from tees to short shorts, Blue jeans to sandals, all types of people inside the stores, but something felt wrong.

    “Teach....” Cynthia said, eyeing into one of the windows, seeing a few people eating at a small family restaurant, their eyes tracing back and forth between one another. “This isn't the 1950s...”

    “No, No it's Not....” The Professor was already at one of the cars on the sidewalk, looking at it, trying to see the registration tags, or any sign of any date for them, before his eyes finally spotted the plate. “October 2018....18, so we're about 30 years in your past, Cynthia....I thought I had the coordinates right....”

    “Professor, these people...” Cynthia moved to another store, a small clothing store, where just as few people were inside, looking at clothing, before their eyes turned to one another for a moment, like they were watching for something.

    The Professor slowly eyed around, watching the windows, the trees, listening for anything. All around them, besides this small field, mountains surrounded them on all side, different sizes, all stretching around, some with freshly laid snow on the tips. The trees were simply evergreens, no oak, no birch, nothing besides evergreens as far as the eye could see. He slowly took a few steps to a small garden, or what was a garden, where each plant was meticulously ripped out, the flowers, the vegetables, everything, and recovered with simple sod. “This is freaky, Maybe we ended up in a world with some sort of food shortage....”

    “With a family restaurant, Professor?”

    “Good point.” His eyes looked to the sky, evening beginning to set upon the town. At that moment, they heard a large gong, as they turned to city hall, the clock showing 6 O'clock, on the dot. At that moment after, the people in the stores and the shops and the restaurants ran for their cars and their bicycles, anything of transportation as fast as they could, hurrying into them, 4, 5, 6, even 8 people crammed into a 4 person car, or three people on a 1 person bike trying to balance, all trying to flee as fast as they could to the homes off of main street. The two travelers quickly hurried into the garden watching the scene unfold, seeing the cars and bicycles, buses and vans all whiz by them like it was a race, hurrying home as fast as they could.

    “Professor, this....” Cynthia watched the panic in the people's faces who were left behind, as the vehicles dwindled and dwindled to nothing. A couple dropped to their knees, before quickly diving and hurrying off by foot. Two ran into unlocked stores, the doors flung open without a care in the world. Even a couple took it upon themselves to dive into trashcans, pulling the lids on top of the trashcans like they were full.

    “OY!”

    The two travelers jumped, eyeing around, before they could see an older man waving for them down the street, waving as hard as he could, with his large swirled cane. They looked to each other, and quickly took off for the man. When they reached him, they couldn't speak, he rushed them upstairs into a room, and slammed the door shut. The Professor noticed quite a few locks on the door, as the old man quickly set them all up, each one, making sure not to miss one, before running over to the window, and closing it with blinds, then drapes, turning off the main light and turning on a lamp next to a couch and chair, in a simple modern apartment, as they could see now. Only then, did he finally take a rest, falling on the couch and taking a couple deep breathes to get air into his lungs, before looking to the two.

    “Visitors.....Visitors are almost the perfect way for one to survive here.....You can come in and out as you please but only when one does not come from here.....”

    “Why did everyone rush out like that, leave their stores and businesses open like that, are they not afraid of robbers?” The Professor asked, taking the old man's wrist to check his pulse, seeing how hard it was for him to do all of the things he did, struggling to breathe.

    The old man smiled at the Professor, patting his hand gently. “Thank you, Young man......Visitors to our town, You...you should not know of our struggles here. It is why we keep no rest shops, no hotels or inns.....We try to keep people away....”

    “But why?” Cynthia asked. “Why do all of that, what's been going on, what has you all spooked?”

    The man quickly shook his head, looking to them. “You must get away from here, anyway that you can, you must try.....Do not suffer from our curse, you must flee!-” The man goes stiff, as the Professor applied light pressure to his neck, gently laying him down as he keeps checking his pulse.

    The move was quite a shock for his companion. “PROFESSOR!” Cynthia yelled.

    “He would have had a heart attack had I not simply knocked him out, Cynthia......His heart rate was reaching my baseline, there wasn't anything we could do besides aikido to help him.” The Professor rose from the floor, checking the small apartment room. The best way to describe it would be a studio, everything the man could need all together in one gigantic room, with one window peering out onto the street below. However, as he took a closer look, some things just didn't seem right. The walls were painted black, pure black, as to not allow light to bounce. All the furniture had dark coverings, to do the same. The television had a filter, a simple sheet of plastic, taped over the screen to diffuse the light coming from it. It was like this place was set up that if someone needed to hide, it was a safe haven.

    Cynthia's eyes more or less looked to the locks. Silver locks, all the way down the door to the doorknob, of different kinds. “Like a cat lady.....or a loner. Maybe too many door-to-door salesmen?”

    The Professor chuckled a bit, joining her at the door. “If only it were so simple as an influx of people selling cheap trinkets, Cynthia.....No, something's wrong. Terribly wrong here. I can feel it.”

    A woman, barely 21 years of age, thought she could hide behind dumpsters for the night. The cold, whipping wind picking up slightly around her, as she tried to pull her coat closer to her. Holding her nose from the smell wasn't the problem. It was keeping her breath shallow. She didn't want to be found. She knew she was trapped, but perhaps someone would be found first....she felt sick, having that thought pass her mind. However, for a moment, she wanted, she truly accepted that thought in her mind. She could hear footsteps getting closer and closer to her.

    Surely not her, surely she's just hearing things, it's her mind playing tricks on her. She holds her breath, trying everything she can to go completely silent, as they get nearer and nearer to her. She shut her eyes, as she felt the wind get sharper, and sharper on her exposed skin, pulling the coat tighter around her. Maybe it'll pass her by, maybe she'll stay safe?

    The last thing she saw in her freedom, was the face of one of the pale guards, grabbing for her, and the sound of her screaming for help.

    As the sun peered into the room, and Cynthia stirred on the chair, The Professor however was reading. Looking through his journal as his mind raced through possibilities, eyeing around the room like he missed something, anything, to give a guess on what is going on. He ruled out Werewolves, because while Silver could be important, the black paint is utterly useless, they could smell anyone out even if they hid. He ruled out Phantoms, while the black paint and darkness could disorient them when they entered the homes, eventually they would regain senses. Too many different things, two completely different thoughts as he eyed back and forth, before eyeing his other piece of literature.

    He pocketed his journal, and picked up an old travel catalog of the town. Or at least, his guessing of the town, since some of the buildings looked different. Dated 1998, the town of Green's Village, Colorado travel guide, and what to do in the town, seeing the small businesses and shops, and trees growing in photos, it all looked lovely. However, when he turned to the back, the book had a hidden secret. Originally, the page talked about the Hotel and Inn in the town, free of charge to stay in, and so safe they could even leave the door wide open, for no burglars would come, that was the town's promise. Scribbled on the page, over and over and over, was the same phrase, on top of each other. “I'M SO SORRY, WE HAD NO CHOICE”

    The Professor eyed the sleeping old man on the couch, before his eyes went back to the catalog page. Something happened to this small town. Maybe it's always been happening, maybe it's only recently started. They did something to try and combat it, something that now makes the town sick, and doesn't want to even think about anymore. The building doesn't even look like it is standing. Probably removed so no one'll think about what they did. Whatever they did was. The Professor heard Cynthia groan as he slowly closed the catalog and returned it to it's hiding spot under the couch.

    “Hello, Have a good sleep?” The Professor asked.

    Cynthia groaned, opening her eyes a bit. “You forget how a chair is supposed to feel, when you sleep it in sitting up....What's wrong, Professor...?”

    “Something's very not right about this place. Something deep. Something monstrous.” He looked to the old man, slightly snoring on the couch. “Something they want to hide because their first attempt...they did something horrible to free themselves.”

    “Which is why now the townspeople instead run for the hills like it's some horror movie...”

    “It is a horror movie. Real life for them, but that's what I have been thinking. The TARDIS works exactly the same as it normally would, which means I was correct in us landing in a Parallel to my own universe, so I began thinking of what could possibly cause that response.” The Professor stood up from the table, heading for the door. “Which is why we we're here now.”

    Cynthia smiled a bit. “Which means we're helping them.”

    “Of course! We're far enough away from any sort of Fixed points or necessary events, and these people need our help, lest they forever live in some sort of terror every night.” As he began undoing the locks, he could feel her slowly turn behind him, eyeing at the old man. “He'll be alright, Cynthia. Vitals are fine, Heart rate's back to normal. As far as he's concerned, the events of last night will be either a mad dream or a haze.”

    “Still.....Seems wrong to just leave him like that...”

    “And what would we tell him? We're universal travelers, coming to take a look at the thing that is terrifying your town, if you explain what is going on so we could figure out what is going on that would be handy? It is better for him like this. He himself carries the same guilt. Found a couple things last night that pointed to it.” With the locks undone, He opened the apartment door, and quickly headed down the stairs. “It's what convinced me to help, instead of running back to the TARDIS myself.”

    Cynthia quickly followed after him. “So you know what it is?”

    “No. Not exactly. I tried to look into it, but it would seem our friend up there's confusing about 5 different things and their weaknesses together that it didn't narrow the field.”

    As the two headed back onto the main street, things seemed different. No cars on the street this time round, however the businesses have regained their capacities, the doors all closed up, all with open signs, but the people back to their nervous glances, their terrified looks. What caught the eye of the Professor most, was the alley in between two such buildings. Roped off like a crime scene, but no one to guard it, no one to keep people back, it was like it was just left. For courtesy reasons, he looked both sides of the street, before heading to the roped off area on the other side, followed by his increasingly creeped out companion.

    “How could anyone live like this....?”

    “What would you do? Would you give into the madness, the darkness of the situation, or would you try to live your life, no matter the circumstances? These people tried something so horrible they don't want to talk about it, and some people probably view it some sort of punishment for their earlier attempt to free themselves.”

    “But why, Why would they just give up like this? Surely it couldn't be that bad, could it?” The Professor slowly looked back at her. “Could it?”

    The Professor lifted up the tape gently for her to pass under when they reached it. The alley was calm, silent, like nothing had been disturbed, except for a single area, next to one of the dumpsters. Two chalk circles marked only two items. A Tiny bit of blood splatter, and a purse, toppled over and it's contents scattered outwards. He stepped closer and closer to them, before finally kneeling down to the evidence, left in the alley without a single word, any other markings, nothing. “Sometimes people do things to survive that they regret. Sometimes people come up with plans and ideas that many people would find abhorrent, but once fear, or anger is introduced into a situation all the gates are thrown out the window when it sustained long enough.” He slowly turned the license towards him to look. A young girl, just starting life, taken off the street and knocked out cold, given the small blood drops from what looks to be a bludgeoning blow.

    “They just left it here....Not even going out to do anything, they're just leaving everything where it is...”

    The Professor rose to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Records are usually kept in the Town Halls for reference. This is deep, Cynthia. I believe we are facing something that has haunted this town since it's founding.”

    “Are you sure you sensed it....?” Inside the small room, or as far as these guards were concerned, the cold, heartless voice echoed back to them. Hidden behind the darkness, who knows how truly the room's depth or what was inside.

    The newest guard, the male thief, slowly nodded to the question, his head drooping slightly from the action. “THE DISTRESS SIGNAL.....” The voice was almost moist, low, like every letter was forced out in a growl.

    The voice chuckled. “Even after all this time.....Like flies to a spider's web. They must have gotten curious....” The chuckle echoed again. “Find it. Find out what they are.”

    The mountains and mountains of old newspapers greeted them when the two entered the records room of town hall. The doors inside had long since been covered with dust, cobwebs, and other such ways of age. It would seem like this was the only room being used inside the Town Hall, for everything else had been abandoned some time ago. As the Professor began to eye up the stacks of newspapers, he began to feel a bit overwhelmed.

    “Ok...” He spoke softly. “I did not thing it was this badly kept...”

    “Professor, this is a disaster....We're not going to find anything in here!”

    “We have to try, Cynthia....We're looking for anything, anything big or out of the ordinary.”

    So, the next several hours were full of digging through newspapers of the last 160 to 170 years. All out of order, and all disjointed in different ways. As they began to dig through newspapers, however, they began to notice a pattern. The Missing Person alert, in every newspaper, slowly moving further and further back in the paper as they worked their way forwards, even from the very beginnings of the town. It would seem the town was founded in 1870, under the watchful eye of a villa overlooking the town that had seemed to have been built at least 30 to 40 years prior to the town. However, even in the very beginnings, the villa was said to be haunted, or abandoned, until one day the villa vanishes off the paper without a trace, the rumor mill replaced by the Missing Person Report.

    “Over a hundred Years....” Cynthia said, trying to hide her shock as she held a paper from the 20s, reading the very back of the paper, where the report had been moved to.

    “This would do it, Cynthia. One person, every day, like clockwork. The week's paper comes out, and the 7 names are told. Again and again and again, Month after month, year after year. This is the work of only one species. But I need to be sure. Have you found anything on the inn or hotel yet?”

    “No, Professor, and it could take h-” Cynthia goes silent, pulling two papers out from a pile at once, looking at the headlines. “.....Professor....”

    He slowly walked over, taking the two newspapers from her hands. He had suspicions, but he needed proof. He now had it. Apparently in 1961 there was a small aggravation in the town, over what seemed to be two towns wanting to be built in the valley. People got injured, and a Small platoon of 90 National Guard were ordered into the town to keep the peace to discuss the barriers and where the town could go. By morning, all 90 had disappeared off of the face of the earth. No trace. Nothing. The next paper, was almost 4 months later, and the headline said it all. He could barely stomach just reading it. “SUMMER OF PEACE BROKEN. NEW DISAPPEARANCES REPORTED.”

    The Professor laid the two papers on the table before him, almost feeling sick to his stomach, gripping onto a single wooden chair to keep himself upright.

    “Professor....” Cynthia asked, in a shaken voice. “What do they mean....B...By Summer of Peace....?”

    “Tell me....How many days are three months?”

    “90 D-”....The realization hit her. “Oh my god.” She took off into the corridor, covering her mouth.

    The Professor sunk into the wooden chair, holding his head, almost having the same reaction. It now makes sense to him. 90 People come into the town, and for 90 days, there's no missing persons, there's no attacks, nothing. Peaceful. Bought Time. What's to say some of the townspeople back then wanted that time forever? Wanted to live peacefully, survive, and all it would cost them is their souls.

    “I bet you anything, Cynthia.....The Hotel opened soon after this event.....And nearly 40 years it ran, and the people said NOTHING. How could they, who would believe them, a being from folklore and rumor, Here, in Colorado?......So the Hotel kept running. Until one day someone had enough. Probably burnt it down, or destroyed it.....Made the people face what they had done.”

    “She peered her head back inside. “THEY TRICKED PEOPLE, PROFESSOR! They lured people in! Why, what could have frightened them to the point that they would do something like this!?”

    The Professor stood up, as the Bell rang above them, signaling the 6 O'Clock Curfew. “Vampires, Cynthia.”

Part 2

    “Vampires, Professor?” Cynthia said, a little doubtful. “Like, Blood-Sucking, Hates Holy Water, Wooden Stake in the heart vampires?”

    “Of course not, but not too far off of the mark.” He responded, watching the panic out from one of the dirty, dust covered windows. “The Vampires are a race just as old as mine, and their effects are still felt through their cousin species, multiples and variations on the ones who desire and need Blood. Many of the myths, legends, and folklore about Vampires, most likely has one of them to blame, at the center of it.”

    “.....Then what are they, Professor? These “True” Vampires?”

    “The Vampires came when the universe was young. Barely half the size of what it is today. Many of the Vampires you see today were originally just the middle step, servants, slaves, and such, of gigantic bat like monstrosities that needed constant psychic and Blood feedings to keep themselves alive. It is one of the first universal wars that my universe ever knew of. When the Vampires looked to the Timelords and found themselves an infinite source of food and service to their masters.” The Professor slowly walked away from the window, sitting on the table. “When the war was over, and the death count was made, Nearly a quarter of the Timelord race at the time was turned, and all but one of the gigantic monstrosities were dead. The Servants became lost, and as such they had to adapt and become themselves anew. Some created new species that fed on less useful things, like Plasma, or such, to keep their bodies going. Some continued on their bloodlust, and some simply faded to dust.”

    The Professor eyed up at the ceiling, seeing a fan slightly turn with strands of cobwebs flying around. “But this is a parallel. If this is a Vampire, who knows what happened during the war, or if there even was one. Cynthia, we're facing one of the great cosmic horrors of the universe.....If not thinking about any of the GREAT Old Ones.....Which we don't need to talk about right now....”

    Cynthia looked back to the table with the two newspapers, before turning her attention back to him. “And so They've constantly had to deal with a Vampire, since the beginning.....”

    “Confusing, isn't it? How to feel? When you look and know the full picture of what is going on. You feel sick for what they did, in order to save themselves, although you feel sad that they had to resort to such a plan. Fear and Anger, Cynthia. The two emotions that when sustained for long enough, one begins to accept or think of plans that would make a normal person sick.....” As the sounds of cars and people fleeing begin to die down outside, The Professor looked to his companion. “I bet you anything, tonight will be another night for catching food. We might be able to-”

    At that moment, the window in the room smashed outward, as a cold, pale hand stretched through it, grabbing wildly, trying to get the drapes away. The two travelers took off as fast as they could, shutting the door to the records room before hurrying down the corridor.

    “I MIGHT HAVE MISCALCULATED!”

    “YOU THINK?!”

    Across the small main street, as the sun lowered enough not to be visible, the sky turning this beautiful dark navy blue as the light fades, the only thing that could be heard was the echoing of heels on the sidewalk. A Cloaked figure, all in black, the hood itself pulled so far down that whoever was inside was completely masked in shadow. Above them, they held a black lace umbrella with a metal pole, opened wide to block what little sunlight there is still in the sky. They never walked the town unless they were famished, or something caught their interest. So, as they passed in front of the old Wardrobe, who involuntarily gave this sound of a low growl, a smirk was all that could be seen under the hood.

    “Touchy, Touchy......Even for a Gallifreyan Travel Machine.....” They took a step closer, and the TARDIS almost hissed, like an animal backed into a corner.

    “Don't try it, You infuriating machine. You know how easy I could rip your door open....” The figure chuckled. “Besides, I am not interested in their secrets. Just them. I know they came with another, this town is....such a useful blood bank, I would rather not lose it.”

    The TARDIS hissed, making the smirk on the figure's face grow wider.

    “You are a protective machine, aren't you?....Most Timelords' machines would have been glad to have been freed of those self-obsessed politicians.....” They chuckled, as the sound of glass breaking echoed from down the street.

    The two travelers tried everything they could to jam the main doors shut, jamming wooden chairs, old lamps, everything into the doors to build a barricade, as the windows kept getting smashed. “WHAT'S HAPPENING!?” Cynthia yelled, taking a lamp and swinging it against one of the pale hands reaching in from outside.

    “This must be their servants, just as we were figuring out about them, they were figuring out what we are! Cynthia, we must hide! Quickly, before we are caught in the open!” The Professor tried to pull her away from the window, as more and more windows were smashed open, bits and pieces of what could best be described as organic material sank down the other side, landing on the floor.

    “They're cutting themselves apart.....and yet they're still....”

    “Of course...” The Professor said, softly, as he pulled his companion back towards the nearest staircase. “As humans and other species have taken vampires and added bits and parts to make your own myths, Vampires have taken your myths and have tried to create real life representations of the powers you have given them. What you see, what we are seeing, is their versions of Thralls.....Drained humanoid bodies, emotionless and cold, only surviving due to their master's bidding.....However what one cannot stop is the slow disintegration and the injuring of their forms. As you have taken fear from them, they have taken ideas from you.”

    “That's horrific.....So those people.....They're....”

    “Former residents, absolutely. Probably keeps only a few at a time, just to not draw attention.”

    As they hear the windows crash inwards, the two travelers take off up the stairs, running off in different directions as they desperately try to place to hide. Down below, the Thralls begin to climb inside, using themselves as battering rams to make entrance ways. The Professor quickly dove into an office, a small office immediately off the staircase, and locked the door. He took deep breaths, trying to slow his breathing and his heart rate, as he listened to the moans outside, and the loud creaking steps of multiple people climbing ever so slowly up the stairs.

    “Vampires......” He thought to himself. “First trip with her again and it has to be vampires....”

    Cynthia however was not having it so easy as her friend. Having crammed herself inside a disused closet, using her foot to barricade the door shut, she had to keep her nose and mouth covered so she didn't start sneezing from all the dust in the room. Around her, the wood groaned, the walls, even though they were drywall, felt as cold as steel, having pushed her back against it. She took shallow breath after shallow breath, listening to the footsteps as they began to get closer and closer. Her breath was getting more and more shallow as she listened. The footsteps got closer, and closer, until finally she noticed shadows under the door, stopping cold. Did they notice her? Did they hear her? Surely not. As one of the shadows moves on, she takes the slightest breath, thinking she's safe....until a fist goes right through the closet door.

    The Professor could hear Cynthia scream. He ran for the door, trying to unlock it, but the lock was stuck tight, from not being used for so long. He rammed into the door, again and again, as he heard Cynthia scream for him, hearing something slam against the wall, panicked footsteps....and then something hitting the floor. “CYNTHIA!” The professor screamed, as he tried with all his weight to hit against the door. While it ratted the hinges, the door stayed shut, locked up tight. “CYNTHIA!” His eyes quickly looked around the room, grabbing the nearest chair and ramming it into the door as hard as he can, finally busting a hole into the door after several long and agonizing minutes, destroying it and the wooden chair. He took off into the hallway...and saw only the remnants of an attack.

    The Smashed open closet door. The head, or what seemed to be what was left of a head of one of the thralls, barely holding itself together. The slight blood spot, like she had been bludgeoned. Cynthia's black leather coat. And in all of that madness, laid a perfectly preserved letter, wax sealed in an envelope, resting in the middle of the debris. Anger swelled in the timelord, as he eyed at the scene, only calming down when he realized what must have happened, Cynthia fighting back as hard as she could, given the remains of a thrall were left behind as proof of that. He slowly walked over, eyeing the scene, before his eyes fell once again upon that wax sealed letter.

    The wax letter looked aged. Purposefully aged, with the whole nine yards done to it, dirtied up, crinkled like it was under water, slightly burned on the edges, all to make it look as old as it could. Slowly, he began to undo the seal, a pair of snakes twisted all around each other, before having their heads face one another. “Even in this time, they try to be melodramatic...” He muttered to himself, opening the envelope and opening the note inside.

    “Hello, Timelord.” The note began. “Do not think that you can hide such secrets from me, especially after all of these years. The stench from one of you alone could drive a horde of my kind crazy, and have their anger spike through the roof for what you have done to us. Do not think we have forgotten the wreckage you have left behind, in destroying all of our masters.”

    “So, in this universe we must have only went after the Great Vampires....” The Professor muttered to himself, before continuing to read.

    “I wanted your companion, for one reason, and one reason alone. I want YOU. I know a Timelord's bleeding hearts ache and tremble to save the innocent when they are in danger, and I want to see just how far you do. Tonight, she will not be mine. Wait any longer, and I shall have her drag you to me, just to see the look on your face.”

    The Professor slightly shook, wanting to tear the letter to ribbons, as he eyed the last part.

    “They shall remember this day, Timelord. The day a Vampire and a Timelord met on a planet a Timelord holds so dear, only for the second timelord to lay dead. I shall be waiting, Timelord. Don't keep me waiting.”

    The Professor ripped the letter to shreds, his anger shot through the roof. If steam could shoot from his ears, they would, as he clenched his fists, he could hear his knuckles pop from the force. This rage, this familiar, deep, seething rage, began to form in his eyes......before he took a deep breath, looking at the letter. No. Not here. He is a different man now. And he will prove it.

TO BE CONTINUED....