The 10th
Professor's Adventures: Episode 3Written
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....
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